The Knight

We had reached the house. Pouk said, “If it’s all th’ same to you, sir, I’d just as soon not.” He dismounted, by that act alarming several ducks and a goose. “Maybe I ought to run in front, sir, an’ tell ’em who you are.”

A middle-aged farmwife had appeared in the doorway. I called, “We’re harmless travelers looking for water for our horses and ourselves. Let us have that, and we won’t ask for anything else.”

She did not answer, and I added, “If you’d rather leave us thirsty, say so and we’ll go.”

Pouk trotted toward her, leading his horse. “This here’s Sir Able, the bravest knight Duke Marder’s got.”

She nodded, and seemed to weigh me with her eyes. “You look brave enough. ‘N strong.”

“I’m thirsty, too. I’ve been jousting, and riding without a hat. May we have some water?”

She reached a decision. “We’ve cider, if you want it. It’ll be healthier. Maybe a couple hard-boiled eggs ‘n some bread ‘n sausage?”

I had not known I was hungry, but when she said that I found out quick. I said, “We can pay you, ma’am, and we’ll be glad to. We’re going into Forcetti to pay an i

“No charge. You come in.”

She ushered us into her kitchen, a big su

“They’re not as thirsty as we are, maybe.”

“I’ll fetch the cider right away. Keg’s in the root cellar.” She bustled out. “Hard cider, it might be.” Pouk licked his lips.

I agreed, but I was thinking about the woman, and what she might want from us.

She came back with three basswood jacks, which she set on the table. “Fresh bread. Nearly fresh, anyhow. I baked yesterday.” She took a sausage from the pocket of her apron and laid it on a trencher, where it fell in thick slabs under the assault of a long knife. “Summer sausage. We smoke it three days, ‘n after that it keeps if it don’t get wet.”

I thanked her and ate some sausage, which was very good.

“Sir Able? That’s you? You seem like a down-to-earth person, for a knight.”

I interrupted my cider drinking to say I tried to be.

“You really the bravest knight the duke’s got?”

“Aye!” Pouk exclaimed.

“I doubt it,” I said, “but I don’t really know. To tell you the truth, I don’t believe there’s a knight in Sheerwall Castle that would hesitate to cross swords with me. But I wouldn’t hesitate to cross swords with them, either.”

“Scared of ghosts?”

I shrugged. “There’s no man I’m afraid of, and it doesn’t seem likely that a dead man would be worse than a live one.”

“Not a man.” She glanced at Pouk, who had drained his mug and was looking unwontedly sober. “Little more of that?”

He shook his head.

“If it’s a woman’s ghost,” I said, “she may be after some property or something she thinks is coming to her. I talked to an old lady down south who knew a lot about ghosts, and she told me that women’s ghosts generally mean the woman was murdered. More often than not, justice is all they want.”

“Not a woman.” The farmwife got up to fetch a loaf of bread.

“A child’s ghost? That’s sad.”

“I wish ’twas.” She sawed her bread with exaggerated care, I thought to keep her feelings under control.

“Are you talking about the Aelf? They’re not ghosts.”

“Guess you know how you knights got started?”

I admitted I did not, that I had never even wondered about it, and added that I would like to hear the story.

“No story. There was ogres all around here in the old time. Dragons, too. Monsters. These here giants that’s in the ice country now. Lots of them. A man that killed one, he was a knight, only after a while they was all killed off, so it had to be other things.”

“You still haven’t told me what the ghost is.”

“A ogre. Must have been one killed right here, ’cause it’s been haunting my farm.”

Pouk looked around as if he expected to see it.

“You don’t have to worry,” the farmwife told him. “He don’t come but at night.”

I said, “In that case we can’t help you. We’ve got to go to Forcetti.” I took another piece of her summer sausage, thinking she might pull it out of reach soon. “We can’t stay in Forcetti tonight, though. Or here, either. I promised Master Agr he’d get his horses back tonight.”

Her face fell.

“It will be late, I suppose, when we pass your house again. Dark, or just about. We could stop in for a moment, just to make sure everything was okay.”

“Me ‘n my sons would be pleased as pigeons, Sir Able. We’d give you a bite to eat then, ‘n your horses, too.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s right, the horses haven’t been watered. See to them, please, Pouk.”

“Not good to give ’em too much, sir.”

“That’s when they’re warm from galloping. They can’t be hot now, they’ve been standing in the shade whisking flies while we ate. Give them all they want.”

“Aye aye, sir.” He hurried out.

The farmwife said, “Me ‘n my sons work this farm, Sir Able. They’re strong boys, both of them, but they won’t face the ghost. Duns did, ‘n it almost killed him. He was bad for more’n a year.”

I said I would not have thought just being scared could do that.

“Broke his arms, ‘n just about tore one off.”

As soon as I heard that, I wanted to talk to the son, but he was out seeing to something or other; it stuck in my mind, though.

Chapter 36. The Dollop And Scallop

In the tap of the Dollop and Scallop (it was a big, plain, dirty room where you smelled the spilled ale), the i

He scowled. “Want to make a fool of me, don’t you?”

“Not a bit. I can’t read and neither can Pouk, but I’d like to know what I’m being billed for.”

He stood beside me and pointed. “This right here’s the only part that matters. Five scields up and down.”

“For three days? It seems like an awful lot.”

“Three days’ rent of the best room I got. That’s right here.” He pointed. “And food here, and drink.”

Pouk would not meet my eyes.

“And food for your dog. That’s here.”

I caught his arm. “Say that again. Tell me about it.”

“Food for your dog.” The i

“I didn’t have a dog when I checked in.” I tightened my grip because I had the feeling he was going to bolt if he got the chance. “But I used to have a dog. Pouk knows him. You showed him to Pouk, didn’t you? And asked Pouk if he knew who he belonged to?”

Pouk shook his head violently. “He never showed me no dog, sir, I swear.

Nor never talked about none neither.”

“I was going to punish you,” I told him, “for drinking at my expense when you knew I didn’t have much money. But if you’re lying about Gylf, I’m not going to punish you at all. If you’ve lied about Gylf, you and I are finished right now, and you had better keep out of my way from here on.”

Pouk drew himself up. “I never seen no dog in this here i

’un, sir. Not from him, an’ not from nobody here at all—not your dog Gylf what jumped over th’ railin’ that time we both remember, an’ not no other dog neither.”