So that was it! Tiuri recoiled as though he had been slapped in the face. Sir Ristridin’s final words were not enough to soften the vile accusation. He, Tiuri, the murderer of the Black Knight with the White Shield! Actually, it was more ridiculous than vile. And that was the first word Tiuri said as soon as he found his voice again.
“Ridiculous!” he whispered.
Now he had some understanding of the Grey Knights’ actions, but he still didn’t see how they could have made such an accusation.
“Well, then,” said the lord of Mistrinaut. “I think it’s about time we went inside. There’s no need for us to become even more soaked.” He walked up to Tiuri, placed his hand on his shoulder, and led him into the castle.
Tiuri meekly allowed himself to be guided. The Grey Knights and their squires followed them inside. The castle was not entirely deserted; now and then, Tiuri caught a glimpse of a curious face peeping around a corner. Before long, they were back in the room where he had met the Grey Knights for the first time. The table was laid and candles lit up the room.
The lord guided Tiuri to a chair and filled a cup, which he put down in front of him. “Here,” he said in a tone that was brisk, but not unfriendly. “Drink this.”
But Tiuri looked at the four Grey Knights, who sat down at the table with him, one by one, and he pushed the cup aside. The knights had taken off their helmets and opened their gorgets. Finally he could see them properly. The lord also filled their cups and said, “I suspected my guests might enjoy something to eat after all that has happened. Call it a meal of reconciliation.”
The Grey Knights did not touch their cups. They all looked at Tiuri as though they were waiting for him to speak.
Tiuri responded by looking at each of them in turn. He saw Ristridin, sitting opposite him; tall and lean, with a weathered, angular face. His curly black hair was already rather grey, but his blue eyes were young and bright. Beside him sat Bendu, large and strong, with dark hair and eyes and thick, menacing eyebrows. Sir Arwaut, beside Sir Bendu, resembled him; he was also sturdy and dark-haired, but he was young, less than twenty-five years old, and his eyes were lighter and friendlier. Sir Evan, who was sitting on the other side of Ristridin, was also young, with pale skin and eyes and very blond hair.
When Tiuri began to speak, he directed most of his words at Ristridin, who seemed to be their leader. “A meal of reconciliation,” he repeated. “You have treated me like a criminal! How did you come to make this accusation? And do you all now believe that it is false?”
Sir Ristridin nodded and Arwaut and Evan spoke as one: “Yes.”
But Bendu said, “What I believe does not matter. I want to know, not merely believe. You may very well be innocent, Tiuri, son of Tiuri, but treachery and deceit are often concealed behind an innocent face. And before I follow my friends and say yes, I would like to know who it was that murdered the Knight with the White Shield. You say it was the Red Riders, on the orders of the Black Knight with the Red Shield. But how do you know that?”
“He told me so himself,” answered Tiuri.
“Who did?”
“The Black Knight with the White Shield.”
“So you spoke to him?”
“I found him in the forest and I was with him when he died.”
“And how did that happen?”
Tiuri rose to his feet. He stood before the table and glared at Bendu, his expression both proud and a little angry. “Sir Bendu,” he said, “I ran away from the chapel where I was to spend my vigil on the eve of the ceremony that would make me a knight. I took a horse that did not belong to me and I rode away on it. I found the Knight with the White Shield and I was with him when he died. He told me who had murdered him and he gave me his ring. Soon after that, I encountered the Red Riders and they tried to murder me too, but I escaped. Then I rode through the forest to the west on the horse that had belonged to the Knight with the White Shield. That is all I can tell you. But I swear to you that my conscience is clear. Had I been knighted, I would swear it on my honour as a knight. Your accusation is as false as it is ridiculous!”
Bendu looked at him with a frown. “I see,” he growled. “So now we know. You may sit down.”
But Tiuri remained standing, even though he could feel his legs shaking. “I will not sit down,” he said, “until every one of you believes me! I am sorry I cannot give you a better explanation, but that is not possible.”
“We believe you,” said Sir Ristridin.
“Yes,” muttered Bendu. “We believe you.”
Tiuri was about to sit down, but then he remembered something. “In that case, give me back the ring,” he said. “The ring that belonged to the Knight with the White Shield.”
Sir Ristridin slowly took the ring from a pouch on his belt. “Here you are,” he said. “Please take it.”
Tiuri took the ring and clasped it in his hand. Then he sank back into his chair. A dreadful weariness washed over him. The fear and the tension of the past day had been too much for him. He picked up his cup in his shaking hand and took a large gulp. It was wine, which burned in his throat and then warmed his stomach. He looked again at the knights, who were all watching him and seemed rather ill at ease.
“We know the Red Riders were enemies of the Knight with the White Shield,” said Sir Ristridin, “as was their master, the Knight with the Red Shield. We also know about the challenge. But we had heard that the duel had a very different outcome.”
“There never was any duel,” said Tiuri.
“You need to know what we were told,” said Ristridin.
“I went looking for him, for the Knight with the Red Shield,” said Bendu. “The Knight with the White Shield had been found murdered and we knew who his enemy was. And I found the Knight with the Red Shield in the Royal Forest, to the south of the hunting lodge, together with half a dozen of his Red Riders. I asked him to lift his visor and to tell me what he had done to his opponent, the Knight with the White Shield. He removed his helmet, but he was wearing a black mask.”
“Another mask,” murmured Tiuri.
“He was wearing a black mask,” Bendu continued. “And he said, ‘I am sorry, sir knight, but I cannot remove my mask. As for the Knight with the White Shield, I challenged him to a duel. There’s no law against that! But I have to confess that he defeated me. I fell flat on my face! And for the second time. But when I meet him a third time, I shall defeat him!’ And then I said, ‘But the Knight with the White Shield is dead!’ He looked at me, but the mask hid his expression. ‘Dead?’ he replied. ‘I cannot say that the news saddens me. You know he was my enemy.’ And so I said, ‘He was murdered! And I would like to know where your Red Riders were last night and what they know about this.’ But he became angry. ‘They are here!’ he shouted. ‘And they have been by my side constantly.’ So I said I believed he had other men in his company, but then he yelled, ‘Do you dare to suggest that I or my men had a hand in this murder? Do you dare to say that I would dishonour my knighthood? The Knight with the White Shield was my enemy and I would have killed him if I could, but in an honest fight!’ And his Red Riders closed ranks and stood around him with threatening expressions. But I said, ‘A brave knight has been slain and everyone, friend or foe, must grieve for the way it happened. As for you, sir knight with the mask, I cannot judge you, because I do not know you. But I do not like that you have brought your feud to the Kingdom of Dagonaut! Return to the land of Eviellan, whence you came, and fight on your own soil or in the Kingdom of Unauwen!’ He laughed and said, ‘Should the same not apply to the Knight with the White Shield? He too was a stranger in your land and had no business here. I shall depart now. But one last thing: my Red Riders should not be your only suspects! A man like the Knight with the White Shield has many enemies. He knew too much about many things. Danger lurked wherever he went, even in the most innocent of forms. I was far from the only man who wished him dead! And finally, remember this: he was my enemy, but I respected and admired him, and you may write that on his gravestone.’”
Bendu paused before concluding, “And the Knight with the Red Shield rode away with his men and I could not stop him, as I had no one with me but Sir Arwaut and my squire. But I was not pleased! I did not know who he was, but I distrusted him, although I did not believe at the time that he had killed his enemy in such a treacherous way.”
“I met another group of Red Riders,” said Ristridin, “and they, too, strongly denied knowing anything about the murder. But then one of them came after me and confided that he had more to say. This, in short, is his story: their master, the Knight with the Red Shield, lost the duel and left, but he told a number of the Red Riders to keep an eye on his enemy. It was those men who found the Knight with the White Shield murdered. However, they were afraid that they would be accused, so they fled. The Red Rider also informed me of a young traveller who had been spying on the Knight with the White Shield for a while; apparently, for some reason this fellow wanted the ring that the knight wore. The young man had been in the area on that fateful night, and they had all seen him and even tried to apprehend him, but he had fled. Then, at the Yikarvara Inn, we heard about a young man who had stolen a horse, who had been acting strangely and who was indeed wearing the ring on his finger. He had fled and had most likely taken the horse Ardanwen with him.”
“Then later, in the city, there was talk of a young man who had run away from the chapel,” said Sir Bendu. “People thought it a most peculiar affair, but his friends and his father, and even the king, did not believe he was capable of any wrongdoing. For my part, I still believe it was outrageous behaviour and broke every rule. I was sure this son of Tiuri could easily be the same individual as the horse thief who had made off with the ring.”
“Whereas I found it hard to believe,” said Ristridin. “The son of Tiuri had been found worthy of being a knight, which was at odds with these stories about a thief and a murderer.”
“But we agreed that the young man who was on the run, whoever he was, must be the murderer,” said Bendu.
“Our story would be too long if we told you our other reasons,” said Ristridin. “The real murderers and their accomplices have cunningly spun a web of suspicion around you.”
Tiuri had listened closely to their words. The Red Riders and their master had indeed been cunning! They had ensured that others were also pursuing him, while shifting suspicion from themselves. They were probably still lying in ambush for him. He had seen some of them riding to the west, and maybe they were waiting for him somewhere along the way.
“And now you know why we suspected you,” said Ristridin. “I hope you do not intend to remain angry with us. You are still young and you have not seen the things we have seen. As Bendu says, treachery can lurk behind the most innocent of faces.”
“No,” said Tiuri quietly. “I am not angry.” He didn’t even know if that was true; his feelings were so confused. He stared at the ring that had belonged to the Knight with the White Shield and slid it onto his finger.
“So, let us eat and drink,” said the lord.
Tiuri emptied his cup of wine, but he couldn’t swallow a morsel of food. He was thinking about everything Ristridin and Bendu had told him and he realized there were still many things he didn’t know. Who was the Black Knight with the White Shield? The Grey Knights had known him. They wanted to avenge his death. He would have liked to ask them, but he didn’t dare. His ignorance might surprise the knights and arouse their suspicions once again. They didn’t seem to know anything about the letter and he couldn’t say anything that might alert them to his mission. So he remained silent and leant back in his chair. He really was very tired.
The lord of Mistrinaut stood up and walked over to him. “Young man,” he said, “perhaps it would be wise for you to withdraw to your sleeping quarters. Tomorrow, after a good night’s rest, there will be more time for talking and for questions. Come with me.”
As if in a dream, Tiuri stood up and followed him. The knights also got up and wished him goodnight. The lord led him to another part of the castle and up many stairs.
“I have made you do a lot of climbing,” said the lord as he opened a door for Tiuri, “but this is my son’s room. I thought you might like it. He is not at home now, but serving as a squire with one of Dagonaut’s knights. How old are you, Tiuri?”
“Sixteen,” he replied.
“My son is only fourteen, but I hope he will grow up to be as brave as you. Sleep well, young man!”
And, with those words, he left Tiuri.
The room was cosy and welcoming. The bed, with its clean white sheets, had been turned down. Two candles illuminated the room; one on the table beside the bed and one on the washstand, where two jugs of water stood waiting beside the basin, one hot and one cold. As Tiuri was exploring the room, there was a knock at the door and a woman came in.
“I have come to see if everything is to your liking,” she said. “This is our son Sigirdiwarth’s room.”
Tiuri bowed and thanked her. As she smiled, he realized how much Lavinia resembled her mother. Then she kindly wished him goodnight and left the room.
Tiuri removed his clothes and had a wash. He had been in bed for less than a minute when he fell into a deep, deep sleep.