Thorn could hear the music. It drew him the way a candleflame will draw insects and frogs on a still summer night in the deep woods. He walked heavily to the edge of the woods, and listened with his keen senses to the sounds of people laughing and dancing, to the sounds of as many as ten instruments.
He listened, and listened. And hated.
Lissen Carak – The Red Knight
The Red Knight lay with his head in Amicia’s lap. She was looking at the firelit scene at their feet, inside the walls of the courtyard, and he was looking at the line of her throat and jaw. She was thinking about how simple happiness could be, and he felt the current of her thoughts through their joined hands.
Gradually – glacially slowly – she lowered her mouth over his.
Playfully, at the last moment, he licked her nose, and they both dissolved into laughter, and he shifted, grabbed her under the arms and began to tickle her and she shrieked and tried to hit him.
He put her in his lap and bent to kiss her. She arched her back to reach him more quickly, and their tongues touched, their lips touched-
He drank her, and she drank him. Each of them could feel the contact, real, aethereal, spiritual.
He had pulled her robes above her hips, and she had not stopped him. The feeling of her naked flank inflamed him, and he pressed on.
She broke the kiss. ‘Stop,’ she said.
He stopped.
She smiled. Licked her lips. And then rolled out from under him, as swift as a dancer. Or a warrior.
‘Marry me,’ the Red Knight said.
Amicia stopped. She froze. ‘What?’
‘Marry me. Be my wife. Live with me until we die, old and surrounded by children and grandchildren.’ He grinned.
‘You’d say that to any girl who keeps her legs closed,’ she said.
‘Yes, but this time I mean it,’ he said, and she swatted him.
‘Amicia,’ said Sister Miram. She was standing by the apple tree. She smiled. ‘I missed you at the fire.’ She looked at the captain, who felt like a schoolboy. ‘She may choose for herself whether to marry a mercenary or be the bride of Christ,’ Miram said. ‘But she can choose in daylight, and not on an apple-scented night.’
Amicia nodded, but her half-hooded eyes concealed a spark that the Red Knight saw, and rejoiced at. He sprang to his feet. And bowed low. ‘Then I bid you good night, ladies.’
Miram stood her ground. ‘It was well thought,’ she said. ‘They needed to rejoice. And the lady would have wanted a better wake than we were providing.’
The captain nodded. ‘It
‘There is more heart in us tonight than last night, despite everything.’ Miram looked at Amicia. ‘Will you wed her?’
The captain leaned very close to the nun. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said.
Miram put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Then tell us your name,’ she said.
‘I know his name,’ Amicia said. ‘He’s-’
There was a sudden cheer from the courtyard, and then a roar of voices. The captain saw that Ser Jehannes was standing at the edge of the firelight, and behind him were three men in full plate, the fire lighting them like moving mirrors. They had black surcotes with white crosses.
The Red Knight turned away from the two nuns. He waved to Ser Jehannes and leaned out into the courtyard. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Now someone’s come
The music stopped.
One of the three knights raised his visor. He was an old man, but his smile was quite young.
The relief that flooded the captain was palpable, solid. He felt giddy. He felt weak. He said, ‘Splendid.’
The captain clasped hands with the first man in the long black cloak that marked the Knights of the Order of Saint Thomas of Acon.
‘I’m the captain,’ he said. ‘The Red Knight.’
‘Mark, Prior of Pyrwrithe,’ said the man whose right hand was clasped in his own. ‘May we offer you our compliments on a brilliant defence? Although I understand from Ser Jehannes that the lady Abbess is dead.’
‘She died last night, my lords. In battle.’ Suddenly the captain was hesitant. He had no idea how the fighting orders felt about Hermeticism or any other form of phantasm.
The Prior nodded. ‘She was a great lady,’ he said. ‘I will go and pay my respects. But first – the king is across the river, moving carefully. But he should be opposite the Bridge Castle by late tomorrow. The next day at the latest.’
The captain grinned with pure joy. ‘That is welcome news.’ He looked at the three men, all in full armour. ‘You three must be tired.’
The prior shrugged. ‘The armour of faith is such that we feel little fatigue, my son. But a glass of wine is never amiss.’
‘Let us go to chapel,’ murmured the central figure. He wore a black tabard with the eight pointed cross of the order.
‘If I may: I’d rather you stood where the people could see you just a little longer,’ said the captain. ‘There have been doubts.’
The Prior shook his head. ‘We’re late and no mistake, Captain.’
The captain raised his hand for silence. In the courtyard, they cheered and cheered. But after a a few resurgences of spirit, they fell quiet, with Mag shouting ‘Shut up, you fools’ and a titter of laughter.
‘Friends!’ the captain said. His voice carried. ‘Our prayers have been answered. The king is here, and these three knights of the order are the vanguard.’ There were cheers, but he went on. ‘We’ve had a sip or two and a dance tonight. But when the king comes, we’ll have to break this siege. The enemy is still out there. Let’s have some sleep while we can. Aye?’
Men who had cursed him as Satan a few hours before raised wooden jacks now.
‘Red Knight!’ they shouted. And others shouted ‘St Thomas!’
And then, as if by magic, they tottered off to bed. Sym and Long Paw put Cuddy over their shoulders and carried him to bed in the hospital. Ben Carter found himself carried by Wilful Murder and Fran Lanthorn to his pile of straw in the stable.
Together the four men walked to the chapel.
The Red Knight didn’t say anything. The Abbess lay on her bier, and the three knights knelt around her. After some time, they rose, in unison. The captain led them to his Commandry, which, as he expected, was empty, without a sign of Michael’s sleeping gear.
‘This is my office,’ the captain said. ‘If you wish to disarm, I can send you a couple of archers.
Ser John smiled. ‘I’ve been sleeping in harness since I was fifteen,’ he said.
‘Are you three alone?’ the captain asked.
The prior shook his head. ‘I have sixty knights in the woods east of the ford,’ he said. ‘Short of direct intervention by the enemy, they won’t be found.’
The tallest knight nodded and pulled his helmet over his head. He gave a sigh of pure pleasure. ‘It’s what we do,’ he said. He pulled a cushion off one of the chairs, put it under his head, and went to sleep.
Lissen Carak – Gerald Random
