The Knight

Chapter 65 I’ll Free You

The ford proved shallow when we reached it, its gentle, quiet water scarcely knee deep. On the other bank, I dried my feet and legs as well as I could with a rag from my saddlebag, and pulled my stockings and boots back on.

“It’s deeper in the spring,” the old woman explained. “It’s the only place where you can cross, then. Will you help me down, sir?”

I rose. “On the War Way I saw a ford so deep we didn’t dare ride across it for fear we’d be swept away.” I took the old woman by the waist and lifted her down. “We had to hold each other’s stirrup straps and lead our horses, while the water boiled around us.”

“You couldn’t have got across, sir, in spring. Only the giants.”

I nodded.

“From here I’d better go ahead, sir. I’ll walk fast as I can, if you’ll follow me. You won’t leave me, will you? I want you to see him, sir, an’—an’ you an’ him talk.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “I need to speak to both of you about the road to Utgard.”

“You an’ your horse’ll have to go pretty slow or else get to where he is afore I do.”

I nodded as I watched her vanish into the night. Under my breath I said, “We’d better wait here for a minute or two, Gylf.”

“Yep.”

“Was there just the one old man?”

“Yep. Good man.” Gylf seemed to hesitate. “Let him pet me.”

“Was he strong?”

Gylf considered, “Not like you.”

Some distance off, a hoarse voice called. “Gerda? Gerda?”

“Close now,” Gylf muttered.

“Close enough for him to hear her footsteps, anyway. And for us to hear him.” I picked up the lame stallion’s reins.

“Hungry.”

“So am I,” I conceded. “Do you think they might find a little food for us? There ought to be tons in the house of one of the giants.”

“Yep.”

“Where is the house, anyway? Did you see it?”

“Other side of the hill.”

I tossed the reins onto the stallion’s neck and mounted. “There should be sheep and pigs and so forth, too. If worst comes to worst, we can steal one.” I touched the stallion’s sides with my spurs, and he set off at a limping trot.

“Got your bow?”

Bow and quiver were slung on the left side of my saddle; I held them up. “Why do you want to know?”

“They blind them,” Gylf said, and trotted ahead.

The hill was low and not at all steep. I stopped near the top to take a good look at the black bulk of a farmhouse a good way off that seemed, in the moonlight, too big and too plain.

“Over here, sir,” the old woman called. “Under the tree.”

“I know.” I dismounted and led the stallion over.

“Dog’s here already.” It was a man’s hoarse voice. “Nice dog.”

“Yes, he is.” Wishing I had a lantern, I joined them, leaving the stallion to get whatever supper he could from the dry grass. “I’m a knight of Sheerwall Castle, father. Sir Able of the High Heart is my name.”

“Able,” the old man said. “I’d a brother a’ that name.”

I nodded. “It’s a good one, I think.”

“His name’s Berthold, sir,” Gerda said. “Bold Berthold, they called him when we was young.”

In a little spot of moonlight, I could see Bold Berthold’s hand grope for hers, and find it.

Chapter 66. Which Am I?

Of course I knew who he was then, and I wanted to hug him and cry; but I knew, too, that he would never believe who I was. And if he did, he would believe all over again that I was the brother he had lost. I could not have handled it, and I knew it. I made my voice as hard as I could, and I said, “I’ve brought Gerda safely to you, and that’s what I promised her I’d do. You two have got a lot to talk about, and I’ve got urgent business in Utgard. How do I get there?”

“North,” Bold Berthold muttered. “Follow the star. That’s all I heard.”

“You’ve never been there yourself?”

“No, sir.”

“I haven’t neither,” Gerda said. “You must have heard reports.”

“It’s a bad place, even for them, sir. I hate to see a young man like you goin’ there.”

Bold Berthold was groping for me. “Can I feel of you? You sound like my brother.”

I touched Bold Berthold’s hand.

“Bigger’n mine.” His hand had clasped mine. “He ain’t but a slip of a lad, my brother ain’t.” Gerda said, “I recollect Able now. He was little when you was big, that’s right, but he must be as old as us, or near it.”

“Able was took. Gone years and years. When he come back he wasn’t no older than before. ’Twasn’t last year. Year ‘fore that, maybe.” Bold Berthold fell silent, and from the twitching of his white beard I knew his mouth was working, “Thought he’d come get me. Maybe he’s tryin’. Wasn’t but a slip of a boy. Only he growed.”

“There’s a Able here now,” Gerda reminded him; Gylf wagged his tail, a faint rustling among the fallen pine needles.

“I been tryin’ to get her to run with me, sir,” Bold Berthold explained, “only she won’t, and I won’t without she does. So we don’t, neither one.”

I nodded, although Bold Berthold could not see it and it is doubtful that Gerda could. “That’s right, she told me she didn’t want to escape.”

“I only said it ’cause I wasn’t sure I could trust you, sir. Not then I wasn’t. I’d like to, if we could an’ not get caught.” She spoke to Bold Berthold. “That’s why I brought him. He’s a knight, a real knight an’ not feard a’ anything. He’ll help us.”

“They don’t care ‘bout common folk,” Bold Berthold mumbled.

“I’ll help you if I can,” I told him, “only there’s no point in either of you going to Utgard with me, and I have to go there to free my servant.” I sighed, wondering whether I could really pull it all off. “Also a woman called Ulfa who helped me one time. Pouk’s blind now, I suppose; but I have to free him just the same. No—more than ever.” I had not meant to add, “Just as I’ve got to free you and Gerda,” but it slipped out.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you, sir!”

“After that, I have to help a certain baron take back the treasure he was bringing King Gilling. Then maybe I can find Svon and Org. Svon’s my squire. Org is ... I don’t think you’d understand. But I wish he were here, and Svon, too.”

At my elbow, a new voice said, “I will find them for you if you want me to, Lord.”

Gerda gave a small shriek.

“Not yet,” I told Uri. “I’ve been wondering where you two were.”

“Scattering the mules, of course. The Angrborn would have them all back by this time if it were not for us.”

“Are you all over black?” Gerda asked Uri. “I can’t hardly see you, even. It’s like I was blind myself, or as bad as.”

“I am a woman of the Fire Aelf,” Uri explained, and brightened until she glowed like a red-hot poker.

“Comin’ to torment me?” Bold Berthold rumbled. “Well, do your worst, all of you.”

“I am on my lord’s business,” Uri told him. “If you desire to be tormented, I will try to find someone to do it when I have more time.”

Bold Berthold’s right hand darted out, catching her by the neck. “There. I got her, Sir Able.”

“Please let her go. She’s no enemy of yours or mine.”

Bold Berthold’s left hand found Uri’s arm, and he released his hold upon her neck. “Don’t feel solid, like. They never does.”

“They seem less real here than we do, just as we seem more real in Aelfrice than we do here.” Inwardly I was full of doubt, but I kept going. “Uri and Baki—Baki’s another Aelfmaiden—fade and get weak under our sun.”

Uri said, “Will you not make him release me, Lord? What have I done to you or to him that was less than good?”

Gerda muttered, “Let her go, Bert,” and tapped his hand; but Bold Berthold did not.

“Well, you picked me up and flew away with me one time,” I told Uri, “you and Baki and some more of your friends.” I paused, considering. “I don’t think you should have asked me that question.”