The False Knight At The Pass
Gather in and listen, here's a tale of the good old man when he was but a good young man. He'd earned his sword, and his name, and had made his pledges to a lord seen, and a lord known, but the pages of his deeds were barely written on. Imagine him, horsed and in his mail shirt, proud as a man can be of what he'd done and what he hoped to do, and there he was riding into a village up in the cold passes. Cold the wind, aye, and cold the glances sent his way. Icicle eyes met him as he dismounted and strange this seemed for in other such places a stranger was welcomed for bringing of news and novelty.
He asked a bowl of stew from the common-house and received no words in return but silence and the thump of ladle into bowl. Around him others sat and said nothing, nor ate nor drank, just glared like men that see a hound decorating a finely woven rug with what hounds are wont to leave behind them.
The good young man ate his bowl dry of stew and wiped it round with hard bread before taking it back to the mistress of the common-house. Three coins, one more than was the custom, he placed on the bench in return for the food and received in return no thanks but a cry of anger. Accusations of mockery they made of him, and loud complaint. One man, so broadly made he seemed like one who hefted mountain-tops onto carts for his living, stood up so suddenly and fiercely that the young warrior had to turn upon that big man a look so sharp with promises of steel that the villager sat down again with a cry of shame and apology, though no sword had been drawn or even touched.
I am met with curt rudeness and poor welcome, he told the mistress of the common-house, and loud words of censure and condemnation. Yet know I not why this should be, for I have never in these ways passed before.
One such has, said the mistress of the common-house, all garbed as you, and armed as you, in fine livery and marks of his worth upon his clothes and shield, and he we welcomed as was our custom. He we fed, and gave to drink, and gave to lodge, and he we made as welcome as you wish to be. But he passed on into the pass for a short span of days and then returned all smiles. Coarse men and lawless there are in that pass, said he, and eager are they for the stores and treasures of this village, eager are they for the contents of your barns, and for your flocks, and for the fine fair daughters I have seen here.
So drew we back afeared, said the mistress of the common-house, and begged him to protect us from such fell foes. More smiles he made. Protect us he could not, said he, for his purse was empty and our little steading barely known even to his lord in the city of two-towers. He would give report though of what havoc was brought here by the lawless men, and mayhap in time, perchance, far-off, soldiers would be sent to seek vengeance for our destruction and to make rescue of the dear-ones carried off by the lawless-men. Or coin could be paid now, to him, he said, and he would of his own goodness then do a warrior's work and bring justice to those who lived by blood and terror in the high places.
No more needed be said, but the good young man unlaced his own purse from his belt and laid it down on the bench. This take, said he, in recompense for what was cheated from you. I will myself into the high-pass and see what may be seen. But bear this as true, the lord of the city of two-towers knows and loves all who dwell within his borders, the shepherd in the high croft no less than the gilded lady in his hall, and had he known of harm or threat he would with ten times that threat have brought his judgement on those who steal and threaten harm. He gave his name and spoke to the mistress of the common-hall saying I am Elminval and if I come no more then send word to the city of two-towers and help will come.
And saying so he took once more to horse and rode away.
What passed in those high places no man saw, but two alone. Of those one spoke not, the other could not. But before two more suns had set and risen the good young man returned to the steading and though he bore wounds he was of good cheer. Across his horse lay the body of a man, no longer dressed in livery undeserved, and bearing no marks of his worth save those given in red by the steel of the horse's rider.
The false one was buried then outside the steading gates, no cairn or marker placed upon the turf. Said Elminval, this man returns to you in silence where once he came with lies, this corpse of his being words of comfort that he will no longer deceive and steal and make afraid. Let one narrow grave hold false-knight and the entire band of lawless-men there were.
This is the tale of Elminval and the False Knight at the Pass, whose name was never known nor needed to be known.
He asked a bowl of stew from the common-house and received no words in return but silence and the thump of ladle into bowl. Around him others sat and said nothing, nor ate nor drank, just glared like men that see a hound decorating a finely woven rug with what hounds are wont to leave behind them.
The good young man ate his bowl dry of stew and wiped it round with hard bread before taking it back to the mistress of the common-house. Three coins, one more than was the custom, he placed on the bench in return for the food and received in return no thanks but a cry of anger. Accusations of mockery they made of him, and loud complaint. One man, so broadly made he seemed like one who hefted mountain-tops onto carts for his living, stood up so suddenly and fiercely that the young warrior had to turn upon that big man a look so sharp with promises of steel that the villager sat down again with a cry of shame and apology, though no sword had been drawn or even touched.
I am met with curt rudeness and poor welcome, he told the mistress of the common-house, and loud words of censure and condemnation. Yet know I not why this should be, for I have never in these ways passed before.
One such has, said the mistress of the common-house, all garbed as you, and armed as you, in fine livery and marks of his worth upon his clothes and shield, and he we welcomed as was our custom. He we fed, and gave to drink, and gave to lodge, and he we made as welcome as you wish to be. But he passed on into the pass for a short span of days and then returned all smiles. Coarse men and lawless there are in that pass, said he, and eager are they for the stores and treasures of this village, eager are they for the contents of your barns, and for your flocks, and for the fine fair daughters I have seen here.
So drew we back afeared, said the mistress of the common-house, and begged him to protect us from such fell foes. More smiles he made. Protect us he could not, said he, for his purse was empty and our little steading barely known even to his lord in the city of two-towers. He would give report though of what havoc was brought here by the lawless men, and mayhap in time, perchance, far-off, soldiers would be sent to seek vengeance for our destruction and to make rescue of the dear-ones carried off by the lawless-men. Or coin could be paid now, to him, he said, and he would of his own goodness then do a warrior's work and bring justice to those who lived by blood and terror in the high places.
No more needed be said, but the good young man unlaced his own purse from his belt and laid it down on the bench. This take, said he, in recompense for what was cheated from you. I will myself into the high-pass and see what may be seen. But bear this as true, the lord of the city of two-towers knows and loves all who dwell within his borders, the shepherd in the high croft no less than the gilded lady in his hall, and had he known of harm or threat he would with ten times that threat have brought his judgement on those who steal and threaten harm. He gave his name and spoke to the mistress of the common-hall saying I am Elminval and if I come no more then send word to the city of two-towers and help will come.
And saying so he took once more to horse and rode away.
What passed in those high places no man saw, but two alone. Of those one spoke not, the other could not. But before two more suns had set and risen the good young man returned to the steading and though he bore wounds he was of good cheer. Across his horse lay the body of a man, no longer dressed in livery undeserved, and bearing no marks of his worth save those given in red by the steel of the horse's rider.
The false one was buried then outside the steading gates, no cairn or marker placed upon the turf. Said Elminval, this man returns to you in silence where once he came with lies, this corpse of his being words of comfort that he will no longer deceive and steal and make afraid. Let one narrow grave hold false-knight and the entire band of lawless-men there were.
This is the tale of Elminval and the False Knight at the Pass, whose name was never known nor needed to be known.
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