"Just lies, Sir Vladimir. There were only three of them, and I believe two lived."
A knight I hadn't met said, "You were completely unarmed when you attacked?"
"Well, yes. You see, there wasn't much time. A friend was in trouble, and had I gone back for my sword, well, who could tell what would have happened?"
"A friend of the whoremasters guild? Was she pretty?" a third knight said.
"Hardly. It was a he. The innkeeper of the Pink Dragon, although his wife was also being abused."
"But how was it possible for one unarmed man to defeat three with knives?" the second knight persisted. An interested crowd was gathering. Except for Lambert's ladies, this was an all-male group. They were all professional fighters, so by their standards anybody talking about bloodshed and mayhem had to be all right. I was winning! "It wasn't three at once," I said. "I was able to get them one at a time."
"But even one man is hard to believe."
"Okay. Hang up your cloak and I'll show you." As I've mentioned, I'm no black belt, but I did learn a few simple throws in the service. With the sheath on his knife, we went through a few judo throws in slow motion.
I didn't actually reenact my fight in the hall of the Pink Dragon. I wasn't sure how these knights would react to kneeing someone in the groin, and I wanted to play the good guy. The first time you find yourself lifted into the air in judo is a memorable event, and it looks impressive. Three or four of them lined up to try me. The others were watching and drinking. I was becoming socially acceptable.
"You see," I said to a fellow in blue who was lying at my feet. "Had I thrown you down hard, you would be momentarily stunned. I could do all sorts of things to you. I could stamp on your chest, for example."
"Try me," a voice said from behind me.
I turned to find myself facing Duke Henryk the Bearded. "My lord it . . . it doesn't seem fitting," I stammered. Good God. He was my boss's boss, and he looked to be seventy years old. Not your usual judo partner!
"Try me," he repeated, holding his knife high with his right hand.
"Yes, my lord." Taking it slow and watching carefully to see that I didn't hurt him, I started through the same throw that I'd shown the others.
"Hold!" he said. I froze.
I felt a sharp prick at my ribs. Looking down, I saw that the duke held a dagger in his left hand. Where it had come from, I didn't know.
"What do you think now, Sir Conrad?"
"My lord, I think that had I met you in that dark hallway, I would be a dead man."
The room exploded in laughter, but it was laughter of a friendly sort. It was no dishonor to be bested by one's superior.
Contented, the duke sheathed his knives—one in his boot—and walked away.
The evening went well, I thought. Sir Stefan stayed to one corner of the room with his father and a half dozen knights. Sir Vladimir told me that they were the baron's liegemen. No hope of support there! I avoided them and circulated.
Conversation that evening centered mostly on hunting and hawking, so I didn't have much to contribute. Krystyana was a perfect hostess, and a lot of her newfound poise was rubbing off on the other girls, especially Janina, Natalia, Annastashia, and Yawalda. They were treated cordially, but they got a lot of side glances.
Later I found myself standing with Lambert and the duke.
"It's an interesting thought you've brought up, Sir Conrad," the duke said. "That it is possible for an unarmed man to defeat one who is armed."
"My lord, please understand that I am not a master of unarmed combat. I'm hardly an apprentice. I certainly believe that in a fight one is much better off armed. It is just that a warrior should remain a warrior even if he's naked."
"Interesting. You say you believe the obvious. Is there anyone who doesn't?"
"I've met one, my lord. He insisted that weaponry was unimportant compared to mental attitude and training. He was a master of the martial arts, a black belt from Japan."
"Ah, yes. It is said that you have traveled widely."
"Yes, my lord. Perhaps more widely than you can imagine. But I made a vow—"
"I know, son, and I won't push you. Still, a man must think. You, Lambert. Where do you think our Sir Conrad has come from?"
"My lord, I had not intended to speak on this, but since you ask, I must answer. Know that I have been watching this man carefully since Christmas. I have pondered long as to his origins, and I am confident that my guess is the right one."
"Then what is it?" the duke asked.
"I think that he is an emissary from Prester John, the Christian king of that most distant and fabulous empire."
Naturally, I was astounded by this. I'm not sure that I kept my jaw from sagging. Prester John!
"Remarkable," the duke said.
"Think about it, my lord. We have here a deadly knight who is distressed by the sight of blood. A master of the technic arts who didn't know how a smith makes iron. A man who treats warriors and children just the same. Where else could he have come from but the most civilized empire in the world?"
"Sir Stefan would say that he came from the Devil," the duke noted.
"There has been bad blood between them, my lord. I have explained—"
"So you have. But why would Prester John send a man to us?"
"Perhaps because of the Mongols," Lambert said. "It is said that they have conquered half the world. Perhaps they press him and he is in need of aid."
"Then why didn't he send an emissary instead of an engineer?"
"Perhaps he did, my lord. Whatever Conrad's instructions were, well, I've explained the gist of his oath."
"So you have. Well, Sir Conrad. It grows late. We are hunting tomorrow. Will you join us?"
"I would be honored, my lord." I don't like blood sports, but hunting at least has the virtue of putting meat on the table. Anyway, when your boss's boss invites you, you go.
The duke and Lambert drifted away.
We were to hunt for wild boar and bison, the misnamed buffalo of my American friends. There were, of course, wild bison in thirteenth century Poland. They still exist in modern times on carefully tended game preserves.
I sent word to the Krakowski brothers to go home and take Piotr Kulczynski with them.
The next morning at dawn, I was on horseback with armor and spear, along with two dozen other knights. The duke sent me back to get my shield, since this was also part of the paraphernalia required.
As we rode out, young Henryk dropped back from the front column and rode at my side. "A remarkable coat of arms, Sir Conrad."
"Indeed, my lord?"
"A white eagle on a red field. That is very similar to the insignia of the dukes of Poland."
"Consider it a symbol of Poland, my lord."
"And the eagle wears a crown. Do you claim to be a king?"
"No, my lord. I'm saying that Poland needs a king."
"Hmm, 'Poland is not yet dead.' " He read my motto. "Are you saying that Poland is dying?"
"It's lying in a dozen pieces, my lord. That's a fair start."
"You know that my father and I are working to unite those pieces."
"I know, my lord. When you weld them back together, I will change my motto."
He laughed. "Done, Sir Conrad! In ten years I'll watch you paint out that motto yourself."
"Gladly, my lord. But do it in nine."
We stopped for an early dinner and then spread out at two-hundred-yard intervals to sweep through the forest, driving the animals toward the mountains. Lambert was on the far right, and my station was next to him, with Sir Vladimir to my left. They had deliberately put me between two experienced hunters, which was fine by me.
After a few hours I found myself facing a large bull bison a hundred yards away. Anna immediately broke into a gallop. Anna was trained to pass to the right of a charging knight so that one's spear went over the horse's neck at the knight to the left, but it was easier to use a spear on the right if one had to strike downward. I sig
naled her to pass on the left. The bison charged at us, not to slightly miss, as a knight would, but directly at us, to ram!
I was bracing for a crash when Anna abruptly sidestepped at the last instant. Surprised, I managed to get a slashing cut into the animal's shoulder. It was bleeding, but it was not mortally wounded.
The bison had had enough and took off at a dead run, angling in front of Lambert. Anna, of course, raced behind it.
"After it, Sir Conrad!" Lambert shouted, and blew a signal on his horn, which I didn't understand. I'd been given a hunting horn, but I didn't know how to use it.
Anna was faster than the wounded bison, but he was built lower to the ground than we were, and he knew it; he charged through the thickets and under low branches. We lost sight of him.
I found tracks along a game trail and followed them for half an hour. By now we were into mountainous country and the trail seemed to lead between two cliffs, about two hundred yards apart, into a valley beyond. The valley contained about a square kilometer of flat land and was devoid of bison, wounded or otherwise. We worked our way up the sloping walls toward the bald mountains above, but it was soon obvious that I had lost the animal.
I was tired, and Anna probably needed rest, although she didn't show it. I dismounted, took a long drink of water from my canteen, and gave the rest to her. I sat down and fell another yard into a hole.
It was not actually a hole but a cave, and the floor sloped downward at a forty-five-degree angle. I was sliding on my back, headfirst into the darkness. My shoulder hit an obstruction. I yelled and flipped over and skidded on my armored belly, feet first, for about twenty yards and then hit water. The cave was narrow, only about a yard across, and had I still been going headfirst, I might have ended my story right here, by drowning.
As it was, I was able to wedge myself between the walls and work myself out before I ran out of air. Climbing up in slippery armor was a miserable job, but I managed it. I looked around. It was not a natural cave at all but an abandoned mine!
When I finally got out to greet my anxious horse, I threw myself on the ground, exhausted.
Shortly, I heard a horn blowing from the entrance of the valley. I got up, managed to get a squeak out of the horn slung on Anna's saddle, and then sat down again, carefully avoiding the hole.
Count Lambert rode up. "Sir Conrad, what are you doing up here?"
"Trying my hand at drowning, my lord."
"Drowning on a mountainside with no water in sight? By God, you are all wet! Another of your arcane arts?"
"No, my lord. I simply fell down a mine shaft."
"Ah, yes! I remember that shaft. It was dug in my grandfather's time. They used to dig coal out of it and burned limestone from that outcropping to make mortar."
"The coal seam ran out?"
"No, there's plenty of coal down there. But when you have two men mining and thirty more passing water buckets, there's not much profit in it. That mine is full of water."
"I noticed, my lord."
"Well, we got your bison two miles to the east. You followed a day-old trail up here. I gather that you don't know much about hunting."
"No, my lord. I've never hunted before in my life."
"There are a lot of things that you don't know much about. Since we're alone, it's time we discussed them. I'm talking about Krystyana."
"What about her?"
"Understand that playing a joke on my sister-in-law is one thing. Encouraging a peasant girl to take on the airs of the nobility is quite another. Aside from the offense this gives my other vassals—yes, and my liege lord! Do you realize that Henryk asked me why I had a noblewoman working like a servant?—aside from that, have you thought about what's to become of her? Is she going to be content to settle down as a peasant's wife?"
"No, my lord. She wouldn't be."
"Do you plan to marry her yourself?"
"No, my lord."
"Then why have you encouraged her to rise so far above her station?"
"Well, she's a good girl, an intelligent girl who wanted to better herself, and I didn't think—"
"That's just it! You didn't think! What's more, it's spreading. Three or four of the others are starting to imitate her. You started this, Sir Conrad. What do you plan to do about it?"
"I don't know, my lord." He was right, of course. I'd set the poor kid up for a nasty fall. I'm good with technical stuff, but I am not a wizard when it comes to people problems. Best to change the subject. "You know, if there is still coal in this mine, I could build pumps to empty the water. We could make mortar here again."
"Ah! I see where you are leading. That would take you out of Okoitz, and you could take the girls with you. Well, why not? You've given my workmen projects that will take a year or two to complete, and it's time you had your own lands, anyway. What if I gave you this valley and the land for a mile around it?"
"A mile, my lord?" God! He was giving me some eighteen square kilometers of land!
"You are right, of course. This soil is rocky and poor. You'll need more. The top of that mountain is the boundary of my brother's land. We'll make that your southern boundary. We'll extend you to Sir Miesko's land on the east and to Baron Jaraslav's on the north and west. That will give you lands about six miles across. You should be able to eke out a decent living on it, in sheep if nothing else. In return, let's see. I'll want you to come to Okoitz for two days a month to oversee your improvements there. And if you get this mine working, I'll want a hundred mule loads of mortar a year. Agreed?"
"Yes, my lord. You are most generous!"
"Good, then it's settled. Leave tomorrow and take the girls with you. Now let's return to the hunting party."
"Will the duke approve your grant?"
"That is a very good question. I don't know."
I had taken first blood on the expedition, which was apparently some sort of honor even though Sir Vladimir had actually killed the bison. All told, the knights took four bison and six wild pigs.
The meal that night was braised pork—sort of a shish kebab—and bison stew.
Because of the first-blood thing, I was seated at the high table between Lambert and the duke. I was the only mere knight up there. All the rest were at least barons. Baron Jaraslav sat to the duke's left.
The high table was just that. It was a third of a yard higher than the rest of the collapsible trestle tables in the hall. We had a correspondingly higher bench to sit on.
Krystyana and company did the serving. Once the meal was well under way, Lambert announced that he was minded to grant me a fief but that it required the duke's consent to be binding. While Lambert spoke, Sir Stefan was in the crowd, talking angrily to the knights at either side. Apparently, he had again found a substitute for guard duty. Then Baron Jaraslav began muttering in the duke's ear.
Lambert outlined the proposed boundaries of the fief. As he finished, Stefan struck his stein on the table so hard that it shattered, spraying beer over a dozen knights. "You'd grant that black warlock lands adjoining ours? Damn you!" he shouted.
The room was suddenly totally quiet.
Lambert turned and struck Stefan with an icy stare. I'd seen many facets to Lambert's personality, but never before that of a cold, deadly killer. "You would raise your voice to your father's liege lord?" Lambert asked in the silence. There were swords in his voice.
"I—I spoke rashly, my lord."
"Yes, you did."
"I . . . apologize, my lord." Stefan knew he was in trouble. He came from his bench and walked stiffly to the front of Lambert's table. He went to his knees and made a full Slavic bow, with forehead touching the rushes on the floor. "I regret my words and beg forgiveness, my lord."
"Sir Stefan, this is the second time your temper has offended me. A true knight knows his place and his duty at all times. He does not give way to fits of temper. You need some cooling down. Perhaps some additional meditation in the evening air will help. I extend your tour of guard duty by an additional three months, from
now until Michaelmas. On the night shift!
"Go now and stand your post."
Sir Stefan rose stiffly. "Yes, my lord." He left without a word. The room was silent after he left.
"Well," the duke said after a bit. "Returning to the matter of my consent of this grant, I must think on it. The thing is perhaps being pushed too quickly, but you will have my answer before morning. For now, Lambert, can you provide music?"
The peasant band had been waiting in the kitchen and was soon performing. The music didn't help me a bit. I've never been much good at waiting.
I couldn't help overhearing Baron Jaraslav's advice and comments to the duke.
"To allow evil into our own ranks . . . foreigners taking the lands of our fathers . . . worse than the Duke of Mazovia inviting in the Knights of the Cross . . ." The duke's replies were inaudible, but my stomach tightened and I wasn't able to eat much. I drank more than I should have, but I stayed on beer so as not to get too drunk.
When the meal ended and the tables were being taken down, Baron Jaraslav and the duke went to the duke's chambers.
"I think it doesn't look good," Lambert said to me. "Perchance I erred in punishing Sir Stefan, but, damn, a lord has to maintain discipline."
"I appreciate your aid, my lord. If this doesn't work out, perhaps we'll think of something else."
"I've thought on simply having you develop that mine on my own lands, just as you are building the mills. We could work out some informal arrangement. But it would border on my deliberately circumventing the wishes of my liege lord."
The knights who had been on guard duty at Okoitz had learned the waltz and polka and were demonstrating them, with the ladies' help, to our guests. They called me to join them, but I was too tight. It almost hurt to smile. During a lull in the music a page summoned me to the duke's chambers.
With a profoundly acid stomach and no Alka-Seltzer due for seven hundred years, I followed him up the steps.
On entering, I bowed low.
"Sit down, boy. I have things to ask you. First, I want to know more about this guise. Whom did you make this vow to and where can I find him?"
Conrad Starguard-The Radiant Warrior Page 25