“All the more reason why she’d turn me down! I could never win Magda’s love, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have a chance of a successful marriage!”
“Any particular reason why?” Gar asked, frown deepening to a scowl.
“I’m a churl, man! Born as low as any of these bullies’ serfs, and she’s a gentlewoman by birth, a squire’s daughter, the equal of a baron on any world where they remember the old aristocratic titles! How could I possibly make a solid marriage with a woman so far above my station?”
Gar stared at him in disbelief. At last he said, “You may have been born a churl, Dirk Dulaine, but you have grown into something far more.”
“I am what I am,” Dirk said stubbornly.
“Yes, but that means you’re also what you have become. The rebels of your home planet took you offworld and gave you a modern education, for starters.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know the manners of her people, the social graces.”
“No, you know the social graces of the galaxy! You’re quite well schooled in etiquette, and if they don’t have as many pieces of silverware as you know how to use, that certainly doesn’t leave you deficient!”
“But I don’t know the local manners.”
“You’ll learn them,” Gar said, with full assurance. “That’s the biggest gain from having an education: you’ve learned how to learn. Besides, the spirit of etiquette is far more important than its details.”
“Yes, to avoid giving offense, and that’s mostly a matter of consideration and respect for the people about you,” Dirk said, frowning. “You’re right—I could learn the local details.”
“Of course!” Gar began to feel that he was making some progress. “There’s not a shred of doubt that you’re far better educated than she, and at least as cultured.”
“Well, yeah, but what good does that do? I don’t know her culture, do I?”
Gar sighed. “Even if you count all the local lore she knows as being equal to the best works of the Terran Sphere, you’re still very sophisticated in critical standards, and you’ll learn the local arts quickly enough. As to their history, we’ve already guessed most of it—you just need it confirmed. Certainly you’re way ahead of any of the local men in both.”
“Nice of you to say so, but if you’ll pardon the observation, we haven’t really had enough local experience to judge.”
“We’ve both managed to get to know a pretty good cross section of the people here. Believe me, I’ve met one of the local bosses, and all he knows is war. In fact, I’d say you’re more than a match for Lady Magda in learning and culture—and social station. After all, you’re both a knight and a wizard, in local terms.”
“I haven’t seen any wizards,” Dirk retorted. “Neither have I, but I’ve heard enough about their sages.”
“I don’t know Taoism that well,” Dirk protested. “But you know enough science to be able to work the wonders they dream about.”
“That doesn’t make me a sage. As to being a knight, you know I’ve never been knighted.”
“But I have been.” Gar dismounted and turned to Dirk, drawing his sword. “Kneel down.”
Dirk eyed him warily. “Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke?”
“I don’t joke about knighthood,” Gar snapped. “I’ve seen you in action, in war and in peace, and I know full well that you’re an expert in fighting, and live the code of chivalry far better than most men who profess it. Kneel down!”
He actually seemed to be getting angry, and that was rare for Gar. Dirk decided to humor him. Slowly, he dismounted, then dropped to one knee, facing Gar.
“Do you swear to defend the weak against the strong and wicked?” Gar demanded.
“I do.” Dirk was seized with a moment of dizziness, a feeling of unreality.
“Do you swear to defend the Right and prosecute the Wrong?”
“I do.” After all, how could he refuse, when Gar phrased it so broadly?
“Will you defend the root ethical principles of all humanity that allow them to exist as social units, instead of trying to tear one another apart?”
“I will.” Dirk wondered how Gar had developed that oath.
The sword lowered, touching his right shoulder.
“Then I hereby dub thee knight!” The sword crossed to touch his left shoulder, then drew away. Gar stepped in and, with great calmness and precision, clouted Dirk on the side of the head.
Dirk went sprawling, and anger roared up in him. He started to scramble up, then heard Gar saying, without the slightest trace of humor, “Arise, Sir Dirk Dulaine.”
The anger fell away as suddenly as it had come; Dirk realized that his friend was actually trying to do something good for him. “I don’t remember that punch from the stories.”
“It’s the older form of the accolade, and I choose to use it with the newer, to remind you of the trials you’ll have to endure in the name of chivalry,” Gar said sternly, then thawed and admitted, “I may have overdone it a bit. Your pardon, Sir Dirk—I was carried away with zeal.” He reached down and caught his friend by the arm, hauling him to his feet. “I assure you, it’s real. I was knighted by a king. You really are a knight, and entitled to all the rights and privileges of that rank—as long as you fulfill its duties.”
“From what you say, I’ve been doing that already.” Dirk frowned, then looked his friend in the eyes. “Have I really?”
“You have,” Gar assured him. “Why else would you keep throwing yourself into the middle of a fight that could get you killed, just to help a lot of people you don’t even know and never will?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
“I do,” Gar said firmly. “I should have done this long ago—as soon as we left your home planet, in fact. But you’re so patently my equal that it frankly never occurred to me.”
Dirk felt a warm glow spreading through him. “I don’t know if I can ever be that, Gar, but I’ll work on it.”
“Don’t,” Gar told him, “because you’re there already. From now on, just work on being as good as Lady Magda.”
“Thought you told me I already was.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you believed me.” Gar turned to his horse. “Mount up, Sir Dirk—we still have a hidden enemy to find.”
Dirk mounted, then rode beside Gar across the plain and into the forest. He didn’t even notice that he scarcely said anything, and Gar wisely didn’t interrupt his meditation, for Dirk was still glowing, intensely excited at the idea of being worthy of Magda, of being able to win her.
And, of course, since he wasn’t really very alert, he was slow coming out of his rosy haze when Gar snapped, “Ambush!”
CHAPTER 13
Fortunately, the road stayed still and empty under the leafy canopy. It gave Dirk a few minutes to return to the here and now and brace himself for battle. “Where are they?”
“To either side of that big oak, with two of them on the branch overhead. If you look carefully, you can just make out their livery.”
Dirk reflected that a telepath could be a very useful traveling companion. “They’re planning to jump us? Why not just wait until the whole platoon is marching by?”
“They were only set on sentry duty, to watch for the platoon coming,” Gar told him, “so they were going to stay out of sight, but when they saw me, their pulses roared, and they sprinted into position.”
“You mean it’s us they want, not the Blue Company?”
“They’re certainly not thinking about Cort and his men right now,” Gar said. “Is your buckler on your arm?”
“Not yet.” Dirk lifted the small shield from the hook on his saddle, slipped his arm through the straps, and tightened them. “Okay now.”