Night, Knight

A short story that came to me.

Sir Gerald and Sir Wilmore met on the field of battle for the final time on that day. The blood on the grass was proof enough of that. But these men had known each other far before their hair had begun to turn grey and their blades had clashed on these fields. It is now, that the full story will be revealed.

They fought this day not for their honour, but their lords. Lord Brisby had caught Lord Godfrey talking of his wife, in rather vulgar tones. Lord Brisby would not stand for it and Godfrey was challenged to a duel to the death. Godfrey had haggled his way into having champion's fight for them. So there the two knights stood.

They stood across from each other on the field as they had so many times before in the practice yard when they both served the same lord. Lord Alistair was a kind man, but insisted his vassals not only be trained together, but vigorously. Gerald and Wilmore were the two best out of the seven other boys that Lord Alistair had bargained for. They sparred constantly, even when it was not required of them during their day. The two would often provide banter to each other as the did now.

“So, your lord speaks of mounting other men's women Sir Wilmore?”

“Aye, only when they’re not satisfied where they are.”

“Suppose it was always going to come to this eh?” Gerald looked down at the sword in hand.

“I suppose.”

The two drew their weapons. The sound exciting to the crowd that had gathered but was all too familiar to the seasoned warriors.

When they thought hard enough, it brought them back to the first time they had used live steel. They had been escorting some money Lord Alistair owed to the King from years ago. Bandits had gotten word somehow, because when they approached the two freshly sired knights, they knew of the money they had in the cart. They looked to each other with grins on their faces. Then leapt at their first opponents with intent to kill. Steel hit steel.

As they danced back and forth with each other. They knew each others tricks all too well.

“You still over extend with your backhand cuts,” Wilmore slashed at Geralds freshly exposed armpit, however Gerald remembered all too well how overconfident Wilmore got as he dropped his left shoulder back and transitioned into a back roll.

“You’re still too slow,” Gerald laughed back.

They were both slow however, when they saw her. Perhaps a better term was dumbfounded. A servant girl that Lord Alistair had recently obtained. She had an elegant way to walk that made both of the men simply drop their jaws. They knew they both wanted her. It had started out as something like a friendly competition slowly evolved into bitterness.

Gerald growled as Wilmores sword bounced off his back once more. It was a mistake he knew he should stop making.

“You really are a one trick pony, eh Wimore?”

“You’re still a clumsy oaf too Gerald.”

The two men smiled at each other for the last time after that.

The same way she had smiled at Wilmore at the altar. Gerald hadn’t attended. In fact, it was on this day that Gerald had spoken to Alistair about being sold to Brisby. Alistair was familiar with the conflict between the two knights. He was all to familiar with the feeling. Gerald was not only given to Brisby, but given a small section of land to build a homestead on. Wilmore was given something similar in the dowry. They didn’t speak for many years.

They spoke now.

They spoke until they were both out of breath.

They spoke till the final blade swing was swung.

Gerald struck Wilmore behind the knee as he had begun to slow. Quickly afterwards he disarmed him, then brought the blade to his old friends throat. Wilmore said only two words in his final moments.

“Forgive me.”

With that, the breath escaped his body, and the sword was brought down on his throat.

“I do,” Gerald whispered. “I do.”

That night, Gerald returned to his keep. He ordered all the servants to go home and find a place to stay for the night. To take any valuables they had wanted. He knighted his squire and sent him to the pubs with his friends. Finally he was alone. All alone. He gathered all the lantern oil left in the keep, spreading it out inside it. He took the notes he had never sent and made a little tent of them. He grabbed his flint and steel and lit them up.

A large fire was what the people had seen on the horizon. Wilmore included. He wondered if the forest had caught ablaze. Then he realized it was his home. With his wife and child still inside.

Gerald looked at the flames around him as they grew and started to eat away at the tapestries and furniture around him.

“I forgive you.”