The Knight twk-1

by Gene Wolfe

  The kitchen windows looked bright and cheerful when we caught sight of Nukara, Duns, and Pouk at last. I did not really feel like I was coming home, but it was like that. I would be able to eat—I had not eaten much before the fight—and to warm myself in front of the fire. Right then it seemed like everything that anybody could ever want.

  All that counted, but it was not just that. I had been talking to Gylf and Uri and Baki, and even to Org, which was okay. But the voices I heard through the greased skin in the kitchen windows were human, all of them. Sometimes that can make a big difference.

  Pouk opened the door when I knocked. “There you are, sir. Missed you, I did. Knew you wasn’t ...”

  He had seen the ogre behind me. I said, “This is Org, Pouk. You’re not to harm him. If he misbehaves, tell me.”

  Pouk stood there frozen, with his mouth open. I do not believe he had heard a word I said.

  “Org, this man is Pouk, another servant. He will see to it that you’re fed and otherwise cared for. You must do what he says, exactly like you would do what I said.”

  Org grunted and looked at Pouk, and Pouk took a couple of steps backward. Maybe I ought to say here that Org did not snarl or anything, ever. He did not smile, and he did not frown. His eyes were like two black beads. They looked small in a big face that was mostly mouth. It was not a human face or anything close to that. A dog’s face or a horse’s face is a lot more human-looking than Org’s.

  I went on into the house, and Org came in behind me. Gylf went around us to lie in front of the fire. Duns and Nukara had been sitting at the table with Pouk, or that was how it seemed. They had stood up, probably, when Pouk went to the door. Now they looked every bit as out of it as he did. “Here’s your ghost,” I told them. “A solid one. Hear the floorboards creak? If you’d like to touch him, go right ahead.”

  Duns tried to talk three times before he could say “You fought him?”

  “I did, and I didn’t like it, either. He beat me, and then he surrendered to me. It’s kind of a long story, and I’d rather not get into the whole thing just now.”

  “Where’s Uns?” Nukara asked. “Where is my son?”

  “I don’t know. He went with me and helped me, and I was thinking of taking him on to work with Pouk for a while if he wanted. But when Org and I fought, he disappeared.”

  “Run off?” Pouk had recovered himself somewhat.

  “I didn’t see him go, so I don’t know. If he did, I can’t blame him. I felt like running too.”

  Gylf growled at Org, who seemed not to hear him.

  “I’ll have a word wit him,” Duns was saying, “when he gits hum.”

  “You don’t have to chew him out,” I said. “He doesn’t have it coming.”

  Pouk had drawn his knife. “We goin’ to kill that now, sir?”

  “Kill him after he gave up?” I shook my head. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d know what we’re going to do. We’re going to take him back to Sheerwall with us, and you’re going to take care of him.”

  Pouk nodded. “We’ll do for him there, sir, and have a hundred to help us.”

  “They’ll do for him, you mean, if we don’t stop them, and he’ll kill ten or twenty of them first. We’ve got to find a way to keep that from happening.”

  Nukara gave me bread and cheese, and more soup. She found the carcass of a sheep for Org, and had me give it to him. He ate it bones and all, and seemed to be satisfied.

  After that, we left. I kept thinking about my fight with Org and what I was going to do with him; Pouk probably asked questions, but I doubt that I answered them. Then we topped a hill and saw Sheerwall with the full moon behind it—the high, square towers crowned with battlements. Later I saw Utgard, which was a whole lot bigger (so big it scared you). And Thortower, which was taller and prettier. But Sheerwall was Sheerwall, and there was nothing else like it. Not for me.

  I think it was a little after midnight by the time we got there. Master Agr had told me the password, even though I told him we should get back before sundown. Now I saw that he had been right. I yelled for the sentries and when they challenged me I gave it to them and they loosed the pawl. I had never seen the drawbridge let down before, and wished I could have seen more of it. As it was, about all I saw was the big chain moving and the stone counterweights going up. Sheerwall had a good wide moat and a narrow bridge without railings. I was a little scared and cantered across just to look like I was not.

  When I got to the other side, I called the sentries over so I could talk to them. “In another minute something will come across your bridge that you won’t believe,” I told them. “I’m not going to ask you to promise not to tell anybody about it. If you think it’s your duty to report it, you ought to do your duty. I will ask you not to gossip about it. Can I have your word on that?”

  They say I could.

  “Good. Like I said, you can report it if you think you should. But I’m ordering you not to fight it or try to stop it from crossing over. If you do, you’ll have to fight me too. Just let it come across, and I’ll be responsible for anything it does.”

  The older sentry said, “Good enough for us, sir.”

  I sort of grinned at him. “You haven’t seen it yet.” I was about to call to Pouk to tell Org that he could come across when I heard more horses on the bridge. It was Pouk, riding his and leading the rest, with Gylf trotting in back to make them keep up. I said, “I thought I told you to stay with Org until I yelled.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Pouk let go of the pommel long enough to touch his cap. “I’m tryin’ to stay with him, sir. He’s in here, sir. In this here bailey, sir.”

  “You mean he crossed without me seeing him?”

  “No, sir. Not over this bridge here, sir. He swum th’ moat.” Pouk was staring around the dim courtyard beyond the portcullis. “Then he come around behind, like.”

  “I see. But I don’t see him. Do you?”

  Pouk hesitated, afraid of getting me angry. “No, sir. Not this minute I don’t, sir. Only I think I know where he is, sir, an’ if you want him I’ll try to fetch him out.”

  “Not now.” I turned back to the sentries. “I won’t report this. You can do whatever you want to.”

  The older one cleared his throat. “We’re with you, Sir—Sir ...”

  “Able of the High Heart.”

  “Sir Able, long as you’re with us.”

  “I’m on your team, and I’m going to put that servant Pouk should have kept with him in the dungeon.”

  The younger said, “That’s good, sir.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” I was grinning again. “I’ll have to find the head man there and talk to him, I guess, but it can wait ’til morning. He’s probably in bed, and I’d like to be in bed myself. Who should I ask for?”

  “Master Caspar, sir. He’s under Master Agr, sir, and he’s Chief Warder. You know where the Marshal’s Tower is?”

  “I’m staying there.”

  “Well, sir, you get on the stair in there like you would, only go down ‘stead of up. First door you come to will be his taburna, sir.”

  “Thanks.” It was not until I got off my horse that I knew how bone-tired I was. “Pouk, take them to the stable, all of them. Unsaddle them. Make sure they get water and oats, and clean stalls.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “You know where my room is.”

  Pouk nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  “Good.” I wanted to slump, but I knew I must not. I stood very straight instead, with my shoulders back and my chest out. “I’ll be there as soon as I’ve seen about Org. Take our bags up there—everything we had on the boat and what we got off Sir Whatever-it-was. If the grooms give you a hard time, tell them it’s my order.”

  “Aye aye, sir!”

  The moat stunk, and the filth splashed by my boots was horse piss and droppings, but I did not care; I headed for the darkest corner of the bailey, knowing what I wanted to do, and knowing that after I got it done I could go
to bed.

  * * *

  I was a woman in a dirty bed in a stuffy little room. An old woman sitting beside my bed kept telling me to push, and I pushed, although I was so tired I could not push hard, no matter how hard I tried. I knew my baby was trying to breathe, and could not breathe, and would soon die.

  “Push!”

  * * *

  I had tried to save; now I was only trying to get away. He would not let go, climbing on me, pushing me underwater.

  * * *

  The moon shone through pouring rain as I made my way down the muddy track. At its end the ogre loomed black and huge. I was the boy who had gone into Disiri’s cave, not the man who had come out. My sword was Disira’s grave marker, the short stick tied to the long one with a thong. I pushed the point into the mud to mark my own grave, and went on. When the ogre threw me, it became such a sword as I wished for, with a golden pommel and a gleaming blade.

  I floated off the ground and started back for it, but I could no longer breathe.

  Chapter 42 I Am A Hero

  l woke up sweating, threw off my blanket, and looked at the window. Gray light was in the sky. Sleeping, I decided, was worse than getting up; and I glued down my choice by pouring water in the cracked washbowl and scrubbing every part of me I could reach. When I lived with Bold Berthold we washed by swimming in the Griffin. That had been a lot better—in warm weather anyhow—and I wondered if the duke got baths half as good.

  Pouk was snoring on the other side of the door. I could hear each snore clearly, and I thought sure the noise I made washing and getting dressed would wake him up, but it did not. For a minute I wanted to pour my wash-water on him, but I carried it to the window and threw it out instead, then I stuck my head out and looked around.

  The castle might be called Sheerwall, but the wall was not really straight up and down. The big not-quite-square stones were rough, too, and were not set exactly even. I had done a good deal of climbing on the Western Trader, and now I stuck my boots in my belt, in back where they would be out of the way, and went over the sill.

  In one way it was a tough climb, and in another it was not. I kept hitting places where I could not go down any further without sliding, and the wall was steep enough that a slide would not have been much different from a fall by the time I got to the ground. So I would have to give that spot up, and go sidewise or back up, and try someplace else. But it was good, hard exercise, and there was never a time when I really thought I was going to fall. Toug climbed around on the wall of Utgard once pretty much like I did that morning on the Marshal’s Tower, and when he told me about it, it reminded me of this. Only there were vines, some kind of ivy, on Utgard. I will write about that when I get to it.

  Once I was on the ground, the smell of bread baking steered me to the kitchen without a lot of side trips. I was good and hungry, and that helped. “You’re not supposed to be in here, sir,” a cook told me. “Breakfast in the hall when you hear the horn.”

  When I did not say anything, he added, “Fresh ham today, sir, and cheese with it.”

  “Bread and butter, and small beer.” I knew because I had eaten there twice the day before. “How about eggs? Have you got any? What about apples?”

  He shook his head. “No, sir. We do the best we can, sir.”

  “That’s good.” I patted his shoulder. “Since you do, you won’t mind if I take this.” It was hot loaf, good heavy bread with a lot of barley and spelt in it.

  “A nice lady fixed a swell supper for me last night,” I explained to the cook, “but I knew I was going to have to fight and I didn’t want to eat a lot and slow myself down. You don’t mind?”

  “No, sir.” His face showed he did. “Not at all, sir.”

  “Good. Come out into the hall for a minute.”

  “I have more bread to—” Seeing the way I was looking at him, he hurried out.

  The hall was a lot bigger than the kitchen, maybe a hundred paces long and fifty wide. There was a dais for Duke Marder and his wife and special company. For the rest of us, long tables of bare wood, benches, and stools. Some servingwomen were setting places for breakfast: a greasy trencher and a flagon for everybody.

  I said, “Master Caspar eats here, doesn’t he? Where does he sit?”

  “I work in the kitchen,” the cook said. “I have no way of knowing, but Modguda could probably tell you.”

  I let him go. “I bet you’re right. She will, too. We’re old buddies.”

  She bowed woman-fashion. “I’m glad you’re so much better, Sir Able.”

  “So am I.” I turned to the cook. “You’ve got more bread to bake. Get to work!”

  Modguda showed me where Master Caspar sat. He had a chair. That proved something, although I was not sure what. I sat down in it to eat my bread and told Modguda to fetch a flagon of beer.

  “He—he’ll be angry, Sir Able. Master Caspar will.” She looked about ready to die.

  “Not at you. And not at me, because I’ll get up as soon as he comes and let him sit down. I just want to be sure I don’t miss him.” By that time a few people were straggling into the hall. I tried to guess which ones might be warders and work in the dungeon.

  Modguda was short enough, and I was big enough, that she did not have to bend down to whisper in my ear. “Everybody’s afraid of him, sir. Even you knights.”

  I had a mouthful, which gave me a good chance to think before I said anything. “Everybody can’t be,” I said when I had swallowed and had a sip of beer. “I’m not, so how could it be everybody?”

  “He’s the master of the dungeon, sir. You wouldn’t want to go there, sir, but if you—”

  I shook my head. “That’s exactly what I do want. I was down there last night, but I had no flashlight—no torch, I mean—and couldn’t see much. I’d like to go again and have Master Caspar show me around. That’s one of the favors I’m going to ask him for.”

  Right then, somebody in back of me said, “Ask who for?”

  It was a big guy who liked black. I asked if he was Caspar, and he nodded. Modguda had run while I was turning.

  I got out of his chair and held out my hand. “I’m Sir Able of the High Heart.”

  He said, “Huh!”

  “I just sat here so I wouldn’t miss you when you came to breakfast. I’ve got something to talk to you about, and I thought it might be a good idea to do it while we ate.”

  “Say it now.” He sat down hard. “I eat with my men, not with you.”

  There were half a dozen warders in black clothes around us by that time, some pulling out stools and sitting on them, and some just standing there to listen in. I began, “Okay, I’ll go to your dungeon—”

  “Most do.”

  The one sitting next to Caspar laughed, and it was not just some guy laughing at the boss’s joke; everything he was planning to do to me some fine day was in that laugh of his. I knocked him off his stool, and when he started to get back up I picked it up and hit him with it.

  The whole place got very quiet, fast. Somebody had set a platter of fresh ham in front of Caspar. I pulled it over and took a piece, and got my bread and ate a little of that, too.

  “You’re the fellow that crippled all the other knights,” Caspar said.

  “Three or four. Maybe five. That’s all.” I picked up my flagon and took a drink.

  He nodded. “Pass the pork.”

  I did. “It would be better if you were to say pass the pork, please, Sir Able. But I’ll overlook it this time.”

  He grunted.

  “I want us to be friends, Master Caspar. A servant of mine is staying with you, and I’d like you to take good care of him.”

  He turned to look at me, still chewing ham. “So I thought—”

  Woddet had come over while I was talking, and he broke in then. “Fighting in the Great Hall is forbidden. Master Agr wants to see you after breakfast.”

  “I’ll be happy to talk to him,” I said, “but we weren’t fighting. We’re talking about a private m
atter.”

  Woddet squatted to check out the warder on the floor, feel for a pulse and so on. “What about this?”

  “Oh, him. I don’t think he’s hurt very much. If I’d hit him hard I would’ve killed him, but I didn’t.”

  Woddet got up. “You’d better see Master Agr as soon as you leave here. Otherwise ...” He shrugged.

  Caspar said, “Otherwise, you’re mine.”

  “I’d rather see the duke,” I told Woddet, “but since Master Agr wants to see me, okay. Tell him it will be a pleasure.”

  “You want to come with me? I’ll make a place for you at the table where we knights eat.”

  “I know where it is, but I’ve got to talk with Master Caspar just now and then Master Agr after that.”

  Woddet went back to the knights’ table, and somebody a couple of tables over started talking a little bit too loud, and pretty soon everybody was talking and eating like they always did. Modguda brought a round of cheese on a big trencher, and I got out my dagger and cut a slice. I have always liked ham and cheese, even if we had been getting it just about every meal.

  “We brand our prisoners sometimes,” Caspar said. “It depends on what the duke wants. Troublemakers. Thieves. You ever been branded?”

  I was chewing, but I shook my head.

  “I have.” He pushed back his hood so I could see the brand on his forehead. “I didn’t like it.”

  I swallowed. “Nobody likes a headache. We get them, just the same.” Caspar chuckled. He had a mean chuckle. “You say you’ve got a fresh prisoner for me?”

  I thought about a friend of mine who had gone away to boarding school, and I said, “More of a boarder. You don’t have to lock him up, but he’ll be living with you until I go north to take a stand at some bridge or something.”

  “He’ll be living with us.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I know you must feed your prisoners—they’d starve to death if you didn’t, and they don’t eat in here. All you’ve got to do is set out a plate of food for this servant of mine.” I stopped to think about some things Uns had said. “Every other day might be enough. Just leave it out where he can find it, and if he hasn’t eaten it in a couple of days, try someplace else.”