The Knight

When I got to the other side, I called the sentries over so I could talk to them. “In another minute something will come across your bridge that you won’t believe,” I told them. “I’m not going to ask you to promise not to tell anybody about it. If you think it’s your duty to report it, you ought to do your duty. I will ask you not to gossip about it. Can I have your word on that?”

They say I could.

“Good. Like I said, you can report it if you think you should. But I’m ordering you not to fight it or try to stop it from crossing over. If you do, you’ll have to fight me too. Just let it come across, and I’ll be responsible for anything it does.”

The older sentry said, “Good enough for us, sir.”

I sort of grinned at him. “You haven’t seen it yet.” I was about to call to Pouk to tell Org that he could come across when I heard more horses on the bridge. It was Pouk, riding his and leading the rest, with Gylf trotting in back to make them keep up. I said, “I thought I told you to stay with Org until I yelled.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Pouk let go of the pommel long enough to touch his cap. “I’m tryin’ to stay with him, sir. He’s in here, sir. In this here bailey, sir.”

“You mean he crossed without me seeing him?”

“No, sir. Not over this bridge here, sir. He swum th’ moat.” Pouk was staring around the dim courtyard beyond the portcullis. “Then he come around behind, like.”

“I see. But I don’t see him. Do you?”

Pouk hesitated, afraid of getting me angry. “No, sir. Not this minute I don’t, sir. Only I think I know where he is, sir, an’ if you want him I’ll try to fetch him out.”

“Not now.” I turned back to the sentries. “I won’t report this. You can do whatever you want to.”

The older one cleared his throat. “We’re with you, Sir—Sir ...”

“Able of the High Heart.”

“Sir Able, long as you’re with us.”

“I’m on your team, and I’m going to put that servant Pouk should have kept with him in the dungeon.”

The younger said, “That’s good, sir.”

“I thought you’d like it.” I was grinning again. “I’ll have to find the head man there and talk to him, I guess, but it can wait ’til morning. He’s probably in bed, and I’d like to be in bed myself. Who should I ask for?”

“Master Caspar, sir. He’s under Master Agr, sir, and he’s Chief Warder. You know where the Marshal’s Tower is?”

“I’m staying there.”

“Well, sir, you get on the stair in there like you would, only go down ‘stead of up. First door you come to will be his taburna, sir.”

“Thanks.” It was not until I got off my horse that I knew how bone-tired I was. “Pouk, take them to the stable, all of them. Unsaddle them. Make sure they get water and oats, and clean stalls.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“You know where my room is.”

Pouk nodded. “Aye, sir.”

“Good.” I wanted to slump, but I knew I must not. I stood very straight instead, with my shoulders back and my chest out. “I’ll be there as soon as I’ve seen about Org. Take our bags up there—everything we had on the boat and what we got off Sir Whatever-it-was. If the grooms give you a hard time, tell them it’s my order.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

The moat stunk, and the filth splashed by my boots was horse piss and droppings, but I did not care; I headed for the darkest corner of the bailey, knowing what I wanted to do, and knowing that after I got it done I could go to bed.

―――

I was a woman in a dirty bed in a stuffy little room. An old woman sitting beside my bed kept telling me to push, and I pushed, although I was so tired I could not push hard, no matter how hard I tried. I knew my baby was trying to breathe, and could not breathe, and would soon die.

“Push!”

―――

I had tried to save; now I was only trying to get away. He would not let go, climbing on me, pushing me underwater.

―――

The moon shone through pouring rain as I made my way down the muddy track. At its end the ogre loomed black and huge. I was the boy who had gone into Disiri’s cave, not the man who had come out. My sword was Disira’s grave marker, the short stick tied to the long one with a thong. I pushed the point into the mud to mark my own grave, and went on. When the ogre threw me, it became such a sword as I wished for, with a golden pommel and a gleaming blade.

I floated off the ground and started back for it, but I could no longer breathe.

Chapter 42 I Am A Hero

I woke up sweating, threw off my blanket, and looked at the window. Gray light was in the sky. Sleeping, I decided, was worse than getting up; and I glued down my choice by pouring water in the cracked washbowl and scrubbing every part of me I could reach. When I lived with Bold Berthold we washed by swimming in the Griffin. That had been a lot better—in warm weather anyhow—and I wondered if the duke got baths half as good.