The Knight

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 butter, 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 Modguda 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.”

“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 pla

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. “Pass the pork.”

I did. “It would be better if you were to say pass 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 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. “Nobody 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.”