Chapter Text
“Have you ever won a jousting tournament?”
“No. I do not joust.”
“Oh. How about fighting with two swords? Have you ever-?”
“No. That is quite difficult.”
“Oh.”
The two men stood in silence for a moment.
“How about monsters? Oh! Have you ever slayed a dragon?”
“No. There’s no such thing-“
“But Sir Garesh fought a white dragon in-“
“Sir Who?”
“From the story, Sir Garesh and the White Dragon.”
“That was just a story. For children.”
“I quite like that story.”
Sir Nicholas had not meant to offend his Lord so to be thrust out here in no man’s land against his better judgment and abilities. All he knew was he was now an official Knight in service to the Sheriff of Sandford (in the absence of the Lord of Sandford) and the surrounding areas. His Lordship had apparently the highest regard for the Sheriff, a genial enough man to be sure, but still the law of a village that was barely a smudge on the most recent maps.
His new squire, however-
“Have you ever heard the story of Sir Galahad?”
“No.”
“How could you be in the King’s courts and not hear that one? It’s got lots of fighting!”
“I didn’t have much time for fireside stories.”
His squire, the Sheriff’s son, was affable indeed. But not the caliber of rider he was used to accompanying a knight of his abilities. In all honesty, Nicholas was unused to having a companion at all, his previous assignations having been solo efforts for quite some time.
“But surely while you were in battle, you saw some amazing sights, Sir Nicholas.”
Nicholas sighed. He was a persistent man. His fellow knights who worked under his father treated him with much affection, and Nicholas could see why. He certainly had enthusiasm.
“I fought. It was battle.”
“Did you kill many people?”
“I…do not know that that’s an appropriate question.”
“I mean,” Daniel said, looking a bit chagrined, “Not many knights come back from war with so many medals we heard you’ve gotten, sir.”
“It was a violent time. I was proud to do my service. But I was also happy to return home.” This was, Nicholas was surprised to find, the first he’d admitted to himself this fact. He had not enjoyed his time at war, though it had been his duty to go where his Lordship commanded. As his service here, he supposed.
The air outside the castle gate was still. From their higher point in the village, Nicholas could see cook fires, and hear the ringing of the smithy in the distance. Other than that, the village may well have been sleeping.
“Is it true that if you push your sword in at just the right point, you can shove a man’s heart through his back?”
Nicholas clenched his jaw, but was saved from his retort by the approach of an old bent man.
“If it please you, sirs, my brooch is gone.”
Nicholas stepped forward. “Gone, good sir?”
“You mean missing,” Daniel said.
“No! Gone! Taken, I am certain.”
A Thief in their midst! The palms of his hands itched at the thought of going to investigate…but no, he was stuck here at the gate until midday. He sighed. “The Sheriff will hear you out, I’m certain. Go ahead, sir.” He waved the man in and watched him shuffle past while wondering who would steal a brooch. Someone who looked so downtrodden wouldn’t have something very valuable, would he? But even the simplest piece of jewelry could be traded for something of value. Perhaps when he was finished here he could-
“I lost my lucky dagger once.”
Nicholas tilted his neck sharply one way, then the other. “Did you?”
“Yea. It was in a bin at Roper’s shop all along. Poor Old Man Blantard.”
He looked at Daniel, who was shaking his head, looking down. “He seemed quite certain it was taken.”
“Old Man Blantard? He hasn’t been certain of anything since his wife passed, poor man.”
“Well perhaps we should tell him to look in the bins at Roper’s shop, then.”
“Hey! Good idea, sir!”
Nicholas sighed.
**
Perimeter patrol was perhaps Nicholas’s favorite duty. It gave him the chance to ride, tour a bit of the countryside, and keep an eye on things while allowing his mind to think. The Sheriff, though, seemed to believe Nicholas needed companionship for his patrol and had insisted Daniel accompany him. Nicholas made it a point of riding ahead of the other man, keeping a sharp eye out for unwelcome…what, he didn’t know. Nothing seemed to disturb the quiet daily goings on of Sandford. Occasionally he would hear Daniel call out a question to him, but he kept his answers noncommittal. He could not stop ruminating Old Man Blantard’s missing brooch. The Sheriff had believed it was simply a matter of misplacement, but Nicholas felt this was too dismissive. Not that he would say so directly to his superior.
It was full dark before they set up camp for the night. Nicholas enjoyed the chance to sit, though he loved riding horseback, for a moment and eat the simple fare Daniel had brought. He looked at his squire. The small fire deepened Daniel’s eyes. Nicholas allowed himself to relax a bit, staring into the glow.
“Andrew said you were injured, sir.”
Nicholas leaned back against his pack. “Which Andrew would that be?”
“The shorter one.”
“Ah. Well. I was stabbed.” He could see Daniel looking a question at him. “And yes, before you ask, it hurt. Quite a lot, actually.”
Daniel simply stared at him for moments longer, and Nicholas cursed himself again for not understanding better what he was supposed to be doing here. “Tell me, Daniel, do you often ride this route?”
“Yes, I suppose. About once a fortnight.”
“And do you never see anything that might lead you to believe there are looters hiding about?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Do you ever venture into the woods?”
The squire shivered visibly. “No. Never. There a witch in them woods.”
Nicholas scowled. The people of this village were certainly a superstitious and uneducated lot.
“And you can call me Danny, if you like. Everyone else does.”
It was not the first time Nicholas felt a tug of discomfort since arriving in Sandford. But there was some new element to this…feeling. He could not quite put his thoughts to it, but he knew the right course of action. He opened his mouth to answer, but could imagine the hurt it may cause, so instead, “I’ll take first watch. You get some rest now.”
**
Danny laid with his head on his pack and closed his eyes, but he was unable to sleep. Sir Nicholas stood with his back to Danny and the fire, looking into the woods. It seemed fitting to Danny that Sandford’s newest knight should be of the Order of Angelic Wings, for whether in sunlight or fire, Sir Nicholas’s yellow hair gleamed of inner purity. Danny studied the back of the man standing so resolutely on guard, though Danny could have told him there was nothing to guard against; the witch never ventured this far north. Though he was glad of the chance to openly watch the other man. Sir Nicholas was a mystery: a hero knight who did not boast. And there was the fact he always looked faintly miserable.
Danny has been watching Sir Nicholas since his first arrival in Sandford. These are the things he’d noticed:
Sir Nicholas does not drink mead, but prefers apple wine or cider.
Sir Nicholas can read.
Sir Nicholas wears his chainmail hauberk and mittens every day, even when just guarding the castle grounds.
Sir Nicholas does not partake in the loud crude games of the pub or village square, but did once participate in a day of tournaments, defeating all competitors in swordfighting, archery, chess, and horseshoes.
The other knights of Sandford do not like Sir Nicholas very much.
Danny thought Sir Nicholas the bravest, truest knight he had ever met. Danny chose not to share this opinion with anyone else.
Unlike the other knights of Sandford, Nicholas was not from the area, but had been sent from London. Danny could not imagine what Sir Nicholas’s life in London had been like, but he had many exciting images in his head tied up in battles over honor, rescuing fair maidens, and possible dragons.
The last knight sent from London had scampered off after only a fortnight. And Sir Popwell hadn’t been nearly as…here Danny stopped. He wasn’t certain what Sir Popwell hadn’t been in comparison to Sir Nicholas, but it was a thing to be sure.
He wanted to be a knight like Sir Nicholas one day. Proud, skilled, honorable, and…faintly miserable.
It didn’t seem knights did the things he’d heard about in his stories. Danny had been collecting knight stories his entire life. Every traveler who came through Sandford had some tale to tell or another. Most of them involved fighting. Some were a bit bawdy, and made Danny blush somewhat, but also with a tinge of envy. But Sir Nicholas didn’t regale everyone with his tales of warfare and bravery, and Danny could not imagine he would share anything of his more personal adventures, and yet, Danny saw a shining rightness in him. Lucky for Danny, his father had insisted Sir Nicholas take Danny along on his patrols. Danny only wished he could stop himself from talking so much.
The night was chilled and the fire small, but Danny settled in and closed his eyes. At least he hadn’t told Sir Nicholas all about the witch. How she found her lost wanderers, or how her shack never seemed to stay in one place. He would wait for the knight to ask him next time, instead of nattering on about dragons and nonsense. Tomorrow he would be a proper companion to a knight of Sir Nicholas’s standing.
**
Pages rush forward to help them dismount and take their horses, but Sir Nicholas waves his off, though not unkindly, and Danny notices the wink of a penny tossed to eager hands.
“Sir Nicholas, would you care—“ no, no, too formal. Sir Nicholas was proper, but he wasn’t quiffy. Danny tried again, glad his initial effort was lost in the scuffle of horses hooves.
“Care to come to the pub, sir?”
“I need to groom Lily.” The knight’s tone was flat, but he ran his hand down his horse’s flank with affection.
Danny decided not to be put off. “One of the pages would be happy look after such a fine horse, sir.”
Sir Nicholas gave him a slight smile. “She is lovely, isn’t she? I prefer to care for her myself.” At that he led Lily deeper into the stables.
Danny sighed, but not too disconsolately. Turned down again, and it did sting a little, but only the smallest amount. Sir Nicholas had smiled at him. A tiny one, to be sure, but even the slightest crack was a possible invitation to open the door.
**
Nicholas touched his lips with fingers that smelled pungently of dirt and horse sweat. Lily shuffled, nuzzling the hay in front of her, and he patted her neck before wiping it with his rag. Unusual enough for him to have a mare as his battle horse, but Lily came from excellent breeding stock. She was beautiful and strong, and Nicholas had no doubt she would carry him into anything safely. Caring for her was one of his few pleasures and brought calm to his mind.
One of the pages, Dorin, passed by with Daniel’s steed, Gawain, named apparently after some fictional knight of heroic deeds. Daniel and his heroic deeds. Nicholas tried to remember a time when he was so enamored of fantasy, when his life wasn’t about duty and honor, battles and chivalry. Fantasy has no place in his life, and he would do well to correct Daniel of this childishness. There may be something in those woods, but it certainly was no witch. Right now, he had some questions for Mr. Blantard.