The Red Knight

She jutted out her jaw – a tic he hadn’t seen before. ‘I must assume that you have ways to know this. You must pardon me if I am sceptical. We have two monsters? I remember your saying the enemy seldom hunts alone this far from the Wild – but surely, Captain, you know that we are not as far from the Wild as we once were.’

He wished for a chair with a back. He wished that Hugo were alive, and he hadn’t been saddled with internal issues of discipline that should have been Hugo’s. ‘May I have a glass of wine?’ he asked.

The Abbess had a stick, and she thumped it on the floor. Amicia entered, eyes downcast. The Abbess smiled at her. ‘Wine for the captain, dear. And do not raise your eyes, if you please. Good girl.’

Amicia slipped out the door again.

‘My huntsman is a Hermetic,’ he said. ‘With a licence from the Bishop of Lorica.’

She waved a hand. ‘The orthodoxy of Hermeticism is beyond my poor intellect. Do you know, when I was a girl, we were forbidden to use High Archaic for any learning beyond the Lives of the Saints. I was punished by my chaplain as a girl for reading some words on a tomb in my father’s castle.’ She sighed. ‘You read the Archaic, then,’ she said.

‘High and low,’ he answered.

‘I thought as much . . . and there cannot be so many knights in the Demesne who can read High Archaic.’ She made a motion with her head, as if shaking off fatigue. Amicia returned, brought the captain wine and backed away from him without ever raising her eyes – a very graceful performance.

She wore that curious expression again. The one he couldn’t read – it held both anger and amusement, patience and frustration, all in one corner of her mouth.

The Abbess had taken Parcival the eagle on her wrist, and she was stroking his plumage and cooing at him. While the arm of her throne-like chair helped support the great raptor, the captain was impressed by her strength. She must be sixty, he thought.

There was something about the Abbess – the Abbess and Amicia. It was not a similarity of breeding – two more different women could not be imagined, the older woman with an elfin beauty and slim bones, the younger taller, heavier boned, with strong hands and broad shoulders.

He was still staring at Amicia when the Abbess’s staff thumped the floor.

The word hermetic rolled around the captain’s busy brain, and curled itself in the corner of Amicia’s mouth. But the staff took his attention.

‘Assuming I believe you – what does your huntsman say?’ the Abbess demanded.

The captain sighed. ‘That we got the wrong one. My lady, no one but a great Magus or a mountebank can tell us why the enemy acts as they do. Perhaps one of them is calling to others for reinforcements. Perhaps you have a nest of them. But Gelfred assures me that the signs left by Sister Hawisia’s killer are not the same as those of the beast we slew and my men – all of them – are exhausted. It will take them a day to recover. They’ve lost a gallant leader, a man they all respected, so I am sorry, but we will not be very aggressive for a few days.’ He shrugged.

She looked at him for a long time, and finally crossed her hands on the top of her staff and laid her long chin on them. ‘You think I do not understand,’ she said. She shrugged. ‘I do. I do not believe you seek to cheat me.’

He didn’t know what to make of that.

‘Let me tell you my immediate concerns,’ she said. ‘My fair opens in a week. The first week of the fair is merely local produce and prizes. Then the Harndon merchants come upriver in the second week to buy our surplus grain and our wool. But in the second and third weeks of the fair, the drovers come down from the moors. That is when the business is done, and that’s when I need my bridge and my people to be safe. You know why there is a fortress here?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘The fortress is merely to guarantee the bridge.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘And I have been lax in letting my garrison drop – but if you will pardon an old woman’s honesty, soldiers and nuns are not natural friends. Yet these attacks – I hold this land by knight service and garrison service, and I do not have enough men. The king will send a knight to dispense justice at the fair and I dread his discovering how my penny-pinching ways have put these lands at risk.’

‘You need me for more than just monster-hunting,’ he said.

‘I do. I would like to purchase your contract for the summer, and I wonder if you have a dozen men-at-arms – archers, even – who could stay when you go. Perhaps men you’d otherwise pension off, or men who’ve been wounded.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t even know how to find a new garrison. Albinkirk used to be a fine town – and a place where such men could be found – but not anymore.’ She took a deep breath.

He nodded. ‘I will consider it. I will not pretend, since we are being honest with each other, that my company does not need a steady contract. I would like to recruit, too. I need men.’ He thought a moment. ‘Would you want women?’