The Knight

I said, “She can’t really have been pleased.” I had not eaten either up to then, and I decided I might as well start.

“Thank you, Sir Able. She was, however. I sent her away because I wanted to speak with you. Not as a knight, but as a son, for I wish with all my heart that the Overcyns had vouchsafed me such a son as you.”

I did not know what to say. Finally I said, “That’s a great honor, My Lord.”

“I am not trying to honor you, but to speak the truth.” Beel paused; I think to see how I felt about what he had said. “Men like me, noblemen high in His Majesty’s councils, have no great reputation for truth. We are careful about what we say and how we say it. We must be. I have lied when my duty demanded it. I did not enjoy it, but I did it to the best of my ability.”

I said, “I’ve got it.”

“Now I am going to tell you the truth, and only the truth. I ask to be believed. But I ask more. I ask you to be as honest with me as I am with you. Will you do it?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

Beel got up and went to a chest, opened it, and took out a roll of parchment. “You have a manor, Sir Able? Where is it?”

“No, My Lord.”

“None?”

I said, “No, My Lord,” again.

He sat back down, still holding the parchment. “Your liege sends you to take your stand in the Mountains of the Mice. For half a year.”

“I hadn’t heard them called that. But yes, he does.”

“It is the designation the Angrborn use. We name them the Northern Mountains for the most part, or merely instance some individual range. Why do you think the Angrborn speak of them as they do?”

I put down the slice of bread I had been about to eat. “I can’t imagine, My Lord, unless it’s because there are many mice here.”

“There are no more than in most places, and fewer than in many. They name it as they do because of the men that you fought last night. They are the sons of the Angrborn—sons that the Angrborn have fathered upon our women. I see that I have surprised you.”

Chapter 50. Who Told My Daughter?

I took a bite of bread, chewed it, and swallowed. “I hadn’t known such a thing was possible, My Lord.”

“It is.” Beel paused, his fingers drumming the table. “I suppose it must be painful for the women, at first at any rate.”

I nodded.

“The Angrborn raid our country for women as well as wealth. It is my task to stop those raids if I can. If I ca

“I wish you luck,” I said, “and I mean that.”

“King Gilling has indicated that he will accept me as His Majesty’s ambassador, at least. But I was speaking of the Mice, as the Angrborn call them—of the huge men who attacked us. They are born into the households of the Angrborn, the sons of their masters by their slave women. Often they try to remain in Jotunland after the deaths of their fathers. They may offer to serve his legitimate sons, for example.”

I nodded to show that I understood.

“Sometimes they succeed for a while. They are then slaves like their mothers, swineherds or plowmen. The pigs and cattle of the Angrborn are no larger than our own, as I understand it.”

“For a time, you said.”

“Eventually they are driven out. Or killed. A king’s son, the son of a free woman, would not be treated so; but these are. Those who live pass from place to place, hunted like rats, or like the mice whose name they bear, until they reach these mountains, where the Angrborn themselves do not dwell. There are many caves—the Angrborn call them Mouseholes. The Mice live in them like beasts, and are less than beasts. What do you intend to do today, Sir Able?” I was taken aback. “Travel north with your party, I suppose, My Lord.” Beel shook his head. “We will not travel today. We’re all tired, and we must discard some supplies so the mules will not be overburdened. The responsibilities of men who died must be assigned to others, and we must find a way to carry our wounded that will not give them too much pain.”

“Then I’ll sleep this morning, and go looking for the source of the Griffin this afternoon.”

“You got little sleep last night, I imagine. Few of us got much.” I had slept, but by the time I turned in it had been a day, a night, and a day.

I was still groggy and I said so.

“I see. Would you be willing to do me a favor, Sir Able?”

“Of course, My Lord. Anything.”

“Then sleep this morning as you had pla

“I have, My Lord.” I smiled. “Also to the fact that they would encounter me.”

“That is well said. Nevertheless, I ask you to abandon your hunt for my sake.

Will you do it?”

“Of course, My Lord. Gladly.”

“You are a good bowman?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“No beating around the bush. I like that.” For the first time that morning, one of his thin-lipped smiles tugged at the corners of Beel’s mouth. “Master Papounce has been after me to stage a match between you and Sir Garvaon. Garvaon is a famous bowman.”

“Everybody says so, My Lord.”

“He is seconded by Id

I drained my flagon and refilled it from the pitcher.

“You will do it?”

“Of course, My Lord. I said I would.”

“If you lose by but a narrow margin, no harm will be done. But should you lose badly, you may be ridiculed. It might be well for you to prepare yourself for that.”

“It might be well, My Lord, for those who would ridicule me to prepare themselves for me.”

“We ca

“I will, My Lord, provided they do.”

“I see. Well, I’ve told Papounce and Garvaon that I would do this, so I suppose I’ll have to go through with it. Try to restrain yourself.”

“I will, My Lord.”

Beel gnawed his lips while I finished a piece of smoked sturgeon. When I wiped my mouth, he said, “You may depart, Sir Able, if you’ve had enough to eat.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t send Lady Id

Beel hesitated. “I nearly raised this topic when we first met. When Crol brought you in. You remember that day, I’m sure.”

“Sure.”

Beel sighed. “I spoke of Svon then. He is a distant cousin of mine, as I said.” I nodded, wondering what was coming.

“He seeks to become a knight. No higher distinction lies open to him.” Beel left his seat to go to the doorway of his pavilion and look out at the rocks and snow-mantled peaks. He was still holding that roll of parchment. When he turned back, I said, “I have never stood in his way, My Lord.”

“He quarreled with your servant. He told me so. Your servant beat him and drove him off. Did I tell you that?”

“I knew it, Your Lordship. I don’t believe I learned it from you.”

“Perhaps you learned it from Svon himself?”

I shook my head.

“You learned of it from another traveler, then.”