the feed box.
‘There are blankets close by. I’ll have them fetched,’ said Errin.
‘There is no need.’
‘I beg to differ, sir Knight. The horse is cold.’
The Red Knight swung on Errin. ‘Do not touch him again. I do not like to see others place their hands upon what is mine.’
‘As you please,’ said Errin. ‘What is your name?’
‘I am the King’s messenger. You, I take it, are Errin, the Lord of the Feast?’
‘I am.’
‘Show me to my rooms. And have a woman brought to me... a young woman.’
‘With respect, sir Knight, I am not a procurer of women. There are many inns in Mactha, and many women who sell their services. I would suggest you attend to the Duke and then make your way there after the Feast of Welcome.’
The Knight stood silently for a moment. ‘You are quite right, Errin,’ he said at last. ‘I am tired after my journey, and my... manners are lacking.’
‘Think nothing of it, sir. Let me show you to your rooms,’ replied Errin coolly.
In the main room a fire blazed and a hip-bath had been filled with warmed, scented water. Errin left the Knight to prepare himself and rejoined the Duke in the great hall.
‘What a humourless, mannerless dolt!’ stormed the Duke. ‘Is the King trying to insult me, do you think?’
‘I would think not, my Lord. The King has always held you in high esteem — and quite rightly. Perhaps the Knight is tired; he did apologize to me at the stable.’
‘Yes - and that’s another matter. His horse is to be stabled alone! Is this a prince among horses?’
‘It is.a strange beast, my Lord. When the other horses were being led away, they seemed terrified of it. I think that is what he was thinking of.’
‘Well, his attitude will not do, Errin. I am of a mind to write to the King about him.’
‘Might I suggest - respectfully — that you suspend judgement until we have seen him again? The King obviously favours and trusts him.’
‘Wise words, Errin. But he would do well to show good manners this time.’
‘I am sure that he will, my Lord.’
As he spoke, the Crimson Knight came into view at the top of the staircase. He was still in full armour, but had removed his helm. His face was ivory pale and extraordinarily beautiful, his hair white and cropped close to his skull. He seemed in his early twenties. Errin moved forward, greeting him with a smile. Seen closer he looked older - perhaps thirty, perhaps more. The Knight bowed; his eyes were dark and bloodshot and he seemed weary beyond words.
‘Are you well, sir?’ Errin asked.
‘Well enough, Lord Errin.’
‘Your armour will wear you down. Tonight is a time for feasting and dancing.’
‘I do not dance. I am here to inspect the Duchy on behalf of the King. Dancing I leave to others. But do not concern yourself about my armour; it never leaves me. That is part of an oath I have sworn.’
‘I see,’ said Errin. ‘Tell me your name, sir, so that we may introduce you?’
The Knight hesitated for a moment, then responded with a swift, almost shy, smile. ‘My name is... Cairbre.’
Errin, resplendent in hose and doublet of blue silk shot with silver, sat at the Duke’s left hand during the Feast of Welcome, the Red Knight taking his place on the Duke’s right. There were some thirty of the Duke’s retainers present at the great square table, nobles all, from minor gentlemen of the Duchy to Knights of the Order. Errin had surpassed himself and the food, as all agreed, was exquisite: giant mushrooms, filled with minced beef and coated with Northern Duchy cheese; ten roast swans; honeyed ham, spiced beef and cakek of surpassing sweetness. But Errin noticed that the Knight scarcely touched his food, and asked for water to replace the wine he was served.
The Duke grew more ill at ease during the feast and was unable to draw his guest into any lengthy conversation. Finally he gave up altogether and turned his attention to Errin.
‘Splendidly organized! Fit for a king,’
‘There are blankets close by. I’ll have them fetched,’ said Errin.
‘There is no need.’
‘I beg to differ, sir Knight. The horse is cold.’
The Red Knight swung on Errin. ‘Do not touch him again. I do not like to see others place their hands upon what is mine.’
‘As you please,’ said Errin. ‘What is your name?’
‘I am the King’s messenger. You, I take it, are Errin, the Lord of the Feast?’
‘I am.’
‘Show me to my rooms. And have a woman brought to me... a young woman.’
‘With respect, sir Knight, I am not a procurer of women. There are many inns in Mactha, and many women who sell their services. I would suggest you attend to the Duke and then make your way there after the Feast of Welcome.’
The Knight stood silently for a moment. ‘You are quite right, Errin,’ he said at last. ‘I am tired after my journey, and my... manners are lacking.’
‘Think nothing of it, sir. Let me show you to your rooms,’ replied Errin coolly.
In the main room a fire blazed and a hip-bath had been filled with warmed, scented water. Errin left the Knight to prepare himself and rejoined the Duke in the great hall.
‘What a humourless, mannerless dolt!’ stormed the Duke. ‘Is the King trying to insult me, do you think?’
‘I would think not, my Lord. The King has always held you in high esteem — and quite rightly. Perhaps the Knight is tired; he did apologize to me at the stable.’
‘Yes - and that’s another matter. His horse is to be stabled alone! Is this a prince among horses?’
‘It is.a strange beast, my Lord. When the other horses were being led away, they seemed terrified of it. I think that is what he was thinking of.’
‘Well, his attitude will not do, Errin. I am of a mind to write to the King about him.’
‘Might I suggest - respectfully — that you suspend judgement until we have seen him again? The King obviously favours and trusts him.’
‘Wise words, Errin. But he would do well to show good manners this time.’
‘I am sure that he will, my Lord.’
As he spoke, the Crimson Knight came into view at the top of the staircase. He was still in full armour, but had removed his helm. His face was ivory pale and extraordinarily beautiful, his hair white and cropped close to his skull. He seemed in his early twenties. Errin moved forward, greeting him with a smile. Seen closer he looked older - perhaps thirty, perhaps more. The Knight bowed; his eyes were dark and bloodshot and he seemed weary beyond words.
‘Are you well, sir?’ Errin asked.
‘Well enough, Lord Errin.’
‘Your armour will wear you down. Tonight is a time for feasting and dancing.’
‘I do not dance. I am here to inspect the Duchy on behalf of the King. Dancing I leave to others. But do not concern yourself about my armour; it never leaves me. That is part of an oath I have sworn.’
‘I see,’ said Errin. ‘Tell me your name, sir, so that we may introduce you?’
The Knight hesitated for a moment, then responded with a swift, almost shy, smile. ‘My name is... Cairbre.’
Errin, resplendent in hose and doublet of blue silk shot with silver, sat at the Duke’s left hand during the Feast of Welcome, the Red Knight taking his place on the Duke’s right. There were some thirty of the Duke’s retainers present at the great square table, nobles all, from minor gentlemen of the Duchy to Knights of the Order. Errin had surpassed himself and the food, as all agreed, was exquisite: giant mushrooms, filled with minced beef and coated with Northern Duchy cheese; ten roast swans; honeyed ham, spiced beef and cakek of surpassing sweetness. But Errin noticed that the Knight scarcely touched his food, and asked for water to replace the wine he was served.
The Duke grew more ill at ease during the feast and was unable to draw his guest into any lengthy conversation. Finally he gave up altogether and turned his attention to Errin.
‘Splendidly organized! Fit for a king,’
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