Read Online The Knight's Tale by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online Page A

day of Our
Lord’s resurrection. We have faced many challenges this winter,
with raids from both the orcs of the Wilderland and from the Deep.”
He nodded in Ridmark’s direction. “And an urdmordar even sought to
enslave one of our villages. But by God’s mercy and the valor of
our knights, we have survived, and both Lent and the winter are
over. Let us then give thanks to God, and make merry with food and
drink and dancing.” A page hurried over with a goblet of wine, and
Gareth took a drink and lifted the goblet.
    “To the Northerland and the High King!” he
shouted.
    “To the Northerland and the High King!” the guests
roared back.
    A cheer went through the hall, and the musicians upon
the balconies started playing a lively song. The lords and the
knights went to the ladies and started to pair up, dancing over the
black and white tiles of the floor.
    “Pardon me, sirs,” said Ridmark, with a bow to both
Tarrabus and Joram.
    Tarrabus opened his mouth to answer, but before he
could, Ridmark strode away and approached the Dux’s dais.
    Gareth looked at him, an amused look on his face.
“Sir Ridmark.”
    “My lord Dux,” said Ridmark. “I hope you are
well.”
    “I am,” said Gareth, “for a man of my age. Ah, but
these northern winters get harder to endure every year.”
    “I wish to ask something of you, my lord,” said
Ridmark.
    “Certainly. You did a great service to my lands and
people when you slew the urdmordar Gothalinzur.”
    “I ask for the honor of the first dance of the
evening with Lady Aelia,” said Ridmark.
    Gareth chuckled. “Well, that is hardly mine to give.”
He looked at his daughter.
    Aelia smiled. “If I must, father, I shall bear up
under this dreadful burden.” She grinned, holding out a hand, and
Ridmark took it. His hand went on her left hip, their right hands
twining together, and he led her upon the floor of the hall, moving
in time to the music.
    “Shall we go faster?” said Ridmark.
    Her smile widened. “Only if you think you can keep
up, sir knight.”
    Ridmark laughed, their heels clicking against the
floor.
    “Poor Tarrabus,” said Aelia. “He looks like he wants
to rip off someone’s head.”
    Ridmark opened his mouth, and then closed it. He was
only nineteen, but he still knew enough of women to realize that
pointing out his rival’s flaws would not be productive.
    “Well,” he said. “If he wanted the first dance, he
should have been faster. Fortune does favor the bold, my lady.”
    “How flattering,” she murmured. “The sons of two
Duxi, racing to dance with me. And I will not even inherit my
father’s lands and titles.”
    “They come with much responsibility,” said Ridmark.
“Your father labors endlessly to bear his burdens.”
    “You aided him with that,” said Aelia, “when you slew
Gothalinzur.” Ridmark grimaced. “I know you do not like to be
reminded of what you did at Victrix, but it was a great deed.”
    “It was necessary,” said Ridmark. “And I had help. I
could not have done it alone.”
    “So have said all the great heroes of history,” said
Aelia.
    “I have no wish to be a hero,” said Ridmark. “Merely
to discharge my responsibilities with honor.”
    “As do I,” said Aelia. “Like my father, I must do
what is best for the people of the Northerland.”
    Which, Ridmark wondered, meant wedding Tarrabus
Carhaine?
    “You look so grim,” said Aelia.
    “I always look grim,” said Ridmark. “I’m smiling now.
See?”
    He kept his expression the same.
    Aelia laughed. “If you look like that when you are
happy, I dread to think of what you must look like in a fury.”
    “I think we are talking too much,” said Ridmark. “We
should dance instead.”
    Her eyes lit up. “If we must.”
    They moved across the floor, revolving around each
other. In the southern courts, the dances were slower, more solemn.
Here in the north, they were faster and wilder, and he saw a sheen
of sweat appear upon Aelia’s brow. Again