Page 132 of The Robber Knight
Reuben eyed the sausage dispassionately. “Youknow, when you used the meat fork, it was at least remotelythreatening.”
With a snarl, the duke hurled the sausageover his shoulder. One of the servants ducked just in time to notreceive a surprising sausage-experience.
“If you go,” the duke hissed, leaningforward, “you'll not get a penny out of me. Not for the journey,not for food or lodging, not for anything. Do you understand? Notone penny!”
He leaned back in his chair, watching theexpression on his son's face. It didn't change. But there was aflicker in his eyes.
“I see,” Reuben said slowly.
The duke grinned and grabbed anothersausage.
The rest of the evening passed in relativequiet. For the first time since they had sat down to dinner, theduke truly enjoyed his food. He consumed five sausages, half a loafof bread, and a bottle of honey wine before finally tottering offto bed, very pleased with himself. Obviously, he had gained acomplete victory over the rash youth.
The next morning, his servants woke the duketo inform him that his son had saddled his horse and left in thedead of night, taking nothing but his sword, armor, and a bottle ofthe duke's finest wine.
Money ofTomorrow
Reuben stepped off the ship, leading his horsebehind him, and took a big lung full of air. The air smelledaromatic, strange, alluring—the air of Italy. He turned back to themerchant who was standing at the railing, looking down at the youngknight.
“Thanks again for taking me along all thisway, Master Kaltbrücher,” he said with a nod.
“I couldn't very well say no to the duke'sson, now, could I?” The merchant smiled—though only with his lips,not his eyes. It was clear he had wished Reuben to the devil many atime.
Reuben narrowed his eyes. “Well, thank you.Good luck with selling your goods. And when you return to Limburg,make sure to tell my father what a help you've been to me, takingme all this way. I'm sure he'll find some way to... rewardyou.”
The merchant's face lit up. “Really? I'll dothat.” With a bow, he took leave of Reuben. “If you will excuseme...?”
“Certainly, go about your business.”
Reuben watched the merchant stride away overthe deck of his ship. “Poor devil,” he murmured with a smirk. Thenhe turned away from the ship to face the city of Palermo.
Before him lay the harbor. It stretched alonga wide section of the city, the coast forming in a curve around itand providing natural protection from the elements. The docks wereteaming with life. Wagons drove past Reuben, their drivers cursingin all sorts of unfamiliar tongues, alluring smells wafted towardshim, animals bleating and mooing in their pens, and people,everywhere were people. People in long satin robes, in cloaks, introusers, dark-skinned people, fair-haired Englishmen and Germans,rough-looking Normans... the variety was endless.
Yet Reuben's eyes were immediately drawn awayfrom all this to the vast castle that loomed above the city. Withits sharp, leaf-like crenels and strangely decorated outer walls,it was immediately obvious that Saracens had been at work here. Andgood work they had done. The castle was a massive fortification.Reuben was sure the Normans had been very pleased with after theyconquered it and threw the Saracens out.
“That's where I want to go,” he told hisblack steed, Ajax. “But not yet, I think.”
He stopped the next man who passed him.“Excuse me, good sir, do you know whether there is a tournament tobe held here soon?”
The man, a fat Italian with little eyes,regarded Reuben disdainfully. “Annarisinni,càmula!”
Reuben was just about to explain that he hadno idea what that meant, but the man was already walking away.
He considered teaching the fellow somemanners, but decided against it. A true knight had to be patientand kind to simple folk, even if they were rough sometimes.
He turned to the next passerby. “Excuse me,dear lady, might I inquire...”
“Annarisinni,càmula!”
He got the same answer a dozen more times,with slight variations. Finally, he began to wonder whether itwasn't Sicilian for “Welcome to Palermo, stranger.” But since theword “Palermo” didn't feature in the expression, he somehow doubtedit.
“Excuse me, dear Sir...” Somebody tapped himon the shoulder.
Turning, Reuben looked down on a thin, littleman with a long goatbeard.
“Did I hear you inquire after a tournament,son?” the man said in a wheezy voice, with a thick accent Reubendidn't recognize.
He exhaled in relief. Finally! Someone hecould understand.
