Cublar, the coal miner, was having a luxurious feast in his old crummy shack of a house, with the door carefully locked and windows covered. The crudely made table that normally didn’t see much except for bread and watery barley soup today boasted two roasted chickens, a large platter of baked potatoes, and several bottles of wine. A frying pan full of eggs and bacon hissed in the oven; right next to the table stood a large basket with vegetables, two kinds of cheese, a large chunk of ham, and a jar of honey.
“This is good,” the miner talked to himself, sipping wine. “This is the life I like…”
Although it was warm in the house, Cublar was dressed in a rich shiny fur coat. Another fur coat just like that was spread over his bed, and items laid out on it were not exactly something one would expect to see in a modest home of a poor coal miner: a pearl necklace, a costly gilded dagger, and a horse bridle decorated with silver.
“This is the life I like,” Cublar kept muttering, grinning, already getting drunk. “That’s what I call fair… Why can’t I be rich? I’m not any worse than the rich folk…”
He rose, took the frying pan from the oven and placed it on the table.
“They’ve got everything—money, gold, silver… And I should be digging coal day after day? I don’t think so!” He slammed his hand on the table and shook his head. “That’s not gonna work! I will be rich, too… I’ll buy whatever I want! Dress like a lord… Have feasts every day… I will hire myself servants!”
Cublar moved the basket with food closer, took out the ham, pulled from behind his belt a new knife with an ivory handle and cut himself a large piece. He wasn’t hungry anymore, the chicken he had was quite enough, but he couldn’t stop in his drunk greedy arrogance.
“I wish I had thought of it earlier! But it’s all right, I’ll make up for the lost time. I will show them what Cublar is worth… I will show them all!”
He threw away the empty bottle and reached for another one, but then stopped, changing his mind, and gave a sly wink. “Ah, no… That would be enough for now. I need a clear head tonight. The night is dark, perfectly dark… I don’t want to miss such a night.”
Footsteps squeaked outside in the snow; in a moment someone knocked on the door.
Cublar jerked his head up. “Who’s that?”
“It’s me,” a man’s voice replied. “Come on, let me in, it’s cold out here!”
“I’m coming…”
The coal miner shook off his fur coat, grabbed the other one together with the things on it and stuffed it all under the bed. The basket with food went there as well, and the remaining wine bottles. Having covered the leftover chicken with a large wooden bowl, Cublar placed the hot kettle on top of it and went to the door.
“I’m coming, I’m coming…”
He lifted the latch and let in a short man in a sheepskin coat, covered with snow from head to toe.
“Cold, you say?” Cublar asked, acting surprised. “Isn’t your new coat warm enough?”
“It’s a good coat,” the late visitor answered, brushing off the snow. “And you sold it to me for a fair price… I just don’t understand one thing—how in the world did you buy it? Didn’t you try it on? One can tell right away that it’s way too small for you, with a height like yours!”
“I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking,” Cublar explained. “I really liked it, and I had money, so I just took it. Then I tried it on here at home, and saw that it was too small. But I didn’t get too upset about it, I knew I could easily sell it to someone else. I thought of you right away. ‘It should fit Varsan just right,’ I thought.”
“And it does, I’ve got no complaints…” The visitor took off his long scarf, then the coat, and turned out to be a skinny middle aged fellow with tousled hair and a small beard. “Hey, something smells good in here!”
“I’m having supper,” the coal-miner said. “Fried eggs and bacon. Would you like some?”
“Sure. The smell makes me hungry. Thanks.”
Rubbing his cold hands, the visitor took a chair at the table. Cublar got a clean bowl and filled it up. He could hardly look at food himself, so he placed just a little on his own plate.
“That much?” Varsan asked, surprised, accepting his bowl. He’d never seen the coal miner being so generous before. “Have you gotten rich or what?”
“I wouldn’t say rich,” Cublar replied, also sitting down, “but I did make some money. And when I’ve got money, I don’t mind sharing a meal with a good friend.”
“That’s nice of you. How about some wine, would you share that with a good friend? I could use a glass or two to get warm.”
“Wine?” Cublar looked around, pretending to be puzzled. “Oh, that bottle. It’s empty, I finished it yesterday. Sorry, buddy. I sure would share if I had more. Have you got what I asked you for?”
“Of course I have.” Varsan sent a large piece of bacon into his mouth and wiped his lips with his sleeve. “It’s my specialty, you know, mixing stuff together. I gave it some thought, tried this and that—and made exactly what you want.”
He reached into his pocket, took out two small bottles and placed them on the table.
“Here, look. One’s got white powder, the other one blue. They’re all right while they’re separate, but as soon as they touch each other, they go up in flames.”
Cublar stared at the bottles, his fingers impatiently tapping the table.
“Show me! I wanna see how they work. Can you do it in here?”
“Sure. If you use just a little, it’s perfectly safe. Do you have some board you don’t need?”
Cublar rushed to the pile of firewood at the oven and snatched a flat piece of wood. Varsan placed it on the table in front of him, moved aside his plate and opened one of the bottles. Carefully, he poured out some blue powder. Cublar watched his every move.
“Now I’ll need some paper.”
The miner found a piece of paper and handed it to him as well. Varsan poured some white powder on it from the other bottle, leaned back from the table, aimed and threw the white powder on the blue, immediately jerking away his hand. He didn’t lie: the powders exploded the moment they came into contact; bright yellow flame blazed up for a second and disappeared, leaving a small dark spot on the board.
“Well?” the pharmacist asked, not without some pride. “Good enough?”
“Just what I need!” Cublar exclaimed, delighted. “How much do you want for them?”
“Twenty coppers.”
“Twenty…” Cublar paused, as if thinking. He’d be happy to pay twice that much for these bottles, but he didn’t want the pharmacist to know that. “All right, I’ll take them.”
He pulled out an old yellow pouch and started counting money.
“What do you need them for?” the pharmacist cautiously asked, watching him.
Cublar glanced up. “I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else, or you will ruin it for me. I want to make firecrackers. The New Year is coming! Can you imagine how much money can be made on that? Rich folks love that stuff, they’ll pay well for it.”
“Hey!” Varsan brightened up. “That’s a great idea! If you make, say, a little paper box, with a small piece of cardboard inside to separate the blue powder from the white… And then come up with a safe way to jerk that divider out… Listen—let’s do it together!”
The miner shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, but I prefer to work alone. You can do it as well if you want, I don’t mind. Just don’t tell anyone else.”
“Oh, I won’t, you can trust me on that!”
“We’ve got a deal, then. Here’s your money.” Cublar placed several coins on the table. “Have you brought the stuff I bought last time? What do you call it, uh… forfor?”
“Phosphorus!” The pharmacist laughed. “Yes, here it is. What do you need that for? Are you gonna put it on your firecrackers?”
“Maybe. Or on garlands and ornaments. It will make them glow in the dark.”
“Oh, what a smart fellow you are!” Varsan shook his head, impressed. “I would have never thought of it…”
“How much do I owe you for the phosphorus?”
“Nothing. You’ve just given me such a great idea, I’d be a pig to charge you.”
“Well, thanks.”
“Thanks to you, too. Be careful with the phosphorus: it’s poisonous.”
“I will.”
They talked some more and soon parted, each one eager to be alone: Varsan couldn’t wait to start working on firecrackers, and Cublar had to give way to his exuberance.
“That’s it!” he yelled, laughing, as soon as the pharmacist’s footsteps faded away. “Now I’m gonna show them! Now we’re gonna have fun!”
He ran outside, grabbed two handfuls of snow and pressed them to his temples, trying to clear his head. The night was indeed very dark, the moon barely showing through thick, heavy clouds.
“Just what I need…”
The coal miner went back to the house, carefully locked the door, reached behind the oven and pulled out a tight bundle. He unfolded it and laid out a set of black clothes: a shirt, pants, a jacket, a cloak and a small sack with two holes cut in it for the eyes.
“Let’s see…”
With sinister laughter, Cublar circled those holes with phosphorus, put the mask on, blew out the candles leaving only one and looked into the mirror. An eerie black face with huge glowing eyes stared back at him. Cublar felt uneasy and hurried to jerk the mask off.
“Well, if I got goose bumps myself, then everyone else will…”
Having changed into the black outfit, he took the bottles he had just bought and filled his right pocket with the blue powder and the left one with the white. After that, he pulled out a sword which was hidden in the same place, behind the oven, and put on his old coat, on top of the black cloak. He didn’t need the mask yet, so he folded it and tucked it under his belt.
“All right now. Let’s go.”
The coal miner left the house and headed to the woods, cautiously looking around.
“I’ll go to the Old Creek,” he was muttering to himself. “It’s a long way, but what do you do. Let them wait for me on the Tabarian road… He, he. They think I’m a fool, they think I’ll go there again… No, my dears! Cublar is smarter than that. I don’t think there are any soldiers at the Old Creek… And even if they do show up, I don’t think I need to worry about them anymore. With this stuff I’ve got, they won’t dare come close!”
The Old Creek was over two miles away. Tearing through the trees and bushes in the deep snow was not easy; Cublar stumbled and fell several times, but he knew his efforts were going to be rewarded. His wornout boots had holes, they quickly got filled with snow. They needed to be replaced a long time ago, and now it wouldn’t be a problem. He only had to pick a bigger guy to take the boots from, to make sure they would be large enough. It was not very smart of him to take that sheepskin coat the last time, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
“Now I’m gonna get my little business going,” he muttered. “Then when I buy a horse, it will be a big business! And if I ever bump into the real one…” Cublar shrugged. “Well, I’ll be fair. I’ll make a deal with him—honest deal: I’ll give him a half of everything. If you’re being fair, you can always get along with people.”
When he finally reached the Old Creek, the coal miner hid behind a large fir tree not too far from the road, found a comfortable position and started waiting. He knew he’d probably have to wait for a long time—not many people dared to travel through the infamous Devron forest these days, especially late at night. But he also knew that he still had a chance. Inns and taverns in Kanavar had raised their prices, big time; more than likely someone would decide to save money and go, choosing one of the side roads. The Tabarian road had become too dangerous after the two attacks—dangerous for him, Cublar, not the travelers. But people were foolish; they’d rather use an old, abandoned path than a large road where the robber had struck twice, even though it was now packed with soldiers.
This was what the shrewd coal miner counted on. And he was right: soon he heard remote voices coming from the road. Cublar rose, carefully lifted a large branch and looked out from his hiding place. He saw a big sledge moving his way, heavily loaded with wood. Six or seven big men with axes behind their belts were walking next to it.
“Lumbermen!” Cublar spat, frustrated. “Darn… I guess I’ll have to let them pass.”
He sat down again, his eyes fixed on the road. Six strong fellows with axes were not the best choice. Why take such a risk when he could easily rob some trembling little merchant?
But there were no merchants in sight. The road remained empty. Cublar was getting cold; cursing through his teeth, he kept changing his position. Suddenly a big fat owl landed on the fir tree behind which Cublar was hiding and gave a loud hoot, startling him and bringing down several pounds of snow, right on his head. He cursed, brushing it off. Stupid bird! As if he didn’t have enough trouble already, freezing here in the dark…
An hour passed, and the sound of hoofbeats came from the road again. The miner looked out. He was more lucky this time: a small hairy horse was pulling an old sledge, with only two people riding in it. He took a closer look and recognized them both. It was Pelchedan, the potter, and his oldest son.
Cublar brightened up. “That’s better!”
They lived in the same village. No longer than a week ago Cublar had heard this simpleton whine about being afraid to take a trip to the city market because he’d have to go back after dark. Pelchedan was so scared by the rumors about the black knight that he wouldn’t even go to the forest for firewood. Meanwhile, he had accumulated lots of pottery he needed to sell—and debts to pay off.
“So you’ve finally made up your mind…” Cublar grinned, putting on his black mask. “And it looks like you’ve sold everything. Good.”
He threw off his coat, straightened the black cloak and checked the sword—you never know, he might still have to use it. Then he reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of each powder. Clutching them in his fists, Cublar got ready, allowed the travelers to come closer and leapt onto the road.
“Hold it!”
The startled horse pranced, poor Pelchedan dropped the reins. Kai, his son, grabbed them and pulled hard, stopping the sledge.
“The black knight!…” Pelchedan mumbled.
“Ah! So you recognize me!” Cublar yelled, pleased with the effect. “Good! Then I don’t need to explain what I can do to you!”
He had just the right kind of a voice, low and rough, exactly what you would expect a highwayman to sound like.
“Please, don’t harm us!” the potter pleaded. “What do you want?”
“Money, of course!” Cublar barked. “Now, if you’ll be good and just give it to me, I will let you go. But if you’ll be stubborn, I’m gonna fry you like chickens! Get out of that sledge!”
Pelchedan fell out of the sledge onto the road, his son silently followed him. Cublar didn’t like the lad’s expression: Kai openly glared at him and, unlike his father, didn’t seem very frightened. He was only seventeen, but he was big for his age.
“Now give me your money!” the miner ordered. “And don’t even try telling me that you don’t have any! You can’t fool the black knight! Well? Hurry up, I’m waiting!”
Pelchedan reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pouch, his hand trembling.
“Put it down on the road!” Cublar pointed. “Over there!”
But the potter hesitated. Terrified as he was, somehow he managed to find the strength to speak.
“Please, sir…” he started, clutching the pouch. “This is all I’ve got for two months of work… And I’ll have to give away half of it to pay off my debts. I’ve got five children… Please, sir… You must be called a knight for a reason… Please, don’t take this money from us. Don’t make my children starve…”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?!” Cublar snapped. “Put the money down on the road—now!”
“Don’t waste your breath talking to him, father!” Kai shouted.
A knife flashed in his hand, and he dashed forward, aiming to hit Cublar.
The miner jumped away and threw the powders he still held in his hands. It worked perfectly well: the particles exploded as soon as they met in the air, yellow fire blazed up with a loud crack, leaving sweet-smelling smoke.
“Kai!!” Pelchedan screamed.
The brat jumped back. He wasn’t hurt, but his courage was shaken. He dropped his knife and stood there, breathing hard and staring at Cublar with wide-open eyes.
“Stop it, Kai! Are you crazy?!” Pelchedan ran up to his son and grabbed him with both arms. “Please, sir, forgive him! Don’t kill him! Here, take all the money!”
He threw the pouch on the road.
“Young little fool,” Cublar sneered. “All right, I will spare his life… But I’ll still have to teach him a lesson. Take your boots off!”
“Take them off, son, come on!” Pelchedan urged, jerking the boy and pushing him to the sledge. “It’s better to have cold feet than to be burned alive, don’t you understand?! This is the black knight!”
“He is no knight!” Kai shouted. “He’s a robber, and he belongs in jail!”
“Well-well,” Cublar slowly said, checking his sword just in case. “It seems that someone does want to get roasted…”
“Kai!” Pelchedan slapped his son. “Shut up!”
But the boy wouldn’t.
“Knights do not rob people!” he went on.
“That is true,” sounded a deep, strong voice that made Cublar’s stomach twist.
They all looked around. On the side of the road stood a black horseman, huge, striking, and awesome. Cublar took one look at him and knew who it was, and he knew that no deal would be made.
“Come here, impostor,” the horseman ordered.
Cublar didn’t dare to disobey. He took a few steps, his legs wobbly.
“Show us how you throw fire.”
The miner didn’t move, cold sweat streaming down his face under the mask.
“I’m waiting.”
He had no other choice. Cublar reached into his pockets, drew two more handfuls of the powders and threw them forward. His hands were shaking, and he missed; only a few specks found each other, making just a few tiny sparkles.
“All right,” said the black horseman. “Now watch how I do it.”
He lifted his right hand. A powerful burst of white fire cut through the darkness and hit the ground right at Cublar’s feet. The miner jolted away in horror. The snow hissed, melting and evaporating, plumes of hot steam covered everything for a few seconds. When they dissolved in the air, everyone saw a deep hole left on the road.
“So which one of us is the black knight?” the horseman asked.
“You!” Kai shouted happily. “You, sir!”
“…You,” Cublar wheezed out. “You’re the real one.”
As to Pelchedan, the poor potter seemed to have grasped only one thing: instead of one black knight there were now two, and the second one much scarier than the first.
The horseman’s eyes were fixed on Cublar. “Take your mask off.”
The miner obeyed. Slowly, he lifted his hand, grabbed the mask and pulled it down.
Kai gasped. “Cublar! The coal miner!”
In the next moment the young man picked up his knife and, blinded with fury, threw himself at Cublar.
“Hold it, Kai!” the horseman interfered. “I need him alive. He has dishonored my name, and he will answer for it. Pelchedan! Take your money. Go home and tell everyone what has happened here. Do not exaggerate and do not add anything; tell the truth. The black knight does not rob people. Honest merchants and travelers do not need to be afraid of him.”
***