The Knight

There were half a dozen warders in black clothes around us by that time, some pulling out stools and sitting on them, and some just standing there to listen in. I began, “Okay, I’ll go to your dungeon—”

“Most do.”

The one sitting next to Caspar laughed, and it was not just some guy laughing at the boss’s joke; everything he was planning to do to me some fine day was in that laugh of his. I knocked him off his stool, and when he started to get back up I picked it up and hit him with it.

The whole place got very quiet, fast. Somebody had set a platter of fresh ham in front of Caspar. I pulled it over and took a piece, and got my bread and ate a little of that, too.

“You’re the fellow that crippled all the other knights,” Caspar said.

“Three or four. Maybe five. That’s all.” I picked up my flagon and took a drink.

He nodded. “Pass the pork.”

I did. “It would be better if you were to say pass the pork, please, Sir Able. But I’ll overlook it this time.”

He grunted.

“I want us to be friends, Master Caspar. A servant of mine is staying with you, and I’d like you to take good care of him.”

He turned to look at me, still chewing ham. “So I thought—”

Woddet had come over while I was talking, and he broke in then. “Fighting in the Great Hall is forbidden. Master Agr wants to see you after breakfast.”

“I’ll be happy to talk to him,” I said, “but we weren’t fighting. We’re talking about a private matter.”

Woddet squatted to check out the warder on the floor, feel for a pulse and so on. “What about this?”

“Oh, him. I don’t think he’s hurt very much. If I’d hit him hard I would’ve killed him, but I didn’t.”

Woddet got up. “You’d better see Master Agr as soon as you leave here. Otherwise ...” He shrugged.

Caspar said, “Otherwise, you’re mine.”

“I’d rather see the duke,” I told Woddet, “but since Master Agr wants to see me, okay. Tell him it will be a pleasure.”

“You want to come with me? I’ll make a place for you at the table where we knights eat.”

“I know where it is, but I’ve got to talk with Master Caspar just now and then Master Agr after that.”

Woddet went back to the knights’ table, and somebody a couple of tables over started talking a little bit too loud, and pretty soon everybody was talking and eating like they always did. Modguda brought a round of cheese on a big trencher, and I got out my dagger and cut a slice. I have always liked ham and cheese, even if we had been getting it just about every meal.

“We brand our prisoners sometimes,” Caspar said. “It depends on what the duke wants. Troublemakers. Thieves. You ever been branded?”

I was chewing, but I shook my head.

“I have.” He pushed back his hood so I could see the brand on his forehead. “I didn’t like it.”

I swallowed. “Nobody likes a headache. We get them, just the same.” Caspar chuckled. He had a mean chuckle. “You say you’ve got a fresh prisoner for me?”

I thought about a friend of mine who had gone away to boarding school, and I said, “More of a boarder. You don’t have to lock him up, but he’ll be living with you until I go north to take a stand at some bridge or something.”

“He’ll be living with us.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I know you must feed your prisoners—they’d starve to death if you didn’t, and they don’t eat in here. All you’ve got to do is set out a plate of food for this servant of mine.” I stopped to think about some things Uns had said. “Every other day might be enough. Just leave it out where he can find it, and if he hasn’t eaten it in a couple of days, try someplace else.”

“I ain’t going to have people running around loose in my dungeon.” Caspar sounded like his mind was made up.

“He’s there already. All you’ve got to do is feed him.”

Caspar’s face got red, and his eyes got small.

“I put him in there last night, and I told him to stay there. He promised he would, and as long as he gets enough to eat I think he will.”

I had been hoping Caspar would relax a little after that, but he did not.

“You might find droppings, I guess. But in a dungeon that shouldn’t matter.”

Caspar wiped his dagger on his sleeve and stuck it back in the scabbard. “He’s there right now.”

“That’s right.” I was glad he was finally getting it. “I put him down there last night. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up. A friend unbarred your door for me and barred it again after I left.” I tried to remember whether I had really heard Uri put the bar back. I could not be certain, so I said, “Or anyway I told her to. I’m pretty sure she must have done it.”

“This is a different friend,” Caspar said slowly. “This isn’t the one you left for me to wet-nurse.”

“Right.” The man I had knocked down was getting back on his feet and going for a big knife on his belt. I caught his wrist. “If you draw that, I’ll have to take it away from you. You’d better sit down and eat something before all the cheese is gone.”

Caspar stood up when the man was sitting down. “You might get to know Hob better before long.”