Boring to me, at least. Everyone else was having a marvelous time.
Eventually our royalty of misrule ran out of ideas and called for the dancing to start. Tables were moved out, chairs were moved back, and two barrels of beer were rolled in. The tops were removed from the barrels, and the beer was just dipped out.
Lambert, Sir Miesko, and I were required to join in the first dance. I was unsure of just what steps to try, but Krystyana dragged me out on the floor.
I'm not convinced that you could call it dancing. Okoitz had never heard of a polka or a mazurka, let alone a waltz, but people contented themselves with enthusiastically jumping up and down. They were not quite as bad as the modem punkers, but they came close.
That ordeal completed, I found myself standing at the sidelines next to the count. He tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to follow. He went to his chambers. A look of relief crossed his face as he closed the door. 'I'm glad that we only have to do this once a year I Custom requires that I put on a party and play the clown, but I have as little liking for it as you do.'
'It was a bit ... raucous, my lord.'
'Yes. I hope that you haven't gotten a bad opinion of us. Had you seen these people during harvest, your impression would have been different. We'll have to put in an appearance later, but for now, do you play chess? Oh, and do take off that stupid diaper.'
I'm not a great player, but I'm competent. The game he played was identical to modem chess, except the pawns couldn't capture en passant. The count's game was good but extremely conservative; the strategy of play had evolved vastly in seven hundred years. That evening I won four games out of four.
'Sir Conrad, that brown cake you served-is there any more about?'
'I'm afraid not, nor is there any way of making more. I was surprised at that cake of yours.'
'Good, yes?'
'Oh, yes. Delicious. But when all of that food and drink was flowing so generously, you were somewhat sparing with it.'
'Of course. It had honey in it. I could have sold that honey for more than what the rest of the feast cost.'
'Honey is that rare here? I'm surprised. It should be a natural product, easy to get.'
'Easy enough to get, Sir Conrad, once you find a honey tree. A full-time honey hunter finds one, maybe two trees a year.'
'Remarkable. What do you do then?'
'Why, you smoke the bees out and chop open the tree, of course.'
'I begin to see your problem. You know, my lord, bees can't hollow out a tree themselves. They have to find a suitable place to build a hive. If you chop up every hollow tree, there isn't any place for them to live. No wonder honey is rare.'
'I see. You're suggesting that we hollow out trees?'
'It doesn't have to be a whole tree. A simple wooden box will do. You know, bees are very remarkable creatures. I've read a few articles on them. Did you know that they have a language?'
'What! Insects talking?'
'Not exactly talking, but when a bee finds a field of flowers, she goes back to her hive and does a dance that tells the others where to go.'
'Remarkable! You say 'she.' What of the male bees?'
So I prattled on for an hour about bees. Friends have accused me of having a garbage pit mind. Things fall in there and sort of stay around, fermenting. The upshot was that I agreed to instruct Lambert's carpenter on making beehives, a gross of them.
There would be nothing much to it, of course. Just a simple rectangular wooden box of about forty liters' capacity would do. You drilled a hole of four square centimeters near the bottom, facing south, and mounted them on a pole at least three meters in the air.
'It's been a pleasant and educational evening, Sir Conrad. Doubly so since you wouldn't wager any money on your chess playing. But now we must rejoin the buffoonery below.'
The end point of the evening was the gift giving. Gift wrapping was unknown, but it wasn't missed. The only awkward moment occurred when the priest and his wife gave me a wooden crucifix and a carved rosary-the priest's own work-and I hadn't realized that they were on my Christmas list. The best return gift that I could think of on short notice was some rose seeds.
I also got a new sword belt from Sir Miesko. The harem didn't give; they just got. Well, maybe they did give. That night I was visited by Yawalda and Mary. They liked to work as a team.
Chapter Twelve
It was a relaxed afternoon.
I was giving Lambert and Sir Miesko fencing lessons. Over their strenuous objections and at my firm insistence, we were using wooden sticks instead of real swords. Boris Novacek soon joined us, praising my previous battles.
For men who lived by the sword, they had some odd attitudes. It was as if they didn't believe that a sword had a point! Their fencing was strictly hack and chop. They didn't see where the lunge had any use at all.
Finally, Boris said, 'My lords, I have seen him use this thing! I saw him put that little sword entirely through a man's neck, and he killed the German knight with a single blow through the eye slit of his helmet.'
'Well, I haven't seen him kill anything, Novacek,' the count said. 'Let's do some killing and prove this thing properly. Bring your sword, Sir Conrad.'
I followed Lambert apprehensively out of the building, along with the rest of the crowd. He led us to a pen containing six pigs destined to be the next day's supper.
'Now then, Sir Conrad. You have allowed that the edge is useful on horseback but said that the point is stronger afoot. We shall see. I shall kill that boar with the edge of my sword, and you will take that sow with your point.' Without further discussion, the count vaulted, sword in hand, into the pigpen.
The test was somewhat unfair in that the boar was mean. Lambert's first two-handed swing caught the pig a little in back of the 'belt' line. This broke the boar's back without seriously cutting it. The boar was annoyed. Its hind legs were not functional, but it charged the count, dragging itself along on its front legs.
The pig is a very powerful animal, and its jaws can rip a man's leg off. All that meat is muscle.
Lambert was back-stepping furiously, and his second blow-to the shoulder-didn't slow down the boar at all. I was about to leap in when the count's sword crashed into the animal's skull and all motion stopped.
'You saw the power in that blow?' Lambert was actually proud of his performance. 'Your turn, Sir Conrad.'
I hated jumping into a pigsty with my embroidered tunic and leather stockings, but there was nothing else I could do. 'That sow over there, my lord?'
The remaining pigs were all studying Lambert intently. I was trying to remember just how a pig's ribs went. I couldn't remember whether they angled back like a man's or not. I was obviously going to have to put all the power into my lunge that I could. Also, pigs being built the way they are, I was going to have to lunge downward.
This I did. Body upright, arm straight, blade out with the edge down.
The results surprised me. I had never actually stuck an animal before. My sword went entirely through the first pig and halfway through the one behind it. They both dropped dead without a squeal.
I got out of the pen and cleaned my sword in the snow. Then I started working on the pig shit on my boots, with Krystyana's help.
Sir Miesko said, 'That was a great blow, Sir Conrad! But how real was the test? What if they were in armor?'
'An excellent idea!' the count said. 'Krystyana, Boris brought in four sets of armor. Take Mary and bring us some hauberks. Pick two that match.'
As the girls ran off, Sir Miesko shouted, 'And the gambesons! Bring two equal gambesons!'
