Page 152 of The Robber Knight's Love
Escorted by the herald, the pursuivant, SirTomasso, and his squire, who still seemed to be in a state ofshock, Reuben was led up to the royal box and there kneeled beforeEmperor Friedrich to receive the prize of the tournament: twopriceless daggers with golden hilts and jewels for pommels.
As the Emperor handed Reuben the seconddagger, he leaned forward from his high seat and said in a lowvoice, so only Reuben could hear: “There will be a celebration heldat the castle later on—officially in our honor, though the ladieswill prefer to think it is in yours.” His mouth twitched almostimperceptibly. “We shall look forward to speaking to you there, ifyou have time.”
Reuben nodded, understanding this for what itwas: an order. If you didn't have time to speak to the Emperor ofthe Holy Roman Empire, you had better find some quickly.
“Certainly, your Imperial Majesty.”
“And now, join me, Sir Reuben.” The Emperorpointed to a comfortable-looking seat next to and only slightlylower than his own. “There will be more music, I think. A ballad ofthe brave Erec, Knight of the Round Table of the ancient KingArthur of Britain. All people say that his knights were the best,but perhaps you could compete, eh?”
Reuben settled down and, for the next hour orso, thoroughly enjoyed himself. He had always loved the tales ofKing Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. They were theepitome of knightly virtue—brave, courteous, and loyal, everythingReuben strove to be. They were also quite popular with the ladies.Something which he already was, but nevertheless strove also tobe.
As the bard started singing, platters oflight, delicious food were brought by servants who treated Reubenwith the deference due to a king, and wine in golden gobletsfollowed. Looking out over the cheering spectators, who were stillcalling out his name in the intervals between the parts of thebard's story, Reuben smiled. This was life as he had always dreamedof it.
*~*~**~*~*
Of course, there was the slight problem thatsuch a life had to be financed. As much as Reuben hated to thinkabout such lowly money matters, it was not every day he would befeasting on the hospitality of the Emperor. He needed to be able topay his... what did the merchants and tradesmen call those nastythings? Oh yes, “bills.” He needed to pay his bills.
Well, now he would be able to. Now that hehad won the tournament, he would be a rich man. Not only had hereceived the priceless daggers for gaining the title of champion,but every single knight he had beaten in the joust would be obligedto give up his horse and armor to him. With the number of victorieshe had carried off, Reuben knew he would be a wealthy man by theend of the day, once he had sold the animals and armor to aninterested merchant.
Thus it was that, later in the day, as thesun was just approaching the horizon, Reuben was marching aroundthe castle towards the tents in the back yard, where the defeatedknights had remained to await the victors. Reuben saw a figurepass, leading two horses behind him. The figure wore a bluesquire's uniform and a black eye. Reuben could guess why.
It was common knowledge that the defeatedknight in a joust owed his horse and armor to the victor. What wasnot so common knowledge, was that often, the defeated knight wasn'tall that pleased about having been defeated, and equally not readyto part with his horse and armor, which were incredibly valuablepossessions. The solution to this was for the victorious knights tosend their squire to deliver the polite request for the surrenderof the horse, and to arm him with a big wooden club, in case anot-so-polite request should be made necessary by the loser’srefusal.
Reuben didn't have a squire, or a woodenclub. But for some reason, when they saw his tall, muscular figureapproach, none of the knights he had beaten seemed inclined torefuse him his prize of victory.
Last of all, he went to Sir Tomasso. Theknight awaited him, standing upright in front of his tent, a sadsmile on his face.
“I know what you are here for, my friend,” hesighed, “and it makes me, for the first time, sad that you havewon.” Gently, he stroked the nose of the slender, graceful animalpicketed beside him—a being of true beauty, though Reuben couldhardly imagine how it was able to bear the weight of a knight infull armor. “Well,mio ragazzo,”Sir Tomasso murmured, “it is time to say goodbye. You have servedme faithfully during all these years, and been the best friend aman could have hoped for. Go and greet your new master.Unless...”
He turned, and looked at Reuben with a halfdoubting, half hopeful expression. “Unless you would be willing toaccept a purse of silver for him? I would gladly pay eighty or evena hundred coins of silver, in any currency of the Empire.”
Reuben was impressed. The horse had to reallybe a dear friend to the knight. Nobody would pay more than fiftysilver pieces for a warhorse on any market in Limburg. It made himall the gladder of the news he had come to deliver.
“Keep your coins, Sir,” he said with feeling,“and keep your horse, too. In the lists, you relinquished yourshield, though you had a right to it. Now it is I who relinquishthat to which I have a right. I did not come here to demand theprize of my victory. I came here to tell you to keep it, with mygood wishes. It is enough to have fought against a knight such asyou.”
Sir Tomasso took a step forward, slow andmeasured. His narrow face was grave, and yet a joyful light shonein his eyes. “Thank you, Sir.” With warmth, he grasped Reuben bythe hand, and shook it. “It is I who feel honored to have met you.I know you have a future ahead of you as bright as the morningstar.”
Reuben laughed. “The morning star? That iswhat Lucifer was called before he fell, you know.”
Sir Tomasso laughed, too. “Well, as God is mywitness, you will not fall. I am sure that, one day, you shallbecome one of the noblest and most chivalrous knights that everlived. Nothing and no one can keep you from that.”
*~*~**~*~*
Outside the city walls, where the sun slowlysank behind the horizon, a dark group of riders approached the cityin measured pace. When the riders reached the city gates, one oftheir number rode forward and pounded the heavy wood.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then, aguard stuck his head over the wall.
“You're too late,” he shouted. “It's pastcurfew, the gates are closed! Find an inn somewhere along theroad!”
The rider at the head of the procession, aslim figure in a long, dark green, satin cloak, didn't sayanything. Instead, two slender hands reached up and removed thehood from the rider's head, revealing a cascade of dark, blacklocks.
Theguard atop the wall paled, as if he had just been subjected to asevere blood-letting by an over-eager barber.[66]“I... I am so sorry, Milady. I shall let you in immediately. Andplease tell the duke I meant no disrespect, I was only doing myduty, I...”
The slim hand made an impatient gesture.
“Of course, Milady. I'm coming, I'mcoming.”
Hurried footsteps could be heard from insidethe city, and not long after, the small side gate, set inside themain gate of the city, opened to let the travelers in. As the darkgreen rider passed, the guard bowed so deep that his nose almostbrushed the cobblestones.
“Welcome to Palermo, Milady.”
THE END
