The Knight

“I must tell you that I was one of those who pummeled you in the practice field. You needn’t give me Stamper, and you should not.” Nytir said something, indistinctly.

“I won’t take Stamper back,” I told the squire. “He’s yours. Get your master up on him, and get him out of here.”

Pouk and I went outside and watched them go. When they had vanished around the first bend in that crooked street, Pouk asked if I wanted him to look into the pack horse’s load. I shook my head and told him to find the innkeeper. “Here, sir? He’ll be outward bound under all sail.”

“Look for him anyway. There must be help of some kind here, a cook and so on. Look for them, too. I’ll be in the tap trying on Sir Nytir’s mail.” Nytir’s sword was in there, too. I did not want it, but I was glad to have a chance to look it over. It was a little bit bigger than Ravd’s, and a bit heavier too, although I did not think it was quite as good. Wanting to see what it would do, I drove it into the top of the bar. It went through five or six inches of wood and stuck, so I left it there.

I had Nytir’s hauberk on and was fastening the lacings (that can be tough when you are wearing the hauberk) when Pouk came back with a stout red-faced woman. “This’s the innkeeper’s wife,” he announced, “and this here’s my master, Sir Able o’ th’ High Heart.”

She bent her knee, and I explained that I had rented a room for three nights. “Upstairs, front,” Pouk added.

“I know this one.” The innkeeper’s wife jerked a thumb at Pouk. “Only I didn’t never see you up to now, Sir Able. He tolt me his master was a knight, only I never more’n half swallowed it. He’s a sailor, sir, and there ain’t much truth in ’em.”

“Sailors see things other people won’t believe.” I shrugged. “Would you believe him if he were to tell you of the Isle of Glas?”

“No, sir!”

“I don’t blame you. But I’ve seen it too, and even walked through its glades.

Seamen lie just as we do, of course, and for the same reasons. But I’m telling you the truth when I say that.”

“Far be it from me to give you the lie, Sir Able.”

“Thanks. Don’t he now, and we can be good friends. Do you know where your husband is? I’d like to talk to him.”

“I haven’t no notion, Sir Able. He’s gone out, seems like.”

“Yeah, it does. Before he left, he told me about a dog that came here. He said it was a big brown dog with a spike collar.”

She nodded. “And a bit of chain hanging off it, where it had broke.”

“I see. Your husband thought it might be mine, and I’ve been hoping he was right. I lost my dog a while ago. Do you know where it is?”

“No, sir. I seen it yesterday, only I don’t know where it’s got to. We was all chasing it and trying to get the roast it took back, and it run off. Real big, it was, drop ears and thick in the chest.”

“That sounds like Gylf. If he comes back, be nice to him and send word to me. I’ll be at Sheerwall Castle.”

“I’ll try, sir.” The innkeeper’s wife’s attention had strayed to Nytir’s sword. I told her who it belonged to; and I said that she and her husband were to leave it where it was until he came back to get it, at which she bent her knee again.

“I know it will be in the way—” I began.

She shook her head. “They’ll come in to see it, Sir Able, and have one or two while they gawk and we tell about it. It’ll be money in our pocket.”

“I hope so. But when Sir Nytir comes back, you’ll have to let him take it. Tell him that I didn’t want it and left it there for him.”

“Is he a friend of yours, Sir Able?”

Pouk laughed.

“He had it in for me,” I told her. “He must’ve followed me here, and he seems to have scared your husband away before we had it out. Did you notice what we did to the doorframe?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

My bill was where I had left it. I got it and showed it to her. “Your husband and I were talking this over. He made it five scields. I didn’t think that was fair.”

She examined it. “He goes too far, sometimes, Sir Able, Gorn do.”

“No doubt we all do. Can you write?” She nodded.

“Then I’ll pay you four scields in good silver if you’ll write ‘paid in full’ across this and sign your name. You’d better date it, too.” She hurried away to fetch ink, sand, and a quill.

Chapter 37. A Green Knight

I’d been riding a lot that day; I was sore, but I got my left foot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle almost as if I knew what I was doing. The horse Nytir had ridden was a cobby bay stallion with a big white blaze, nervous and energetic, but not big enough or strong enough for a charger. A green lance (with pennant flying) still towered above the beautiful green-leather fighting saddle.

The bay skittered sidewise, iron-shod hooves clattering on the cobbles.

“Glad you got to ride him an’ not me,” Pouk said, as he finished tying Nytir’s shield onto the pack horse’s pack.

“Be careful with that,” I told him. “It’s the only piece that fits.”

“Got his mark on it though, sir.” Pouk was tightening the last knot.

“His arms, you mean.” I held the bay hard.