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thatsmyswordIt was a beautifully sunny day out here, so near to Sasau River. Henry doubted he would have been able to enjoy it one way or another, but the prospect of going hunting with Sir Hans Capon didn't improve it any.
Still, he knew better than to ignore Sir Hanush's orders. There was little else he could do but trek his way up to the upper castle in the morning, his head heavy with an actual night's sleep and already-dawning irritation.
He found Sir Hans leaning against the tall cobbled walls, his arms crossed over his blindingly-yellow pourpoint. Right. Might as well get this over with.
"Here I am," Henry announced.
"I'm overjoyed," Sir Hans said, with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. "Have you got a horse?"
A horse? Henry barely had twelve groschen on him. "No, sir," he said, blinking. "Where would someone like me get a horse?"
"... Good point," Sir Hans allowed. "Unless it was a cart horse, I suppose." He eyed Henry speculatively. Was he going to offer-- "Well, you'll just have to trot along behind me like a good dog."
Henry really should have tried harder to land a few more punches last night, he thought darkly. But he wrangled his temper as best he could. He'd gotten into enough trouble already. Picking more fights with nobility might get him thrown in the stocks, or worse.
So he retreated, and waited while Sir Hans got onto his horse - bedecked, of course, in strong yellows, the mark of the House of Leipa emblazoned in bright red across the flowing fabric on both flanks. And then, like a good dog, he followed right behind.
He got some small measure of satisfaction in how much Sir Hans had to raise his voice when he decided to start talking-- a small measure that faded as soon as he started paying attention.
"Look here, blacksmith, about that business at the alehouse," Sir Hans called, as they passed by the training grounds on the outskirts of Rattay and into the countryside.
"Yes, sir?" Henry inquired, keeping his voice subservient as he jogged along with the hunting dogs trailing after that bright yellow horse.
"Hanush was right. I should have behaved differently. More... well, gentlemanly," Sir Hans said. "But that doesn't mean you were in the right! You can't throw a lord out of the tavern in his own town! Understand?"
Was Sir Hans trying to... apologize? In some strange, roundabout way? "Yes," Henry echoed, frowning. "I was just..."
"What? Speak up!" Sir Hans bellowed. "Don't worry, I won't bite your head off!"
Right.
"It's just that when you said those things in the arena the morning before, Sir, I was a bit... upset," Henry said slowly. (Upset. 'Upset' was a word for when you stubbed your toe. Whatever Henry had been feeling that day, Skalitz still burning in his mind's eye, that was...)
"Ah!" Sir Hans called. "I just like to tease the greenhorns a little. And you vexed me too! You were insolent to Captain Bernard and they rewarded you with service!" Henry kept trotting. He'd caught up by now, grateful that Sir Hans had at least not bothered to spur his horse on any faster. "Whenever I do anything reckless, even if it's for my honour, Hanush is on my back about it and I get punished! Like now."
It was hard sometimes to remember how you had to speak to the nobility, how you were meant to interact with them. They seemed so far away. They certainly, in Henry's lifetime, had never bothered to explain anything. And then Skalitz had happened, and he'd completely lost sight of any such distinctions, and now that he was finally, perhaps, descending back into the reality of his situation, Sir Hans was... being candid.
He was having a hard time landing anywhere.
"I never meant to threaten anyone," Henry settled on.
"Ah, it's all water under the bridge," Sir Hans said. "Let's not spoil our hunt."
He was silent for a while, and the sun bore down on them kindly. Henry's legs were beginning to hurt, but he didn't want to bring it up again. Not when they had some kind of truce.
"Is this the first time you've been on a hunt?" Sir Hans asked, eventually, and no, not this kind, Henry said, and if you're not a complete blockhead, you might learn something, I've done this all my life, Sir Hans returned, and if you don't cock it up entirely I might take you again, it's always helpful to have a minion at hand, and chasing bunnies with a pitchfork isn't hunting, and Henry did his level best not to roll his eyes in a way that was less about anger, this time, just faint irritation.
It was fine, oddly personable conversation. At least until Sir Hans said, "Listen, I wanted to ask you about Skalitz."
And Henry remembered, no, realized that he hadn't thought about Skalitz for however long it had taken them to get out of the castle, and it all came dropping back down on his head. He tried to demurr, but Sir Hans kept asking, and asking, and asking. He wanted details, like it was some exciting skirmish from a bard's tale, and yet all Henry could bring to mind was the flames, and Theresa's screams as the Cumans advanced on her, Ma and Da in the mud--
"Arguing with the nobility again?" Sir Hans sighed, eventually. "It seems you're a bit of a rebel."
"Well, no, sir," Henry said, something rough twisting in his stomach. "It's just that... well. It's hard for me to talk about."
"I see," Sir Hans said. "So I'll have to get you drunk, first."
Henry kept walking. Muttered something under his breath, about how that wouldn't work. Suddenly his eyes were set on the horizon, staring hard, because he was not going to cry in front of-- he wasn't going to weep right now.
At least Sir Hans gave up, for now, because he directed Henry towards a spot in the woods, just up ahead. A small camp. The ensuing silence gave him some time to collect himself, and setting up camp, getting their food for the fire, that gave him something else to do. But whatever blissful ignorance he'd managed to claim for himself for some time was gone for now.
"You know, hunting is a diversion," Sir Hans said, as he settled by the fire. "The main thing is to get out of Rattay for a while. Listening to Hanush's lectures would drive anyone mad."
Henry took a deep breath. He sat down next to Sir Hans on a log by the fire. It would probably be best to distract the noble. So he asked questions. What did Sir Hans do on any given day? What happened to his parents? What would they be hunting? And again, to his surprise, Sir Hans was quite candid about it all, talking about the burden of learning how to govern, getting a little sharper when asked about why he wasn't in control of Rattay yet.
It worked for a bit. Then Sir Hans managed to wind his way back to Skalitz again, somehow. "What did you hear, my Lord?" Henry asked at last, exasperated. "That Sigismund flew down on a dragon? That the Cumans have horns and hooves? I'm sorry, but for me, Skalitz isn't a tale of adventure to share over a tankard of ale."
And finally, Sir Hans let it go. They ate, and they took to their bedrolls, and once again, Henry slept just fine. Sir Hans woke him with a shake - "Your Lord requires you for the hunt." "Really? Such a renowned hunter needs help?" "You wouldn't dare mock your betters, now would you?" "Heaven forbid, your Lordship." - and Henry, bold in his impishness, made the sign of the cross, and somehow it went over fine, at most ignited a little gamesmanship, and then they were out in the woods, and Henry bagged several hares, and when he returned to camp Sir Hans had actual compliments ready for him.
Henry still didn't have any bloody idea how to talk to a noble, but he was beginning to suspect that talking to a noble and talking to Sir Hans were two wildly different things.
Especially after Sir Hans insisted on hunting a boar with bow and arrow - blithely ignoring that any simpleton could tell you that a boar's hide was too thick for that sort of thing - and then took off after the not-quite-so-dead thing on his horse, and tripped straight into the hands of a group of hostile Cumans. Perhaps a sane person would have gone back to the castle to warn them of what had occurred, to find some soldiers to help, but somehow that thought didn't come to Henry until much later, when he was already knees-deep in the muck of the Cuman camp, his fingers moving quickly to untie the rope around Sir Hans's wrists.
"I'll have a bronze bust made of you, my friend," Sir Hans said, his eyes frantically taking in the three dead Cumans around them. "But where have you been till now?!"
"Oh, you know," Henry said, righting himself, and he too looked into the camp, just in case he'd missed anyone in his clumsy sneaking. "I was picking berries, had a sip of wine, took a nap..."
He followed Sir Hans's line of sight to the body closest to them. Oh, he really had done all that, hadn't he? Just. Wrapped an arm around the man's throat and choked the life out of him. Stabbed that other one, right in the liver. And then there was that last one, still breathing, bleeding out into the mud.
Good. The only good Cuman was a dead Cuman.
Was that a grim thought? Did he sound grim?
Perhaps not, because Sir Hans burst out laughing. "You lunatic!" he called. "They almost had me roasting on a spit!"
Henry huffed a laugh, and looked back at Sir Hans, chasing the dark thoughts away. "I'd say it looked more like they were about to take your maidenhood..."
Sir Hans blanched. "Now look here, dung-grubber," he said, voice rising. "Is that any way to speak to a nobleman?"
Crap. Had he let the moment carry him too far? "Ah, I apologise, Sir, I'm just glad you're alright--"
The appalled expression on Sir Hans's face fell away instantly. "I'm yanking your pizzle, you dolt," he chuckled. "Thank you for rescuing me!"
It was a strange day, Henry reflected, as he lifted Sir Hans's arm over his shoulder. The noble was wounded. He needed to be brought back to the castle. They had come here with hounds and a horse; now they went back on foot.
It was a strange day, and he and Sir Hans bloody Capon were laughing and joking as they limped back home.
[[ adapted from Kingdom Come: Deliverance (2018), nfb and nfi due to distance. ]]
Still, he knew better than to ignore Sir Hanush's orders. There was little else he could do but trek his way up to the upper castle in the morning, his head heavy with an actual night's sleep and already-dawning irritation.
He found Sir Hans leaning against the tall cobbled walls, his arms crossed over his blindingly-yellow pourpoint. Right. Might as well get this over with.
"Here I am," Henry announced.
"I'm overjoyed," Sir Hans said, with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. "Have you got a horse?"
A horse? Henry barely had twelve groschen on him. "No, sir," he said, blinking. "Where would someone like me get a horse?"
"... Good point," Sir Hans allowed. "Unless it was a cart horse, I suppose." He eyed Henry speculatively. Was he going to offer-- "Well, you'll just have to trot along behind me like a good dog."
Henry really should have tried harder to land a few more punches last night, he thought darkly. But he wrangled his temper as best he could. He'd gotten into enough trouble already. Picking more fights with nobility might get him thrown in the stocks, or worse.
So he retreated, and waited while Sir Hans got onto his horse - bedecked, of course, in strong yellows, the mark of the House of Leipa emblazoned in bright red across the flowing fabric on both flanks. And then, like a good dog, he followed right behind.
He got some small measure of satisfaction in how much Sir Hans had to raise his voice when he decided to start talking-- a small measure that faded as soon as he started paying attention.
"Look here, blacksmith, about that business at the alehouse," Sir Hans called, as they passed by the training grounds on the outskirts of Rattay and into the countryside.
"Yes, sir?" Henry inquired, keeping his voice subservient as he jogged along with the hunting dogs trailing after that bright yellow horse.
"Hanush was right. I should have behaved differently. More... well, gentlemanly," Sir Hans said. "But that doesn't mean you were in the right! You can't throw a lord out of the tavern in his own town! Understand?"
Was Sir Hans trying to... apologize? In some strange, roundabout way? "Yes," Henry echoed, frowning. "I was just..."
"What? Speak up!" Sir Hans bellowed. "Don't worry, I won't bite your head off!"
Right.
"It's just that when you said those things in the arena the morning before, Sir, I was a bit... upset," Henry said slowly. (Upset. 'Upset' was a word for when you stubbed your toe. Whatever Henry had been feeling that day, Skalitz still burning in his mind's eye, that was...)
"Ah!" Sir Hans called. "I just like to tease the greenhorns a little. And you vexed me too! You were insolent to Captain Bernard and they rewarded you with service!" Henry kept trotting. He'd caught up by now, grateful that Sir Hans had at least not bothered to spur his horse on any faster. "Whenever I do anything reckless, even if it's for my honour, Hanush is on my back about it and I get punished! Like now."
It was hard sometimes to remember how you had to speak to the nobility, how you were meant to interact with them. They seemed so far away. They certainly, in Henry's lifetime, had never bothered to explain anything. And then Skalitz had happened, and he'd completely lost sight of any such distinctions, and now that he was finally, perhaps, descending back into the reality of his situation, Sir Hans was... being candid.
He was having a hard time landing anywhere.
"I never meant to threaten anyone," Henry settled on.
"Ah, it's all water under the bridge," Sir Hans said. "Let's not spoil our hunt."
He was silent for a while, and the sun bore down on them kindly. Henry's legs were beginning to hurt, but he didn't want to bring it up again. Not when they had some kind of truce.
"Is this the first time you've been on a hunt?" Sir Hans asked, eventually, and no, not this kind, Henry said, and if you're not a complete blockhead, you might learn something, I've done this all my life, Sir Hans returned, and if you don't cock it up entirely I might take you again, it's always helpful to have a minion at hand, and chasing bunnies with a pitchfork isn't hunting, and Henry did his level best not to roll his eyes in a way that was less about anger, this time, just faint irritation.
It was fine, oddly personable conversation. At least until Sir Hans said, "Listen, I wanted to ask you about Skalitz."
And Henry remembered, no, realized that he hadn't thought about Skalitz for however long it had taken them to get out of the castle, and it all came dropping back down on his head. He tried to demurr, but Sir Hans kept asking, and asking, and asking. He wanted details, like it was some exciting skirmish from a bard's tale, and yet all Henry could bring to mind was the flames, and Theresa's screams as the Cumans advanced on her, Ma and Da in the mud--
"Arguing with the nobility again?" Sir Hans sighed, eventually. "It seems you're a bit of a rebel."
"Well, no, sir," Henry said, something rough twisting in his stomach. "It's just that... well. It's hard for me to talk about."
"I see," Sir Hans said. "So I'll have to get you drunk, first."
Henry kept walking. Muttered something under his breath, about how that wouldn't work. Suddenly his eyes were set on the horizon, staring hard, because he was not going to cry in front of-- he wasn't going to weep right now.
At least Sir Hans gave up, for now, because he directed Henry towards a spot in the woods, just up ahead. A small camp. The ensuing silence gave him some time to collect himself, and setting up camp, getting their food for the fire, that gave him something else to do. But whatever blissful ignorance he'd managed to claim for himself for some time was gone for now.
"You know, hunting is a diversion," Sir Hans said, as he settled by the fire. "The main thing is to get out of Rattay for a while. Listening to Hanush's lectures would drive anyone mad."
Henry took a deep breath. He sat down next to Sir Hans on a log by the fire. It would probably be best to distract the noble. So he asked questions. What did Sir Hans do on any given day? What happened to his parents? What would they be hunting? And again, to his surprise, Sir Hans was quite candid about it all, talking about the burden of learning how to govern, getting a little sharper when asked about why he wasn't in control of Rattay yet.
It worked for a bit. Then Sir Hans managed to wind his way back to Skalitz again, somehow. "What did you hear, my Lord?" Henry asked at last, exasperated. "That Sigismund flew down on a dragon? That the Cumans have horns and hooves? I'm sorry, but for me, Skalitz isn't a tale of adventure to share over a tankard of ale."
And finally, Sir Hans let it go. They ate, and they took to their bedrolls, and once again, Henry slept just fine. Sir Hans woke him with a shake - "Your Lord requires you for the hunt." "Really? Such a renowned hunter needs help?" "You wouldn't dare mock your betters, now would you?" "Heaven forbid, your Lordship." - and Henry, bold in his impishness, made the sign of the cross, and somehow it went over fine, at most ignited a little gamesmanship, and then they were out in the woods, and Henry bagged several hares, and when he returned to camp Sir Hans had actual compliments ready for him.
Henry still didn't have any bloody idea how to talk to a noble, but he was beginning to suspect that talking to a noble and talking to Sir Hans were two wildly different things.
Especially after Sir Hans insisted on hunting a boar with bow and arrow - blithely ignoring that any simpleton could tell you that a boar's hide was too thick for that sort of thing - and then took off after the not-quite-so-dead thing on his horse, and tripped straight into the hands of a group of hostile Cumans. Perhaps a sane person would have gone back to the castle to warn them of what had occurred, to find some soldiers to help, but somehow that thought didn't come to Henry until much later, when he was already knees-deep in the muck of the Cuman camp, his fingers moving quickly to untie the rope around Sir Hans's wrists.
"I'll have a bronze bust made of you, my friend," Sir Hans said, his eyes frantically taking in the three dead Cumans around them. "But where have you been till now?!"
"Oh, you know," Henry said, righting himself, and he too looked into the camp, just in case he'd missed anyone in his clumsy sneaking. "I was picking berries, had a sip of wine, took a nap..."
He followed Sir Hans's line of sight to the body closest to them. Oh, he really had done all that, hadn't he? Just. Wrapped an arm around the man's throat and choked the life out of him. Stabbed that other one, right in the liver. And then there was that last one, still breathing, bleeding out into the mud.
Good. The only good Cuman was a dead Cuman.
Was that a grim thought? Did he sound grim?
Perhaps not, because Sir Hans burst out laughing. "You lunatic!" he called. "They almost had me roasting on a spit!"
Henry huffed a laugh, and looked back at Sir Hans, chasing the dark thoughts away. "I'd say it looked more like they were about to take your maidenhood..."
Sir Hans blanched. "Now look here, dung-grubber," he said, voice rising. "Is that any way to speak to a nobleman?"
Crap. Had he let the moment carry him too far? "Ah, I apologise, Sir, I'm just glad you're alright--"
The appalled expression on Sir Hans's face fell away instantly. "I'm yanking your pizzle, you dolt," he chuckled. "Thank you for rescuing me!"
It was a strange day, Henry reflected, as he lifted Sir Hans's arm over his shoulder. The noble was wounded. He needed to be brought back to the castle. They had come here with hounds and a horse; now they went back on foot.
It was a strange day, and he and Sir Hans bloody Capon were laughing and joking as they limped back home.
[[ adapted from Kingdom Come: Deliverance (2018), nfb and nfi due to distance. ]]
