The Knight. Part 31

The moon shone through pouring rain as I made my way down the muddy track. At its end the ogre loomed black and huge. I was the boy who had gone into Disiri's cave, not the man who had come out. My sword was Disira's grave marker, the short stick tied to the long one with a thong. I pushed the point i nto the mud to mark my own grave, and went on. When the ogre threw me, it became such a sword as I wished for, with a golden pommel and a gleaming blade.

I floated off the ground and started back for it, but I could no longer breathe.

287.

chapter 42.

I AM A HERO.

l woke up sweating, threw off my blanket, and looked at the window. Gray light was in the sky. Sleeping, I decided, was worse than getting up; and I glued down my choice by pouring water in the cracked washbowl and scrubbing every part of me I could reach. When I lived with Bold Berthold we washed by swimming in the Griffin. That had been a lot better--in warm weather anyhow--and I wondered if the duke got baths half as good.

Pouk was snoring on the other side of the door. I could hear each snore clearly, and I thought sure the noise I made washing and getting dressed would wake him up, but it did not. For a minute I wanted to pour my wash-water on him, but I carried it to the window and threw it out instead, then I stuck my head out and looked around.

The castle might be called Sheerwall, but the wall was not really straight up and down. The big not-quite-square stones were rough, too, and were not set exactly even. I had done a good deal of climbing on the Western Trader, and now I stuck my boots in my belt, in back where they would be out of the way, and went over the sill.

288.

In one way it was a tough climb, and in another it was not. I kept hitting places where I could not go down any further without sliding, and the wall was steep enough that a slide would not have been much different from a fall by the time I got to the ground. So I would have to give that spot up, and go sidewise or back up, and try someplace else. But it was good, hard exercise, and there was never a time when I really thought I was going to fall. Toug climbed around on the wall of Utgard once pretty much like I did that morning on the Marshal's Tower, and when he told me about it, it reminded me of this. Only there were vines, some kind of ivy, on Utgard. I will write about that when I get to it. Once I was on the ground, the smell of bread baking steered me to the kitchen without a lot of side trips. I was good and hungry, and that helped.

"You're not supposed to be in here, sir," a cook told me. "Breakfast in the hall when you hear the horn."

When I did not say anything, he added, "Fresh ham today, sir, and cheese with it."

"Bread and b.u.t.ter, and small beer." I knew because I had eaten there twice the day before. "How about eggs? Have you got any? What about apples?" He shook his head. "No, sir. We do the best we can, sir."

"That's good." I patted his shoulder. "Since you do, you won't mind if I take this." It was hot loaf, good heavy bread with a lot of barley and spelt in it.

"A nice lady fixed a swell supper for me last night," I explained to the cook, "but I knew I was going to have to fight and I didn't want to eat a lot and slow myself down. You don't mind?"

"No, sir." His face showed he did. "Not at all, sir."

"Good. Come out into the hall for a minute."

"I have more bread to--" Seeing the way I was looking at him, he hurried out.

The hall was a lot bigger than the kitchen, maybe a hundred paces long and fifty wide. There was a dais for Duke Marder and his wife and special company. For the rest of us, long tables of bare wood, benches, and stools. Some servingwomen were setting places for breakfast: a greasy trencher and a flagon for everybody. I said, "Master Caspar eats here, doesn't he? Where does he sit?"

"I work in the kitchen," the cook said. "I have no way of knowing, but Mod-Gene Wolfe - The Knight 289 guda could probably tell you."

I let him go. "I bet you're right. She will, too. We're old buddies." She bowed woman-fashion. "I'm glad you're so much better, Sir Able."

"So am I." I turned to the cook. "You've got more bread to bake. Get to work!"

Modguda showed me where Master Caspar sat. He had a chair. That proved something, although I was not sure what. I sat down in it to eat my bread and told Modguda to fetch a flagon of beer.

"He--he'll be angry, Sir Able. Master Caspar will." She looked about ready to die.

"Not at you. And not at me, because I'll get up as soon as he comes and let him sit down. I just want to be sure I don't miss him." By that time a few people were straggling into the hall. I tried to guess which ones might be warders and work in the dungeon.

Modguda was short enough, and I was big enough, that she did not have to bend down to whisper in my ear. "Everybody's afraid of him, sir. Even you knights."

I had a mouthful, which gave me a good chance to think before I said anything. "Everybody can't be," I said when I had swallowed and had a sip of beer.

"I'm not, so how could it be everybody?"

"He's the master of the dungeon, sir. You wouldn't want to go there, sir, but if you--"

I shook my head. "That's exactly what I do want. I was down there last night, but I had no flashlight--no torch, I mean--and couldn't see much. I'd like to go again and have Master Caspar show me around. That's one of the favors I'm going to ask him for."

Right then, somebody in back of me said, "Ask who for?" It was a big guy who liked black. I asked if he was Caspar, and he nodded. Modguda had run while I was turning.

I got out of his chair and held out my hand. "I'm Sir Able of the High Heart." He said, "Huh!"

"I just sat here so I wouldn't miss you when you came to breakfast. I've got something to talk to you about, and I thought it might be a good idea to do it while we ate."

290.

"Say it now." He sat down hard. "I eat with my men, not with you." There were half a dozen warders in black clothes around us by that time, some pulling out stools and sitting on them, and some just standing there to listen in. I began, "Okay, I'll go to your dungeon--"

"Most do."

The one sitting next to Caspar laughed, and it was not just some guy laughing at the boss's joke; everything he was planning to do to me some fine day was in that laugh of his. I knocked him off his stool, and when he started to get back up I picked it up and hit him with it.

The whole place got very quiet, fast. Somebody had set a platter of fresh ham in front of Caspar. I pulled it over and took a piece, and got my bread and ate a little of that, too.

"You're the fellow that crippled all the other knights," Caspar said.

"Three or four. Maybe five. That's all." I picked up my flagon and took a drink.

He nodded. "Pa.s.s the pork."

I did. "It would be better if you were to say pa.s.s the pork, please, Sir Able. But I'll overlook it this time."

He grunted.

"I want us to be friends, Master Caspar. A servant of mine is staying with you, and I'd like you to take good care of him."

He turned to look at me, still chewing ham. "So I thought--" Woddet had come over while I was talking, and he broke in then. "Fighting in the Great Hall is forbidden. Master Agr wants to see you after breakfast."

"I'll be happy to talk to him," I said, "but we weren't fighting. We're talking about a private matter."

Woddet squatted to check out the warder on the floor, feel for a pulse and so on. "What about this?"

"Oh, him. I don't think he's hurt very much. If I'd hit him hard I would've killed him, but I didn't."

Woddet got up. "You'd better see Master Agr as soon as you leave here. Otherwise . . ." He shrugged. Caspar said, "Otherwise, you're mine."

"I'd rather see the duke," I told Woddet, "but since Master Agr wants to see 291.

me, okay. Tell him it will be a pleasure."

"You want to come with me? I'll make a place for you at the table where we knights eat."

"I know where it is, but I've got to talk with Master Caspar just now and then Master Agr after that."

Woddet went back to the knights' table, and somebody a couple of tables over started talking a little bit too loud, and pretty soon everybody was talking and eating like they always did. Modguda brought a round of cheese on a big trencher, and I got out my dagger and cut a slice. I have always liked ham and cheese, even if we had been getting it just about every meal.

"We brand our prisoners sometimes," Caspar said. "It depends on what the duke wants. Troublemakers. Thieves. You ever been branded?" I was chewing, but I shook my head.

"I have." He pushed back his hood so I could see the brand on his forehead.

"I didn't like it."

I swallowed. "n.o.body likes a headache. We get them, just the same." Caspar chuckled. He had a mean chuckle. "You say you've got a fresh prisoner for me?" I thought about a friend of mine who had gone away to boarding school, and I said, "More of a boarder. You don't have to lock him up, but he'll be living with you until I go north to take a stand at some bridge or something."

"He'll be living with us."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I know you must feed your prisoners--they'd starve to death if you didn't, and they don't eat in here. All you've got to do is set out a plate of food for this servant of mine." I stopped to think about some things Uns had said. "Every other day might be enough. Just leave it out where he can find it, and if he hasn't eaten it in a couple of days, try someplace else."

"I ain't going to have people running around loose in my dungeon." Caspar sounded like his mind was made up.

"He's there already. All you've got to do is feed him." Caspar's face got red, and his eyes got small.

"I put him in there last night, and I told him to stay there. He promised he would, and as long as he gets enough to eat I think he will." I had been hoping Caspar would relax a little after that, but he did not.

"You might find droppings, I guess. But in a dungeon that shouldn't matter." 292.

Caspar wiped his dagger on his sleeve and stuck it back in the scabbard.

"He's there right now."

"That's right." I was glad he was finally getting it. "I put him down there last night. You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you up. A friend unbarred your door for me and barred it again after I left." I tried to remember whether I had really heard Uri put the bar back. I could not be certain, so I said, "Or an yway I told her to. I'm pretty sure she must have done it."

"This is a different friend," Caspar said slowly. "This isn't the one you left for me to wet-nurse."

"Right." The man I had knocked down was getting back on his feet and going for a big knife on his belt. I caught his wrist. "If you draw that, I'll have to take it away from you. You'd better sit down and eat something before all the cheese is gone."

Caspar stood up when the man was sitting down. "You might get to know Hob better before long."

"That's good," I said. "I'd like to patch things up, if I can. Meanwhile you'll take care of my servant, won't you? I know I'm asking a favor." He turned and stalked out of the Great Hall.

Master Agr was standing with his back to the window when I came in. He nodded, cleared his throat, waited as though he were going to talk, then cleared it again. "Good morrow, Sir Able."

"Good morning, Master Agr. What is it?" They had told me to stand up straight the first time I had been there, and I was careful to do it again.

"Sir Able, I . . ."

I said, "Yes, Master Agr?"

Agr sighed. "I cannot conduct our conversation like this. Please sit down." He motioned toward a chair. "Bring that over here, please." He sat in his usual chair, behind stacks of reports and ledgers. I carried the chair over, and sat.

"Fighting in the Great Hall is strictly contrary to His Grace's command. Did you know that?"

I nodded. "Yes, I do. I did."

"Yet you struck one of the warders with a stool. That is what has been reported to me. I didn't see it myself." 293.

"With my fist first, Master Able. With the stool when he started to get up." Agr nodded. I do not believe I ever saw him looking cheerful, and he certainly did not look cheerful then. "Why did you do that, Sir Able?"

"Because I had to talk to Master Caspar. I knew if I let that warder get up he would interrupt us. What I had to say was hard enough without having to tell him to put a cork in it all the time." I took a deep breath, feeling like I was going to make things worse but that I had to do it. "Let me say this, and then you can say anything you want. I'm not going to try to defend what I did, but I don't think it was wrong. Sometimes you've got to make an exception, no matter what the rule says. You're going to punish me for it. I know that, and it's okay with me. I'm not blaming you. I apologize for raising a ruckus and giving you trouble. But if the same thing happened again, I'd knock him down again just like I did." Agr nodded. Nothing in his face had changed. "For those of less than knightly rank, such as I am myself, the customary punishment is dismissal. For knights, it is banishment for a period of months or years."

"Fine. I've been wanting to go north anyway. How long should I stay gone?" Agr rose and went to his window, where he stood looking out for so long that I began to think he was waiting for me to leave. When he finally sat back down he said, "There have been fights in the Great Hall before, but they were simple matters. This case is fraught with complexities. In the first place, Sir Able, a few of our knights still maintain that you are not one of them. You must be aware of that."

I said I was.

"They resent your eating at their table. If I punish you as a knight, they will resent that still more. Don't look like that, please. I'm not going to dismiss you like a servant."

"I feel that I've proved myself."

"So do I. So does His Grace. I'm simply saying that if I give you knightly punishment, the resentment will be that much greater."

"There will be none from me, Master Agr. You need not fear my resentment."

"I fear no man's resentment in any case," Agr told me, "but it is my duty to maintain order among you knights. To do that and a great many other things." He sucked his teeth. "That is the first complication. The second is that when 294.

these fights have erupted in the past they have most often been between knight and knight. I can recall one in which two menials fought. That is the sole exception. I dismissed them both, but I've given my word that I will not dismiss you like a menial, Sir Able, and I won't. Yet if I banish you, the knights will be up in arms. Some because you received a knight's punishment. All the rest because a knight was banished for striking an insolent churl. They will protest to His Grace, at the very least."

"I will not," I said.

"No. I realize that. But there are seasoned knights here of whom His Grace thinks highly. Should they join the protest, and they may . . ." Agr shrugged.

"I'm very sorry this happened," I told him. "I really mean that."

"Thank you. Lastly, but by no means least, the warders are hated and feared. Not merely by all the knights but by everyone. I don't want to offend your ev ident modesty, but I feel quite certain that you are regarded as a hero by nine-tenths of those who know of what took place this morning."

"I am a hero," I told him. "I don't mean for knocking a warder down. That was nothing."

He smiled, a little bitterly. "Perhaps you're correct, Sir Able. In fact, I believe you are. But now that I've outlined the difficulties, I'd like to hear everything you have to say in your defense. If you've a speech in you, this is the time to give it."

"I don't." I thought about what had happened, and how n.o.body on the Western Trader would have cared. "I know you won't pay much attention to this, Master Agr, but it really wasn't fighting. I hit him with my fist, and afterward with the stool. But I wasn't really fighting him, because he never fought me."

"Go on."