The Knight

Idnn squared her shoulders, tossing back her mane of long, dark hair. “It happened at Coldcliff when I was small, Sir Able. It really did. Coldcliff’s my uncle’s, but we went there to visit. I had a little pony then, and I was wild about her. My father let me ride her. When we got home and her time came, the grooms had to cut her foal out. They found a mare to be wet-nurse to it. They had to, because she died. Do you think I’m making this up?”

“No, My Lady.”

“I wish I were, because it would have a nicer ending. My father wanted me to ride him, because by the time he was big enough to ride I was bigger, too. But I never would, and eventually we sold him.”

Idnn had begun to cry, and I urged my mount ahead of hers.

When I reached the tree, I wheeled my stallion to look back at her. “You’re to go to Lord Beel now, My Lady. That was our agreement.” She reined up. “I have not reached it, Sir Able. Not yet. When you came, I thought my rescuer had arrived.”

“My Lady, I’ve listened to you, and learned more than I ever wished to know. I beg you listen to reason, if only for a minute or two.”

“I owe a duty to my father.” She spat out the words. “That’s what you’re going to say. My father’s the younger son of a younger son. Do you have any notion what that means?”

“Very little, my lady.”

Her lovely voice fell to a whisper. “We were royal, not so long ago. Almost within living memory. My grandfather was a duke, as my uncle is now. My big brother will inherit the barony. My little brother will be a knight. A knight at best, with a poky manor house a week’s ride from any place that matters and a couple of villages.”

Dropping her reins to her gelding’s neck, she wiped her eyes with her fingers. “It devours my father. It’s as if he had swallowed a rat, and it were gnawing his heart. Hear me, Sir Able.”

I nodded.

“He’s served the throne faithfully for twenty-five years, knowing all the while that if only things had fallen out differently differently by the merest trifle, he’d be sitting on it. But the king has not been ungrateful. Oh, no! Far from it. Do you know what his reward is?”

“Tell me, My Lady.”

“Why, I am. His daughter, the daughter of a mere baron, is to be a queen, the Queen of Jotunland. I will be given to King Gilling like a cup, a silver goblet into which he may pour his sperm. So that when my father returns to Thortower he can say, ‘Her Majesty, my daughter.’”

I nodded. “I understand, My Lady. But I wasn’t going to speak of your duty to Lord Beel. I asked you to listen to reason. Duty’s like honor. It lies outside it. You want me to rescue you, you say. By rescue you mean I’m supposed to carry you off to Candyland, where your every wish will be granted. I know no such place, and I wouldn’t know how to get there if I did.”

Idnn had begun to cry again, sobbing like the little girl she had been only a year or two ago.

“You don’t think much of knights. Most of the knights at Sheerwall didn’t think much of me. Look at me. My armor is still rusty from tramping through the forest in the rain and sleeping wherever I could. Wistan’s been instructing me in the best ways to get it bright. My own squire left me in disgust. Half my clothes have been borrowed from Sir Garvaon and his men. Your father gave me this horse. I have no land and no money, and if I were to get one of those manors you think are miles beneath you, I’d be as happy as your father could ever be to see you a queen.”

Idnn only cried; and I rode back to her, took hold of her bridle, and turned her gelding around, then gave its rump a good hard slap.

It trotted off, with Idnn still crying on its back; before they had gone far, Mani sprang from my saddlebow and slunk into the tall, coarse grass beside the War Way.

Chapter 55. Sword And Shield

“See how I’m holding my sword,” Garvaon said, “with my thumb on top? I want you to hold yours the same way.”

What Garvaon was really holding was a green stick that he had cut, and the sword I held was another stick.

“With an ax or a mace, what you want is power. You want to hit as hard as you can with it, because it won’t do much damage unless you do. A good sword will do a lot of damage with just a light stroke, so what you want is finesse. You’re not going to try to split the other man’s shield. That’s not what a sword’s for.”

He paused to study my grip. “A little farther forward. You want your hand up against the guard, not up against the pommel.” I inched my hand forward.

“That’s better. Sometimes you want to drop your shield and hold with both hands for a stronger blow.”

“Like an ax?”