The Red Knight

He walked across the yard, nodding to all. He stopped to compliment young Daniel on his swordplay; to share a jibe with Ben Carter, and to tell the younger Lanthorn girl that he was sorry for her loss, as both of her parents had died in the night. She rose to give him a curtsy, and he smiled when he saw her eyes slide off him to Michael, who was following him.

He heard the tale of No Head’s near death experience told by a circle of archers who slapped their booted thighs in merriment, and he listened to a complaint that someone was stealing grain from Ser Adrian, who also handed him a piece of parchment rolled very tight.

‘As you asked,’ the clerk said. ‘I’ve spoken to a dozen sisters and some of the farmers.’ He shrugged. ‘If you want my opinion, Captain-’ He let the words trail off.

The captain shook his head. ‘I don’t,’ he said. He smiled to take the sting out. Tucked the scroll into his cote sleeve and bowed. ‘I have an appointment with a lady,’ he said.

Ser Adrian returned his bow. ‘Count your fingers after you eat,’ he said softly.

There was a long table, set for thirteen. In the centre was the Abbess’s throne, and he sat on her right hand. The table was empty as he was the first to arrive. He went and exchanged glares with Parcival, on his perch and was suffered, with incredible grumpiness, to stroke the bird’s head.

A sister came in, saw him, and gave an undignified squeak. He turned, bowed, and smiled. ‘Your pardon, sister. A glass of wine, if I might?’

She departed.

He walked over to the Lives of the Saints. Now that he knew its secret, he was far more interested and only lack of time had kept him from it. It was so obvious now – a Hermetical Grimmoire. He turned the pages, deciphering them roughly. Know this one. Know this one. Hmm. Never even heard of this one.

It was, quite literally, an awe-inspiring tome. Which was sitting in the open, under a window, in a fortress.

He scratched under his beard.

Say that every woman here is like Amicia, he thought. And the Order sends them here. To be safe? And to keep them out of common knowledge. Why else-

She was standing at his side. He could smell her – her warmth. And he could feel the golden power on her skin.

‘You,’ she said.

He turned. He wanted to take her in his arms. It was like hunger.

‘You have come to God!’ she said.

He felt a flare of anger. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing like.’

‘I can feel it!’ she said. ‘Why would you deny it? You have felt the power of the sun!’

‘I tell you again, Amicia,’ he insisted. ‘I don’t deny God. I merely defy Him.’

‘Must we argue?’ she asked. She looked at his face. ‘Did I heal you?’

‘You did,’ he said, far more rudely than he meant.

‘You were bleeding out,’ she said, finally moved to anger. ‘You scared me. I didn’t have time to think about it.’

Oh. He raised a hand. ‘I thank you, mistress. Why must we always spar? Of course. Is it the cut on my face you worry about? I scarcely feel it.’

She licked her thumb, like a mother removing dirt from her child. ‘Don’t flinch,’ she said, and wiped her thumb down the wound. There was a flare of intense pain, and then-

‘You should pray when you cast, Amicia,’ said the Abbess from the doorway.

The captain took a step back from the novice. They had been very close indeed.

‘We are none of us without sin, without need of guidance. A prayer concentrates the mind and spirit. And sometimes His hand is on our shoulders, and His breath stirs our hearts.’ The Abbess advanced on them.

‘Although, in the main, God seems to help those who help themselves,’ said the Red Knight.

‘So easy to mock, Captain. I gather you have tasted the sun. And yet you feel nothing?’ The Abbess tapped the floor with her staff, and two novices helped her onto her throne.

‘It is, after all, just power,’ Harmodius said from the doorway.

The Abbess nodded at the Magus in greeting. ‘There are more things on heaven and earth, Magus.’

‘So easy to mock,’ Harmodius said. ‘And yet – as a seeker after sophia, I confess that when I look inside you, lady, I see something greater than myself. In you and in the Queen.’ He nodded. ‘Perhaps, in this novice too.’ He shrugged. ‘And in Thorn.’

‘Name him not!’ said the Abbess, striking the floor.

Ser Jehannes came in. With him came Ser Thomas, and the Bailli, Johne, and Mag the seamstress, of all people.

Sister Miram sat quietly and with immense dignity, next to Ser Thomas. He grinned at her. Father Henry sat the far right of the table.

Ser Milus arrived late, with Master Random and Gelfred from the Bridge Castle.

‘You took a risk,’ the captain said, looking at the Abbess.

She met his gaze mildly enough. ‘They came through your trench, Captain, and through the tunnels. This hill has many rooms and many doors.’

‘Like your father’s house?’ asked the captain.