Sir Veritas Part II

The clear, full moon shown down on Sir Veritas as he rode up the last hill to the castle and over the stone bridge: “I am Sir Veritas, I have traveled through great peril in many lands to come here, open in the name of the light and of justice!” Slowly, a small door opened and a sleepy face peered out.
“Who’s that? What are you doing knocking at the door at this time of the night? Don’t you know everyone is asleep?” The guard had on a shirt and leggings, but no armor. His sword was lying on the ground a few feet behind him and his spear was leaning against one of the castle walls. “We weren’t expecting visitors today; you’ll have to wait while I go tell Sir George.” With that the man walked away, leaving the door wide open and his weapons where they lay. Sir Veritas walked over to the sword, it’s sheath was scuffed and worn with hard use, but the sword inside was heavily rusted, the lance head was made of iron, and was so dull it would not have pierced paper, let alone the thick, scaly skin of a dragon. Sir Veritas closed the castle door and turned dejectedly to the entrance of the great keep.
He could remember when this was a great and beautiful castle, for Sir Veritas had lived a long time and had seen the world though out many generations of men’s lives. The old Sir George had been a great friend of his, and it was through his influence that he had ruled with great equity and courage. Then one would have seen brazen knights in shinning armor manning every tower and wall, their helms had no visor, but their faces shined like the radiance of the sun. The pendants that had snapped in the breeze had born the likeness of a lion standing over a dragon, full of just rage and fury, while a young child stood in the background safe from all harm. In his day, the old Sir George had sent out brave and noble knights into every corner of the surrounding forest to best the evil beast and desperate men who inhabited them, and everyone returned with sword sheathed in honor and justice. Then peace had prevailed, and the hamlet had prospered…but those days had ended. It was obvious that the new Sir George had none of his father’s wisdom, for he had allowed the land to become lawless and his knights to wear visors.
“You may come and see Sir George, now. He will be waiting in his study; it is the door at the end of the great hall, after you walk past the daze.”
Sir Veritas turned to the door into the keep, then stopping spoke to the youth, “You ought to sharpen your sword and lance, for evil days are upon you and you will have to fight.”
“Evil days,” laughed the youth. “Why look here, old man, I know you are a knight and all, but really. Everyone knows that Sir George’s land is the most beautiful and safe in all the land. You have just spent too much time outside of civilized places.”
Sir Veritas sighed and turned to the keep. It is useless to argue with fools, they will not believe you and choose only to mock. The good knight’s boots thudded on the rock floor of the great hall, and his eyes sought every corner of the dark room. The fire that had burned bright here in former times was now so low that it barely lit the daze, let alone the room. On the walls hung old and rusted armor, shields whose leather was split with age and lack of care, and bows who’s strings looked like they were dry and old. Sir Veritas looked around him in quite despair; a knight that did not protect his weapons would soon cease to be a lord, for the meanest thief could best him. The dust rose in clouds at Sir Veritas’s feet and the sound of snoring came from a few of the tables that were nearest the fire. Sir Veritas walked past the sleeping men and into the lord’s study.
“What do you here, Sir Veritas?” The good Sir George rose from his great chair and turned to look at his guest. His eyes were sunk into a fleshy face and his girth hung before him like a pregnant woman’s womb. “It has been long since you were last in this land.”
“Yes, too long, for in my absence your land has begun to die.”
“Begun to die? Oh rubbish. My land is the best and most beautiful in all the land…everyone knows that.”
“No, Sir George. Your land is not the best or brightest or safest. This night as I rode to your very castle, I was attacked by a band of thieves. They threatened me and sought to take me from my horse, but they had the worst part, for they did not know me or my righteous anger!”
“A band of thieves; please good sir, you try my humor.” Sir George began to laugh. “A band of thieves, you must have mistaken the shadows of the trees, it is easy to do you know, the dark forest is so different from the light.”
“Do shadows bleed; do they scream as your sword pierces their flesh? I killed them, sir, killed them dead as Fafnir, whom Sigurd slew!”
“Fafnir, the dragon of the north? Is it not enough that you taunt me with tales of bandits in my land, you would have me believing in dragons as well. Posh, good sir, you are a fool.”
“Nay, I am no fool, for I am Veritas and long have I walked this great world and often fought and bested evil of all kinds. You have grown fat and lazy and your people are the prey of villainous and hungry men. You have become lax in your duties and truth has fled from your sight. Your visor has blinded you and you live in a world of fantasy…”
“Enough!!” Sir George roared in utter disgust. “Have you come to taunt me in my own land, to call me ten times a fool and cowered? Were it not that knightly codes hold my hand I would have you thrown into prison and tried for your discourtesy. Lesser men would be killed for such offenses!”
“Very well! Kill me if you will! Call your men, have them take me, there is not a one who could withstand a child, let alone a knight. Your men are fools and beggars, unable to draw sword and unwilling to face danger. Kill me? Your men could not kill a sick dog, for their weapons are old and rusted and they are fat off your land and people!”
“Guards! Guards!” Sir George’s cry rang through the night. There was no reply. “Guards!” The sound of shuffling feet could be heard in the corridor and a sleepy face appeared at the door.
“You called?” the man snuffled and blinked in the light of the fire.
“Take this man from my presence at once!” Ordered Sir George. “Send him on his way, for we have no use for him here. He has spoken discourteously to me in my own home, and as my guest!”
The guard looked from Sir George to Sir Veritas, “Now, now, Sir, what’s this he says, ‘spoken discourteously’ to the lord of the castle. Come right this way and well show you out.”
“I’ll not leave unless you compel me to.”
“Please, sir, let’s not be hasty. I’d really hate to do you an injury (or myself for that matter. Don’t you know people get hurt fighting?)”
“If you wish me to leave, make me.” Sir Veritas eyes shown with an inner light and his helm began to shine. With a low fast movement he swung his shield from his back and held it at before him. The great silver background began to shine, so that the hart that graced it stood out strongly. “I am Sir Veritas, and I have come to save you and your land, though you do not recognize that you need me!”
Sir George’s guard stared in fear and awe. “Bloody Hell!” he cried and then sank back against the wall.
“Have you forgotten!?” cried Sir Veritas, “Once this castle shown with the radiance of such knights as I, once the battlements were covered in a light such as mortal eye cannot behold without wonder! Have you forgotten the glory of your father’s castle, the wonders that inhabited it and the peace that awaited all those who came here!? You dare to kick me out, but if I go you will be destroyed by the evil that besets you!”
Sir George looked with indignation on the man who stood before him. “Really, Sir! Your do try my patience! Not only do you mock me and laugh at me, but you insist on scaring my men too?”
“Were your men, men I would not scare them for they would face me with the courage and steadfastness of their forefathers, even if I shined like the noonday sun. Not only so, but they would invite me into their homes and to their tables and they would send their children to learn from me. But you have become fools, each one contented to sleep drunk in the night and have forgotten the just anger and equitable fire of your calling! I will not leave until you have ridden out with me, and seen your land as it is. No visor and no mask, no hiding from the reality that surrounds you. I will force your hand to the sword or surly you will all die in your folly, cut down by a bandit as you sleep.”
“I should like to know just how you think to force me to do anything,” said Sir George, casting a contemptuous glance at his guard who huddled, crying in the corner. “You cannot force me to ride out with you any more than I can force you to leave…at the moment, that is. Until my man gets over his fear…”“We shall see, son of my old friend. Your father learned wisdom at my knee and I will do the same for you.” With that Sir Veritas walked from the study and out into the great hall. He walked through the pillared room till he came to a small door, nearly hidden behind chair in which sat a drunken knight, his rusted sword thrown carelessly at his feet. Through the door was the small chapel; in the old king’s day it had been a clean and neat place, lit by candles and continually visited by knights and honest folk. Now it was dusty and dirty, with the smell of disuse. The stubs of burnt out candles sat where they had expired, ages of dust covering them. Sir Veritas walked to the front and drew his sword, with a slow grace of familiarity he flipped it upside down and stuck the point of the blade between two of the stones in the floor, then he knelt quietly before it. There would be no sleep for him tonight, for just as he guarded his sword and shield above all else, so he looked to all the weapons given him by his Maker at the beginning of time. Steady, without movement or sign of life, he knelt through the long watches of the night, awaiting his King’s orders and the dawning of a new day.