The Red Knight

Michael stood up. ‘I’m a knight?’ he laughed. ‘A man-at-arms and not a squire?’ He laughed again.

‘I’ll need a new squire,’ the captain said.

Sauce was still crying. ‘Is it real?’ she asked.

Tom put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Of course it is, lass. He wouldn’t mock you with such.’

The captain sat back down. ‘We need twenty new men-at-arms. We need as many squires and a dozen valets and some archers.’ He shrugged. ‘My brother Gawin is one. Johne the Bailli is another. Both have their own harness, and they’ll ride away with us. Ser Alcaeus himself, despite negotiating our contract, will be joining us. Any other prospects?’

Jehannes nodded. ‘I have half a dozen younger sons ready to sign articles – all with harness and horses.’

Ranald shrugged. ‘All my lads, too,’ he said. ‘We have no other means of employment, at least for the balance of the year.’

Tom leaned forward. ‘Daniel Favor. Likeliest man-at-arms I’ve ever seen. He signed with me. And two of the Lanthorn boys – dangerous boys. Murderous.’ He grinned. ‘Archers.’

Jehannes nodded. ‘I made out a watchbill,’ he said. ‘If we go to one man-at-arms, one squire, one valet and two archers to a lance, we have a company.’ He looked at the captain. ‘Gelfred should start arming as a man-at-arms too.’

The captain nodded. ‘We could use twenty more lances,’ he said. ‘I wrote a contract for forty, and we only have what – twenty?’ He sat up, decided that was a mistake, and shuffled to his feet. ‘Tomorrow night we’ll be on the road. Less wine.’ He raised his cup. ‘To the company,’ he said.

They all drank.

‘Now, since it’s my tent I’m going to bed,’ he said. And motioned to the door.

One by one they ducked under the awning and left, until it was Michael and Sauce – each seeming to want the other gone first. Finally Michael spoke.

‘Can I help you, my lord? I’m not above myself yet.’ He laughed.

‘I’m guessing you already have a nice pair of solid gold spurs to go on those heels, and you’ll have them on your boots in the morning,’ the captain said, slapping his shoulder. ‘Just send me young Toby.’

Michael smiled. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I-’

The captain waved his thanks away, and Michael bowed low.

That left Sauce.

‘Good night, Sauce,’ the captain said. He avoided her embrace. ‘Good night.’

She stood with her hands on her hips. ‘You need me.’

He shook his head.

‘I won’t go all soppy on you, Captain.’ She shrugged and then smiled engagingly.

‘Good night, Sauce.’

She grunted.

‘I just made you a knight,’ he said. ‘Don’t play the woman scorned part.’ Even drunk he could see his refusal hurt her. He raised a heavy hand. ‘Wait,’ he said, and stumbled through the curtain to his bed, reached into his trousseau and found his other spurs. The solid gold ones his mother had given him, which he never wore.

He came back out. ‘Take these.’

She reached out and took them. Realised they were solid gold. ‘Oh, my lord-’

‘Out!’ he said.

She sighed, and walked out of the tent, swaying her hips to brush by Toby, who came in, and silently relieved him of his clothes and accoutrements.

‘How old are you, Toby?’ he asked.

‘Rising twelve, my lord. Or perhaps thirteen?’ he said.

The captain lay his body down on clean linen sheets. ‘Would you care to be a squire, Toby?’ he asked.

He survived the protestations of joy and eternal loyalty, and waved the boy away. When he put his head down, though, the tent spun. So he put a foot on the ground. Gave sleep up as a bad job, sat up, and drank some water.

The headache was back.

He stood by his water basin for a full watch. Staring into the dark.

It was, as such things went, pretty dark.

You make them love you, and then you tire of the energy they demand, the voice said.

He sighed, lay down, and went to sleep.

The chapel was magnificent, with all the decoration that could be managed for an occasion that featured the King, the Queen, the Prior, and a thousand noblemen – virtually the whole peerage of Alba.

But there wasn’t room for all of them. The chapel had been built for sixty nuns, as many novices, and perhaps another hundred worshipers.

In the end the service was held in the chapel, but only a select few were there. The rest waited in the courtyard and were served communion there. It was well-managed, and had a festive air despite the great solemnity of the occasion. The courtyard was full to bursting, and velvet clad gentlemen stood shoulder to shoulder with farmers and farm wives.

The Prior and the new Abbess had been very mindful of the future in their assignment of places. Only the greatest lords were in the chapel. The King and Queen sat enthroned. By the king’s right hand stood the Captal de Ruth; by the Queen stood Lady Almspend and Lady Mary. The Count of the Borders stood with the Count D’Eu; the Earl of Towbray stood with Ser Alcaeus, as the ambassador of the Emperor Basileus. And next to him stood the captain.

The Prior said the mass, and a thousand beeswax candles burned.

It was brutally hot.