The Knight Behind the Pillar Read online

  While he might have been seeking comfort from the fire, he appeared to be preoccupied and staring outwards to look beyond the stone encased room. Was this was the lad the man commanded I was not to leave? Conversation between the noble and me along with having been pushed into the room as well as the door slamming shut should have been enough to gain this person’s attention, but he obviously ignored it all. Forced instead to seek audience, I coughed purposefully with reasonable loudness. His body tensed for fleeting moment as his focus returned to the room. A worried thin face with short scruffy fair hair slowly turned and hunted to find me. However, his eyes avoided immediate contact dropping to find the floor of more interest and I instantly wondered if he was nervous or perhaps shy.

  Surprisingly my own tensions had lifted as I quickly realised that I was free of all duties. Not faced with being reprimanded, at least not for now, just like that the day got a lot brighter.

  A mischievous smile surfaced as the worries of the early hours were quickly forgotten as I knew deep down that this day was going to be a different day after all.

  “I’m Tor, squire to Lord Aries.” I introduced myself, “Well, one of them anyways as there are a number of us.”

  My voice was light, welcoming and I even stepped forward boldly offering my hand. Despite the noise of the crowd that drifted in through the cracks of the window shutters, the following silence was deafening as I awaited a reply. I feared I had perhaps gone too far in my welcome and bravery influenced by my change in fortune, but could not see how I might have offended him. I guessed the lad, as the noble at the door described, was similar in age to me, near sixteen or maybe a bit older. He wore a dark blue tunic long sleeved and longer in overall length than my own that passed his knees. It also appeared to be in a slightly better condition with good patchwork repairs compared to my unattended holes that too often appeared. Therefore I deducted that this boy was at least a squire or similar, but why he needed to be attended and why he was in this room?

  This was out of the ordinary indeed and the question alerted my curiosity and I was ignoring my own internal voice that once again warmed me that such interest had always lead to trouble before. In this life you do not ask, do not speculate on matters not your concern and that was most things. To be fair that old voice sounded these days like it had given up hope of ever being heard as I never listened. I always asked, always wondered what things were, how things worked and yet against all odds had managed to stay alive up to now.

  “I’m,” The boy began with a momentary pause, fighting shyness again or perhaps just taking caution in respect of a stranger. What released him was unclear, but he then continued in a rush, everything all at once, “Art, its short for Arthur, but most people call me Art, that is, well that’s if they bother with my name at all; at least that was the case up until a few days ago and now everyone knows it. Sorry, err, I mean to say hey.”

  I didn’t quite catch everything he said in the outpouring of his words as a result of some stressful time of late I guessed, but I took it as a good sign as he took my outreached hand with a quick single shake before letting go. His hands were those of someone who worked, a little rough and yet unexpectedly red. This new information failed to give me a clue to why he was in this room. Nevertheless he had given me a shortened version of his name and that was unusual, but a good sign. Another question, maybe this stranger wanted to be or needed a friend? He certainly seemed a bit fed up, distracted and very lost.

  “Tor’s not short for anything, that’s my name I mean. Tor, that is and it is as short as it. Most don’t use it at all around here either or know it unless describing a hill.” I said purposefully echoing him a little and chancing some humour. And then my patience for scouting around for answers and being light hearted ran out all ran out at once. I decided to be far more direct. “So where have you come from then, I’ve not seen you here before?”

  “Oh, err, we’ve just travelled from Londonium. Arrived last night or it might’ve been morning, it was late nonetheless.” Arthur answered absently and far slower now, but not giving to much away.

  It was as if I was losing his attention, his focus was shifted away to the wall again and I pursued it stepping around a little to stay in sight.

  “Do you know about what’s going on then?” I continued to question, trying to sound cheerful, “There’s so many people arriving, been like that for a few days now. Never known anything like it, rumours of course flying everywhere…..”

  I stopped talking when I looked back to Arthur’s lightly freckled face that had dropped away. I knew at once my guess was on solid ground and he knew something important about what was happening outside. He didn’t reply straight away, his blue eyes with a worried tint glanced away from the walls to look across the room and I found myself looking the same way. Next to the fireplace was a simple table, old blankets had been discarded under it, but on top an old sword had been placed. It glowed of red as it reflected the flames of the fire.

  “I,” Arthur’s head plummeted a little further still as he struggled to find some words, “I think they might be wanting to see me or…., well I’m not sure.” He paused again and after a deep breath admitted reluctantly. “You see I took that sword.”

  Arthur now looked up again towards the table. The sword was clearly tarnished I could see that from where I stood and I could not help thinking how much polishing time would be needed to restore it having had to do Aries’ armour almost daily. Looking closer, the red glow of the sword was partly due to rust as a much as it reflected the fire light. The worst of deterioration being around the cross-guard and lower part of sword near the hilt. I approached it with increased alertness, like it might without warning jump up and attack me. Any decoration or makers mark that might have once existed within the blade had gone, if applied at all. The grip covering of leather was tatty and worn, parts of the blade shaft the leather once sought to protect the hand from were now exposed. The cross-guard itself was an uncomplicated block. Certainly there was nothing special about the sword and its current condition that included many dents and cuts towards the tip of the blade.

  Satisfied it was nothing of worth I looked back to Arthur. “What, you stole it?” I bluntly asked now being serious, but regretted the accusation as soon as I had spoken.

  “No!” Arthur replied swiftly and loudly in defence and his forehead creased into a frown in determination of his defence. For the first time I felt I had his complete attention. “It was in a rock, abandoned. I thought it might have once been a grave or tribute to a knight or something, it was just sticking up at the top. So I just pulled it out, but was going to put it back afterwards.”

  “Why? I mean, why did you need it, especially that old thing?” I asked a little baffled.

  Arthur sighed again and began to wander about the room. The noise of the gathering outside was an obvious distraction to him again. I reflected later that being put in a room and told to wait not knowing what was happening and listening to an increasing crowd of strangers outside was nothing less than cruel. He gave me a curious look as if to say do I really want to tell an unknown squire who had just been in the room for a couple of minutes my entire life story, but I guessed the answer was yes as he continued after a very long pause. After all I was not going anywhere as I was under orders to attend him.

  “The grand tournament, I was there with my brother and father.” Said Arthur, putting events in order in his head. He sounded very tired and drained. “Kay, that’s my brother, was entered and was about to start his first round, but we couldn’t find his sword. Father wasn’t around to borrow his at the time and so I started to run around trying to find him or another sword somehow, somewhere. I don’t know what happened to Kay’s, still don’t. Of course none of the other knights were going to let me borrow any of theirs, why would they if it meant Kay, you know their competition, couldn’t fight. I didn’t have much time or any coin to buy one and then from nowhere there it was. It was just sticking up out of these r
ocks; I spotted between the tents near the top of the jousting field and before the woods.”

  The description of the location was wasted on me as I had never been to the grand tournament. However, I had heard of the event. There were many jousting tournaments, most were for local knights or even for just squires, but the grand tournament at Londonium attracted the best knights to challenge each other from all over the land and some even came from across seas to be there.

  “You took an old sword out of a rock that might have been part of grave or worst even cursed. Ha, you were brave,” I questioned the sense of Arthur’s actions, not sure if I did believe the tale and added, “or a fool.”

  Arthur ignored me, which I was glad about. I did not believe such things about curses myself really, they were stories to scare young children.

  “I didn’t think. I needed a sword and this one was just there! I didn’t think it was cursed or even out of the ordinary at the time or I wouldn’t have touched it. Of course I do now. It’s not something you find everyday, you know swords’ just sticking out of rocks and it isn’t normal. But then I just saw it and thought why not borrow it. I ran to it and pulled it out. I remember thinking it might be a broken sword discarded by someone at first and it just looked like it was in the rock because of how it landed, but the whole thing came out easily.”

  He fell silent and I studied his face full of thought, maybe regret. I needed to know more, I had lots of questions, what happened next, why it was so important and something to do with everyone outside? I could not understand any of it yet, but I did not want to push further as by the look of Arthur he would collapse under the sheer weight of whatever it was. Instead we both ended up staring at the sword for a moment more.

  “Are you hungry, I am,” I suddenly interrupted the silence.

  I didn’t know what else to say about the sword and needed to give my head some time to think and perhaps Arthur some room to say more in his own time.

  “Starved,” Admitted Arthur glad of a diverting thought, “but I think I have to stay here.”

  “Really! Because you pulled out some old sword?” I said flatly.

  “No, because I pulled out a sword that they think was meant for a king!” Arthur exclaimed in frustration and unexpectedly wanted me to understand the gravity of his predicament. The word king echoed around the room, or at least it did in my head. “That’s what they’re saying and some think I am you know, I might be their king…”

  Arthur looked very serious and I had gained an incredible answer for the questions I had. After the initial shock of such a statement I took a moment more to considered the facts before finally shaking my head screwing up my noise.

  “King,” I stated and then started to snigger, “Don’t be daft. You can’t be made king because you find some rotten old sword, that’s not the way it’s done. You’re born into it, trust me I know that much.” Then I quickly changed the subject. “Look, do you want some food or not, the kitchens aren’t far. Besides, if you have to do as you’re told you can’t be a king. All the kings I have ever heard of are always right, give orders and don’t go hungry.”

  A shy smile dawned on Arthur; I didn’t doubt this was the first for some time. “I guess so. If I am king then I can’t be in trouble and if I am still a squire then there is no reason why we shouldn’t be in the kitchens.” Arthur painstaking measured, or more likely to convince himself to leave. Yet he resisted a little further. “Except, Sir Briant told us to stay here and kept the door locked.”

  I returned a big grin. “No he didn’t. He told me to stay with you and kept the door locked,” I replied mischievously and slowly headed towards the wood panelling to the side of the fireplace as I spoke. The voice in my head was ringing a peel of bells in warning which I continued to ignore.

  This was normal territory for me, thinking on my feet and still getting in trouble even if my arguments were sound. Feeling around the side of the wood then pulling part of the surround, the panel came away with some effort revealing a part stone and timber narrow staircase I knew would be there. The servant’s access door and staircase clearly had not been used of late given the dust and cobwebs. Darkness and a cold draughts were not as inviting as some cheese, bread or even soup that the journey’s end would perhaps produce. “See, I am going to be with you and that door is going to stay locked,” I continued, pointing at the room entrance to the far side. “We’re going the servant path, unless that’s beneath your highness.”

  “A king has to eat.” Arthur retorted with a thoughtful nod of his head.

  Arthur was an adventurer at heart after all, I applauded to myself. He picked up a candle from the side of the room and shielding the flame with one hand pushed pass me as I offered mock bowing.

  “Please mind your step and be careful of your fine clothes your highness.” I teased

  “There’re in a better state than yours.” He answered back stepping through and down.

  I looked down at the state of my tunic and sadly could not disagree as much I wish I could. I was briefly crestfallen, but dismissing the truth of it I followed Arthur into the stairwell.

  The stairs were exceptionally steep and not very even. There was no hand rail or rope, which would have been an expense wasted on servants, but it was not needed as the ceiling being the under croft of the stairs above was so low you could hold on to it. You needed to accept scraped knuckles as you descended and the occasional exceptionally low beam determined to knock you out. The candle struggled to be helpful; instead the cloud of dust that followed us was thick enough to fear setting alight. Feeling your way down the steps was the only real option. Two or three floors down, it was hard to tell, the feeling of being trapped in part of a wall ended with a shallow splash in something wet that had gathered at the base of the stairs. Our two sets of eyes had by now adjusted to the gloom and we could see indication of a door ahead outlined by thin beams of light that flickered as people passed.

  Familiar endless hallways were unveiled as I found myself resorting to kicking the timber door to get it open. Despite the area being full of people, no one noticed the two figures stepping out what looked like from the outside a small storage cupboard door to the side of the corridor. Arthur gingerly followed me as I boldly set off towards the kitchens. Experience had told me, no one questioned those who looked like they were meant to be there. Most of the time it worked until they recognise you and remember they sent you away before and wondered why it was you were there again or not doing what they asked in the first place! As we travelled on I noticed the narrow window slits in the many walls were letting in sunlight across our path and that daybreak had finally come.

  Arriving at the kitchens was like approaching an enemy onslaught at the height of battle. People, cups, plates, legs, arms rushed around a large central table and battled against each other. You did well to avoid being burned by steaming pots or caught by protruding forks and knives. There was a mix of pleasant cooking that was tainted with the odour of sweat, dirt and yelling of the cooks all in the single inhale of breath. Arthur and I edged around the chaos to a quiet corner of the big room, having expertly seized some food pickings. Backs to the wall the Arthur followed my indication to drop the floor and we sat as unnoticed as you can be in plain sight. A chuck of cheese, not so stale beard and even an apple each represented a successful hunt.

  “We will have to find something to drink as well in while.” I offered with my mouth full.

  The voices of the kitchens continued around us, but we enjoyed some breathing space within the eye of the storm.

  “Is it always this busy?” Arthur asked between mouthfuls.

  “No, but it’s not often you come your majestic almightiness.” I sniggered once more at Arthur’s expense.

  “Shut up, I mean it, just, just shut up” Arthur responded aggregately, but not with anger. He was at once crestfallen again and went on to say. “I am in so much trouble.”

  At once I felt guilty. The truth was that I had no idea w
hat was going on and it turned out nor did he, despite being the centre of it. It was just some old sword, what was the harm? Not that this mattered as I also knew the absence of harm mattered little if you found yourself in the wrong place and at the wrong time. Even if you were in right place and time, yet someone above you decides you were not, it was never a good situation to be in. If asked, I would have to admit I was glad not to be in his shoes. I was beginning to suspect that I was taking a risk to be found in the same place he occupied, but it was not often someone was trying to make you a king and I was a little intrigued.

  I tried to be positive, again. “Look, you and I just walked passed lots and lots of people and no one knew or cared who you are. They’ll work it all out in the end and have probably forgotten about you already. Briant was it? He seemed to be under the impression he and you had been forgotten and wasn’t sticking around. So what if the sword was meant for some king, they will take the rusted thing and perhaps have a competition for it or something. It all sounds like a big mistake to me or even a poor joke. It’ll just be a case of working out who to give it to, or something like that.” I assured him, and then hoped he might tell me a little more now. “What actually happened after you took the sword?”

  Arthur sighed and took a bite of an apple before deciding to tell me. “I took it to Kay, who said it was worst than useless given the state of it, but shortly after my father came back at last and he found it really interesting.”

  “Interesting?”

  “Not in a good way. He seemed more shocked by it than anything and he took the sword with him out of the tent and moments later rushed back pulling me and Kay back over to the rocks. The same ones I had found it. Some other knights had come along as well and they put the sword back and made me take it out again. Then some of them tried to do the same and couldn’t. It started to get a bit tense between them, shouting broke out and a bit commotion. Before I understood the problem my father told me to take the sword and Kay then rushed me over to the horses. A group of us then travelled together, others joined on route and we came to here. It took a while, my hands still hurt from all the riding. Yet so far all I have seen is stables, the room and now the kitchens.”