The Knight

That reminded me of the rabbits, and I got back to work.

“He was gobbling it,” Mani continued, “when I, being famished, skillfully snatched a piece from under his greedy nose.”

“I see.” I got up to cut a green stick.

“He called me names, dog fashion. Vile epithets. I pointed out that he himself was a mere vagabond who had entered my mistress’s home without the least invitation or exculpation in law. He informed me—I omit his insults—that he was the dog of a noble knight, giving your name.”

I put the rabbit I was going to cook for Gylf on my stick. “I notice that you didn’t try to steal any meat while I was cleaning this.”

“I hope to persuade you to cook some fraction of one of your remaining rabbits for me,” Mani said politely.

“But you’re still eating the head,” I said, positioning the rest of the rabbit over the fire.

“True. I thank you for that.”

“So Gylf gets the first piece. After that, I get a piece, because I’ve never had any yet. But I’ll give you another piece when we’ve gotten ours.”

“I am confident of your generosity.”

“Will you talk when there are other people around? Gylf won’t.”

“Good news! Let them come and silence him.” Mani let the rabbit’s skull fall. “As for me, it will depend on who they are, I suppose. How they feel about cats and so forth. I’ll have to see.” He began to wash his paws.

“So will I. Do you object to a test?”

He did not reply, and I took his silence for agreement. I called, “Uri! Baki! I need you.”

I was expecting one or both to step out of the darkness of the surrounding trees, but neither did.

“Uri! Baki!”

Mani coughed politely. “Yelling like that could bring us unwelcome guests, if I may say it without offense.”

“They’re mad at me for making them stay up here when the sun is out,” I explained. “Sunshine doesn’t really hurt them much unless they stand in it, but they don’t like it.”

“Uri and Baki are of the Aelf, I take it. Watch that meat of ours, please.”

I did.

“Do you really know Aelf? I mean, are you on friendly terms with them? Normally?”

“I’m not as friendly as I’d like to be with one of them,” I said.

Mani wanted me to explain, and I did, a little; but I did not like it, and when he saw I did not he shut up. We cooked the rest of the rabbits, sharing them between the three of us, but there was not a lot said after that.

There was still rain on the grass when we struck the War Way next morning. Gylf ran in front to show me the way; when Mani was not riding on my shoulder, he trailed behind to stay away from Gylf. Half an hour’s fast walking got us in sight of some pavilions where sleepy servants were tidying up and seeing to a hundred or more horses and mules. A man-at-arms with a partisan stepped into the road to make us stop.

“I’m Sir Able of the High Heart,” I said, “a knight of Sheerwall Castle who’s been lost in this forest. If you’ll lend me a horse, I’ll be very grateful, and I’ll return it as soon as I rejoin my servant, who has my own horses.”

The man-at-arms bawled for his sergeant, a somewhat older man-at-arms who had a steel cap and a hard leather shirt. I explained all over again, and the sergeant said, “You’ll have to ask Master Crol, sir. That your hound?”

“Yes. His name’s Gylf.”

“We seen him last night and tried to catch him, but he give us the slip. Good huntin’ dog?”

“The best.”

“Well, you come along with me, sir.” The sergeant patted Gylf’s head, which Gylf tolerated to show there were no hard feelings. “Had any breakfast?”

I shook my head. “We ate a couple of rabbits last night, and to tell the truth I was really glad to get them. But that was supper for Gylf and me, and for my cat. I didn’t get as much as I wanted, and they didn’t either.”

“You got a cat, sir?” The sergeant looked around without seeing Mani.

“Somewhere.” I could not help smiling. “He’s only invisible at night, so I suppose he’s hiding ’til he finds out if you’re friendly.”

“I ain’t, sir. I’m a dog man, myself. What’s a cat good for anyhow?”

Gylf barked softly.

“Well,” I said, “I talk to mine. You can learn a lot from a cat.”

A servant carried a big tray loaded with steaming food into the nearest pavilion. The sergeant said, “That’ll be breakfast for Master Crol, and them other upper servants, sir. Let’s see if Master Crol wants to talk while eatin’. If he does, maybe you’d get a bite too.”

I said I hoped so.

“Master Crol’s a cat man, I guess. He’s got a dozen back at the castle, anyhow. Might be best if you left the hound with me, sir. I won’t hurt him.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” I told him, “but I’m going to take him with me just the same. If Master Crol objects to him, I’ll walk.”

The sergeant gri

It took quite a bit longer than I hoped, but that gave me a chance to rub Gylf’s ears and look around at the camp, which was big. There had to be close to fifty servants of one kind or another, and a bunch of archers and men-at-arms.

“He’ll see you now, sir,” the sergeant said when he came out. When he was closer, he lowered his voice. “I told him about your dog. He said it was all right.”

The inside of the pavilion was dark after the sunshine outside, but I could see three men eating at a small table. “Good Master Crol?”

The man facing me motioned me to come closer. “You are Sir Able, one of Duke Marder’s knights?”

I said I was.

“Lost? And you’d like something to eat?”

“Most of all, I’d like you to lend me a decent horse,” I said, “but I’d like a bite to eat, too, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“What if it is?”

I could not tell whether he was looking for a fight or making a joke. I said, “Then let me borrow a horse, please, and I’ll be gone.”

He clapped his hands. “We must get you something to sit on, Sir Able. Does that hound eat as much as I think?”

Gylf wagged his tail, so I said, “More.”

“I’ll have them bring something for him.”

One of the other men got up. “I’ve had enough, and had better see to business. You may have my seat, Sir Able, if you want it.”

I said thanks and sat. “I’ve got a cat, too. He seems to be hiding just now.”

“I understand.”

“I’d like a little food for him, too, when I find him.”

A servingman came in, and Crol told him to take away the dirty trencher the other man had been eating from and bring me a clean one. “And bones. With meat on them.”

“I’m Master Papounce,” the man across the table said. “The servants are my charge. Master Egr, who just left, has the baggage train and the muleteers. Sir Garvaon has our men-at-arms and archers.”

Crol added. “They’re in the big pavilion. Can you use that bow?”

It was what Master Agr had asked me once. “I can shoot as well as most men,” I said.

“We might have a match tonight,” Papounce suggested. “Sir Garvaon’s a fine bowman.”

“I’ll be far ahead of you,” I said, “if I can get a horse.”

“That’s up to Master Crol. He’s Lord Beel’s herald, and he’s in charge of everything save Sir Garvaon’s men.”

Crol shook his head. “His Lordship must see him. I—”

Two servingmen came in, one with a clean trencher for me, butter, and a basket of rolls, the other with a big bowl of scraps and bones for Gylf.

When they had gone and Gylf was cracking bones, Crol tugged at his beard. It was a black spade beard, as I could see by then. The face above it looked old enough to make me wonder whether that black was not a dye job. He said, “You are not of noble lineage, Sir Able?”

I shook my head, and tried to explain that our father had run a hardware store; when I saw that was going to get me into more trouble, I said that my brother Bold Berthold had raised me and he had been a peasant.