by Tonke Dragt
“The Grey Knights?”
She nodded. “Yes, the Grey Knights. They’re about to come and fetch you.”
“But why? Who are they?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know! But they are bitterly angry. What did you do to them to make them so furious?”
“Nothing!” said Tiuri. “I don’t know anything about them! I have never met them before! Or not as far as I know, because they have never raised their visors in my presence.”
The young woman looked over her shoulder. “Quick!” she said. “I took these things from my father’s armoury. Perhaps you can use them to protect yourself. Put on the chainmail and arm yourself!”
“Why are you helping me?” asked Tiuri.
“No matter what you’ve done,” she said, “I couldn’t bear the thought of you facing their vengeance with no defence.”
“Their vengeance?”
“Yes, I overheard one of them saying that word. Someone from the castle said they call themselves the Avengers of the Four Winds. But I must go. Father mustn’t find out that I’m here.”
“I am very grateful to you,” said Tiuri.
Lavinia suddenly looked startled. “Listen,” she whispered.
Tiuri heard the same grinding sound again.
“Someone’s coming up the secret staircase,” she said. “It could only be a member of my family. It’s probably Father! We must hide these things!”
She quickly helped Tiuri to conceal the chainmail and the weapons beneath the big table. The sound of footsteps on the secret staircase came closer and closer. Then the lord appeared in the secret doorway.
When he saw his daughter, he frowned and said angrily, “Lavinia! What are you doing here?”
She stared back at her father, with a mixture of fear and defiance on her face.
“Father,” she began, “I…”
He did not let her finish. “Go to your room,” he said sternly. “I shall speak to you later. Go!”
Lavinia promptly did as her father said. Then the lord turned his attention to Tiuri, who had positioned himself in front of the table, hoping to hide what was beneath it. They eyed each other in silence.
“Well,” he said, finally. “I came here to bring you something…” He hesitated, cleared his throat and then said gruffly, “Wait a moment.”
He disappeared through the dark doorway and returned a moment later with a large package, which he placed at Tiuri’s feet. “Inside this bundle,” he said, “you’ll find chainmail, a dagger and a sword. You must put on the chainmail and arm yourself.”
Tiuri stared in astonishment, first at the man and then at the bundle. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this! Then he saw the funny side of the situation. First the man shouted at his daughter and sent her to her room, and then he presented Tiuri with exactly the same items. He could not help but smile. If the lord of Mistrinaut could see what was beneath the table!
“Thank you, my lord,” he said. “But why have you brought me these things?”
He did not answer immediately. Tiuri could see a mixture of emotions chasing across his face. “You are not my prisoner,” he replied finally. “I am not the one to judge you. But you were my guest and, whatever you have done, I want you to be able to defend yourself should that become necessary.”
“Defend myself? Against what?” cried Tiuri.
“Quiet! You’ll find out soon enough,” said the lord. He turned away from Tiuri and looked around the room. Then his gaze fell on what was beneath the table and he looked surprised, but he said nothing.
“How am I to defend myself if I don’t know what I’m defending myself against?” said Tiuri quietly. “How can I clear my name if I don’t know why I have been imprisoned here? Who are these knights you call your friends? Do you believe that I have been unjustly imprisoned?”
“I can answer none of those questions,” said the lord abruptly. “You will be able to ask the Grey Knights soon, when you are summoned to appear before them. I am giving you the chance to defend yourself not only with your words, but also with your deeds.”
He turned to go, but Tiuri took his arm and said, “You do not believe that I have done anything wrong! So I would ask you: give me the chance to escape! You are the master of this castle, so allow me to escape from it.”
The lord pulled his arm away. “Ah, I see you’re a coward!” he said angrily. “You want to run away! Only a man with a guilty conscience would attempt to flee. Do not ask me that again, or I will regret bringing weapons for you.”
“I am no coward,” began Tiuri and then he fell silent. There was no way he could explain that he had a very good reason for wanting to escape.
“Silence!” said the lord, looking at the door. “It is nearly time. I must go.”
And then he left, without saying another word, and the secret door closed silently behind him. Tiuri inspected the door and tried to open it again, but it proved impossible. Finally, he turned away and looked around the room, which was almost in complete darkness.
“It is nearly time,” the lord of Mistrinaut had said.
So it seemed he was about to be called before the mysterious Grey Knights, and the letter would have to remain unread.
What good is it for me to know the message, Tiuri thought, when they are most likely going to kill me? There are four of them and I am alone.
But the thought of the weapons gave him courage. He was not entirely alone. Two people had wanted to help him. He would defend himself to the last. He would convince the lord that he was worthy of his help!
Tiuri quickly removed his habit and chose his armour and his weapon. He took the dagger and the chainmail that Lavinia had given him, but the sword from her father. It was the better weapon, sharp and light. Tiuri was soon ready. He pulled on his habit to conceal what was beneath, and then slid the other chainmail and weapons back underneath the table. He took the letter from beneath the rug and hid it under his shirt again. Then he sat down and waited.
He did not have to wait for long. Footsteps soon sounded outside his prison, and then the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. Two of the squires entered, one with a torch in his hand, the other with a spear. Both men had their visors down. Still in silence, they motioned that Tiuri should go with them.
4 SWORDS DRAWN
Flanked by the two squires, Tiuri walked all the way down a seemingly endless number of steps, and through lots of different rooms and corridors. It was very quiet; the castle seemed to be deserted.
Finally they came to a courtyard that Tiuri did not recognize. There was a covered gallery all around it, with torches burning here and there. The four Grey Knights were lined up in the middle of the courtyard, waiting for him. The other two squires stood off to one side, with drums hanging around their necks. As Tiuri entered the courtyard, one of the knights gave a signal and quietly started beating a rhythm.
Everything seemed quite unreal to Tiuri: the hushed castle, the gloom of the courtyard, where a fine drizzle was falling, the silent knights, and the eerie sound of the drums, growing louder and louder.
The squires led Tiuri to a spot just in front of the Grey Knights. Then they stepped back to guard the gate to the courtyard.
Tiuri stood and looked at the four knights. They were wearing full suits of armour, with visors down, shields on their arms, hands on the hilts of their swords.
“You sent for me,” said Tiuri. “What do you want from me?”
He had to speak loudly to make himself heard above the drums. The Grey Knights remained silent.
“What do you want from me?” Tiuri repeated.
The Grey Knights said nothing, but the drumming became louder.
“What do you want from me?!” Tiuri shouted for the third time, but the drumming was so loud by then that he could barely hear his own voice.
The Grey Knights stood motionlessly, staring at him. Tiuri felt his courage fading. His will was paralysed. He tried to say something else, but the words died on his lips. Hi
s feet seemed to be nailed to the ground. And the din of the drumming droned louder and louder, echoing off the high, dark walls around them.
Then one of the knights drew his sword and raised it above his head. The other three did the same and the first one stepped closer, like some nightmarish spectre. But then Tiuri snapped into action. He stepped backwards, turned and ran, as quickly as he could in his long habit and the chainmail he was wearing beneath it. He ran across the courtyard, with the knights following him, their feet thudding on the wet ground. Tiuri saw one of the squires running to stop him. But he did not intend to escape; he knew that was impossible. As he ran, he untied the rope around his waist and let his habit fall. Then he stopped, turned and drew his sword.
The Grey Knights were close behind him. Three of them also stopped, but the fourth came charging onwards at Tiuri, his weapon ready to strike. But when he struck, the blow was parried! Tiuri had taken him by surprise. He slashed at the knight so viciously that he made him stumble. The knight was soon back on his feet, but he staggered. Tiuri braced himself, sword in one hand, dagger in the other. He was no longer thinking about his fear and felt only a burning desire to fight. The other knights stood there for a moment; they appeared to be hesitating. Then one of the others came closer and attacked Tiuri. Their swords clashed fiercely. Tiuri fought like a man possessed. He was fighting for the letter – and for his life. Not only that, he was furious at the way the knights had treated him. He beat back his opponent, but he saw the next one waiting to take him on and he thought: They’re going to keep on fighting until I’m defeated… dead!
But the knights seemed to be hesitating again. They were standing close together and looking at one another. Tiuri realized the drumming had stopped.
And then, once again, he shouted, “What do you want from me? Speak! Challenge me if you must, but tell me why!”
For a few moments, it was so silent in the courtyard that he could hear the gentle sound of the rain falling. Then one of the knights whispered something to his fellows.
“Are you truly knights?” called Tiuri. “Or just cowards who conceal yourselves behind closed visors? Tell me who you are!”
One of the knights turned to Tiuri and said, “And who are you?” Tiuri recognized it as the voice of the knight with the silver horn. “Because one thing is certain: you are not Brother Tarmin of the Brown Monastery.”
“I do not need to tell you who I am,” said Tiuri. “I do not know you. I have done nothing to you and I am nothing to you.”
“No, you do not know us,” the knight replied.
“We call ourselves the Grey Knights,” said another, the knight with the gruff voice. “Grey is the colour of mourning, as you are surely aware. We are the four Grey Knights, the Avengers of the Four Winds. And we are seeking a young man who fled through the forest with a sparkling ring on his finger.”
“Why?” Tiuri cried out. “What are your names? You are not Red Riders, are you?”
These words seemed to take the knights by surprise. The one who had spoken last took a step closer, as if he was about to attack again. But the knight with the silver horn held him back and said to Tiuri, “You are right about one thing: we should show you our faces, even if you have never met us before.” He opened his visor and the others did the same.
Tiuri could not see their faces very clearly in the darkness of the courtyard, but he was fairly certain that he did not recognize the men. The two knights who had spoken to him were middle-aged, with dark hair and beards. The other two looked younger.
“We are knights-errant,” said the knight with the silver horn. “This is Sir Bendu, and my other two companions are Sir Arwaut and Sir Evan, who is from the west. I am Ristridin of the South.”
Sir Ristridin of the South!
Tiuri had often heard that name. It was a name of great renown, borne by a famous wandering knight, who travelled the land and fought evil and injustice wherever he found it. And it was the last name he had expected to hear!
“But who are you?” barked Sir Bendu. He was the darkest and gruffest of the four knights.
Tiuri spoke up, loud and proud. “My name is Tiuri, son of Tiuri.”
“So it is true,” said Sir Bendu. He leant forward and said, “Tiuri, son of Tiuri, why did you run from the chapel on the eve of your knighting?”
His words took Tiuri by surprise. “W-what…” he faltered, but then he regained his composure. And he countered with another question. “What business is that of yours, Sir Bendu?”
“Well, I’ll…” growled Sir Bendu.
But Sir Ristridin intervened. “Tiuri,” he said calmly. “It is true, is it not, that you ran from the chapel on the eve of the ceremony?”
“Yes,” said Tiuri. “That is true.”
“Such a thing has never happened before, at least as long as anyone can remember. A knight-to-be running away from his vigil! It is a most serious business. Why did you do such a thing, Tiuri, son of Tiuri? You surely must have had some reason.”
“I had a reason,” said Tiuri. “Of course I did! But I cannot tell you what it was.”
“So can you explain to us why you stole a horse and rode off on it?” asked Sir Bendu. “Can you tell us why you fled into the forest to hide?”
“And, above all, can you tell us why you were wearing that ring?” added Sir Evan, “and why you were riding the horse Ardanwen, which did not belong to you and which has, until now, obeyed only one master?”
The Grey Knights looked at Tiuri and waited for his response.
“Do you know whose ring it was?” asked Sir Ristridin, when no response came. “Do you know who was the black horse’s master?”
“Of course I do,” said Tiuri. “It was the Black Knight with the White Shield.”
“That is right,” said Sir Bendu. “The Black Knight with the White Shield!”
The knights fell silent again and looked at one another.
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Tiuri asked. “Why have you pursued me, aiming to capture me, dead or alive? And what is so special about the ring? It belongs to me…”
“The ring belongs to you?!” exclaimed Sir Evan. “How, in heaven’s name, did you come to have it?”
“It… it was given to me,” replied Tiuri.
“Given to you?” came the incredulous response.
Tiuri hesitated for a moment and then continued. He knew he couldn’t tell them too much. But so far the conversation had taken a most unexpected course. “The Black Knight gave it to me,” he said.
This time it was Sir Ristridin who came closer and leant over him. “He gave it to you?” he repeated. “But what happened to him?”
“He was murdered,” said Tiuri.
“Indeed! Murdered!” said Sir Bendu. “Not defeated, not fallen, but murdered!” Then he checked himself and fell silent.
“Tiuri, son of Tiuri,” said Sir Ristridin, “you were about to become a knight, like your renowned father, but you ran away and forsook your duty. You say you cannot tell us the reason. But can you tell us how the Black Knight with the White Shield met his end?”
“He was lured into an ambush,” replied Tiuri. Then something occurred to him. A thought lit up his mind like a flash of lightning.
“You knew him!” he cried. “He was a friend of yours!”
“Continue,” said Sir Ristridin.
Tiuri paused to absorb his insight. He was sure he had guessed correctly.
“The Black Knight with the Red Shield challenged him,” he continued, “but it was a trap. His men, the Red Riders, attacked your friend in large numbers, and that is how he died. He was never defeated in a duel.”
The knights said nothing, but Tiuri could feel that their attitude towards him was changing. And he went on, more quietly. “He asked me to remove his mask because he said a knight must always face Death with an open visor.”
The silence weighed heavily.
“So you were there,” Sir Evan said finally.
“
Yes,” said Tiuri. “But I arrived too late.”
“You say the Red Riders murdered him?” said Sir Bendu. “But what about the ring?”
“He gave it to me,” said Tiuri.
“Why?”
Tiuri did not respond. “He gave it to me,” he repeated, “and now I would like it back.” And when the Grey Knights did not move, he continued, “I would also like to know why you have asked me all these questions, and why you have treated me this way.”
“Yes, you owe him an answer,” said a voice, and the lord of the castle stepped from the shadows.
“You are the one who gave him the weapons!” exclaimed Sir Ristridin.
“Of course,” answered the lord of Mistrinaut calmly. “And it is just as well I did! How would you feel now, Sir Ristridin, if, in your blind lust for revenge, you and your fellow knights had defeated this boy, without even listening to him? How would you have felt, Sir Ristridin of the South, champion of peace and justice, if you had committed such an act, dishonouring your chivalry and staining your reputation? How would you all have felt, you, Sir Bendu, and Sir Arwaut, and Sir Evan? Of course I gave him weapons and I stood ready to intervene. I have doubted your suspicions from the start.”
“So you believe him,” said Sir Bendu, nodding at Tiuri.
“And you do not, Sir Bendu?” came the lord’s response.
“It would make sense for us to believe him,” said Sir Bendu. “He is young and brave and he has an honest face. He also bears a name of renown. He is the son of Tiuri the Valiant. But most of us know that such things are not always to be trusted.”
“Well, it was either him… or the Knight with the Red Shield,” said Sir Evan. “And the latter seems more likely.”
Tiuri looked with increasing astonishment from one knight to the other.
“I believe him,” said Sir Ristridin, loud and clear.
But Tiuri was growing impatient. “Sir knights,” he said, “you still have not answered my question.”
The Grey Knights said nothing. Ristridin cleared his throat.
“Speak, Ristridin,” said the lord. “You owe this to him! You are unhappy about the situation, and you no longer believe in his guilt, but still: you believed he was guilty and you acted accordingly. So, speak your accusation! Let him hear it!” He walked up to one of the squires and took the torch from his hand. Then he let the light fall on Tiuri’s face.