The Knight

“Yes, My Lord.”

“This is awkward, and I am by no means certain I can do justice to it. You have seen my daughter Id

“Yes, Your Lordship. A beautiful young lady.”

“Precisely. She is very young, and delicate of form as of feature. Could your servant beat her? If he chose?”

I had to think about that one—not about the answer, but about where he was going with it. Finally I said, “I hope he would never do such a thing, My Lord. I know Pouk well and he’s got his faults, but he’s not cruel or brutal.”

“He could do it if he chose?”

“Of course, My Lord, if I were not there to prevent him. Pouk is twenty or so, and strong and active.”

“Just so. Let us suppose it has occurred. My daughter would feel deeply shamed at having been beaten by a churl. But she would feel no shame at all because the churl had been able to defeat her. No sensible person would suppose that a delicate girl like Id

I nodded.

“When Svon was a boy of ten, he might have felt the same way and been justified in his feelings. What troubles me ... One thing that troubles me is that Svon appeared to feel so now. He would be a knight. If Duke Marder were to offer him the accolade, the golden spurs and the rest of it, he would accept at once. How would you feel if this servant of yours were to beat you?” I tried to talk. It seemed like I was choking.

“Exactly. I am no warlike man, Sir Able. While you were learning the craft of knighthood, I was learning to read and to write, history, languages, and the rest of it. If Sir Garvaon, let us say, and I were to come to blows, I should feel no shame about being beaten. But a servant? I would whet my sword and seek a second encounter.”

“I’m glad Svon didn’t, My Lord.”

“Are you? For Svon’s sake?”

“You shame me, My Lord. He was—he is—my squire. I’ve got a duty to him.” Beel nodded, making a steeple of his fingers. “I have told you this because I feel you are a man of honor. It may be that Svon will return to you. If so, you may be able to do something. I hope so.”

“I’ll try, My Lord. Just how it might be done ... Well, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” I got up.

Beel indicated the folding chair. “Since you chose to remain, we have other matters to discuss. I will try not to keep you from your bed too long.” I sat down again.

“Svon told me that you had set a demon on his track. Are you surprised?”

“I am, My Lord. I—I believe I know what he means by that, but I did no such thing. May I explain?”

“I invite it.”

“I have another servant, My Lord. His name is Org. He is no demon.” The thin smile returned. “One meets neither demons nor dragons in the worlds above Aelfrice, Sir Able. That’s one of the things I learned while you were being taught to manage a shield. I did not say Svon was pursued here by a demon, only that he had said he was, and said you had done it.”

“I didn’t, My Lord. But I have reason to believe that when Svon left, Org went with him. He might be an unpleasant traveling companion, My Lord.”

“Is this Org a large, strong man? Big shoulders?”

I sort of picked my way among words. “He’s big and very strong, My Lord.

He’s bigger than I am and his shoulders are wider than mine.”

“You did not set him on Svon?”

“No, My Lord. I wasn’t there when Svon and Pouk fought and separated.

May I try to guess?”

“Please do.”

“Maybe Org is afraid Svon will try to hurt me somehow, and he’s following him to stop him.”

Beel nodded. “That seems likely enough. Svon was going back to Sheerwall, so he told me. He dined with us, bought a mount, and stayed the night. It would have been a fortnight ago. Something like that.”

I nodded.

“That night one of our sentries reported seeing a very large man in the moonlight, some distance away. He called him a giant—an Angrborn. You know how those fellows are.”

It seemed a bad time to say anything.

“When he told his sergeant, the sergeant went to the place and looked around. He said he found a footprint in mud. A very large foot, he said, bare, with long toes. He said there appeared to be claws on the ends of the toes. You can see why I’m curious.”

“I sure do, My Lord.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

I nodded. “All I’ll say willingly, My Lord.”

“Very well. Svon has my sympathy. Don’t stand up again, please, Sir Able. I see you making ready to do it, but we are only just come to the matter I most wished to discuss.”

The steeple vanished. Beel leaned forward, anxious and thoughtful. “My daughter and I were both in that accursed declivity when we were attacked. I remained with her every moment. There wasn’t much I could do, but I was determined to protect her if I could.”

“Naturally, My Lord.”

Beel’s voice sank to a whisper. “She shall wed a king before all is said and done. She shall wed a king, and our blood will be royal again.”

“I understand, My Lord.”

“She is precious to me, and so I kept her under my eye. At no time was she up on the cliffs where our enemies were.”

“Naturally not, My Lord.”

“And yet, Sir Able, she talks almost as though she were. Those cliffs, she has told me, are littered with dead, hairy men of monstrous stature slain by you and your dog. I find it difficult to credit a dog’s slaying even one such man, let alone dozens, but that is what she says. You have boasted of your honesty in the past.” Seeing how I looked, Beel changed it. “Boasted is too strong a word perhaps, but you’ve laid claim to truthfulness. You told me that you had not lied to me or to Master Crol. Do you deny it?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Can you make the same claim today?”

“I can, My Lord. I do.”

“Then I would appreciate straightforward answers to a few questions.” Beel fell silent, studying my face, then his own hands. He had eaten nothing and drunk nothing.

“I like you, Sir Able. I like you more than any man I have met since I met His Majesty. I hope that you are aware of it.”

“I was not, My Lord, but I’m very flattered. May I say I know you’re a really good man, a loyal servant of the king, and the loving father of your daughter?” Beel nodded. “It’s my daughter who concerns me now.”

“I know it, My Lord. I haven’t hurt her, or tried to.”

“You see the curtain that divides our pavilion. She sleeps behind it, and I before it. I wash and dress here, she there.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Thus we ca

The curtain is of silk, which has small weight and occupies but a little space. It blinds us, if you will permit the expression. But it offers no resistance to sound.” I nodded.

“Thus we often speak to each other when we lie abed. In the morning too, while her maid dresses her and Swert dresses me.”

“Okay.”

“This morning she spoke of the battle, and she spoke as one who had been on the cliff tops—of broken heads, and broken arms and legs, of men crushed and torn, too, as though by a lion’s jaws. She said that you had killed many of these men, Sir Able. Is that true?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“May I ask what weapons you employed?”

I got out my dagger and laid it on the table, and drew Sword Breaker and laid it beside the dagger. Beel picked up Sword Breaker to look at it, and I said, “That’s not a sword, My Lord. I know it looks like one, but it’s a mace.” He felt the corners of Sword Breaker’s blade, tried to flex it, and laid Sword Breaker down again. “You are of low birth, I realize. But you are a knight, not a peasant, and a knight is entitled to wear a sword.”

“When I’ve got the one I want, I will, My Lord.”

“What sword is that?”

“Eterne, My Lord.”

Softly he said, “The perfect blade is a legend, Sir Able. Nothing more.”

“I don’t think so, My Lord.”

“Wizard, witch, or warlock.” He sighed. “Which is it? I have some knowledge of the art myself, although I boast no great power.”