The Knight

“And me,” I told him. “About can and may and other things, too.”

“Thank you.”

For a while after that, we sat with our thoughts. Before long I said, “Could I become a knight?”

That was the only time I saw Ravd look surprised, and it was no more than his eyes opening a little wider. “We can’t take you with us, if that’s what you mean.”

I shook my head. “I have to stay and take care of Bold Berthold. But sometime? If I stay here?”

“You’re very nearly a knight now, I believe. What makes a knight, Able? I’d like your ideas on the matter.”

He reminded me of Ms. Sparreo, and I gri

Ravd smiled back. “If they need to be set right, yes. So tell me, how is a knight different from any other man?”

“Mail like yours.”

Ravd shook his head.

“A big horse like Blackmane, then.”

“No.”

“Money?”

“No, indeed. I mentioned the accolade when we were talking about my squire. Did you understand me?” I shook my head.

“The accolade is the ceremony by which one authorized to perform it confers knighthood. Let me ask again. What makes a man a knight, Able? What makes him different enough that we have to give him a name differing from that of an ordinary fighting man?”

“The accolade, sir.”

“The accolade makes him a knight before the law, but it is a mere legality, formal recognition of something that has already occurred. The accolade says that we find this man to be a knight.”

I thought about that, and about Ravd, who was a knight himself. “Strength and wisdom. Not either one by itself, but the two together.”

“You’re closer now. Perhaps you are close enough. It is honor, Able. A knight is a man who lives honorably and dies honorably, because he cares more for his honor than for his life. If his honor requires him to fight, he fights. He doesn’t count his foes or measure their strength, because those things don’t matter. They don’t affect his decision.”

The trees and the wind were so still then that I felt like the whole world was listening to him.

“In the same way, he acts honorably toward others, even when they do not act honorably toward him. His word is good, no matter to whom he gives it.”

I was still trying to get my mind around it. “I know a man who stood his ground and fought the Angrborn, with just a spear and an ax. He didn’t have a shield, or armor, a horse, or anything like that. The men with him wanted to run, and some did. He didn’t. Was he a knight? This wasn’t me.”

“What was he fighting for, Able?” It was almost a whisper.

“For Gerda and his house. For the crops he had in his fields, and his cattle.”

“Then he is not a knight, though he is someone I would like very much to count among my followers.”

I asked if he had many, because he had come into that forest alone, except for Svon.

“More than I wish, but not many who are as brave as this man you know. I’d thank every Overcyn in Skai for a hundred more, if they were like that.”

“He’s a good man.” I was picturing Bold Berthold to myself, and thinking about all that we would be able to buy with two scields.

“I believe you. Lie down now, and get some rest. We’ll need you well rested tomorrow.”

“I want to ask a favor first.” I felt like a little kid again, and that made it hard to talk. “I don’t mean anything bad by it.”

Ravd smiled. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“I mean I’m not going to try to steal it, or hurt you with it either, or anybody. But could I look at your sword? Please? Just for a minute?”

He drew it. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask when we had sunlight, when you could have seen it better. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait?”

“Now. Please. I’d like to see it now. I promise I’ll never ask again.”

He handed it to me hilt first; and it seemed like a warm, living thing. Its long straight blade was chased with gold and double-edged; its hilt of bronze and black horsehide was topped with a gold lion’s head. I studied it and gripped the sword to flourish it, and found with a sort of shock that I had stood up without meaning to.

After a minute or two of waving it around, I positioned the blade so that the firelight fell on the flat, just ahead of the guard. “There’s writing here. What does it say?”

“Lut. You can’t read, can you?”

I knew I could. I said, “Well, I can’t read this.”

“Lut is the man who made it.” Ravd held out his hand, and I returned his sword. He wiped the blade with a cloth. “My sword is Battlemaid. Lut is a famous bladesmith of Forcetti, the town of my liege Duke Marder. Your own duke, Duke Indign, is dead. Did you know?”

“I thought he must be.”

“We’re attempting to assimilate his lands, and finding them a bit too much to chew, I’m afraid.” Ravd’s smile was touched with irony.

“Was that Duke Marder on the scield you gave me?”

Ravd shook his head. “That’s our king, King Arnthor.”

“What was that on his shield?”

“A nykr. Lie down and go to sleep, Able. You can save the rest of your questions for tomorrow.”

“Is it real?”

“Sleep!” When Ravd sounded like that, you did not argue. I lay down, turned my back to the fire, and fell asleep as soon as I shut my eyes.

Chapter 5. Terrible Eyes

Something that sounded like a scuffle woke me up. I heard Svon’s voice and Ravd’s; and I decided that if I did not want to start another fight, the best thing might be for me to lie there and listen.

“I stumbled.” That was Svon.

Ravd said, “No one pushed you?”

“I said I stumbled!”

“I know you did. I wish to discover whether you will verify it. It appeared to me that you had been pushed from behind. Was I wrong?”

“Yes!”

“I see. You have your sword again.”

“I found it in the bushes. Do you think I’d come back here without it?”

“I don’t see why not.” Ravd sounded as though the question interested him. “If you mean you might need it to deal with our guide, it wasn’t of great use to you an hour ago.”

“We might be attacked.”

“By the outlaws? Yes, I suppose we might.”

“Are you going to sleep in your armor?”

“Certainly. It’s one of the things a knight must learn to do.” Ravd sighed. “Many years before either of us was born, a wise man said that there were only three things a knight had to learn. I believe I told you a week ago, though it may have been more. Can you tell me what-they are now?”

“To ride.” Svon sounded as if it were being dragged out of him. “To use the sword.”

“Very good. And?”

“To speak the truth.”

“Indeed,” Ravd murmured. “Indeed. Shall we begin again? Or would you prefer to omit that part?”

If Svon said anything, I could not hear it.

“I’ve been sitting here awake since you ran away, you see. Talking to our guide at first, and talking to myself after he went to sleep. Thinking, in other words. One of the things I thought about was the way he threw your sword. I saw it. Perhaps vou did as well.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then you need not. But I will have to talk about it more, because you won’t. When a man throws a heavy object such as a sword or spear for distance, he uses his whole body—his legs and torso, as well as his arm. Able did not do that. He simply flung your sword away as a man might discard an apple core. I think—”

“Who cares what you think!”

“Why, I do.” Ravd’s voice was as smooth as polished steel, and sounded a good deal more dangerous. “And you must, Svon. Sir Sabel beat me twice, once with his hands and once with the flat of his sword. I was Sir Sabel’s squire for ten years and two. No doubt I’ve told you.”

Maybe Svon nodded. I could not see.

“With the flat of his sword because I attacked him. He would have been entirely justified in killing me, but he was a good and a merciful knight—a better knight than I will ever be. With his hands for something I had said to him, or something I had failed to say. I never did find out exactly what it was. He was drunk at the time—but then we all get drunk now and then, don’t we?”