The Incorporated Knight

VI – The Sporting Sovran

In the gloom of his tree-shadowed house in the forest, Doctor Baldonius pushed his spectacles up his falconine nose and contemplated Eudoric, who sat before him. "Ye'd fain know why ye, a likely fellow past thirty, of knightly rank and a capable man of affairs, be still unloved and unwed?"

"You've put your shaft in the gold, learned sir," said Eudoric. " Tis plain that in this demesne I've bungled. In Franconia, whither my business takes me, I may discover a lass who more esteems my virtues, however small, and is less critical of my faults, however vast. But I count not upon this happy upshot. Meanwhile, what's the answer? To put it curtly, what's the matter with me?"

Baldonius combed his gray cascade of beard with age-knobbed fingers. "Ye'll not take offense if I speak you plain?"

Eudoric's serious countenance wrinkled into an infrequent grin. "Wherefore? You've known me since erst I was sent to you to learn my letters."

"And whacked your small arse when ye put frogs in my hat. But, lucide exponere, whereas ye be a good man of your hands and your head, et cetera, ye want a very lovable nature. Ye be too coldly calculating, say the maids."

Eudoric sighed. "I feared as much. What's the remedy? Wanton foolery, like unto that ass Landwin of Kromnitch? I long ago learned that clowning was not my calling; my buffooneries offended many and tickled none."

Baldonius reached down his huge encyclopedia, unsnapped the iron clasps, and thumbed through the crackling sand-yellow pages. "When all else fail, consult the wisdom of Aristocles of Spheron, the master of them that know. Ah! Here we be! 'Human beings most readily love others of their species who, alpha, do services for them; beta, flatter them; gamma, refrain from reproaching them for errors; and delta, cultivate good nature and ease of manner.' Ecce! Canst comply with that formula, Eudoric?"

Although Eudoric's face had grown as long as an olifant's nose, he squared his broad shoulders. "I'll try; I am not yet quite a dotard. Ere I go, where's your lovely daughter, my whilom betrothed? I heard she'd come home."

"Lusina is out back, hiding. She hath besought me not to divulge her whereabouts to any, especially to you. Such is her shame at having run off with that dastardly vagabond."

"What fetched her back?"

"The actor lown got drunk and beat her, so she lost the child she carried. I lament my unborn grandchild." It was the old scholar-wizard's turn to sigh. "Its absence doth simplify life; but I'd liefer have a bastard heir than none."

"Tell her, pray, that I cherish no hard feelings; a grudge makes a starveling diet. In sooth, I am fain to resume our old acquaintance. That, howsomever, must await my return from Franconia. You'll lend me Forthred for my squire? Mine own has formed a passion to join the priesthood."

"Aye. Ye will find him no more foolish and flighty than most apprentices. But beware of his blundering efforts to cast wizardry spells! Because he hath mastered an incantation for finding lost articles, he thinks himself ready to turn Baron Rainmar into a butter churn."

"My thanks," said Eudoric. "Pray, bid him wait upon me early tomorrow, at the castle."

"Who'll command your stagecoaches?"

"I'm leaving my assistant Jillo to direct the coachmen and my brother Olf to keep the books. Farewell!"

"A pleasant journey, and beware of Rainmar's ruffians!"

A month later, Eudoric and Forthred, sweating in the summer's heat, drew rein at the eastern gate of Letitia, the mighty-walled capital of Franconia. Eudoric, in plain pine-green forester's garb, rode his dappled-gray palfrey Daisy. He had never replaced the destrier Morgrim, which he had lost years before on his dragon hunt in Pathenia. Since then, he had not been mustered for any war of the New Napolitanian Empire; and having little taste for jousting, Eudoric saw no reason to keep so much of his capital tied up in a huge, voracious steed, too massive for peaceful pursuits.

Forthred was a skinny blond youth with the protruding front teeth of a rodent. He rode a common hackney and led two spare horses and a sumpter mule. Among the burdens borne by the mule was a knobby, canvas-wrapped bundle, within which Eudoric's armor lay nested. One never knew when it might be needed.

Eudoric showed his identification to the guards. There was a letter from his father, Sir Dambert of Arduen—a letter written for Dambert by the castle chaplain. There was a note on good parchment from his father's suzerain, Baron Emmerhard of Zurgau, who was Eudoric's silent partner in the stagecoach line. A third epistle, bearing a gilded coronet at the top, came from Emmerhard's overlord, Count Petz of Treveria.

Since Eudoric knew but little of the Franconian tongue and the guards not a word of Eudoric's native Locanian, a delay ensued while they hunted up an officer fluent in Helladic, the international language. While one guard searched for this officer, another busied himself sealing Eudoric's sword into its scabbard by means of a peace wire.

Eudoric had attended the Imperial Court at Sogambrium and the royal Locanian court at Kromnitch. He was, therefore, unsurprised at the delay in getting permission to see the King, and at the tips extorted by flunkeys before they would even put him on the waiting list. Another month went by before he obtained his audience. During this time, he worked away at the Franconian tongue, dragooning Forthred into tedious word drills.

At last, an official presented a pass to the King's next levée. Eudoric stood in line with foppish Franconian gentlemen, on the tesselated white-and-purple marble of the candle-lit ballroom in King Clothar's palace. The candles were unnecessary, since a brilliant morning sunshine streamed through the tall windows; but Clothar was given to ostentatious display. The candles twinkled; the sun gleamed on cloth-of-gold, cloth-of-silver, and brilliant silks from distant Serica. Incense candles obscured but did not eradicate the odor of the gentlemen, who were not famed for personal cleanliness.

In contrast to all this splendor, the Franconian peasantry, Eudoric had observed along the way, had seemed a singularly downtrodden, miserable lot. He recalled that, a generation before, they had revolted and been put down with merciless rigor.

A blare of golden trumpets announced the King. Clothar was a tall, blond, well-built man of approximately Eudoric's age, with nondescript features enhanced by a mustache and goatee meticulously waxed to three long points, and artificially curled hair down to his shoulders in the Franconian manner. He wore a crimson doublet in the latest style, with twenty-odd silver buttons down the front. The buttonhole had been invented a few-score years before; so the well-born, who had theretofore fastened their garments with pins, laces, and toggles, now embraced the fad of buttons, the more the better.

The heels of the King's high boots resounded on the gleaming marble as he passed along the line, presenting his ring-laden hand to be kissed. An usher read off names from a strip of parchment:

"... and next, Your Majesty, is Sir Ganelot of Charomois, who gained the prize at the tourney of Avral ..."

"Enough!" said King Clothar suddenly. "We shall be late for our hunt." Holding his hand up with the palm turned outward, he raised his voice: "The rest of you, deem yourselves received. Our thanks for your courtesy. You may refresh yourselves ere departing."

The King strode out, followed by a scuttle of servitors and leaving the usher standing agape with the list in his hand. As the gentlemen began to mill about and chatter, scullions brought in trays of food and bottles of wine, which they set on tables at one end of the ballroom.

Eudoric spooned black caviar on a delicate biscuit and, in his stumbling Franconian, asked his neighbor: "Excuse, sir, but is—are all levees so short as this? I am foreigner."

"This was a long one," said the Franconian, scratching an insect bite. From the breast of his doublet a jeweled order flashed in the sunshine. "Know, good my sir, that His Majesty is a splendid sportsman. If 'tis not hunting, it's jousting, or billiards, or bowls, or tennis, or the Three True Gods know what." Although the man's mouth remained solemn, his eyes revealed a trace of twinkle.

"Then how, pray, do one—does one get one's business with him done?"

"Take up your affair with Master Brulard yonder." He indicated a pudgy, bald, little plain-clad man talking to a glittering noble.

"Who is him—I mean, that man?"

"The King's minister."

"Would you have goodness to present me? I have business."

The man cocked his head with a smile. "A gift for a gift, saith the wise Aristocles. Dost take my meaning?"

"What is—ah—customary here?"

"One golden noble should suffice. 'Twill go to a worthy charity, fear not."

Privately, Eudoric fumed. In the Empire, men of rank were known to solicit bribes, but not so blatantly, nor by amounts that would severely dent the funds he had brought from home. The "worthy charity," Eudoric was sure, would be the man before him. He dug into his wallet.

"Not so crass, young fellow!" murmured the man. "Let us shake hands on it." Eudoric palmed the coin and slipped it into the man's hand under cover of a handshake. The man caused the coin to vanish as by a conjuring trick. "And now, my dear young sir, what is your appellation?"

"Eudoric Dambertson of Arduen, knight," replied Eudoric. "And, sir, may I know your name?"

"Burgenne," said the man. "Come along! May I present my young friend, Sir Eudoric Dambertson?

This is master Brulard, Secretary of State to His Majesty. Give him a moment, Brulard; he seems to have some business in mind."

"I will, Your Grace," said Brulard. "What's toward, Sir Eudoric?"

As he bowed, Eudoric realized with a shock that the person whom he had bribed to introduce him was the Duke of Burgenne, the second most powerful noble in the kingdom. The Franconian nobility, he thought, must be the most grasping lot of aristocrats on earth. "Permit me, Your Excellency. Does —do you know about the novel form of transportation called stagecoaches? ..."

When Eudoric had made his pitch, Secretary Brulard said: "I shall take counsel with His Majesty and inform you of his decision. Come to my chamber of office in the palace two days hence."

Eudoric politely took his leave of the minister and endeavored to mingle with others at the levée; this, however, with only indifferent success. He hoped to strike up some acquaintance that he could eventually parlay into introductions to nubile young women, since the levee was a strictly male event. To ennoble his search for a mate, he had sworn off commerce with whores and light women. Hence his lusts were beginning to fever him.

The Franconian popinjays, however, were not impressed by Eudoric's plain if decent suit of russet and black, nor by his thick Locanian accent. They were not even beguiled by the Grand Cross of the Order of the Unicorn, with oak leaves and diamonds, which Eudoric had received from the Emperor's brother. Eudoric rarely wore the costly bauble but had trotted it out for this occasion. Most of the nobles flaunted several decorations each, many of which far outblazed Eudoric's. The medal wearers he found polite enough when he accosted them; but they quickly turned their attention elsewhither.

At last, when the others had begun to drift away, Eudoric came upon a youth who had taken too much wine. This young man stared glassily. "Sh-Sir Eudoric Dambertson, didst say? I hight the Cavalier Thwars. P-pleased to know you, sir. A foreigner, be ye not? Some say all foreigners be caitiff rogues, but I am above such boorish prejudice. Some, methinks, are almost true human beings."

"Sir Thwars," began Eudoric cautiously, "pray enlighten me. Another gentleman tell me—ah—that this was a long levee as such thing go. Those at Kromnitch be—are much longer. Why this?"

The youth snorted. "What expect ye under His do-nought Majesty? All his time doth go to games and sports—ahorse, afoot, or abed—leaving none for the business of state. So a baseborn rascal like Master Brulard yonder becomes the veritable ruler of the realm. When the King's unco sister was here, she at least forced the royal nose to the grindstone of public business. Methinks 'twas resentment of her stern governance that led him to dispatch her to the Far West; but now—"

"Shut thy gob, thou ninny!" snarled a gray-thatched nobleman, turning to glare at the speaker. "Wouldst bring trouble upon us all?"

"But, Father—" began Sir Thwars.

"Hold thy flapping tongue! Any fool can see thou'st had too much."

"Oh, very well," grumbled Thwars. "Sir Eudoric, dost attend the duel this afternoon?"

|'What duel?"

"Sir Pancar hath challenged Baron Odilo to a fight to the death, with axes afoot. Tis strictly unlawful; but who of gentle blood cares for that? I'll escort you to the secret field of honor—"

"Come along, thou noddy!" snapped the father. "An thou remain here, surely shalt thou bring destruction upon us! Your pardon, foreign sir!"

With a nod to Eudoric, the father seized the arm of his son and hauled him, feebly protesting, towards the exit. Eudoric wolfed a slice of fowl, another of bread, and a swig of wine. Then he, too, departed.

In the room that he shared with Forthred, Eudoric lit the three-branched brass candelabrum and opened his book on Franconian grammar. To Forthred he said: "Now say in Franconian: 'I fetched water from the well; I am fetching water from the well; I shall fetch water from the well.

Wearing a martyred look, Forthred scratched his head as he fumbled for the words. Then, as he started to speak, a heavy knock resounded. A voice cried:

"Open in the name of the King!"

Master and pupil traded startled looks. Eudoric reached for his scabbarded sword and began to loosen the peace wire, whispering: "Open it, Forthred; but only a crack till we see who it is."

Forthred complied. He began: "Meseems 'tis the King's guard—" when the door flew wide, throwing the apprentice halfway across the room before he recovered his balance. Four mailed men in surcoats of crimson and white, bearing the royal escutcheon, shouldered in. The first said:

"Sir Eudoric Dambertson, ye are summoned to the palace. Come at once!"

"What am I supposed—" began Eudoric. The guardsman snapped: "No questions! Come instanter. Nay, leave your sword."

"Guard our possessions," Eudoric muttered to Forthred as he was led away. In the street, the soldiers positioned themselves in a square surrounding him. One retrieved the lantern on a pole that he had left against the wall.

At least, thought Eudoric as he tramped gloomily through the nighted alleys with his silent escort, he would not be set upon by robbers, who made solitary nocturnal walking in Letitia an invitation to murder. He wondered how he could have fallen afoul of Franconian officialdom. Had he not been scrupulously careful to avoid discussions of religion or politics? Had some unknown foe laid a false accusation against him? Still, a government hard-pressed for money, as most governments chronically were, might seize a passing stranger in hope of squeezing a ransom out of his foreign kith and kin.

With visions of the noose, the block, and the stake pursuing one another through his somber mind, Eudoric was ushered into the palace. He presently found himself in a chamber aglow with a score of candles. Seated beyond a massive desk were Secretary of State Brulard and King Clothar, flanked by a pair of bodyguards. The four who had escorted Eudoric went to their places beside the two arched doorways and stiffened to immobility.

"Your Majesty!" said Eudoric, touching a knee to the floor. Although he burned with eagerness to know the reason for his summons, he kept his peace.

"Ah, Sir Eudonius!" said the King. "Wert not at the levee this morn?"

"I was, my lord."

"Methought we saw you, even though we were compelled to depart ere we had converse with you. Brulard informs us you have a proposal that touches upon our kingdom's welfare."

Relaxing, Eudoric allowed himself a small smile. "I have, my lord," he said, adding to Brulard: "Shall I repeat what I said this morning?" Receiving assent, he plunged into his sales pitch.

When he had finished, the King pursed his full lips and nodded. " 'Tis a plausible scheme, Sir Edric. We shall give it our accord—if and provided that you first do us a certain service."

"What are—what is that, my lord?"

"Know that we have an unwed sister, hight Yolanda. Woman though she be, she hath the mind of a man in matters of statecraft. Some months agone, we sent her with an escort westward, to King Gwennon of Armoria, with whom we have certain differences. These Yolanda sought to resolve. Although the maid was an ambassador of the greatest kingdom the world hath ever seen, we learn that the losel hath clapped her up in durance vile. Such an affront is not to be born!

"And so, Sir Doricus, your task lies plain before you. Get you to Armoria and return with our sister, and you shall have our permission to prolongate your coach line hither. If you do not, then your petition shall be rejected out of hand."

After an appalled hesitation, Eudoric said: "But, my lords! Why me? I know little enough of Franconia, let alone the lands along the Western Ocean. Why not one of your own warriors?"

"As the world's most chivalrous, mighty, and brave," said the King, "the gentlemen of our court are too far-famed."

"Or, perchance," interjected Brulard with a cynically raised eyebrow, "they are less fearless than they vaunt themselves to be,"

"Enough, Brulard!" said the King. "Mind thy place. To answer your question, Sir Eutheric, the presence of our renowned cavaliers would instant suspicion excite. So we must needs delegate the task to some auspicious foreigner, to wit: yourself."

Eudoric asked: "Would not the Armorians be even more suspicious of my appearance amongst them?"

"You can tell them you scout the land for a stagecoach route, as you do now in Franconia."

Eudoric looked narrowly at the King. "If, Your Majesty, your realm be the whole world's mightiest, why cannot you march your army into Armoria?"

Frowning, the King turned to his minister. "Explain it, Brulard."

"The difficulty, Sir Eudoric," said the Secretary, "is that, imprimis, King Gwennon hath a prow army of's own; he were no easy nut to crack. Secundus, he is in an alliance with the Empire of Celtica, which rules not only the Celtic isles beyond that strait we call the Sleeve, but also the lands along the ocean south of Armoria. Tertius, the demesne of the Duke of Dorelia lies athwart the path that our army should follow perforce.

"Relations with Dorelia have been uneasy of late. I'll not ensnare you in a net of details. Suffice it to say that we would fain not drive Dorelia to open rebellion—at least, not until our forces more assuredly overmatch his."

Duke Sigibert of Dorelia, Eudoric knew, was the most powerful noble in Franconia. While nominally subject to King Clothar, he was in fact an almost independent sovran, who kept his quasi-autonomy by playing off his powerful neighbors, the kings of Franconia, Celtica, and Armoria, one against the other.

"Besides the which," the King added, "Gwennon holds our sister hostage and might well slay her ere we could rescue her."

"Your Majesty," ventured Eudoric. "I must ask: What is—what are a—the difficulties betwixt Your Royal Highness and the King of Armoria? Why has he imprisoned your sister? I cannot do aught, going into this royal dispute in a blindfold."

The King sighed and looked appealingly at Brulard, who took up the discourse. "It began, Sir Eudoric, with a dispute over perry."

"Excuse, pray. What is perry?"

"A drink they make in Armoria; pear cider, in fact. Know ye what cider be?"

"Aye, sir. But wherefore ..."

"To replenish our coffers and quiet the plaints of our vintners, who claimed that imports of perry spoilt their trade in wine, we enacted a tariff on such imports and in so doing roused the wrath of King Gwennon. When we refused his insolent demand to abolish this just and reasonable tariff, Gwennon declared an embargo on importation of wine. So the Armorians, whose climate is too cold and wet to be suitable for the growing of grapes, are compelled to comfort themselves with beer and perry, which is fine for those who relish the stuff. Thereupon, naturally, we imposed an embargo upon all perry from Armoria."

"But what have—has that to do with His Majesty's sister?"

Brulard shrugged. "We know not the details. The princess was sent to sound out King Gwennon on a treaty concerning imports of wine and perry. In addition, Gwennon had previously invited Yolanda, who is something of a seer, to take a post as the King's occult adviser. Ere she departed on her mission, the princess averred that she would think deeply on that monarch's offer.

"We know not how things went awry with the mission. Thrice we have written Gwennon, demanding satisfaction; but no reply have we had—not even one from Gwennon's jester, who, 'tis said, doth truly rule the kingdom as Gwennon's minister. A valorous knight of our court, Sir Clivain, volunteered to go to her rescue; but he had scarce set foot in Armoria when the King's men seized him and offered him the choice of leaving the kingdom instanter or being hanged."

The last thing Eudoric wished to do was to set off on a wild-goose chase in pursuit of an unknown woman, when he should be promoting his proper business. Were it not better to slip away quietly back to his home and be satisfied with what he had? On the other hand ...

"Your Majesty," he inquired, "said you not that your sister was unwed?"

"Aye, Sir Ruderic."

"I pray, tell me about this lady. If I undertake quest, my lord, shall need all information I can get."

The king bit his lip in thought. "Our sister is three years our junior and a woman of eminent gifts and royal bearing. As for her person, behold!" He unbuttoned some of the silver buttons at his throat and displayed a miniature suspended on a golden chain. Hoisting the chain over his head, he passed the miniature to Eudoric.

The picture, set in an oval frame of gold and surrounded by sparkling diamonds, showed a beautiful, strong-featured, brown-haired woman; but Eudoric could not make out much detail from the miniature. Besides, he felt sure that the painter had depicted the lady, not necessarily as she was, but as she wished to appear.

Still for one who, like Eudoric, was actively seeking a wife, a chance to place a king's attractive sister under obligation was not to be scorned, although he thought a woman nearer his rank in the feudal hierarchy would prove a more suitable mate than a royal. While Eudoric hesitated, Brulard spoke:

"And by the bye, Sir Eudoric, think not that we make a leap in the dark by nominating you. We have investigated your history and know somewhat of your deeds of dought in distant lands. Ye are indeed the rational choice."

Eudoric sighed. He had the uneasy sense that events were rushing along too fast to control. So much for the name of a hero! It would do no good to protest that his repute was founded more on luck than on prowess. Although this was true, the Fran-conians would merely accuse him of false modesty. He said:

"Very well, my lords. I will undertake mission." Brulard looked at the King, saying: "Ere we strike hands upon the bargain, were it not prudent to have Tsudai inspect him for sincerity?"

Clothar sniffed. "That old he-witch! An unbelieving mountebank from some far, uncivilized land, where doubtless men have tails beneath their trews."

"Sire, remember the good advice he gave us in the matter of Dorelia's—"

"Oh, do as you list." To a guard, the King said: "See if Doctor Tsudai be in his cabinet. If so, bid him hither."

Awaiting the return of the guard, Eudoric said: "Your Majesty, if I take up quest, I shall need money."

Brulard smiled. "Knowing your repute for astuteness in such matters, we anticipated your request. Let us assume that, at current prices, one mark per month—"

A knock announced the return of the guard, who snapped to attention beside the opened door. After him came a man who, to Eudoric's eyes, appeared fantastically exotic. He was small and elderly, with a mere wisp of mustache and whiskers. His features were flat, and his yellowish skin was beseamed by a multitude of tiny wrinkles. A shimmering robe of emerald green, embroidered with golden dragons, embellished his spare form. On his sparse gray hair rested a small, round, black cap, surmounted by a great crimson jewel. Brulard said:

"Sir Eudoric, behold Doctor Tsudai the Serican. We rely upon his arcane powers to warn us of gins and snares, as did His Majesty's sister ere she went to Armoria. Doctor Tsudai, this is Sir Eudoric Dambertson of Arduen, somewhere in the barbarous Empire."

Doctor Tsudai inserted both hands into his voluminous sleeves and bowed low, first to the King, then to Brulard, and lastly to Eudoric. He said:

"How can this humble one serve Your Omnipotence?" While the sage's Franconian was fluent if not altogether grammatical, his accent was even stronger than Eudoric's; and he employed curious turns of phrase, which Eudoric supposed to be literal translations from his natal tongue.

Brulard answered for his less articulate sovran: "We propose to entrust Sir Eudoric, for a consideration, with a task that be imbued with difficulty and danger. We are fain to know how far he may be trusted beyond the reach of our authority."

The Serican bowed again. "May this person seat Sir Eudoric and myself at yon small table?"

The King waved a jeweled hand. "Shog along."

Guards drew up two chairs. From a flowing sleeve, Tsudai produced a foot-long ebony rod, from which he opened out three hinged brass feet at one end and three brackets at the other, and set the stand on the table. From his other sleeve the seer produced a crystal ball and carefully placed it on the brackets.

When Tsudai and Eudoric were seated opposite each other, the former brought his eyes up close to the crystal, as if he were looking through it. Staring back, all that Eudoric saw was a blur, with now and then a glimpse, as Tsudai shifted position, of a slanting brown eye grotesquely magnified.

After a period of silence, the Serican sat back, saying: "To best of my negligible knowledge, I perceive no abodements. Whereas Sir Eudoric hath little of those fanciful notions of honor, for which your Franconian gentlemen lose battles and cheerfully butcher one another, he is punctilious in matter of trust and obligation. Whereas he is no quarreler, if conflict be forced upon him, he will valiantly defend. He sees further ahead than most. Despite his title, his character bespeaks the qualities of an upright tradesman. Your pardon, Sir Eudoric; this worm means no offense. But His Majesty hath demanded a scrupulous answer."

"No offense taken," said Eudoric with a rare grin.

"Better an honest tradesman than a noble nitwit, dead in some footling quarrel."

"Huh!" grunted the King. "The world is going to the dogs, with false religions sprouting like weeds despite burnings; agitators spreading subversive doctrines by that reprehensible new device, the printing press; and noblemen demeaning themselves by earning vulgar money. These evils waft across the Helvetians from those accursed republics in Tyrrhenia. One day we must liberate the Tyrrhenians from republican turbulence by imposing our just and orderly rule upon them.

"Dost know that one madman, whom we hanged but last week, in sooth proposed that the nobility be taxed like the common rabble? Did one of our titled subjects attaint himself in an enterprise like unto yours, Sir Ericson, he would have his spurs hacked off and his sword broken over his head. Since the nobles of the Empire are less fastidious, it would seem, you'll do as manager of this coach line— provided you meet your end of the bargain. You have our leave, Doctor Tsudai."

As the Serican bowed himself out, Eudoric, suppressing his anger at the royal sneer, turned to the King's minister. "And now the matter we began on when your wizard came in ..."

"Ah, yea," said Brulard. "Let us assume that, at current prices, one golden mark per month should suffice to maintain you and your man and beasts along the road ..."