Page 130 of The Robber Knight
Anno Domini 1230
“What do you mean,you won't doit?” the old duke roared. His fist came down on thetable with a crash that made the platters rattle.
On the opposite side of the table, his sondidn't appear to be the least bit concerned. He bit off anotherpiece of mutton and said calmly, if not very clearly, due to themutton: “I mean I won't do it, Father. I have other plans.”
“Other plans? You're my heir, Reuben, myeldest son!” Angrily, the duke waved a meat fork through the airand stabbed it at his son. The servants around him took aprecautionary step backward. They knew the duke's aim to be lessthan perfect. Suddenly, they all seemed to be very eager to be ontheir way to the kitchens to fetch the next course. “One day, youwill inherit all my lands. What other plans could you possiblyhave, except learning how to oversee our family's possessions?You're already a knight and of an age; it’s high time you learnedall there is to know about tithes and clergy appointmentsand...”
Reuben rolled his eyes and spat a little boneback onto his plate. “More mutton!” he called to a servant. And tohis father: “Bah! Don't even start! The mere thought makes me wantto die from boredom.”
“Boredom?”
“Yes, boredom.” Reuben waved his fork towardsthe dining hall windows, through which one had a beautiful view ofthe valley beneath. “I'd much rather go adventuring. See the world,rescue damsels in distress, prove my valor, kill a few dragons—thatsort of thing.”
“Kill dragons?” The old duke's eyes almostpopped out of their sockets. “There's no such thing asdragons!”
“Theremust be, Father. St George[50]killed a dragon.”
“He was a saint!”
“Don't you think I could be a saint, too?”Reuben asked and gave his father the charming smile that hadalready won him the heart of every maid and miller's daughterwithin twenty miles of the castle. It didn't have quite the sameeffect on his father.
The old duke growled disparagingly. “Saintshave to swear off women,” he reminded his son.
Reuben gave this due consideration. “Allright,” he conceded. “Maybe I won't become a saint, then. But Icould still be a dragon slayer, a brave adventurer.”
“You could also do what you're told foronce!”
“And where would be the fun in that,Father?”
The duke said something in answer that hewould not have said had his wife been present. Only when theswearing had subsided did the servants in the kitchen dare peepthrough the door and start approaching with the next course—troutin wine sauce. Though one of the young kitchen maids carried anextra platter full of mutton for Reuben.
“Language, Father,” he said, giving the dukean admonishing look. Then, as the smell of the mutton met his nose,he breathed in appreciatively. “Ah. Excellent.” He gave the servantgirl a beaming smile. “Thank you, Sophie, my dear. What would I dowithout you?”
The plump girl blushed to the roots of herhair and hurried off, covering her mouth with her hand. When thekitchen door shut behind her, they heard the muffled sound ofexcited giggling from the other side.
The duke growled. “And you dare admonish me?Did you have to do that?”
“Do what, Father?” Reuben asked with aninnocent smile, while he busied himself loading mutton onto a pieceof bread.
“Do...that.Your thing. With the girl.”
“All I did was smile at her.”
“Exactly. She won't be any good to thesteward for at least a week now. She'll be busy plucking flowersand telling rumors to her friends and God knows what else. I've hadcomplaints from the steward before about this.”
Reuben sighed. “Can't one be polite in thiscastle anymore? What the world has come to...”
Angrily, the duke plunged his knife into apiece of trout.
“Damn you! You've distracted me again! Whatwere we talking about?”
“Courtesy to servants, Father.”
“No! We were talking about your ridiculousscheme of leaving the castle.”
Unimpressed by his father's renewed glare,Reuben took a swig of honey wine from his cup and then returned hisconcentration to the mutton. “Firstly, it is not ridiculous, andsecondly, I don't just plan to leave the castle. I have a fancy togo to the Emperor's Court. I've heard there are marveloustournaments and falcon hunts being held there, and...”
Again, the duke's fist came down on thetable. Unfortunately, this time, the fist was still holding theknife. It buried itself inches deep in the wood, pinning a piece offish with wine sauce that was still clinging to it to thetable.
