The Blood Red Knight

Prince Robin was half blinded by the sweat stinging his eyes. Everything was a blur. Everything but the curved fangs of the wolf snarling so close to his face. Too close. He stepped back. Stumbled. Lost his balance. And fell.

He tried to scramble away on his hands and heels. But holding his sword in one hand, and with his shield strapped to his other arm, it wasn’t easy. His chain mail was like a lead weight slowing him down. He couldn’t move fast enough.

The wolf’s menacing shadow loomed over him...

Someone yelled, Get up!

Somebody else shouted, Fight boy! FIGHT!

But then the wolf lunged forward...

And held out a gloved hand.

The miller’s son, Roger, thrust the point of his wooden practice sword into the sand and sawdust of the barracks yard and raised the fearsome visor of his helmet.

He smiled at Robin. Here, he said. Let me help you up.

Robin returned Roger’s smile with one of his own. Wider and brighter. Roger helped Robin to his feet. The two friends laughed and embraced each other.

His sword play is much improved, Robin said to his father.

King Roland nodded and said, Indeed!

We’ll make a knight of him yet, said the captain of the castle guard.

Roger had never dared dream such a thing might be possible.

Faith, he said. A knight! Really?

The soldiers who’d stopped to watch went back to their own training.

Robin’s father told him to have the kitchen maids heat water for a bath.

But it’s only Thursday! Robin said. And my bath day is not till Sunday!

Then go dunk your heads in a horse trough, said his father. Or swim in the moat. Just be sure to come to tonight’s feast cleaner and smelling better than you do now.

Robin thought a swim in the castle moat was an excellent idea.

Roger wasn’t so sure. The wizard says there are catfish in there big enough to swallow a man whole!

Come on then, said Robin. We can bathe in my rooms if you like. The only thing there that can swallow a man whole is the chamber-maid. Or so the guards say.

In his rooms in one of the bailey’s four towers, Robin sent his servants away saying, We can wash ourselves, thank you.

They bowed and left. Robin helped Roger with the buckles and straps of the armour plate he was wearing. Roger helped Robin out of his heavy chain mail. Robin’s new boots came halfway up his thighs and fit him so well, Roger had to use two hands to tug and twist them off. Robin wriggled his toes.

Certe, he said. That’s better!

Roger’s thick undershirt of grey felt was next. Then his boots and leggings. Then Robin’s padded vest. Both boys had started following the new fashion of binding a long strip of linen around their waists and between their thighs instead of a codpiece or hose. Although a loincloth wasn’t as quick or as easy to remove, Robin thought it was a lot like unwrapping a present.

The rolled copper bath was in a corner of the room, under an arched and mullioned window. The water was just right. Hot but not too hot. And there was a tall pile of neatly folded towels on a low stool next to the tub. There wasn’t a lot of room in the bath for two. But Robin and Roger could sit at each end comfortably enough, if Roger tucked his knees up under his chin with his feet together between Robin’s legs.

The old lady who came on Sundays to scrub behind Robin’s ears and between his toes had found a new recipe for making soap using goats’ milk and olive oil. It was gentler on the skin and smelled much better than the old lye soap she’d always used before.

There was lots of laughing and splashing about.

The wizard Aldhyrwoode found them clean and dry in Robin’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at the puddles of soapy water on the floor, but only smiled the same odd smile he always smiled when he saw the two of them together.

I’ve been talking with your father, he said to Roger. About your coming to live in the castle.

But who will help in the mill? Roger asked.

Your father has agreed to take an apprentice, said Aldhyrwoode. A farmer’s son. You can have your own rooms. Or sleep here. With Robin. If that is your wish.

Robin was so happy he sat up and hugged the wizard.

Faith, he said. I’ve never had a friend sleep over before!

Aldhyrwoode laughed and said, That’s because your friends come from the stables and all smell like horse shi... Uhm... Yes. Well. Anyway. It’s time to get dressed. The feast is about to start. Your father and our guests are waiting for us in the Great Hall.

Dressed in their best clothes, Robin and Roger sat at the high table with Robin’s father, King Roland, and the wizard, Aldhyrwoode. Next to the king sat Don Sebastian. And next to the duke sat his son, Alejandro. The duke’s son was dark skinned with short cropped black hair and cold blue eyes. He was only a few years older than Robin, but Alejandro had already killed his first man in armed combat. He had a scar on his left cheek to prove it.

Robin thought him handsome. Like a prowling black panther was handsome. And dangerous.

He saw Alejandro looking at him.

Do you joust? Alejandro asked Robin.

I ahhh no. I mean yes, Robin stammered.

Then you ride in the tourney tomorrow?

Robin nodded.

The duke’s son walked around the far end of the high table. He stopped in front of Robin and slowly tugged at the black leather glove he wore on his right hand. One finger at a time. Then he slapped the glove down on the table. Hard enough to spill the king’s wine.

Robin heard his father growl deep in his chest.

The wizard put a restraining hand on the king’s arm.

Roger had turned an even whiter shade of pale under his freckles.

Don Sebastian watched his son the whole time. But said nothing.

Robin calmly picked up Alejandro’s glove and tossed it to one of the dogs waiting for scraps.

You accept? Alejandro challenged Robin.

I do, said Robin. Verily.

To the death?

No. No. No! First blood only, said the duke. We are guests here. Do not forget your manners!

It’s a bit late for that, said the king.

Robin didn’t sleep that night. Roger asked too many questions. All of them beginning with the words, But what if... ?

The ground shook as horses and riders wheeled and charged. The crowd cheered loudly. There were tents and pavilions set up everywhere. Small and large. Some round. Some square. All brightly coloured. Striped or checked or zig zagged. Their owners’ pennants flying above them. There were ladies and page boys and knights and their squires. And horses. Lots of horses!

Robin’s helpers were three of his friends from the stables and Roger. They were all he needed. No Butternut this time. The prince rode his father’s enormous grey war horse called D’Argent.

The oldest and tallest of the stable boys handed Robin a lance and said, Good luck!

We know you won’t need it, said Roger.

King Roland sat in the royal stand between Aldhyrwoode and Don Sebastian. Robin rode past and saluted his father. Roland only nodded in reply. It was enough. Robin found comfort in his father’s quiet confidence.

Crowds lined both sides of the course ten rows deep. A familiar bearded face towering above everyone else called out, Young Master Robin!

It was the woodsman from the glade. The giant waved a long chain of tiny white daisies. My Lady asked me to give you this!

He tied the maiden’s favour to D’Argent’s saddle.

Tell her thank you, said Robin. And I shall come to see you both on the morrow. If I can.

I do not doubt it. Not for one moment, said the woodsman with a smile and a wink.

Robin spurred his mount into a canter. At the far end of the field he could see Alejandro doing the same on the other side of the rail.

The Duke of Navarre's son rode a snorting black stallion. His armour was the colour of blood. His shield was the same deep crimson but with a black crown of thorns painted on it. Another crown of thorns cast in silver encircled his full faced helmet.

Robin’s armour had been polished until it shone like a mirror. His shield was white with a golden sun. He too wore a crowned helm. A prince’s crown. Of gold.

Trumpets sounded the charge.

D’Argent snorted. His ears flattened.

The big horse had been trained to joust. To run in a straight line. Right for the other horse and rider. And not veer away. And that meant Robin didn’t need to worry about anything else but hitting the target.

He urged D’Argent to a full out thundering gallop. He couched his lance. Holding it firmly in the crook of his elbow with the shaft resting on the saddle and the point aimed at Alejandro’s shield.

There was a loud CRACK!

Both their lances splintered on the other’s shield.

The crowd roared.

Robin rode to the end of the course and reached for another lance.

The crowd roared again. Robin looked around to see why.

Alejandro had already turned his horse and was racing back towards him.

He hadn’t even paused to snatch up another lance!

The duke’s son had drawn a two handed sword. He charged at Robin. Swinging the long heavy blade over his head as easily as a farmer scything grain.

Faith, thought Robin. Is he mad? A sword. No matter how long it was. Was no match for a lance!

I will unhorse him, Robin thought to himself. And that will be an end to it.

But a heartbeat before the tip of Robin’s lance could lift Alejandro out of his saddle, the duke’s son somehow shifted out of the way, and slammed the hilt of his sword against the side of Robin’s helmet.

Robin saw stars. He hit the ground - Hard!

Someone in the crowd yelled at him to, Get up!

Somebody else shouted, Stay down!

Robin didn’t think he could get up. Even if he wanted to. And he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to.

The black stallion reared on its hind legs. Its two front hooves pounded the ground only inches away from Robin’s helmet. Robin tried to roll away. Out of danger. But Alejandro followed him on the snorting black stallion. Its steel shod hooves getting closer and closer to crushing Robin’s skull.

Cry mercy! The duke’s son shouted at Robin.

Robin shouted, NEVER!

D’Argent was back. The big dappled grey shouldered the black stallion away from Robin. Biting the stallion’s neck. And then trying to bite Alejandro.

The duke’s son cursed and swore.

Robin was able to roll over on his stomach.

He got to his knees.

Then to his feet.

The crowd cheered.

Robin drew his sword.

The crowd yelled at Alejandro to, Get off!

Dismount!

Fight like a man!

Then they started booing.

There weren’t any rules in jousting. But there was a code of honour. Of chivalry. There were some things you just didn’t do.

The crowd knew it.

Robin knew it.

But did Alejandro know it?

In the royal stand, Robin’s father the king was furious.

It would seem your son has forgotten his manners again, he said to the duke.

Don Sebastian saw the anger in Roland's eyes and wondered if he and his son would leave the tournament alive.

Your Majesty, he said. My son is young and hot tempered. But I promise you he is neither a fool nor a villain. He will do the right thing!

Someone in the crowd threw a cabbage at Alejandro. It might have been the giant woodsman. Robin wasn’t sure. But whoever it was they had a good arm, because it knocked the duke’s son off his horse!

The crowd laughed and cheered.

Alejandro tore at his helmet and tossed it away. The scar on his face stood out white against the red of his flushed cheeks. His blue eyes burned brighter than the sun on Robin’s shield.

Certe, thought Robin. If looks could kill, then...

There was no time for that.

Alejandro swung the two handed sword at Robin’s head.

Robin blocked the blow with his own sword.

Steel rang on steel.

Robin used his shield to knock Alejandro’s blade away and stepped inside his opponent’s reach. The two handed sword was useless now. There was no room to wield it. Alejandro used its weighted hilt to hammer at Robin’s helmet instead. Robin smashed the edge of his shield into Alejandro’s unprotected face. And heard the CRUNCH of his flattened nose breaking.

The duke’s son fell backwards.

FIRST BLOOD! The crowd roared. FIRST BLOOD!

It was true. Alejandro’s face was a pulped and bloody mess.

He dropped to his knees. The two handed sword still gripped in his white knuckled fists.

Cry mercy, said Robin.

Alejandro spat a mouthful of blood at him. Fuck you!

Robin’s boot caught him flush on the jaw - And knocked him out cold.

There was another feast that night. Robin sat next to Roger at one end of the high table. Don Sebastian and Alejandro sat at the other. The king and the wizard sat between them.

Alejandro stood up. He walked around the far end of the table. All eyes in the Great Hall watched him. Even the wizard’s cat Shadow. Looking down from the rafters. But this time he didn’t stop in front of Robin. Instead he kept walking until he was standing behind Roger.

He tapped him politely on the shoulder. Excuse me, he said. But can I sit with you?

Roger made room on the bench seat.

Alejandro squeezed in next to Robin.

He had two black eyes and a plaster over his broken nose.

But Robin still thought him handsome.

Butternut the pony trotted happily into the glade with Robin on his back.

The maiden Annaed was waiting for him at the edge of the crystal clear spring.

Dear sweet Robin, she said. My Robin Redbreast returns.

She stroked his cheek tenderly with her soft fingers.

Redbreast? Robin asked.

Annaed smiled and said, Your doublet.

Oh. Uhm. Right.

Robin took the chain of tiny white daisies from around his neck and placed it over the maiden’s bowed head. Then he put a finger under her chin and gently raised her face until her eyes met his.

He leaned in...

And kissed her full on the lips.

Verily.