The Table of Less Valued Knights (3 page)

‘But –’

Humphrey sighed and leaned against the barn door.

‘We were having the feast as usual,’ he said. ‘By which I mean getting hungry, waiting for the quest. This king type – not a real king, I hasten to add – turns up, looking for his wife who’s gone missing. Everybody assumes that’s the Pentecost quest, obviously …’

‘Who got it?’

‘Dorian.’

Conrad pulled a face. Then he said, ‘Silas will be pleased, at least.’ Silas was Sir Dorian’s squire, and was a lot more popular than his master. ‘If the quest goes well, he might be made a knight himself. Lucky bastard.’

‘Yes, well, he can forget about that,’ said Humphrey. ‘Because I don’t think it’s the real Pentecost quest. I was still in the hall after everyone else had gone …’ Humphrey left out the part about sitting at the Round Table. ‘And a damsel comes in.’

‘In distress?’

‘In distress.’

Conrad took this in. ‘Damsel trumps king,’ he said. ‘Always.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And you didn’t go and get Arthur? Or one of the real knights?’

Humphrey bristled. ‘No, I thought we could handle this one by ourselves.’

‘But we’ve never been on a quest.’

‘I’ve been on plenty of quests.’

‘I’ve
never been on a quest.’ There was a hint of nervousness in Conrad’s voice.

‘Why does that matter?’ said Humphrey. ‘Don’t you want to go on a quest?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Conrad. ‘Just … why, suddenly, this one?’

‘She asked me to help her. I’ve taken vows, Conrad.’

‘That’s never mattered to you before.’ Conrad peered at his master’s face. ‘Is she pretty?’ he said.

‘She’s getting married, Conrad, that’s the whole point of the quest. We’ll need my armour, a tent, no, two tents, saddlebags …’

Conrad grinned. His teeth were a lot bigger than Edwin’s. ‘Very pretty?’ he said.

Humphrey picked up an empty saddlebag and chucked it at his squire. ‘Don’t forget my sword,’ he said.

When they got back to the stable, Jemima and Elaine were both asleep. Jemima was lying on her side with the girl curled up next to her, her head resting on the elephant’s belly, seemingly unconcerned by the fragrant balls of elephant dung that peppered the straw, or the risk of being crushed by a rolling pachyderm.

Humphrey cleared his throat.

Elaine opened her eyes. ‘Ready to go?’ she said. Then her eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ she said.

She had never seen a giant before. She was a little disappointed. She’d expected them to be taller. Broad of build, Conrad stood with awkwardly rounded shoulders and a self-conscious stoop, so that he somewhat resembled a roughly hewn canoe with a curved prow.

‘Conrad, Lady Elaine du Mont, of Tuft,’ said Humphrey. ‘Lady Elaine, Conrad, my squire.’

‘So that’s why you needed the elephant,’ said Elaine. ‘Pleased to meet you, Conrad.’

‘You’re not going to run and scream?’ Conrad sounded crestfallen.

Elaine felt bad for him that she’d missed the chance to look afraid. ‘The elephant’s got my back,’ she said. Jemima let out a soft elephant snore. ‘When I wake her up, she’ll have my back,’ Elaine corrected herself.

‘Where did you leave your horse?’ said Humphrey.

‘I tethered him at the front of the castle.’

‘They let you do that?’

‘There was nobody there.’

‘No guards?’

‘No.’

‘I suppose that’s what happens when all of your knights are spending Pentecost in the same room, getting pissed,’ said Humphrey. ‘I’m surprised Camelot doesn’t get robbed every year. Well, at least that means we’ll get out without … Without a long, tedious goodbye. The Round Table guys can be so emotional.’

He glared at Conrad, trying to convey:
She doesn’t know I’m not Round Table
. Conrad rolled his eyes:
It never even crossed my mind that you’d be honest with her about that
.

‘Conrad,’ said Humphrey, ‘you load up Jemima, and I’ll get Spencer.’

‘Spencer isn’t a lion or anything, is he?’ said Elaine.

‘He’s just a normal horse,’ Humphrey assured her.

Conrad went over to Jemima and woke her with a gentle rub of her brow. Jemima shook her head in protest, but was soothed when Conrad fed her a carrot. He started fixing bags to her back.

‘Aren’t you going to put on your armour?’ said Elaine to Humphrey.

‘Not until I need it,’ said Humphrey. ‘If you travel looking like a knight, the attention never stops. Every maiden’s got a quest, every man wants to challenge you to a duel.’ This was true, and it was tiresome, although more to the point was that Humphrey didn’t want word getting back to Camelot of where he had gone, if he could possibly avoid it.

‘So we’re going incognito,’ said Elaine. ‘With a terrifying giant riding a monster.’

Conrad grinned at the ‘terrifying’.

‘He’s nobody’s idea of a typical squire,’ said Humphrey. ‘People will think we’re travelling players.’

Conrad’s grin dropped. He knew squires didn’t usually look like him, but he didn’t like to be reminded.

‘If that’s what you think is best,’ Elaine said to Humphrey. ‘You’re the knight.’

‘Except …’

‘You’re not the knight, for the purposes of this trip.’

‘Correct.’

Elaine got up and brushed the straw from her cloak.

‘Just one question,’ she said. ‘Where are we actually going?’

‘To your home, of course,’ said Humphrey. ‘Always start at the scene of the crime.’

Elaine’s face fell. ‘Do we have to?’

‘I need to find out about the joust and what happened there.’

And I need to find out a bit about you
, he thought, but did not say.

‘Please,’ said Elaine. ‘Anywhere else but there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Humphrey. ‘There’s no other place we can start.’

Elaine smiled bleakly. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘If we must. But don’t say you weren’t warned.’

They rode through the night, slowed down by the fact that elephants don’t gallop, or even trot for that matter, and it was past dawn by the time they reached the border with Tuft. The customs post consisted of a wooden stool by the side of the road, occupied by a dwarf with a clipboard and such bushy eyebrows, moustache and beard that he appeared to be entirely fashioned from hair.

Elaine dismounted from her grey gelding, Juniper, ate one of her bread rolls, and gave the other to Conrad and Humphrey to share. Neither of them had thought to bring any food. While Conrad tried to persuade the customs official to allow an unlicensed monster over the border, Humphrey went behind a tree to change into his full knight’s regalia in preparation for meeting Elaine’s parents. His armour was dated, and so tight he could hardly mount his horse, but there wasn’t a speck of rust on it. His coat of arms, a pair of silver antlers on a green background, was neatly painted onto his shield, and embroidered onto his tabard and pennant in a painstaking but wobbly stitch.

‘Have you been polishing?’ Humphrey said to Conrad as he emerged, buckling his breastplate. ‘And sewing?’

‘That is what squires do,’ said Conrad.

‘This giant’s your squire?’ said the customs official to Humphrey.

‘Didn’t he tell you that?’ said Humphrey.

‘I didn’t believe him.’ The dwarf gave Conrad a long, reappraising stare. Then he turned back to Humphrey. ‘You’re Round Table, are you?’

‘From Camelot,’ said Humphrey, letting a lift in his voice imply that he was agreeing.

‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ said the dwarf, shaking his head. ‘A giant as a squire. I thought he’d be burning down villages, raping, looting and the like. Thought it’d be more than my job’s worth with King Leo, letting a giant in. Even a small one. I feel quite ashamed of myself, making assumptions like that. Believe me, I know what it’s like. People see me, they think trickster, con artist, thief. Never imagine that I might be a government official. People think with their eyes, not with their minds, that’s the problem. Well, well. A giant squire. Good luck to you, Sir.’

‘Thank you,’ said Conrad, straightening his shoulders for once.

‘And this maiden is with you too?’

‘I’m a damsel in distress,’ said Elaine, proudly. ‘We’re on a quest.’

‘Very good, very good,’ said the dwarf. ‘A quest. That’s made my week, that has. Anything to declare?’

Humphrey showed his sword and his bow and arrows, and Conrad his axe.

‘Oh well, you’ll be needing those, on a quest,’ said the customs official. ‘What about fruit or vegetables?’

‘I took a carrot for Jemima,’ said Elaine.

‘Sorry,’ said the dwarf, in a genuinely apologetic tone, ‘I can’t let any alien fruit or vegetables over the border without a permit. Them’s the rules. I don’t make them.’

‘Well, that’s easily solved,’ said Elaine, and she fed the carrot to an appreciative Jemima.

‘Excellent,’ said the customs official. ‘Very resourceful. And I tell you what, I’ll turn a blind eye to your monster. I’ll put her
down as “deformed horse”. Every little helps, eh? Have a nice stay. Good luck with your quest!’

‘Thank you,’ said Humphrey with a bow, which the dwarf was delighted by, and they were on their way.

Elaine’s home village, close to the Tuft border, had seen better days, although even in those better days it probably still looked as if it had been put together using an avalanche and some string. Her family’s castle squatted at the top of a small incline like a fat, grey, constipated sheep. As far as Humphrey could tell, it occupied a position of no strategic importance whatsoever. The castle was separated from the rest of the hamlet by a moat, which was now dry, and in which a group of dusty children were kicking around the desiccated, severed head of a fox.

Under the crumbling walls of the forgotten castle, even Humphrey in his unfashionable armour and faded tabard gave off a bright, alluring glamour, the promise of something fresh and exciting from outside this miserable place. The kids looked up as they approached, allowing the most enterprising of them to boot the fox’s skull hard against the side of the moat. ‘Goal!’ she crowed, as the others groaned.

Conrad took one look at the rotting drawbridge and shook his head.

‘No way,’ he said. ‘Jemima will go straight through.’

At that moment, the kid who had scored the goal called out, ‘Why’s your horse got such a big nose?’

‘She’s not a horse, she’s an elephant,’ said Conrad.

‘Ele-pants,’ said the kid. The other kids laughed, not pleasantly.

‘You’re a bit short for a giant, aren’t you?’ said another kid.

‘Short-arse!’ shouted the first kid.

‘Dwarf!’ yelled a third.

They all started chanting, ‘Dwarf! Dwarf! Dwarf!’

Then the first one threw a stone. It bounced off Jemima’s rear flank. She responded with a low, grumbling sound.

‘On second thoughts, I’ll take my chances with the drawbridge,’ said Conrad.

‘Home, sweet home,’ muttered Elaine.

A Moorish guard in mismatched armour stood by the portcullis, playing a cup and ball game. Every time he jerked the ball up on its string to try to catch it in the cup, the visor of his helmet slammed down and he had to stop playing to open it again. Even so, as they reined in beside him, the guard was visibly annoyed at having to put the toy down.

‘What now?’ he said.

‘Is that you, Samir?’ said Elaine.

‘Might be.’

‘It’s me. Lady Elaine. Of here.’

Samir pulled his visor up and squinted at Elaine. Satisfied, he dropped it down again. ‘And this lot?’ he said.

‘They’re with me.’

‘All right,’ said Samir, nodding. The visor of his helmet clanged.

‘Were you here the day of the tourney?’ Humphrey asked him. ‘The day Sir Alistair Gilbert was kidnapped?’

‘Still working in the kitchens then. Frank was on the gate.’

‘And where’s Frank?’

‘Ran off, didn’t he?’

Humphrey turned to Elaine. ‘The guard ran off? So he’s our prime suspect.’

Elaine shook her head. ‘This didn’t have anything to do with Frank,’ she said.

‘Because guards are so notoriously incorruptible,’ said Humphrey.

‘Oi, watch who you call corrupt, mate,’ said Samir.

‘He can call whoever he wants corrupt, and you can call him Sir,’ said Conrad.

‘Cool your boots, half-pint,’ said Samir. ‘That’s a bleeding ugly horse you’ve got there.’

‘She is an elephant and she could kill you with one kick.’

‘With a nose like that, I reckon I could kill her with a cold,’ said Samir.

‘Would you please let us through?’ said Elaine. ‘I need to speak with my parents as a matter of urgency.’

‘I’m not the one who’s causing trouble,’ said Samir, but he hauled up the portcullis all the same.

‘What about this Frank?’ Humphrey said to Elaine as they rode through the gate. ‘What makes you so sure he had nothing to do with Sir Alistair’s disappearance?’

‘He’s a good head taller than the Knight in Black,’ said Elaine. ‘Anyway, Frank had another reason for running away. He got a maiden pregnant.’

‘Is that all?’

‘It’s not a very tolerant castle,’ said Elaine. ‘As you will see.’

The cobbles of the stable yard were cracked, with moss and weeds growing through them. The stables themselves outnumbered the horses by about five to one. There was a stench of stale horse piss and dried shit. Even the chickens scrabbling around in the dirt looked depressed.

‘Reminds me of your bedroom, Conrad,’ said Humphrey.

‘Reminds me of your love life,’ Conrad replied.

They dismounted and waited for someone to take charge of Jemima and the horses. After a while, Samir sauntered up.

‘I double as stable hand,’ he explained.

‘Who’s guarding the gate?’ said Elaine.

‘I gave one of the kids a coin,’ said Samir.

‘He’s probably sharpening it to throw at us even as we speak,’ said Conrad.

They all held out the reins of their mounts to Samir.

‘I’m not taking that one,’ Samir said, looking up at Jemima.

‘Fine. Jemima, stay,’ commanded Conrad, looking his elephant in the eye.

Jemima deposited a heap of dung pointedly near Samir’s feet, then found a patch of early morning sun and lay down. Samir took the rest of the horses to the stables.