Chapter 16: How to Don a Knight in the Day
****
A few days after the funeral, Loisette went back to the stable with Catherine. Gawain hadn’t been to visit Clarkent since her father died, and the stableboy was probably wondering where his friend was, but Loisette wanted to visit him as herself first.
He was removing stones from a horse’s foot when she went inside. Catherine gave her some space. If it hadn’t been for her father’s death, Loisette might have worried about what her lady-in-waiting thought, but it just didn’t seem important. She walked up to the stableboy, and he nearly dropped his horse hoof in surprise when he saw her. He bowed quickly and stuttered, “Y-Your Highness.”
She gave him a slight smile. There was a small part of her that was sad at the formality that existed between them when she was in a dress, but she pushed the thought away. He had been there for her when she needed him, and she wanted to let him know she appreciated it. “Thank you for--” She swallowed. “For--for you know . . . ”
He nodded in understanding, averting his eyes from her. “Anytime, Your Highness.”
As she looked at him, she realized that the feelings of distance between them were in part her fault. She had been so busy visiting him as Gawain that she had rarely visited him as herself. But it was for the best. She didn’t want gossip around the castle to clutter any of their time together.
“We would like to ride,” she said softly, hating that she had to create a visible excuse for her and Catherine to be at the stable.
He gave a small nod and prepared their horses.
And then Loisette and Catherine were riding the horses away from the stable. The pain of her father’s death was still fresh in Loisette’s mind, and she wished she could turn back and bury herself once more in Clarkent’s arms. But nothing could erase the fact that her father was dead. It would take time for the painful throbbing of the loss to go away. She suspected her time with Clarkent as Gawain would go a long way toward making the hurt go away, and she resolved to make some time the next day to resume her play schedule with Clarkent. After all, she occasionally won their mock sword-fights or their occasional sparring matches. Maybe all she needed to do was kick a boy’s butt to feel better.
But she was simply trying to fool herself. Grief would not be dismissed so easily.
****
Loisette did go visit Clarkent as Gawain the next day. He brightened up upon seeing her, and it made her feel a tiny bit better. It had taken some effort to convince herself to go, but now that she had, she was glad for it.
“Gawain,” he said, “where have you been?”
“Worried about me?” she teased, though the effort was half-hearted.
“A little,” he admitted.
“I’ve been . . . busy with the funeral, you know?”
Clarkent nodded. “The kitchen staff probably had a lot of funeral preparations to deal with, huh?”
“Yeah,” Loisette whispered. She could barely remember the food herself, but she knew it had been there. “It’s . . . it’s sad that the king died.” She fought to keep herself from crying. She couldn’t fall apart. Not as Gawain.
“I know,” Clarkent agreed. “I . . . feel sorry for the princess.”
She looked down at her hands. “You do?”
“She’s all alone in the world now,” he said softly. “Do you . . . do you think she has many friends?”
She managed a smile. “I’m sure she has great friends.”
“I hope so,” he said sincerely.
She gave a hint of a nod to show she’d heard him. Though being with him did improve her mood a little, she didn’t think she could conjure up the energy to have a mock sword-fight with him. She would leave the butt-kicking for another day.
****
As time went by, the reign of Regent Alexander proved itself to be a cruel one. Though he always spoke to his subjects with a kind smile on his face, injustices flourished under his rule as the months passed by.
Of special interest to Alexander was the rampant corruption spreading throughout the Nobility at his encouragement. Nobles had learned quickly that a gesture of “allegiance” here or a blind eye there could lead to reaping royal rewards. But there was one fly in the ointment.
“My overtures of friendship toward her have been carefully crafted, but I seem to be making no progress,” Alexander growled. “The princess treats me as distantly as ever.” Ever since her father had died, she had been especially withdrawn. He had told his spies to keep a careful eye on the stable, but she rarely went back there. And when she did, it was with her lady-in-waiting. He could see no reason why she was keeping herself detached from him like this.
Tempos gave a dry chuckle. “Ah, brother. People are too impatient nowadays. Their birds just don’t lay eggs fast enough. And when they cut them open, they find out all the gold’s gone. You have to learn to wait until your eggs have been laid to count them.” His eyes glinted. “Just make sure you don’t carry them all in one basket.” Then he gave a cold laugh with no real mirth in it.
Alexander gave his brother a dour look. “Leave me, Tempos.”
“Gladly,” Tempos returned, giving a mock bow. “You’re boring when you’re angry anyway.”
****
The sixteen-year-old Clarkent was pacing outside in front of Peri and James. He was upset, and he couldn’t stand still. “Peri, the crime and the high taxes and the corrupt Nobles--all this has to stop. The Regent is poisoning our country. We have to do something about this!” Princess Loisette’s father had never been active in fighting evil--but at least he hadn’t been active in promoting it either. Regent Alexander had gone too far. Something needed to be done before the kingdom completely fell apart.
“And what exactly would you like to do?” the magician asked him. The bird on his shoulder made a small noise.
Clarkent faltered. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead . . . . But suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. “Remember . . . remember how I thought you were two different people? Well, what if I *was* two different people?”
Peri frowned. “What do you mean, son?”
“Remember when you told me the people needed a beacon of hope?” Clarkent said slowly. “Well, now . . . they need it more than ever. What if--what if I were to disguise myself as a knight and go around giving the people hope . . . protecting them from those who are hurting them?”
A big smile broke out across Peri’s face. “I think that’s a great idea, Clarkent. To show my support, I’ll even get you some armor and a horse.”
Clarkent’s cheeks turned red. He hadn’t really thought about those details either. But he shook his head. “Peri, I couldn’t accept such expensive gifts--”
“I insist,” Peri told him with a smile. “A knight has to have armor and a good horse and a good weapon. You’ve already got the sword, so at least you’re partway there already.” But he quickly became more serious. “You know this is going to be dangerous, son, don’t you?”
Clarkent swallowed and nodded resolutely. “Yes, I do. But I’ve been training for this--it’s something I have to do.”
“All right,” Peri said softly. “There’s one last thing that I can do for you.” Clarkent looked at him inquisitively, and he explained, “You’ll need a way to know when someone’s in trouble. That’s where James will come in.”
“Rep rep,” the bird said cheerfully.
“You’ll never see a faster animal than a Peregrine Falcon,” Peri told him. “You can work out a system of cues with James, and he can come find you and guide you when there’s trouble.”
Clarkent looked at James and smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Repreprep,” the bird chattered back.
****
A few days later, Clarkent’s head was absolutely buzzing with thoughts of finally being able to *do* something. When Peri came to him in the evening, Clarkent was feeling something akin to impatience.
“Follow me,” Peri instructed him, and Clarkent willingly obliged the older man.
Peri took him to the nearby royal forest. Not far into the forest, Peri stopped beside a giant rock with a few trees in front of it. “Reveal,” he said softly.
The trees and rock shimmered, revealing in their midst the entrance of a cave. Clarkent stepped forward in amazement. “Was that--”
“Magic,” Peri confirmed with a smile. “The code word is ‘Reveal.’ The spell isn’t very strong, and it might not fool someone who is truly dedicated to searching for hiding spots, but I don’t think you’ll have any problems. When you are inside or when you leave, make sure to say, ‘Conceal.’ That will re-seal the spell.”
Clarkent nodded, following Peri forward into the cave, but not able to really see around him. The older man muttered, “Conceal,” and then they were cut off from what little light was coming in from the forest. There was a bright flash, and Clarkent saw that Peri had lit a torch which he’d grabbed from the wall. The magician stepped aside, and finally Clarkent was able to see more of the cave.
Standing by the right cavern wall was a great black destrier. The majestic beast stared at him with dark and intelligent eyes, and Clarkent found himself stepping forward, mesmerized.
“Meet your new mount,” Peri said behind him. “He is from Metropolita’s sister kingdom.”
The words were enough to jolt Clarkent back to awareness, and he stopped just short of touching the horse. Turning, he shook his head. “I can’t accept this, Peri,” he said in a small voice. “This is--this is too much.” Destriers were only owned by wealthy knights. He wasn’t even a real knight--he wasn’t worthy of such a creature.
“Nonsense,” the older man said in a gruff voice. “You need a good horse if you’re going to save anyone. And besides--I’m doing this for the good of Metropolita just as you are.”
Clarkent trembled in indecision. He moved even closer to the horse, running his hands down the muscles of the beast’s neck. “What’s his name?” he asked quietly.
“You can name him whatever you’d like,” Peri told him.
Clarkent’s eyes widened. He’d never been allowed to name a horse before. But if he named the horse, then it would be as good as accepting him. He glanced back to Peri with a pained expression. “This was too much, Peri . . . . ”
“If anything, it wasn’t enough,” the man said, causing Clarkent to frown in confusion. “He’s yours, Clarkent. He knows it himself.”
Clarkent started as the horse nudged him with a jet-black nose. Smiling, he began to pet the animal’s forehead. In the dim light of the torch, the horse looked almost like a ghost, and Clarkent’s expression broke out into a grin as he realized what name he wanted. “I’m going to call you Phantom,” he said softly.
The horse jerked his head a little, as if acknowledging what Clarkent had said, and the boy chuckled to himself.
“I’ve told him to only respond to your signals--in case the two of you are ever separated. But I don’t expect you to have any problems with him. He is reliable and fearless--but he must be respected if you are to command his respect.”
Clarkent nodded and stared calmly at the horse. “Phantom, my name is Clarkent. I promise to take care of you as best as I can.”
It was like a veil of solemnity had come down over the horse, and Clarkent almost shivered at Phantom’s unflinching gaze. And then, the horse slowly lowered his head . . . and began nibbling at Clarkent’s hair.
Clarkent laughed and swatted gently at the horse. “Get out of my hair,” he told him with a chuckle.
“I guess Phantom likes you already,” Peri commented dryly.
But Clarkent was too busy trying to keep the horse’s lips away from his hair to respond. Finally, the boy ducked away from the horse, and his eyes fell on something on the other side of the cave. There was a well-crafted saddle and blanket for Phantom, but beside it was something even more interesting--a full suit of black armor and a plain silver shield.
Clarkent turned to Peri, who told him, “The armor and shield are yours, son.”
Clarkent looked at the armor with a sense of unease. “Black armor?” he asked, wrinkling his brow. He noticed there was even black mail with the armor.
“It sends a necessary message,” Peri told him. “A black knight holds allegiance to no lord--just as you will swear fealty to no Noble.”
Clarkent nodded, but he couldn’t help but remember the princess’s story about a black knight. The black knight she had told about had been the cause of Gareth’s death. Was this a good idea?
He glanced at Phantom, whose nose was now deep in a bucket of oats. With the horse and the sword and the armor and James’s guidance, he could help the people. He knew he could. But what if they feared him? Could he still help them then?
He took in a deep breath. He had to try. That was all there was to it. “All right,” he said quietly. “I’m going to do this.”
“Great,” Peri said warmly, as if he had understood Clarkent’s mental battle. “Now, you need to practice putting the armor on and wearing it around. It’s not exactly easy . . . . ”
But Clarkent had heard stories about how heavy the armor was and how difficult it was to learn to move in it, and he was ready. “Just teach me how to put it on, and I’ll figure out the rest.”
Peri smiled. “Very well.”
****
Clarkent stood there in his fifty pounds of armor, wondering how in the world he was going to walk, much less get on the horse. “Umm, this isn’t as easy as I thought . . . . ”
Peri let out a bark of laughter. “I thought you would figure out the rest once you finally got it on?”
“Well, I might have been a little optimistic,” Clarkent admitted. He took a step forward, the metal boots clinking against the ground. “I feel like a metal monster.”
Chuckling, Peri told him, “Well, you look impressive, son, even if it feels a little awkward. Just walk around for a while to become accustomed to the weight. We can work on the logistics of getting you on a horse and sword-fighting later.”
Clarkent groaned. “I forgot all about swinging a sword around. How do knights *do* this?”
“With a lot of practice,” Peri told him. “I just hope you aren’t expecting to get a lot of sleep these next few weeks.”
Clarkent brought a metal head up to his visor and lifted it. “I guess I’ve been exercising for a reason.”
“That’s right,” Peri said with a smile. “Keep it positive.”
“Well, I’m *positive* this armor is more trouble than it’s worth,” the boy grumbled.
“And I’m *positive* it will keep you from dying when you’re out there trying to save lives. Just be glad I didn’t get you a sixty-pound set of armor.”
“I guess Phantom’s getting the worst end of this deal, huh?” Clarkent said, glancing at the horse.
“Just make sure you exercise him regularly to keep him used to carrying you.”
“Don’t you worry about him,” Clarkent said confidently. “You should instead be worrying about *me* . . . falling *off* of him.”
“Just wait until we practice with a quintain,” Peri muttered.
“A quintain?”
“Just you wait, son,” Peri said with a mischievous smile.
Clarkent groaned and hit his helmet against the wall.
****
Chapter 16 Glossary
Peregrine Falcon Speed: These truly are the fastest living creatures on the planet. When diving, they can reach speeds over 200 miles per hour (about three times the speed of a cheetah)--one Peregrine Falcon was clocked at 242 mph. Their horizontal flight speed, of course, isn’t as great (probably around 55 mph).
Destrier: These horses were fast, agile, tall, strong, and highly trained. They were treasured by knights and made really good war horses, but they were rare and expensive.
Mail: This is a flexible armor made of interlinked rings that was worn beneath plate armor to protect vulnerable places.
Quintain: This was a dummy which was hung on a pole with a shield. When the middle of the shield was hit, the structure would spin around, and the person who hit it had to get away without being knocked off his horse.
