‘In fact it usually just looks tatty,’ said Conrad. ‘Black armour scuffs up really badly. Shows every scratch. Take it from someone who polishes the stuff for a living.’
‘Not this suit,’ said Elaine. ‘It was shiny as the back of a beetle.’
‘Is that right?’ said Humphrey. He grinned. ‘Well, there we go. That’s our way in.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Elaine.
‘You will.’
‘Tell me.’
Humphrey’s eyes twinkled but he would not be drawn.
‘You remember what happened to Gawain, of course,’ said Elaine. ‘He refused to be seduced by the wife of a lord who had shown him hospitality. Even so, the wife insisted on giving Gawain what she said was a magic girdle to protect him from the Green Knight. Actually it had no power at all. It was Gawain’s honesty that saved him. The Green Knight was the lord, her husband, in disguise, and he had sent his wife to test Gawain. Knowing Gawain to be virtuous, he chose not to cut off his head. The moral of the story is that you should be honest with me, and tell me why it matters that the armour was shiny.’
‘The moral of the story,’ countered Humphrey, ‘is that if you are being honest with me, then we won’t have any difficulty completing this quest. Are you being honest with me, Elaine?’ The question had an edge that he’d only half intended.
‘Of course I am,’ said Elaine, but she suddenly found the road ahead of huge interest, and she wouldn’t meet his eye.
Eight
The next hamlet they came to, on the far side of a low, broad hill, was a tiny place, even more deprived than Elaine’s village had been. Humphrey had seen houses of cards more robust.
‘Nobody sneeze,’ he said. ‘Especially not you, Jemima.’
A few tumbledown shacks sloped around a desultory green. In front of one of them a man in rags sat in the dirt, drinking ale from a cracked clay pot.
‘All right, mate?’ said Humphrey as they approached. ‘Don’t suppose you know where I could get my horse shod round here?’
The man blinked a couple of times at the sight of Conrad on his elephant. Then he shook his head. Alcohol had made him see stranger things than that. ‘Baker’s,’ he said to Humphrey.
‘They shoe horses at the bakery?’ said Humphrey.
‘No.’ The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘At the smith’s.’ He looked at Humphrey as if he were an idiot. ‘The smith’s name is Baker, Jim Baker.’ He pointed with his ale-streaked hand. ‘Just outside the village, beyond those trees there.’
‘My parents gather their taxes from these villages,’ said Elaine once they were out of earshot. ‘They’re always complaining how little the villagers pay. But look at them! They’ve got nothing to give. King Leo takes the crown’s share first, and this is all he leaves them with.’
The smithy was in no better repair than the other houses in the village, except that it had a tall stone chimney that didn’t seem in too imminent risk of collapse, and an anvil in the yard with bent horseshoe nails clustered in the dust around it. Hammering came from within the forge.
Humphrey dismounted and knocked at the door. After a few seconds, the hammering stopped and the door opened to reveal a barrel-chested, red-bearded man wiping his hands on a dull green apron. He nodded to Humphrey, and then his eye moved on to take in Elaine – not without appreciation – and finally Conrad and Jemima. He considered Jemima’s enormous feet for several long moments. Then he spat.
‘I’m not putting shoes on that one without chaining her up first,’ he said. ‘I’m not having a monster kicking the place down, I’m not insured for that.’
‘I’m actually here for information,’ said Humphrey.
‘I’m not insured for having the shit kicked out of me for spilling other men’s secrets neither.’
‘Perhaps we can discuss this inside.’
The blacksmith looked up at Conrad.
‘I’m not having your heavy indoors,’ he said. ‘I don’t like threats. You may think you’re clever, bringing a giant, but my sister’s boy’s nearly as big as he is. He can lift that anvil one-handed.’
‘I juggle anvils,’ said Conrad, untruthfully.
‘I quite understand,’ said Humphrey to the blacksmith. ‘I don’t suppose you have any objection to me bringing the maiden in?’
‘Maidens are always welcome,’ said the smith, managing to give the impression of looking down Elaine’s dress even though she was sitting on her horse above him.
‘I’d just as soon wait …’ she said. Humphrey gave her a look. ‘I mean, I’d be delighted to join you.’
She dismounted, handed her reins up to Conrad, and followed Humphrey into the forge.
It was a low, dark, airless place, hot and smoky, with heavy tools and pieces of mutilated metal everywhere. The smith cleared some unidentifiable items off a grimy wooden block and indicated it to Elaine with a flourish.
Elaine sat down reluctantly, glad that she was wearing a riding dress that was already smeared with mud, rainwater, and something which she refused to concede was horse shit.
‘Now, what do you think I can do for you?’ said the smith.
‘I’d like to know who you’ve been making black armour for,’ said Humphrey.
‘I don’t do black armour,’ said the smith with a show of horror. ‘This is a respectable forge.’
Humphrey’s gaze slid towards a distinctly black-looking helm hanging beside the fire, then back to the smith. The smith maintained his look of outraged innocence.
‘Lady Elaine,’ said Humphrey.
Elaine frowned. Humphrey rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. Of course. She was the one running the quest, she was the one with the money. What little there was of it.
She drew out her small yellow velvet purse and tried to identify the least valuable coin in it by touch alone. There was one so thin it felt bendable. She withdrew it and tossed it to the smith. He caught it and pocketed it in one movement.
‘Now that I think of it,’ said the smith, ‘I suppose that, in some lights, some of the armour I have made could be said to have a dusky hue. Perhaps, with the proper encouragement, I –’
‘Let me stop you there,’ interrupted Humphrey. ‘We both know how this works. I’m going to bribe you to tell me who you’ve made black armour for, then you’re going to tell me who you’ve made black armour for. I can’t stand all this coy toing and froing, it gets right on my wick. Name your price.’
‘Twenty coins,’ said the smith.
‘No.’
‘Nineteen.’
‘No.’
‘You’re not going to suggest a counter-offer?’
‘No. I can’t be bothered. You’re just going to carry on until I’ve had enough.’
The smith sighed. ‘Three?’ he said.
Humphrey nodded at Elaine. She dug three more coins out of her purse, shuddering when her fingers brushed against the smith’s greasy palm as she handed them over.
‘Anything within the last couple of months,’ said Humphrey.
‘There’s a man called Tony the Outlaw. Really he’s the cooper’s son, only there’s not a lot of call for barrels at the moment. Not a lot of call for anything, round here. So he got himself some black armour, and now he’s robbing the rich.’
‘To feed the poor?’ said Elaine.
‘To feed himself,’ said the smith. ‘And to feed me, now I think of it. He still hasn’t paid the armour off. Why are you looking for men in black armour, anyway? Need a dodgy job doing?’
Humphrey shook his head. ‘We’re looking for suspects in the kidnapping at the du Mont tourney last week.’
‘Is that right?’ said the smith. ‘I heard he did it himself after meeting the in-laws.’
‘Shall we go find this Tony before he hears we’re coming and runs away?’ said Elaine to Humphrey.
‘You’re Lady Elaine, aren’t you?’ said the smith. He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘You’re as pretty as they say, but I’m sur
prised they managed to find two men willing to fight for your dirty hand.’
Humphrey reached for his sword, only to find that he’d left it with Conrad alongside the rest of his armour. The smith laughed.
‘Let’s go,’ said Elaine.
She grabbed Humphrey’s arm and dragged him back outside.
‘My family aren’t popular in these parts,’ she said to him as the door closed behind them. ‘You get used to people saying things like that. It doesn’t matter.’
‘What happened?’ said Conrad as he handed them the reins of their horses.
‘The man in there didn’t take kindly to being bribed,’ said Humphrey. ‘I think he was unhappy with the price we agreed. He gave us a few choice remarks about Elaine and her family along with our information.’
Conrad looked furious, but Elaine said, ‘Just leave it. Please.’
Conrad nodded. Humphrey and Elaine mounted up and they all started back towards the village green.
‘Are we allowed to bribe people?’ said Conrad. ‘It doesn’t sound very knightly.’
‘When did you become so puritanical?’ said Humphrey. ‘There isn’t actually a prohibition against it in the Knights’ Code. In fact, the Knights’ Code relies a lot on interpretation. Lots of stuff about goodness, honour, faith and truth. Not so many specifics. And I’m not a Knight of the Round Table anyway. There’s a reason the Less Valued Knights are less valued. It seems like a waste not to take advantage of it. Unless you have any better ideas?’
‘Goodwill?’ said Elaine.
Humphrey gave that one space so that everyone could admire it.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘you wanted to know why it mattered that the kidnapper’s armour was shiny. It was obviously brand new. So we’ll find out who’s been commissioning black armour lately, via bribes or “goodwill”, cross-reference it against the list of knights that we know were participating in the tourney and therefore have an alibi, and that should narrow things down a bit. This Tony “the Outlaw” Cooper is, astonishingly, not on the list.’
‘That’s a shame because he sounds like a real catch,’ said Elaine.
‘So we’d better go and pay him a visit,’ concluded Humphrey.
‘Are you going to joust him?’ said Conrad. ‘Not another bribe?’
‘Yes, Conrad, I’m going to joust him.’
‘Hurray!’ said Conrad. ‘A bit of action at last!’
Nine
They stopped by a copse of oak trees on the way back to the village, so that Humphrey could squeeze back into his armour and Conrad could cut him down a jousting lance. Oak wasn’t the ideal wood, especially green, but beggars could not be choosers, and nor could Less Valued Knights in a hurry.
‘When was the last time you fought a duel?’ asked Elaine, as Conrad tightened Humphrey’s straps and tucked patches of goatskin under the bits of armour that chafed the most.
‘How old are you, Conrad?’ said Humphrey.
‘You know how old I am,’ said Conrad.
‘You mean, not since Maudit? Not even in tournaments?’ said Elaine.
‘I’ve had enough men trying to kill me in my line of work without inviting more of them to do it for fun. Bloody hell, I swear this armour’s shrunk. You didn’t leave it out in the rain, did you, Conrad?’
‘That must be it,’ said Conrad.
‘Are you going to be all right?’ said Elaine.
Humphrey smiled at her. ‘Are you worried about me?’ he said.
‘I don’t want you to get hurt. Not because of me.’
Humphrey laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Really. I think I can handle Tony, the Outlaw of – what is this village called again?’
‘It’s too small to have a name,’ said Conrad.
‘But that’s exactly the kind of thing that you would say in a story, just before we find out that Tony the Outlaw of Too Small To Have A Name is really good at jousting,’ said Elaine.
‘Do you know why stories are stories?’ said Humphrey.
‘Why?’
‘Because unusual things happen in them.’
‘That’s what you’d say in the story too!’
‘Honestly, there is no reason to be concerned. They train us pretty well at Camelot. Better than they do in Too Small To Have A Name. Isn’t that right, Conrad?’
‘Fifteen years is a long time,’ said Conrad.
Humphrey shook his head, as much as he could in the tight neck guard.
‘I spent five years as a Knight of the Round Table, and that doesn’t count for nothing,’ he said. ‘Squire and page before that. So shut up the pair of you, before you start making me nervous as well.’
Elaine kept quiet while Humphrey checked his greaves. Then she said, ‘But what if this Tony’s the kidnapper?’
‘Then we’ll be damn lucky. Because your quest will be over in about half an hour’s time.’
They made their way back to the village green where the man who’d been drinking ale from a cracked pot was still sitting, still drinking ale.
‘Hello again,’ said Humphrey. ‘Don’t suppose you know where Tony, the cooper’s son, lives?’
‘Tony the Outlaw?’ said the drinker. ‘That house right there.’ He pointed.
‘Thanks,’ said Humphrey.
‘Why would you go to all the trouble of wearing black armour if everyone already knows who you are?’ said Elaine.
‘Why bother being an outlaw if you don’t get to wear the outfit?’ said Conrad, who secretly thought black armour looked cool.
‘Everyone in the village may know who he is,’ said Humphrey, ‘but you need to wear something intimidating when you’re robbing strangers otherwise they’ll think you’re an amateur and refuse to give you their money. People judge by appearances.’
Elaine nodded. She knew all about that.
Tony the Outlaw’s house was one of the most decrepit in a very decrepit selection. The front door – a few planks of unpainted wood, roughly hewn, with a rope latch – had fallen from the frame and was leaning against the side of the building. Through the doorway, a young man with a light haze of stubble on his chin could be seen, standing at a table in his long underwear, mixing a pot of whitewash and whistling.
Humphrey dismounted and passed the reins of his horse to Conrad.
‘You stay back this time,’ he said to Elaine. ‘He might be dangerous.’
Humphrey adjusted his armour so that it wasn’t cutting off the circulation to his legs, made sure his shield was in place, and then, in the absence of a door, knocked on the door frame.
Tony the Outlaw looked up.
‘Oh crap,’ he said.
‘You might want to think about changing your name, mate,’ said Humphrey.
‘I didn’t think I’d need to. We’re a long way from Camelot here. Though not far enough, apparently.’ Tony let go of the stick he’d been stirring the paint with and wiped his hands on a rag. ‘What brings you here?’ he asked. ‘You can’t possibly be looking for me. I’m strictly local. Surely King Arthur’s got bigger fish to fry?’
‘Quest,’ said Humphrey. He indicated Elaine with his head. Tony squinted out the door and waved at Elaine, and Elaine, despite herself, waved back. When Tony saw the giant on elephant-back beside her, he did a double take. ‘We’re after something very specific,’ Humphrey continued, ‘so chances are you’ve got nothing to worry about. Where were you on the day of the tourney at the du Mont castle?’
Tony dragged his attention away from Jemima. ‘Let me think …’ he said.
Humphrey put his hand on his sword. ‘Would you like me to jog your memory?’
Tony sighed. ‘Bollocks,’ he said. ‘Right. This isn’t going to look good. Tuft knights were all busy with the joust, local noblemen were all out watching. I took the opportunity to do a little bit of, ah, break and enter.’
‘And take and leave?’ said Humphrey.
‘That too,’ said Tony.
‘You didn’t go near the tournament itself?’ said Humphrey.
> ‘No, I hate the things. Never been a jousty kind of bloke. Although, I’m guessing …’ He eyed Humphrey’s armour.
‘Yup,’ said Humphrey. ‘Sorry.’
‘Can I at least put my armour on first?’
‘Course. But where I can see you.’
‘Back room, then,’ said Tony.
Humphrey turned to the others. ‘Conrad, if you hear me call out, you know what to do.’
Conrad cracked his enormous knuckles.
‘That’s quite a squire you’ve got,’ said Tony as he led the way into the back of the house.
‘He’s just standing by in case you’ve got an ambush waiting for me back there,’ said Humphrey. ‘I’ve been caught out before.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Tony.
There was nobody in the back room, though, just a dusty sea of worn clothing and unwashed bedclothes, the incriminating black armour in a heap on the floor by the window.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Tony. ‘I’m doing a few home repairs at the moment. It’s something I do on the side. Though it’s not going that well otherwise they might call me Tony the Builder.’ Tony was pulling on his black cuisses and greaves. ‘So how did you find me?’ he went on. ‘Bigwigs been complaining to Arthur?’
‘Actually, we’re not even looking for you. We’re looking for the person who kidnapped the winner of the tourney. You didn’t hear anything about that, did you?’
‘Well, obviously I heard that it happened – we were all laughing about it down the Cock and Bottle, a knight being snatched like a screaming virgin. But nobody’s got a clue who did it.’
‘No rumours, even?’
‘Nothing much. Nobody likes the du Monts, they were pleased to see them get egg on their faces. I think if it was someone we knew who’d done it, they’d have been boasting about it.’
‘Lady Elaine’s unpopular too?’
‘The daughter? Was that her outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘She looks like a nice maid. Does it matter what people say?’ Tony held up his arms. ‘Can you help me buckle this breastplate?’
Humphrey yanked at the straps.
‘It’ll definitely be a joust, then?’ said Tony. He looked rather dashing in his black armour.
The Table of Less Valued Knights Page 4
