Sir Veritas Part III

The morning dawned clear and bright over the eastern mountains and fell in loving caresses on the stone castle. One shy hare of light peeked through a small window into a dusty old chapel. Usually this was a vacant place, a place given over to the dark and dirt and the animals that loved them, but not today. Today there was a new and different seen. A knight knelt in the middle of the floor, his body so still he might have been dead if not for the soft rasping of his breath. Before him rest an upside down sword, its hilt and guard making the simple cross at which he worshipped. The light peeked in on this solemn world, and its smallest fingers touched the sword on its guard, illuminating the cross with a sacred light. Sir Veritas looked at the small window and then slowly rose from his knees. His hand slipped to the sword and then drew it easily from the fissure in which it had rested. With a swift movement he sheathed his sword and turned to the door of the chapel.

The hall was as dusty as the night before and the light that tried to pierce the dirty windows did little to illuminate the room. A group of worn and filthy knights sat at the benches near the table, their hands lifting goblets of wine and ale to their bearded faces. One of them turned a contemptuous glance on the visitor, “So boys, here he is. Sir Veritas, the nobles of all knights!” The statement was met with uproarious laughter. The speaker stumbled to his feet and reached for the sword that was thrown across the table. “The lord’s orders are to throw you out of the castle as soon as we found you…None too soon to my way of thinking!” With that the knight staggered toward him, his eyes trying drunkenly to focus on the strange knight. The other members of the party rose as well, their eyes mocking and angry, but unfocused. Sir Veritas waited quietly, still as a statue before his attackers.

“Stand still.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it stopped his opponents in their tracks. “You dare to approach me drunk and armed? Do you think I will stand quietly by while you try to destroy me? Do you think yourselves capable of taking me on?”
The ringleader stumbled forward again, his sword beginning to rise, but Sir Veritas simply knocked it from him. “I have no time to deal with fools and drunkards! Where is your lord?” The knights tried to move forward again, but the brave knight quickly snapped his sword before him and with the utmost calmness began to drive his foes back toward the corner. “I asked and question, and one that must be answered. Where is your lord?”

One of the men, feeling the wall behind him dropped his sword, “Okay, we cannot best you, you speak truly in that. The lord is in his study, looking over new taxes that must be paid by the peasants.”

Sir Veritas turned his back on his opponents and walked toward the study door. One of the knights reached for his boot and drew a small dagger. With a cry of rage he leaped at the good knight with blade swinging…The dagger met cold iron and the man fell back, his eyes widening as the sword blade cut through his intestines and pulled his guts onto the floor. “I said, ‘I have no time for fools!’” the quite tone sounded more menacing than any battle cry. “Know that I will kill any who oppose me.” And with that he was gone, entered into their master’s study without so much as a knock.

Sir George, half raised from his seat, stared at him. “You, still? Now what have you done? I heard that cry and it did not sound like a party.”
“I have killed a fool. And now, about this ride you and I will take…”
“I have already told you, I will not ride out with you, try as you like.”
“Very well…but know that I will remain here until you do, appearing before your face all the time and making you continually aware of my presence. You will not escape me, except by coming out into your town and seeing the way your people live.”

“I know how my people live, I need no help to know this. I ride through my country at least once a week and see all that goes on.”
“But on all these rides you wear your visor. On this ride you will not, for you will see the world your people live in!”

Sir George shook his head, and then sat again at his desk. “Please refrain from killing any more of my knights.” And with that he went back to his papers, clearly telling Sir Veritas that their audience was over.

Sir Veritas turned and walked into the hall, his eyes shining and his face set in anger. He walked through the knights as they parted like the red sea for Moses. “Are you knights or children?” He demanded. “Come, ride with me and I will make clear to you the life that you live and the life you could live!” The knights just stared at him, a couple of them moving back to avoid any danger at his hand. “Are none of you men? Who has bewitched you that you are so contented and stupid that you refuse to face the world?”

One of the knights cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. He was the same guard that had stood at the gate the day before. “We have been told that our land is safe and secure. No offense meant, but why should we worry or train?”

Sir Veritas looked at the man and a slow smile crawled onto his face. “Come, ride out with me and I will show you why you should train and work.” The young knight looked down at his feet, and then at the sword that hung at his side, the only sword being worn by Sir George’s men.

“I would, but I fear the lord, and my weapons are not good, they are all rusted and dull. I really don’t think I’m brave enough…I mean look how scared I…”

“Ride out with me and you will conquer your dread. Today we will set your weapons in order and prepare you for battle and tomorrow we will go and face your fears.”

The other knights turned angry glares on the young man. If not for the protecting presence of Sir Veritas it is unlikely the young man would have fared well in the room of scoundrels. “Come, we have much to do and little time. What is your name?”

“I am called Sir Yuvan. I am the youngest of the knights in this castle. I fear I will soon be a young knight errant for having come with you.”

“Do not fear; you have proven wiser than the older knights, for you have listened and followed where they have rejected.”

Sir Veritas lead down a flight of stares and around a corner into a dark and sooty room. The forge was long cold and the smith had not been in residence for a number of years. He had moved to the hamlet because the knights had ceased to bring him work, preferring to let their weapons rust and their shields mold, then bother walking down the steps to the smithy.

Sir Veritas turned to Sir Yuvan and asked for his sword. The weapon was ancient and honorable, but the blade was badly rusted. “Where did you get this blade?”

“It was given to me by one of the other knights…when I first arrived I had a fine and shining sword. I thought to defend justice and honor with it, but one of the older knights took a fancy to my sword and forced me to trade it for that one.”

Sir Veritas grunted. “The old fool didn’t know what he was doing.” His smile grew as he held the sword in his hand. “You have had the better part of the bargain, for this is Durendal, the sword of the brave Sir Roland. You posses one of the greatest swords of the ages. Let me teach you to clean it…and use it.” The rest of the morning was spent cleaning and sharpening swords and lances. Sir Yuvan polished his armor and waxed his shield, he re-tipped his arrows and sharpened and oiled his sword. At last he completed the tasks given him by Sir Veritas, who had spent his morning in one of the corners of the forge working…on what Sir Yuvan did not know. He walked toward the older knight.

“I have completed the tasks given me.” He said. “All my weapons are prepared and all my armor is oiled, I am ready to ride with you, into whatever doom shall be ours.”

Sir Veritas turned to him, his eyes squinted and a grim smile on his face. “Our doom is best left for future conversation. But come, I have made you one final piece that you must wear.” With that he lifted a helm from the bench at which he sat. The burnished steel shown in the light of the forge, and the white wings on the sides burned like fire. There were two long ear guards and a center nose guard, but no visor sat over the top. “You too will ride with eyes open and view clear. It is only in the light of the sun that we find our place. The fools who wear visors always assume that the world is as it should be…You will see it as it is and fight to make it as it should be!”

The young knight reached forward and took the helm from Sir Veritas hand’s, he looked on it for a moment before slipping it onto his head. The look on his face changed as it settled over his brow. He shook his head and then, with a smile drew his sword from its sheath. He lifted it to his face and saluted the knight that stood before him. “Now teach me to use these weapons and I will ride to any fate!”

That evening was spent in training as the morning was spent in preparation. Sir Yuvan’s hands had forgotten their skill and his arms their strength, for he had spent too long sleeping in the hall of the castle; but with the help of Sir Veritas he began to renew his strength and cunning. He trained long into the night and his arms were weary and pained when he finally stopped to rest. Sir Veritas lead him back to the giant hall and into the quite chapel in which he had spent the night. The comforts of bed and hearth were not offered to the guest, for the lord was greatly displeased with the truth spoken to him, so the chapel remained the only place of welcome for the old and venerable knight. Here he and the youth rested, waiting in the dark for the dawning of a new day and the adventures it would bring.