"But the rules!" Dennys objected. "And why all this talk of disguise?"
"Never mind that now, bless yer innocence!" Rufus said. "Just do as I say, Denny boy, and I´ll enlighten you when it's all over. Ride Hercules this run; and stick on; and I´ll tell you wot next when I see it."
So Denny mounted the big red roan gelding and took his place again, with Rufus at his nigh stirrup.
"Four survivors only," said Rufus. "But that don't mean twelve were grassed. That couldn't be. Most of them were run away with—clear off the field of glory, an' maybe all the way home—poor fellers! And the knight confronting you this time is one I know about, an' nothing to worry about. Sir Shane is the name. They say he was a champion jouster before he came home an' settled down to family life, which was so long ago my mother could have married his eldest son instead of my father if she'd had a mind to. So she says, anyhow. But I doubt that youll have to give the old gentleman so much as a poke, for I´ll eat my helmet if that wild colt he's up on don't bolt for home at the blast of the trumpets. So all you've got to do this time is ride straight an' easy, an' watch out you don't get run away with yerself."
"Squires outside!" bawled a herald.
"Don't let him get the bit in his teeth, an' there's nothing to it, God bless ye!" said Rufus.
* * *
King Malachi stood up under the royal canopy and waved a hand. The trumpets sounded, and Hercules responded with a crooked leap. But Dennys held on. He held onto everything, with everything—onto spear, rein, saddle, and hide with hands, knees, and heels. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Sir Shane flying, spearless, from the field, pulling hard with both hands. But he could not spare that old knight a thought or a second glance, for he had all he could do to keep himself on top of Hercules, and Hercules on the field. It was a notable exhibition, anyway, of human and equine determination and deviltry and gymnastics; and when the trumpets sounded "Cease action!" man and horse were still there and still together, and spear and shield were pointed and dressed in approximately the right direction.
Three remained of the second tilt, of whom Dennys and one other were survivors from the first.
"You did grand, Denny—but the worst is yet to come," said Rufus.
"How so?" Dennys asked, who by now felt himself a match for anyone short of King Arthur Pendragon's fellowship.
"Never mind the questions now, but get back onto old Harhar, and pray to every saint you know the name of," Rufus answered.
"I am riding this big red fool again, mauger my head!" Dennys asserted. "I've got the mastery of him now. And another thing: if I'm to be grassed this time—which I doubt, mark you!—it will be King Malachi's gift that shares the humiliation with me, and not the grand old charger King Torrice gave me."
The squire sighed and said that he admired the knight's sentiment, anyway. So Dennys limbered the kinks out of his elbows and knees and climbed back into the same saddle. He returned to his place, with Rufus at his near stirrup.
"Now d'ye see who's in front of you again?" Rufus said.
"Again? Why he's a stranger to me."
"He's changed his armor and his horse, that's all—or my eyesight's failing. And he's got a red cover to his shield this time instead of plain cowhide. He's the same gentleman you grassed the first tilt, Denny boy, or you can send me home to me mother an' aunts. And it's no local colt he's up on this time."
"But you can't see what it is, the way it's draped in fine cloths to the knees and hocks."
"True for ye, Denny boy—an' God spare yer innocence!"
"Don't talk to me like an uncle!" Dennys exclaimed.
"You may be nineteen—but don't forget I was in seven stark fights on my way to this place with King Torrice and Sir Lorn, not to mention the skirmish I was in at Carleon when I slew three rogues single-handed for my little maid there. And what were you doing at that time, friend Michael—besides chasing milkmaids?"
"Hah!" Rufus barked, blinking hard and fast for half a minute, and his face as red as his head.
Then he smiled, and then he laughed.
"Well said, Sir Dennys!" he exclaimed. "That's the spirit, Denny boy—but keep it for yer enemies, an' spare yer true friend; and here's me hand on it."
They shook hands.
"Squires outside!" bawled a herald.
Then the trumpets brayed.
Hercules went straight, but in bumpy bounces, fighting to get his head down between his knees and grab a tooth-hold on the bit. The opposing charger came straight too, but swiftly and smoothly; and Dennys' spear was plowing the sod at the moment of contact with his opponent's level weapon. Hit fair in midshield, and bounced by bucking Hercules in the same instant, he was lifted from his saddle and flung to the ground.
"Just as I thought, it was Sir Keel, the Dubliner who pretended to be sick abed," Rufus informed him. "I sent Maggon back to the castle to spy on him—and sure enough, he wasn't there."
"But why all that trouble to give me a spill?" Dennys asked.
"It was Malachi's idea, depend upon it, the scut!" "But why?"
"To bring ye down a peg in the esteem of Little Brigie, I wouldn't put it past him." "But why?—damn him!"
"Because he's jealous an' ambitious an' crooked, like I told you, the dirty scut!" "And how did he like it?" "Grand, by the way he laughed." "And the little maid?" "Little Brigie? I didn't notice her." "Look me in the eye and say that again." But Rufus did not look Dennys in the eye. His glance slipped and slid and darted, like shallow and fast water over pebbles.
"Young Kelly was grassed that time too—once out of three tilts, the same as yerself," he said, talking fast. "So the two of you tied for the prize; so the heralds will be looking for you in a minute, to parade you to receive yer share of it."
"You heard me ask a question," said Dennys. "How did the little Princess take it?"
"She's young," Rufus said, flickering his glance everywhere but into Dennys' eyes. "Only six and a mite over. And maybe I was mistaken, what with catching that fool Hercules an' everything."
"Did she laugh at my tumble? I'm asking you, Rufe— man to man."
"And if she did, who cares? For she's only a baby—and how would she know if she laughed or cried, in all that excitement?"
But he hung his head while he spoke. Dennys blinked at him, nodded and stepped up into old Harhar's high saddle.
"I'm off," Dennys said in a queer voice. "Follow if you want to, or send my fellows and horses and gear after me, and go home to the apron strings."
"And wot about the Dubliners ye've still got to fight with sharp spears, including that fox Keel?" Rufus asked him, with a look straight in the eyes at last.
"Theyll keep, and I´ll keep," Dennys answered, twisting a bitter grin. "Ill bide my time—but not in this accursed hole."
"Ride along, then," Rufus said. "South, an' take yer time; an' I´ll be after you with our fellows an' horses an' gear as quick as I can get them together, Denny boy."
When the heralds bawled for Sir Dennys ap Rhys to come forward and receive his share of the prize for winning two jousts out of three, they got no response; nor could they find hair or hide of him, or of Master Michael MacMurraugh either. So the young Kelly got the entire prize. King Malachi expressed deep concern about Dennys' disappearance, but smiled slyly behind his scraggly mustaches for all that. He was rid of that young foreign nobody—Welshman or Cornishman or whatever he was—cheaper than he had hoped for; and to have detained him for just long enough to be humiliated right under Little Brigie's eyes had been a clever trick. But he did not like the way his daughter kept on sobbing and sniffling, nor the queer looks the Queen gave him and Sir Keel. But never mind a few sulks and queer looks for a day or two! It was the duty of a second-rate and ambitious king in doubtful health to look ahead.
Chapter Four
The Keepers of the Bridge
Dennys was a changed man now from the one whose employment Rufus had talked himself into. He had been a boy, for all his hardiness of both body and spiri
t—and a cheerful boy, at that; but now he was a man, and a cheerless one into the bargain. His temper, which had been as warm and friendly as high and proud, was now grim and bitter and hard; and Rufus had all he could do at times to keep himself cheery and chummy. One morning, six days out of Cavantown, Rufus spoke right out, but with a smile and a bantering tongue.
"God send us some bloodthirsty knight-errants or dragons before we start bashing each other, Denny boy!"
Dennys gave him a quick look.
"You too, Rufe?" Dennys said in a bitter voice.
Rufus had not expected that reply. It made him feel at fault and ashamed, and angry with himself, and therefore angry with Dennys.
"Wot d'ye mean, me too?" he cried. "If you think I've played you false, put a name to it here an' now! Is it me who sulks an' glowers all day long, with never a smile or a civil word? Just because I serve you freely, do I have to take snarls an' grunts for wages? And when I crack a joke, it's 'You too, Rufe?' like as if ye'd caught me trying to slit yer gullet! God's wounds!"
For answer, Dennys drew rein and sat and stared straight ahead between the ears of his big red horse, as still and silent as a knight of stone; whereupon Rufus drew rein too, and sat staring to his front without sound or motion. What the knight was thinking, and what the squire was thinking, and what might have come of their thoughts if a diversion had not come before either of them spoke, or moved, will never be told. . . . The groom Oggle, who had been scouting a hundred yards in advance, came back upon them, his small mountainy horse running like a frightened dog.
"Ho-ho!" he cried, pulling and yanking to a rough stop. "A pair of great champions keeping a bridge, with their spears in their hands an' their shields dressed!"
Dennys turned his head and looked at Rufus, and Rufus turned his and looked at Dennys; and the squire grinned, and the knight smiled. Then they went forward at a jog, stirrup to stirrup, with the grooms and spare horses and beasts of burden crowding after.
"Two of them," Rufus said. "That's easy for me, Denny boy."
"Easy now," Dennys warned him. "We haven't seen them yet, nor heard them."
A few seconds later a turn in the track brought the bridge and its keepers into their view. Before them a narrow meadow, split by a yet narrower stream which brimmed its greening banks, ran to right and left through greening woodland, and at the near end of a short bridge, two knights full harnessed and armed, and mounted on tall horses, awaited them. The track went across the young grass to the bridge, and from the other end of the bridge across the farther strip of meadow and into the forest beyond. Dennys and Rufus continued to advance, though at a walk instead of a jog-trot; but when one of the knights raised and flourished an arm and shouted "Stand and parley!" they stood.
"Leave this part of it to me, Denny boy, for I do believe I've heard rumors of these gentlemen," Rufus said.
Dennys nodded.
Then Rufus sang out: "Wot d'ye want to say?"
"Only this," the stranger answered, coming nearer to save his voice. "If ye're earls or better, 'twill cost ye two silver crowns apiece to cross this bridge; but the charge for knights and simple squires is only one crown a head."
"An' wot if we haven't got any crowns?" Rufus asked.
"Then ye can pay the toll in provisions."
"Wot if we cross the bridge anyhow?"
"Ye can't do that, young sir! It's ag'in' the rules!"
Rufus laughed indulgently.
"I've heard tell of Yer Honors, but that was when I was a child listening to tales at my granddaddy's knee," he said. "The mighty Keepers of the Bridge! One or t'other of you once poked that same brave ancestor of mine into the river here. But that was a long time ago. So will Yer Honors kindly listen to me now: I am but a squire, and maybe a simple one, but this knight is Sir Dennys ap Rhys, with gold spurs three inches long on his heels. But silver crowns are something else. Not that we couldn't spare a few if we had to, but the truth is that our hearts are not so much set on crossing yer bridge just now as on getting into a fight— a ding-dong combat against equal or even superior forces. But I have a suggestion and an offer to make Yer Honors, in Sir Dennys' name an' me own both."
"What the devil's all this about?" Dennys asked. "I'll not pay a crown, or a groat, but will fight the two single-handed, if need be."
"Easy now," cautioned Rufus. "I've a suspicion these poor old champions haven't fought anybody, nor been paid a crown by anybody, in the last fifteen years an' maybe more. Too old, poor souls! But have patience, Denny boy; and if I don't raise a few brawls for us, call me a Saracen!"
Now the knights of the bridge were stirrup to stirrup and with their helmeted heads together. Now the one who had spoken before, spoke again.
"We will listen to yer suggestion, young sir."
"Gramercy," Rufus acknowledged. "This is it, sir: let Sir Dennys and me take yer places here, as Keepers of the Bridge, till the spring water subsides. And we will keep it at both ends."
"And yer offer?" asked the other.
"Half of all the crowns we take, on the words of a Tudor and a MacMurraugh!" Rufus said.
The knights of the bridge put their helmets together again for another minute.
"Did ye say MacMurraugh?" the spokesman asked.
"Ay, but not a black one," Rufus answered.
His vizor was open. He hooked a finger inside his helmet and brought a red curl to view.
"A grandson of Red Dunstan himself," he added.
The two let their spears fall to the ground, pushed their shields aside to their left shoulders and dismounted. They advanced then, on foot, peering through the bars of their closed vizors. All their movements were slow and yet jerky. They stood at the squire's near stirrup; and one, and then the other, jerked the mailed gauntlet from his right hand.
"Shake on it, MacMurraugh," said the spokesman.
Rufus ungloved and grasped the thin, veiny, bony hands in turn.
* * *
An hour later Dennys and Rufus had the little bridge to themselves. Their spears leaned against one of the stone parapets. They were not mounted, but the knight had an arm through Hercules' bridle, and the squire one through old Harhar's.
"The poor old souls!" said Rufus. "They were glad enough to hand over to us. It was Malachi's father gave them this bridge, for pulling him out of the river one night he fell into it full of usquebaugh, when they were all young. And they made a good thing of it so long as they were able to collect the toll. It was pay or fight in those days; and if the traveler who chose to fight instead of fork over won the passage, that's all he got for his trouble; but if he lost, he had to pay ten times the toll, or his horse an' harness. And there were few better jousters in these parts than Sir Gorrill an' his brother Sir Craig. But it was easy come, easy go. And look at the poor old gentlemen now, with all the roofs leaking, an' only rusty hams an' black bread in the larders. It's no wonder their eyes an' mouths watered when they saw our pack-ponies."
"It is your idea," Dennys said. "And I'm telling you now, if it doesn't produce action by this time tomorrow, I´ll be off."
"Here it comes!" Rufus cried; and he stepped up into Harhar's saddle, closed his vizor, grabbed up his spear, and left the bridge by its farther end at a sedate trot.
After a quick look, Dennys followed his example and then rode after him.
"Stand an' parley!" cried Rufus, in a cracked voice.
Dennys came up on his squire's right and drew rein there just as the two leaders of the approaching cavalcade pulled up in front of them. The strangers wore velvet caps with gold brooches in them, but were in full armor otherwise. One was larger, older, and more abundantly bewhiskered than the other, but not much more important-looking. Both had poddy eyes, thick noses, and fat lips.
"Don't be silly, old men," said the elder, and he threw a copper penny on the ground. "Make way now, ye old loon—and the saints be with ye!"
But Rufus did not stir, nor toss his leveled spear; so Dennys kept himself and his spear in place to
o, and his mouth shut. Since his arrival in Ireland, he had learned to leave the talking to the Irish—especially the first word.
"For lords an' better, two silver crowns apiece," Rufus squawked, his voice like a sick crow's. "And for knights and simple squires, one silver crown apiece. 'Tis the rule of the bridge and the law of the King."
The other cried: "There's been no tolls paid here in fifteen years, ye old galoot—not since the day a green squire defied an' grassed the two of ye single-handed. It's doles, not tolls, for the bold Keepers of the Bridge now."
He threw down another copper penny and wheeled his charger forward. His companion did the same. But both were stopped in a horse's-length by the points of Rufus' and Dennys' spears at their throats. They reined backward, cursing, drew their swords, and slashed at the spears. The squire's spear-point of tempered steel fell to the ground, cut clean away from the ashen shaft; but Dennys lowered his in the nick of time, then swung it upward and inward and struck his man a buffet across the ribs that shook both rider and horse. Both travelers retreated, wheeling their horses and bawling for helmets and spears. Two attendants ran to them, each with a lance and a plumed casque. Dennys and Rufus kept their ground. Rufus tried to make a joke of the pointless condition of his spear, but his face was red behind his vizor.
"It's lighter an' easier to handle now," he said.
"The big fellow is mine," Dennys said.
Rufus cursed and cried: "I´ll go on where I left off!"
"Then youll use my spear on him."
"The divil with that!"
"You heard me, Master Michael. If you must go on with the bigger and better man, you will use the better spear. Or keep the spear you have and take on the second-best cavalier. Make up your mind now, for here they come—and the biggest one straight at you!"
The Merriest Knight Page 44