Gene Wolfe - The Knight

“You,” Beel told her, “if ever you are a queen.”

I saw Garvaon’s jaw drop when he heard that. As quickly as I could, I said, “I rode into the fight, My Lord, but it seemed like the Angrborn I was after could see my horse, so I got off. That was when my horse was hurt. After that I shot arrows, trying to hit his eyes.”

Beel nodded thoughtfully.

Idnn asked, “How many Angrborn were there? Does anyone know?”

“I don’t, My Lady.”

Garvaon said, “My men have told me there were a score or more. I’m not sure, myself, that there were so many. When I saw them in your father’s bowl they seemed fewer, though more than ten.”

“You saw them in my bowl?” Beel asked eagerly.

“Yes, Your Lordship. So did you, I’m sure.”

“No—no, nothing of the sort. I’ve talked about this with Idnn, and it seems that each of us saw something quite different. Tell me exactly what you saw. Everything!”

“My wife’s deathbed.” Garvaon’s voice was without expression. “She died in childbirth, Your Lordship.”

Beel nodded. “I remember.”

“Her bed, and me kneeling beside it. The midwives had taken my son. They were trying to revive him. I was praying for Volla when one came in to tell me he was dead, too.” The slightest of tremors had entered Garvaon’s voice; he paused to rid himself of it.

“At that point Sir Able said we were seeing the past.”

“Yes, I recall that.”

“What I was seeing in the bowl changed. I saw our camp instead, and Angrborn coming out of the hills to attack it. More than ten. But not a score. Thirteen or fourteen, they might have been.”

Idnn said, “Sir Able must have seen them, too, because he told me there was fighting down there.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. Sir Garvaon looked up and told us to listen, then ran for his horse. It wasn’t hard to guess what he had heard.”

“What did you see, Sir Able?”

“Nothing you would think important, My Lord. I saw myself receiving the accolade, then my servant and a woman I know beaten by one of the Angrborn ...”

“Yes?” Beel said eagerly. “What is it?”

“There was one thing then that may be worth telling you about, My Lord. A big building—a lot of thick towers with pointed roofs off in the distance. Maybe it matters, because the Angrborn who beat Pouk and Ulfa seemed to be going there. Do you know what it could have been?”

For a second it seemed Beel would not reply. Then he said, “Utgard, I believe. Utgard is King Gilling’s castle. I have never seen it, or even spoken with anyone who has. But there are rumors. A mighty castle on a plain? A castle without a wall, guarded by a wide moat?”

“I didn’t see the moat, My Lord. It was too far away for that.”

“His Majesty has a plate with a picture painted on it. No doubt you’ve seen such plates?”

“With pictures? Sure.”

“It is supposed to have been painted by an artist who had spoken with a woman who had escaped from it.” Beel looked thoughtful. “I came here to make peace with the Angrborn, Sir Able. No doubt I have told you that before.”

“You mentioned it, My Lord.”

“Did I say that it was a last, desperate effort? No? Well, it was. We’ve tried to talk with them before. All those talks failed, perhaps only because we could not speak with anyone in authority. That was His Majesty’s thought, Sir Able, and I concurred. My daughter and Sir Garvaon have heard all this before. They will have to excuse me.”

Garvaon said, “Gladly, Your Lordship.”

“Because I wish to say it one more time, now that I’ve failed. We hoped th at coming in peace and bearing rich gifts for King Gilling, we might make contact with his Borderers and be given an escort to Utgard. Now those gifts are gone.”

Idnn glanced at me, then looked away.

“Gone, from what Sir Garvaon has told me, and the mules that carried them as well. We have failed.”

Garvaon said, “It wasn’t your fault, Your Lordship. You did as much as any man could.”

“I wasn’t even there. I never drew my sword, and I must tell His Majesty so.”

“I know I am to blame for your absence.” I stood as straight as I had before Master Agr. “You don’t have to say it. But if you want to, you can.”

“May,” Garvaon muttered.

“Make it as long as you like. So may your daughter. Or Sir Garvaon. Nothing any of you say will be worse than the things I’ve said to myself.”

Beel raised his shoulders and let them fall. “Idnn, Sir Able wished to find his servant, his horses, and his weapons—his shield and helm, I suppose, and his lance and so forth and so on. If you want to play the fishwife again, this is the time for it.”

She shook her head.

“Go on. Tell him his mismanagement has resulted in our disaster.”

“No, Father.”

“I thought not. I would invite Sir Garvaon to abuse a fellow knight who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with him, if I didn’t know him too well to imagine that he would accept my invitation. Swert? Come over here.”

The mousy-looking servingman hurried over. “Yes, Your Lordship?”

“You’re a servant, Swert. My servant.”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

“I wish to consult you because Sir Able here also has a servant. Another servant, in addition to the beggar.”

“Yes, Your Lordship. Pouk, Your Lordship. Sir Able told me, Your Lordship.”

“This Pouk has been captured and enslaved by the Angrborn.”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

“Sir Able sought to rescue him, and sought my help in his attempt. I gave it, and thus I have been ruined, and the errand I undertook for His Majesty has ended in failure. Sir Able is to be reviled on that account, and I feel you’re the person to do it. Coming from you, the abuse should be doubly painful. You need not fear that Sir Able will strike or stab you. Sir Garvaon and I are here to protect you, though I feel sure nothing of the kind will be needed. Proceed.”

“To—to ..,.?” The servingman looked helplessly from Beel to me and back again.

“To revile him,” Beel explained patiently. “I have no doubt you command a hundredweight of filthy names. Employ them.”

“Father ...” Idnn’s eyes were full of tears.

“To—to Sir Able, Your Lordship?”

“Exactly.” Beel was adamant. “Begin, Swert.”

“Sir Able, you—you ...”

“Go on.”

The servingman gulped. “I’m sorry, Sir Able, for what’s happened, whatever it was. And—and ...”

Idnn drew herself up. “Proceed, Swert. You know what my father wants. Do it.”

“And if you’re to blame, Sir Able, you’re a very bad man. But ... But so am I. Whatever anyone calls you, they can call me that too.”

“There,” Beel said. “Your disgrace is complete, Sir Able. You have been abused by my valet. Now cease this juvenile posturing and listen to me.”

“I will, Your Lordship.”

“I am His Majesty’s ambassador to Jotunland. Had my embassy succeeded, the credit would have been mine and mine alone. It has failed, and the blame is mine. I accept it, and I am ready to stand before King Arnthor, to report that I have lost his gifts, and to welcome whatever punishment he may decree.”

I glanced at Idnn, but she did not speak. If she felt joy at the prospect of returning to Kingsdoom, nothing in her face showed it. Garvaon looked grim and unhappy.

At last I said, “You’re going back, Your Lordship?”

“Yes. I had thought of remaining here with Idnn until Sir Garvaon and Master Crol joined us with what remains of our party, but we must bury our dead. A good many of them, from what Sir Garvaon tells me. And no doubt there are other tasks too. We will return with you, and spend the night in whatever is left of our camp. I hope to inter our dead by sunset, and set out tomorrow morning. We’ll see.”