Knights of the Crown

Epilogue

From the courtyard Pirvan heard the clatter of horses as the last visitors rode away from the house where Sir Marod maintained his quarters.

The older knight ushered him in, dismissed his squire with a glance, and pulled up two chairs. Pirvan chose one, but refused to sit until the other was seated.

That brought a smile to Sir Marod’s face. “You bore up under the day better than I did, and I was ten years younger than you are now. My legs refused their office, and I more fell than sat on the first chair I thought would not collapse under me.”

Sir Marod went on for some time in this vein, jumbling together anecdotes of his own career, that of other knights he knew, and that of knights who were history or even legend. At least he thought it was Sir Marod doing the jumbling; it might be his own wits. Fasting was only the least of the demands on a knight, on the day when he could lawfully call himself one.

“But I ramble, without enough years to be explanation or excuse,” Sir Marod said. “Have you guessed what your purpose shall be as a Knight of the Crown?”

Pirvan ran past his inward vision all those anecdotes he remembered, and nodded slowly. “I think you wish me to seek out people worthy to be knights, or at least to aid them. This will mean living in the world, and moving about, using much of what I learned as a thief.”

“Exactly so. Much of that can be taught in no keep, nor in twenty years of knighthood. Many knights would refuse to learn it even if they had the chance. Yet much of it is good.”

“You ask a great deal of me.”

“I ask no more than you just swore to give us, Sir Pirvan. Nor is it more than you did for ten years without any bond except your own honor and whatever oaths you took to your brothers and sisters.”

“I think it is with honor as it is with courage. Half of both is wishing to sleep well at nights,” Pirvan said. He had thought Sir Marod might take offense, but instead the other knight nodded slowly.

“Often thought by wise men, seldom uttered out loud,” he said. “Also, what you do not know of such work, you can learn from your lady.”

“I thought Haimya might have been doing such work. How many knights has she found?”

“That is her secret,” Sir Marod said severely.

“Very true,” came a voice from behind Pirvan. He whirled. Haimya was standing in the doorway. She wore a plain gown of dark green with silvery trim, not immodestly cut in any way, but still making a man vowed to celibacy regret his condition-and a man just released from such vows rejoice.

Presently, Pirvan became aware of a voice behind him. Sir Marod was saying, “Perhaps I should order wine and cakes, to sustain me until you have time to listen to me again. We old folk need our meals.

“Of course,” he added, “I could just leave the wine and cakes for you and depart. You young folk also need strength, and perhaps privacy.”

Haimya unclasped one arm from around Pirvan and over his shoulder made a rude gesture at Sir Marod. The knight made a noise that reminded Pirvan so much of Hipparan that he held his breath for a moment.

“You, my lady, are not going to send me out of my own quarters into the wild and the wind as you did Sir Niebar. There is a chamber reserved for the two of you for this and several more nights. My squire awaits to lead you to it.

“Now go, Sir Pirvan, Lady Haimya!”

Obedience to the lawful orders of a superior being part of a knight’s duty, Pirvan obeyed.