The Knight

Chapter 32. The Marshal’s Tower

“Keep your hand from your sword,” the man-at-arms behind me whispered, “and none of your cheek.” More loudly he said, “This here is Able, Master Agr.” I said, “Sir Able, sir.”

“He says he’s a knight, Master. He wanted His Grace, so I thought I’d better let you see him.”

That was what I got for not buying a proper warhorse in Forcetti. I had planned to get one, and Pouk and I had looked at a few that they had for sale. None of them had really suited me, and even though Thunrolf had given me a lot I could not have bought one of the pretty good ones.

The thin man behind the big table nodded and stroked his little mustache. He looked smart. He also looked like he did not like what he was seeing very much, meaning me. It always seemed to me that people ought to see right away that I was not really a man, just a boy that Disiri had made look like one. Only they could not. Pouk had not been able to, and neither had Kerl. Neither had Thunrolf. Now it seemed to me like I had stumbled into somebody that would.

“I am the duke’s marshal,” he said. He did not give a damn what I thought about him, and the way he talked showed it. He was telling me the facts. “I keep order among his horses, among his knights, among his servants, and among any others who happen to be here in Sheerwall.”

It did not seem like a good time to talk, so I just nodded.

“If it is needful that you speak to the duke, I will see that you gain audience. If it is not, you may speak with me. Or I will direct you to the correct person. Have you a wrong to lay before the duke’s court?”

I said, “I seek service with Duke Marder.”

“As a knight.”

“Yes. That’s what I am.”

“Really.” He smiled, and it was not a very nice smile. “From whom did you receive the accolade?”

“From the Queen of the Moss Aelf. From Queen Disiri.”

“Make your japes over wine, Able.”

“Sir Able, sir, and I’m not joking.”

“You’re a knight. We can leave the Aelfqueen out of it for the time being.”

“That’s right.”

“You have the build for it, at least. As a knight, you are an expert rider? It’s the management of the charger that distinguishes a knight from other men. I’m sure you know that.”

“It’s his honor that distinguishes a knight,” I said.

Agr sighed. “But the management of the charger is the fundamental skill of knighthood. Have you a charger?”

I started to explain, but he cut me off. “Have you funds to buy one?”

“Not enough for one I’d want.”

“I see.” He smoothed his mustache again. He probably did not know he was doing it. “Have you a manor from which you draw support? Where is it?”

I said I did not have one.

“I thought not.” Agr stood up and went over to his window to look out. “His Grace has need of fighting men. Sir Able. On what terms would you serve him?”

I had not even thought about that, or how to explain how I felt about it. After about a minute I said, “I want to be his knight, or one of them, anyway. I didn’t come to ask him for money.”

I could hear steel hitting steel outside, and Agr leaned out his window so he could see what was happening. When he turned around again he said, “No monthly stipend? Merely to cover your expenses?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got a servant, Master Agr. Pouk is his name.” When I had told Thunrolf about Pouk I called him my friend and got us in trouble. I was not going to do that again.

“I don’t pay Pouk and sometimes I can’t even feed him or get him a place to sleep. He looks out for himself then.” I thought about when I had been hurt so bad, and lying in the cable locker, how little bits of light came in through cracks and how the rats came smelling my blood. “Sometimes Pouk looks out for me too, when I can’t look out for myself,” I said. “If I were one of Duke Marder’s knights, I would be ashamed to treat him worse than Pouk treats me. If he wanted to give me something, I’d take it and say thank you. If he didn’t, I’d try to serve him better.”

That was the first time Agr looked at me like I was a real human being. He said, “That was well spoken, Sir Able. There’s a baron with the king who prattles of the Aelf in his cups. I think he’s as mad as a hare in spring, and I think you are too. But I cannot help wishing you were sane. With a little training you might make a first-rate man-at-arms. Can you use that bow?”

I said, “Yes, sir. I can.”

“There’s another master out there in the practice yard. His name is Master Thope. He’s master of arms, and if you address him as ‘sir,’ as you have been addressing me, he’ll break yours. Do you know what a master of arms is?”

I said, “No, sir. I don’t.”

“He trains our squires and men-at-arms in the use of weapons and the management of horses. I provide him with horses for that purpose. They are not good enough for a knight to ride in war, you understand; but an inferior horse can actually be better training for a rider than a good one, as well as making a young man appreciate a good one more. I want you to joust with Master Thope.”

He saw that I did not understand, because he added, “To ride against him with a practice lance. He’ll lend you a horse, a shield, and so forth. If you do well, we’ll see how well you can shoot that bow and what you know of swordcraft.”

After that, the man-at-arms who had brought me to Master Agr took me down to Master Thope. He was as big as I am, but going gray. I told him who I was and why I was there, and explained that I was supposed to joust with him. He squeezed my arms. He had pretty big hands, and they were strong.

“That’s muscle,” he muttered, “not fat. Can you use a lance, young ’un?”

“I can try,” I said.

“All anybody can do.”

He got me a practice shield. They are a lot heavier than the real ones because they are a lot stronger, too. “I’ll aim for that,” he told me while I was adjusting the strap, “and you aim for mine. Nothing tricky.”

I said, “Okay.”

My horse was a fat chestnut gelding that was sweating already. It knew all about jousting, and it did not want to do that anymore. I did not have any spurs, and I had the shield on one arm and my practice lance in my other hand, so it was not very easy to get it into position. That would not have been so bad, but one of the other knights that were watching called, “Prick him with your lance!” and I looked at the end of it before I remembered it was not sharp. They thought that was really funny, and I started getting mad.

The place where you joust is called the lists. It is not really a list of anything. Those are thin wooden things that make the fence for it. Each jouster rides with those lists to his left side, so that the two will meet shield-to-shield. It is like football. You are not supposed to want to hurt anybody. Jousting is about as dangerous as tackle, and the person you are jousting with will be on your side in a real battle.

Like I said, I had quite a bit of trouble with my horse, and once I got him into position he knew exactly what was up. He was scared and trying to be brave, just like me. I tried to say something that would make him feel better. None of it was his fault, but he was the one who had to run and carry me and the big jousting saddle, and he knew he could get hurt.

I was not feeling any too sure myself, and while I was talking to him I said, “I wish you’d paw the ground a little like Blackmane.” Talking to a horse like that, a horse that did not understand me or care what I said, made me think of Gylf and how much I missed him. He had never come back to the Western Trader, and nobody seemed to know where he was. I would have liked to go back to Aelfrice to look for him and Disiri, but I did not know how to get there.

There was a boy with a trumpet pretty close to the place where we would hit. He blew on it, my horse trotted for a minute, then cantered, and Master Thope’s lance hit my shield hard and drove it back into me. I remember turning over in the air and hitting the ground really hard.

I also remember lying there hurting, and all the other knights yelling, “Try again!”

So I jumped up, even though I did not feel like jumping, and I found my lance and picked it up, and caught my horse, and got back in the saddle.

That was when Master Agr came to talk to me. Up until then, I had not known that he had come down to watch. Quiet, so the others would not hear, he said, “You don’t have to go again. You’re no knight.”

I had been spitting blood because I had hurt my lip, but I grinned at him anyway. (I am still proud of it.) I said, “I am a knight, just one who’s not real good with a lance. I want to.”

Master Thope did not have on a helm or helmet any more than I did, but he must have heard us. He made a motion like pushing up a visor and sort of smiled.

We did it again, and it went exactly like the first one. I had thought that I would at least hit his shield with my lance, but I did not. That really bothered me, and when I got up, I was yelling at myself inside. Only I tried not to let it show, and thanked Master Agr for helping me up.

“I would do the same for anyone.” He had one of those hard, cold faces, and it did not look any different when he said, “It’s good training, I know. But I’m sorry I got you into this.”

I said, “Well, I’ve got to learn.”

That was when one of the other knights called, “You’re no knight, boy!”

I looked at him for a minute. Then I said, “I am a knight, but you aren’t.” It sort of shut him up.

I had been watching Master Thope when he rode at me, so that third time I bent down in the saddle the way he did, and I concentrated on hitting his shield with my lance. Before I had been worrying about his lance hitting me. Now I put that clear out of my mind. I had to hit that shield. It was the only thing that counted.

I did, too. I hit it and my lance broke. And his lance hit my shield the way it had before, and knocked me right out of my saddle like I was a doll or something, and down I went. Hard. Only this time it was one of the knights who had been laughing that helped me up, and when I was on my feet again he hit me in the mouth.

Up until then I had not been able to feel the sea in me. It rose all at once, as fast as the fastest storm, breaking bones like spars and tossing men around like the timbers from wrecks. That first one I hit may have been the one whose jaw I broke. I do not know. I think I hit him more on the side of the neck, but wherever it was it knocked him kicking and the whole bunch jumped on me. Fights usually do not take as long as it takes to tell about them, but it seemed like they always had four or five new men.