Page 135 of The Robber Knight
“What is this?” Reuben demanded. “I told youI would pay you after the tournament. Are you doubting my word andmy honor as a knight?”
“Why is he still here?” the innkeepersnapped. “Get on with it!”
“Si,Signore,” one of the men growled. He stepped towardsReuben, raising his fist.
In an attempt to placate them, Reuben held uphis hand. “Please, we are all good Christians, all brothers in theLord, no violence is necessary.”
The first punch caught him on the cheek andslammed him into the stone wall.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of thebees that suddenly seemed to be swarming around inside, buzzingloudly. “All right,” he growled, pushing himself away from thewall, towards his opponents. “Maybe a little bitisnecessary.”
The FirstChallenge
Years ago, when he had just started his training asa page, Reuben used to train against straw dummies in the courtyardof his father's castle. Fighting against these two men reminded hima bit of that experience, only the men didn't move quite sofast.
He had one by the collar and out the windowwithin five seconds. The second took even less time. Reuben wentfor variety and threw him out of the open inn door. From outside,he heard loud cursing, and not in Italian.
“You lout! How dare you get in my way?”
“Scusa, suaEccellenza,” came the heavily accented voice one of themen, filled with fear. “It wasn't my doing! This man threw me—hewon't leave our master's house!”
“The Roaring Lion?”
“Si, suaEccellenza.And this man...”
“Man? What man?”
Footsteps came up the outer stairs and thedoor, which had swung shut again after Reuben had flung thatimpudent servant out, flew open. In the doorway stood abroadly-built man of about thirty, his head bald, his prominentchin adorned by a straight-cut black beard that seemed hewn out ofblack basalt. One couldn't see much of his mouth through thebarrier of blackness, but Reuben thought it was a fair guess to saythat it wasn't smiling at the moment.
“Master Accorso, what is going on here?” thestranger demanded of the innkeeper, and Reuben was delighted tosee, as the man turned, that he wore a knight's crest on hissurcoat. Here was someone who would understand!
“Sir Wilhelm!” The innkeeper swallowed, thenpointed to Reuben. “This man wants a room, but will not pay for it.When I told him to leave, he refused.”
“Vagabonds in the hallway?” Sir Wilhelm knithis brow as he turned and approached Reuben. “We can't have that.We—”
He stopped in his tracks when he caught sightof the “vagabond.” Reuben smiled. The coat of arms on his long,elegant surcoat was just as visible as the one on SirWilhelm’s.
“Thisis thevagabond?” he asked the innkeeper.
“I am no vagabond, good sir. That man islying,” Reuben said with a dismissive gesture at the innkeeper. “Iwas perfectly willing to pay for the room, with the money I toldhim I would win in the tournament.”
“You?” SirWilhelm barked a laugh, his eyes fastening on Reuben's youthfulfeatures. “A sapling like you, win a joust in the tournament? Areyou even a knight yet?”
“I,” Reuben proclaimed, raising his chin, “amSir Reuben von Limburg, son of Heinrich, Duke von Limburg, Countvon Berg, and High Commander of the Imperial Crusade Forces. Youwill address me with the respect due my station or pay the price,Sir.”
“Imperial Crusade Forces?” Sir Wilhelm liftedan eyebrow. “Do you mean the Crusade the Emperor undertook toJerusalem?”
“Yes.” Reuben almost felt himself grow a fewinches. His father’s name was obviously known.
“The one he undertook while he wasexcommunicated from the church, and all the old ladies in Jerusalemwere said to have shown his army their naked rear ends, todemonstrate how highly they thought of him and his commander?”
Color flushed to Reuben's cheeks, and hestopped growing. His father had never told himthatparticular part of the story...
“So,SirReuben,” Sir Wilhelm inquired. “Why do you not pay thisgood man here the price he demands, if you want to stay in hisinn?”
“Because I do not have the money yet. But Iwill give him my word of honor as the duke's son that I shall haveit as soon as the jousts are over.”
“A duke's son, eh?” Sir Wilhelm snorted. “Whynot a king's or the Emperor’s? A duke’s son would have money in hispocket, boy! I think you've had a little too much to drink andplayed dress-up in your master’s clothes. Come now. Leave, and Iwon't have to knock your head against the wall.”
