The High-Tech Knight aocs-2 Read online

  "But, sir knight. . "

  I ground the point of my sword into the floor, twisting it. He darted out to his shop. I followed.

  Once he had a fire going in his forge, he said, "But I have forgotten! I have no more iron! I used the last of it Thursday and no more will come until tomorrow."

  "No iron? Then we must find you some. Hmmm… the hinges on this door are iron. It's a start." I ripped the door from the frame and threw it at him. It's a pity to have to use such techniques on such a sniveling wretch, but he had exhausted my patience.

  "But that's not nearly enough and hinges are so hard to make!"

  There were plenty of iron tools about, but I hate to deprive a man of his livelihood. I stalked back to his house. "That crucifix is iron."

  "But that was blessed by the priest! We can't…"

  "No, I guess we can't. Those candlesticks… the two of them will make a shoe and nails and we can spare your hinges."

  "But I made those for my wife!"

  "If your wife demands gimcracks while you lack the wherewithal of your trade, she deserves a good beating! Take them!"

  It was eight hours of welding and forging, filing and fitting before my horse was shod. While I waited, his wife returned. I sent her out for wine and meat. Lent was over and I had a craving for a thick slab of roast pork.

  What I got was small beer and chicken, the best-she claimed-to be had in that festering dump.

  Finally, it was past none when I saddled Witchfire.

  The blacksmith ran up. "But sir knight, you owe me for the shoeing!"

  "The last time I had a shoe put on, it cost me eight silver pennies, so that's what I'll pay. And here's another penny for the meal, though it wasn't worth it." I rose to the saddle.

  "But the candlesticks alone were worth twice this!"

  "Then next time be better prepared." I rode out of town. Actually, I'd paid him half the money I had. My father was not a wealthy man.

  We were an hour getting back to the main trail and though we pushed on as fast as I dared, darkness overtook us many miles from our destination. I had failed. There was no moon and perforce my charger and I spent yet another night under a tree.

  The tierce bell was ringing as we rode into Okoitz. An old friend was at the gate; we embraced and exchanged the kiss of friendship.

  "Sir Vladimir! You arrive late!"

  "Aye, Sir Lestko. Witchfire threw a shoe and finding a smith on Easter… But I must apologize to Count Lambert. Where is he?"

  "Your apology will be delayed as well; Lambert left at gray dawn to make his spring rounds. He may not return for months."

  "Damn! Damn and thrice damn!"

  "Fear not at all. Lambert said that if you arrived today, all would be well; but if not, we should search for you on the morrow. He knows no son of your father would fail him."

  "Sir Lestko, we serve the finest lord in Christendom."

  "Agreed. But come. You have just time to wash off the road dust before dinner."

  We entered the bailey where a vast tower was under construction. "What on Earth is that thing?"

  "A device of Sir Conrad's planning. They say it will suck power from the winds and force it to do man's bidding."

  "That smacks of witchcraft."

  "Sir Conrad claims not, though by all accounts, he's as much warlock as warrior and a giant besides."

  "Sir Conrad? Is he the man that killed the brigand, Sir Rheinburg?"

  "Rheinburg and his entire band and each killed with a single blow of the sword!"

  "Unbelievable!" I said.

  "But true. That German bastard's arms are in the storeroom here without a mark on them. Sir Conrad caught him straight through the eyeslit and cut his skull in half without harming the helmet."

  "Some might call that luck."

  "Not when he killed all the others besides. I tell you he brought in four suits of armor and all of them intact save for bloodstains."

  "What manner of man is he?"

  "I haven't met him yet myself, having arrived only a day before you. They say he's in Cieszyn and will return in a week or two. I must watch the gate until sext, but you go up to the castle; the ladies will see to your comfort."

  "Indeed!" I asked, "Is Lambert's board and bed all they say it is?"

  "Better. He has eight of them now and there are only five of us knights to keep them pleasured."

  "The poor things." I grinned. "Well, we can only do our best."

  No one met me at the castle door, but a remarkable noise was coming from within. It sounded like a dozen mad drummers going at once, or like carpenters trying to be musicians. I followed the sound to the great hall and found there an incomprehensible flurry of activity.

  There was a great table around which sat a half dozen pretty wenches. Each had a cartwheel in front of her that seemed to spin of its own accord. There were big balls of wool and complicated arrangements of thread and spools spinning with astounding speed.

  Unconsciously, I made the sign of the cross.

  Against one wall, two more ladies worked a great wooden machine of incredible complexity, with thousands of strings and levers and moving parts.

  Against the wall opposite stood three huge bolts of cloth.

  One of the girls at the spinning wheels noticed my entrance, stopped her work and greeted me.

  "What… what is all this?" I asked.

  "Lambert's loom and spinning wheels, of course. Our lord would have us make our own cloth and stop paying our silver to those awful Waloons. You must be Sir Vladimir. Let me show you to your room."

  As she led me down a hallway I said, "These wheels and such. They are something this Sir Conrad has built?"

  "Who else?"

  "You know him then?"

  "I don't exactly know him." She rolled her eyes and grinned. "I mean I was still only a peasant girl when he left, but I hear he's just marvelous!"

  "But you've seen him?"

  "Oh, yes. He's enormously tall and absolutely beautiful!"

  "I fail to see how a man can be beautiful."

  "Then you haven't seen Sir Conrad. This will be your room." She scurried about, seeing that the water pitcher was filled and the chamber pot was empty. The place was remarkably clean, with a huge bed, a stool, and a wash stand.

  "This will do nicely. Uh, would you help me get out of this armor? This is my first chance to remove it in three days. Two nights sleeping in chain mail is entirely too much."

  "Of course, Sir Vladimir… Oh. You need a good scrubbing, besides."

  "That is a glorious thought." I sat on the stool and she gave me a thorough sponge bath. Very thorough.

  Once dry, I sat on the bed and said, "I'll rest a bit. Take off your dress and join me."

  "I thought you'd never ask."

  Much later I said, "That was good, wench. Very good. "

  "Thank you, my lord. Ah. There's the dinner bell. We must dress."

  "Right." I got into my tunic and hose. "Uh, what is your name?"

  "Annastashia."

  At dinner I met Sir Bodan, a friend of my father, and he introduced me to Sir Frederick and Sir Stefan. They each sat down with a woman by their sides, so I bid Annastashia join me.

  "I believe I'm still senior here and so am in command," Sir Bodan said. "Sir Vladimir, I observe that you have arrived late. In punishment for this, you shall take the graveyard shift and watch the gate from matins to prime."

  "This seems just, my lord." I downed a bowl of beer and motioned for it to be refilled.

  "Well, somebody has to do it."

  "I make no complaint. But tell me more of this Sir Conrad."

  "He does seem to be the main subject of conversation hereabouts," Bodan said. "First off, he rides a mare."

  I stifled a giggle. "A mare?"

  "A mare. Furthermore, they tell as many stories about the horse as they do of the rider. She refuses to be shod and goes without horseshoes, yet she gallops over rocks without splaying her hoofs. She doesn't soil her stall, b
ut removes the bar and goes out in the bailey like a house-broken dog. Then she returns to her stall, and replaces the bar!"

  "Incredible!"

  "She is fully war-trained and Conrad claims that two of his kills were made by her alone. Yet she has no objection to wearing a horse collar and working with the peasants. And under her influence, Count Lambert's best stallion hauled logs last winter, two warhorses guided by a single little peasant girl. The commoners here claim the mare is so intelligent that she can talk!"

  "What?"

  "Oh, it's just a matter of shaking and nodding her head. Yet she does it in response to questions; myself, I think it just a carnival trick. "

  "But what of the man himself? Who are his people?"

  "That's another mystery. It seems that some priest laid a geise on him, that he may not tell of his origins. Some say that he is a socialist, though it is not clear just what that means. It might refer to his country, his military order, or his religious sect. Myself, I think it must be a religious sect, for he is uncommonly gentle with children, peasants, and other animals."

  "All we really know is that he came out of the east in the company of a merchant, Boris Novacek."

  "Ah. I know the man."

  "Then you know that Boris is no fool and that he wouldn't lie unless there was a profit in it."

  "True."

  "Well, Boris claims he took this true belted knight out of a monastery in Cracow, where he was engaged in writing books."

  "A knight who can read and write? That's unmanly!"

  "There's nothing unmanly about him, though he claims to have spent seventeen years as a student in schools."

  "Indeed. How old is this Conrad?" The beef stew was excellent.

  "He claims to be thirty, but he looks no older than you and there's not a scar on his body. Then there is his equipage. They say he has a pavilion light enough to hold in the palm of your hand; it's said to have the property of keeping out noxious insects. He has silver pots and plates, lighter than a cobweb. He has a knife with a dozen blades that fold to a size smaller than your finger. He has another instrument of the same size that produces fire at the touch of a lever and a sleeping cloak that grows shut to keep the cold out. He gave Sir Miesko a device with a needle that always points north, to guide him in the dark. That needle burns with a green fire but never is it consumed."

  "I could have used that last night," I said. The beer was truly fine.

  Sir Bodan ignored me. "He gave Lambert an object that makes far things look close. Some of the girls here can show you incredibly tiny needles they had of him. And the peasants! He gave hundreds of parchment packages of seeds to the peasants, each package with writing and a beautiful painting on it. Most of the seeds are sprouting and there are some damn strange shoots coming up in Okoitz!"

  "He must be a man of great wealth."

  "Fabulous wealth. He arrived here with a chest of gold and silver worth 120,000 silver pence!"

  "Then… then why does he stay in a back woods place like Silesia?" I asked around the bread in my mouth.

  "Who knows why a wizard does what he does?"

  "Ah, yes. I saw his wheels and loom. He's a mighty wizard."

  "Yet there's no magic in those machines in the great hall. I've been over every inch of them and there's naught there but boards and thread. They're clever, mind you. Damned clever. But they're still just things of wool and wood."

  "Indeed?" A wench refilled my bowl.

  "Then there's Conrad's sword. It's a skinny thing with but a single edge, yet with it Count Lambert-in front of a hundred witnesses took the head off a fully grown pig with a single blow; and when Conrad became angered with a blacksmith, he chopped the anvil in half."

  "Well, I can sympathize with that," I said. "But you haven't told me much about the man himself."

  "I was coming to that." Bodan took another pull of beer. "He is huge and must duck his head to walk through that doorway. His hair is a dark blond and he wears it very short, inches above his shoulders. He has a proper moustache, but he shaves the rest of his face every day with a strange knife that never goes dull. Mostly, he wears ordinary clothes, but sometimes he dons garments of a thin, eldritch cut, with hundreds of buttons, clasps, and closures. There's something odd about his boots, though I haven't heard a good description of them."

  "You mean you haven't seen him yourself?"

  "What? No. None of us have, except for Sir Stefan and the wenches. Looking forward to it, but all I've told you is hearsay. Oh, yes. Besides all else, Conrad's a surgeon, a mathematician, and a great chess player. He beat Count Lambert for the first two dozen games they played and no one but he has beaten Lambert since. Ah. I've talked until my food got cold. You, girl! Throw this back into the pot and bring me more that's goodly hot."

  "Well, I know that foul warlock right well," Sir Stefan said. "Too well! I've served here since Christmas, almost every night from dusk to dawn without relief and I know the bastard for what he is."

  "Dusk to dawn?" I said. "Long hours! Weren't you to serve with Sir Miesko?"

  "Sir Miesko took Conrad's place in the service of a merchant, to do an errand for Count Lambert. Then Conrad bewitched Lambert with dreams of wealth and fame and spent his days building the warlock's gear that you see in the hall and bailey. I was forced to stand guard seven nights a week and they were long cold nights!"

  Sir Bodan said, "I've already shown that there's no witchcraft in those looms."

  "No witchcraft? Do you realize that Conrad used this very table we're now eating from and drenched it with human blood!"

  "I was there," Annastashia said quietly. "One of the men from the village was hurt while cutting down trees. His foot was all smashed. Sir Conrad had to cut it off and sew him up to save him."

  "And that peasant was dead within a month! The witch's rite didn't help much!" Stefan shouted.

  "But, Sir Conrad was trying…"

  "Shut up, wench!"

  We were quiet for a bit, then Annastashia said softly, "I remember Sir Conrad at the funeral of a peasant child. He cried."

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks slid pleasantly by. The weather was lovely; supplies of food and drink seemed inexhaustible; my fellow knights were excellent comrades; and the ladies, ah the ladies. I'd sampled them all by that point, but in the end I found that the best was at the beginning. I spent most of my nights with Annastashia. Well, my evenings at least, the graveyard shift being what it was.

  Often Annastashia would come to me when I was on duty; sometimes we would talk and sometimes we simply held hands and watched the stars wheel by. I was quite taken by her, although of course nothing could come of it. For all her absurd status as a "lady in-waiting," she was a peasant and I was a knight and my parents were very… traditional in their outlook. Yet… yet I tried not to think about my departure from Okoitz.

  I looked forward to meeting Sir Conrad with a mixture of joy at the arrival of a hero and of fear at the coming of a warlock; yet when I finally met him and got used to his astounding size, I found him to be the most courteous and pleasant knight that could possibly be.

  He had a fine voice and he knew thousands of songs; except on request, I don't think that he ever repeated himself. He could dance and recite poetry for hours. The ladies insisted that we learn his polka and mazurka and waltz. Sometimes Conrad would hire a few peasant musicians and we danced and laughed into the night.

  The warlocks of legend are all taciturn and secretive. Sir Conrad was eager to teach his skills to all comers, peasant and noble alike; I found his mechanic arts to be fascinating and in time I came to appreciate his reasons in the machines he planned, and even hoped that one day I would be able to imitate them.

  Yet in some ways he was decidedly odd. The peasants had stopped cock-fighting because "Conrad doesn't like it." The winter before, when Sir Stefan had brought in a bear for baiting-that is, to be tied to a stake and be ripped apart by the castle dogs for sport-Conrad attempted to purchase the bear, slew it
with a single stroke of his remarkable sword and ordered the hide to be tanned and the meat served for supper. He did not do this in sport. As he killed, they say, there was a look of great sadness on that noble face.

  Then there was his attitude toward children. Now, a normal man leaves children to the women until they are old enough to be human, but Conrad took great pleasure in their company, sometimes preferring it to that of his fellow knights. He always took time to explain what he was doing and never lost his temper with them as he often did with adults. He paid the priest to teach them their letters and taught mathematics himself. Moreover, he made them toys and taught them new games and sports.

  Conrad was an absolute master of the sword and soon he was teaching us regularly every afternoon. He disdained to use a shield, trusting only to his blade for blocking. Indeed, he had a low regard for the usefulness of armor! Yet he was absolutely ignorant of the use of the lance and was remarkably clumsy with one on horseback. Nor was he good with a bow, yet somehow these things only increased our affection for him; it was a joy to find that I was better than him at something!

  Lastly, there was Krystyana. She was a wench from Okoitz who had traveled to Cieszyn with Conrad. It was obvious that she was hopelessly in love with him; and somehow, much of his charm and courtesy had rubbed off on her, but in a most feminine way. She had the bearing and grace of a fine noblewoman to such an extent that none of the knights could treat her as a peasant girl, but accorded her the courtesies due to one of high rank.

  Soon, some of the other "ladies-in-waiting" began to imitate her, my Annastashia among them. I found this charming- indeed, I found everything that Annastashia did to be charming! — but the other knights often reacted oddly. To tumble a village wench was one thing. To have intercourse with a noblewoman was something else!

  Eventually Count Lambert returned, and with almost royal company, for with him rode his liege lord, Duke Henryk the Bearded, and that lord's son, young Prince Henryk, called the Pious. I was not privy to their conversations, but they stayed closeted with Sir Conrad for much of the afternoon.