The Knight

Chapter 37. A Green Knight

I’d been riding a lot that day; I was sore, but I got my left foot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle almost as if I knew what I was doing. The horse Nytir had ridden was a cobby bay stallion with a big white blaze, nervous and energetic, but not big enough or strong enough for a charger. A green lance (with pennant flying) still towered above the beautiful green-leather fighting saddle.

The bay skittered sidewise, iron-shod hooves clattering on the cobbles.

“Glad you got to ride him an’ not me,” Pouk said, as he finished tying Nytir’s shield onto the pack horse’s pack.

“Be careful with that,” I told him. “It’s the only piece that fits.”

“Got his mark on it though, sir.” Pouk was tightening the last knot.

“His arms, you mean.” I held the bay hard.

“Aye, sir. A sheep with big horns, sir, only they wasn’t big enough.”

“We’ll have it painted over. Three streets up the hill, and four west.”

Pouk nodded, looking dubiously at his own mount. “Sign o’ th’ Hammer an’ Tongs, sir.”

“Can you lead two horses, Pouk?”

“If they’ll tow, I can, sir. Some will an’ some won’t, an’ you never know ’til you try.”

The armorer with whom we had left my mail shirt was larger, younger, and slower of speech than Master Mori. He held up my new hauberk, whistled to himself, and carried it to a window where the light was better.

I said, “I got it from Sir Nytir, if that’s of any help.”

“Double mail. Not our work, but ‘tain’t bad.”

“If you can let out the shoulders and the arms—”

“‘Deed I can, Sir Able. But it’ll cost.”

“Those mail trousers. I don’t even know what you call them. I’ll give them to you if you’ll let out the hauberk for me.”

He gave me his hand. “I got to take your measures, Sir Able. I’ll give you a final fittin’ when you come get it, ‘n have it done that day if you come in the mornin’.”

Pouk said, “Ask him ‘bout this shield, sir. You say you like it.”

“I do.” I took it from him and held it up. “Can you paint out the ram without making it look bad?”

“‘Deed we can.” The armorer accepted and examined it. “Leather over willow. Pro’ly double willow.” He looked up at me. “Grain up-’n-down ‘n crosswise so’s not ter split. Only I’d have to get the leather off ter see for sure. He was a nice workman, though, ‘n wouldn’t ‘a used single. I won’t look ‘less you want it, just repaint the face. What you want ‘stead a’ the ram?”

When I did not reply, Pouk said, “What about a heart, sir? A heart wit’ th’ sun under. That oughta do it.”

I shook my head.

“Charges up or down,” the armorer said, “dependin’ on the design. Harder my artist’s got ter work, the more I got ter charge. There was one wanted three hearts ‘n three lions, all on the one shield. We done it, but it cost the world.”

I said that I would never use a lion.

“Well, what would you? That’s the question.”

I thought about stars and stripes, and I remembered that all the teams at school had been Bobcats, but nothing seemed right.

Pouk had wandered over to the wall and taken down a long knife. Its blade was black, and Pouk examined it curiously.

“Aelf work,” the armorer told him. “Only one like that I got. You ever see anythin’ like this, Sir Able?”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Pouk passed me the knife.

“They like them leaf-shaped blades. Drive me crazy.”

“Looks all right to me,” Pouk said.

I was turning the black blade this way and that to get as much light as I could on it. “There are swirls in the steel, like the currents in a creek.”

The armorer nodded. “Mixed metals. We try ter mix metals ‘n they run together like you’d mix water ‘n vinegar. Aelf got some way ter mix ’em like oil ‘n water. They mix, only they stay separate. See what I mean?”

“I do,” I said. “I’m looking at it.” I was not sure I ought to say more, but I did. “You believe in the Aelf. A lot of people don’t.”

The armorer shrugged. “I know what I know.”

Pouk began, “My master—”

I shut him up with my hand. “His master does too. You must know a bit about swords. Have you heard of one called Eterne?”

“Famous. Poetry about it.”

“Do you know where it is now?”

The armorer shook his head. “Fire Aelf work, like that knife. King a’

’em made it, ‘n he put magic in it. Can’t break, can’t bend. Need a dragon’s claw ter sharpen it, only it don’t never have ter be sharpened. Famous men’s owned it, kings ‘n knights ‘n like that, ‘n come back if you draw it. Only I don’t know who’s got it. It’s somewheres in the Aelf world, pro’ly.”

Pouk said, “That’s called Aelfrice, ain’t it, sir?”

The armorer nodded again. “I know. Only I didn’t think you would. This here’s Mythgarthr. Know that?”

Pouk shook his head.

“Figured you didn’t.”

I ventured, “You said Eterne had been made by the King of the Fire Aelf. I was told that a man like us made it, a man called Weland.”

“That’s his name all right,” the armorer said, “only he was King a’ the Fire Aelf like I told you. King Weland. Dragon got him, but people still talk about him.”

“That is true,” a soft voice behind me whispered. “We speak of him and mourn him, even now.”

I nodded to show that I had heard. Out loud I said, “The shield I brought you. Will you paint it green?”

“Green now, sir. What do you want on it?”

“Plain green,” I told him. “I want nothing on it. Paint out the ram so that you can’t see it at all.”

It felt cooler when we left the armorer’s shop; and at first I thought the change—a great improvement—was due merely to our getting away from the heat of the forges. As Pouk and I rode out of the city, however, a west wind sent the bay’s long mane flapping around his eyes and made my cloak billow about me like a sail until I closed it and tied the cords. That wind was chilly, and no mistake; it came pretty close to cold.

“Skai help them what’s at sea,” Pouk muttered.

He was looking behind us, and I turned to look too. Black clouds reached for the sun back there. While I watched, one was shot with lightning.

I clapped my heels to the bay. There is one thing you cannot ever take from a knight you beat even if you kill him. That is a pair of gold spurs. I had wanted Nytir’s, and bad; and yet I had never said a word about them, because of the law. I wanted them because they are the sign of knighthood, but as we rode out of Forcetti I wanted them because they were spurs. “We’ve got to shake a leg,” I yelled to Pouk, “or we’ll get soaked.”

He slapped his mount’s withers with the ends of the reins, kicked it, and swore until it broke into a pounding trot that nearly shook him out of the saddle. “I need to cut me a stick, sir, an’ I’ll stop off an’ do it first likely bush I see. I’ll catch up after, never fear. You feel like talkin’?”

I reined in the bay for Pouk’s sake. “Not particularly, but I don’t feel like not talking either. What do you want to talk about?”

“You was in a brown study, sir, if I can say it, so I didn’t want to fash you. Only I wanted to say, sir, there ain’t much point to ridin’ fast. That blow back there’ll hit long ‘fore we get to th’ castle. Only it won’t be so nice to ride in as what this is, sir, so there’s sense in hurryin’ after all. Only they’ll be waitin’ dinner on us, sir. We told ’em we was comin’.”

I snapped my fingers. “That farm. That’s right! I wanted to talk to Duns.”

“Naturally you’d forget, sir, thinkin’ hard like you was. Another thin’, sir. Time we eat it’ll be pourin’ fit to founder us an’ a wind to knock you down. You really think Master Agr’d mind if we stopped overnight, like, and kept his horses out a’ th’ blow?”

“Probably not. He’d overlook it, I’m sure, even if he didn’t okay it.”

“That’s my feelin’ too, sir. It’s landsmen, sir, what think you ought to sail in all weathers. From what I seen a’ them at the castle, they’re not landsmen when it comes to horses, if you take my meanin’.”

Pouk cleared his throat. “There’s one other thin’ I been itchin’ to ask, sir, an’ no offense meant, but why’d you tell that smith to do a plain green shield? Don’t say nothin’, sir, if you don’t feel like it.”

“It’s no big secret, but once I thought of it I could see it was the thing to do. Look here.” I took the helm from my saddlebow and held it up. “I should tell you I took the little wooden ram off the top and threw it away. That was yellow, but what color is this?”

“Green, sir.”

“Right. It would cost to have it repainted, cost money we can’t afford to spend. The steel cap you packed for me is enameled, too. Maybe you noticed.”

“Aye, sir. Only I’d not thought about it.”

“A design on my shield would cost quite a bit, even a simple one like the heart and sun you suggested. Or the mossy tree I was thinking about myself. So plain green—my lady is Queen of the Moss Aelf.”