Read Online Witch Doctor - Wiz in Rhyme-3 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Fantasy - General, Fantasy - Series, Wizards, Fantastic fiction
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if he'd just kept squeezing, I'd have been out like a light.
"You have fought bravely," the commander assured him, and beckoned a couple of other squires. "See to him."
They took him away, one on either side, and the ring of men began to break up as they turned back to their tasks, eagerly discussing the bout-what there had been of it. I noticed several guarded glances in my direction, but none of them seemed contemptuous.
I sighed. It was the same old story all over again. just win a few fights, and they'll accept you. Wasn't there anything more to a man than his fists?
"You are welcome among us now," the commander assured me. Of course.
But he was still watching me warily.
"Thanks for your hospitality," I said wryly. "I assure you, I won't start attacking without an invitation."
He shrugged the comment away. "We have swords enough. As to this wrestling, 'tis a peasant's sport-yet you do it well."
"Maybe too well?" I hazarded, from the look on his face.
"Mayhap." He turned, glowering. " 'Tis a most strange manner of wrestling. Where did you learn it?"
"In the East," I said. Okay, so America was west of here, assuming I was in Europe; but Japan was west of America, wasn't it?
And it was the East. So I had learned it in America, but it was Japanese, and America was east of Japan, so I had learned it in the East.
"All." His face cleared; he nodded grimly. "The land of the paynim. Any rarities might come thence."
He meant the Near East, I was pretty sure-but Muslim culture was just different enough from his that, for all he knew, anything, but anything, might be there. It struck me with sudden inspiration-an excellent means of explaining any way in which I didn't fit in. "I lived in the distant land for many years," I said. "I'm a scholar, and not terribly interested in the things of this world-but their wise men taught me that training of the body has to come before any really advanced training of the mind."
"There is truth in that," he allowed. "With what weapons were you trained?"
"Only the staff," I said. "They drew their scholarship from holy men, who taught that it was wrong to use edged weapons."
"As do ours." The commander nodded. "Save for we few who are sworn to defend the True Faith by force of arms."
"I was wondering about that," I said. "You have tonsures. Are you monks, or knights?"
He frowned more closely at me. "How long have you been away from Christian lands?"
"Since I was very young," I admitted. After all, the American public schools fit that description, these days.
His face cleared. "Small wonder, then. Know that we are knights of the Order of Saint Moncaire-yet monks, also."
Well, now, that rocked me. I mean, I'd learned about the Knights Templars in school and read about them in Ivanhoe, and been thoroughly scandalized by the mere notion that a man who is purportedly dedicated to God could also be dedicating himself to smashing up his fellow human beings with a Clydesdale and a mace. But I tried to be tactful. "Uh
... isn't that kind of a contradiction in terms?"
Instantly, the frown was back. "Why, how mean you?"
"Why," I said, "a monk is dedicated to love of his fellow human beings, and to upholding the Commandments-including 'Thou shalt not kill,' and 'Love one another.' But a knight is dedicated to hurting those same people."
"Assuredly, you cannot mean it!" He paled, and I could have sworn he was genuinely shocked. "Do you truly know so little of your own faith?"
"Of my own civilization, you mean." I frowned up at him. "You forget I've spent most of my life in a foreign land."
"Aye, I had forgot." He gathered composure around him, but still seemed rather shaken. "Know, then, young man, that we, as knights, are dedicated to the protecting of God's people from those who worship evil. And they who are dedicated to evil, scruple not to kill and maim in their lust to capture all that they can. It is therefore necessary to take arms against the minions of Satan; only major force
"You have fought bravely," the commander assured him, and beckoned a couple of other squires. "See to him."
They took him away, one on either side, and the ring of men began to break up as they turned back to their tasks, eagerly discussing the bout-what there had been of it. I noticed several guarded glances in my direction, but none of them seemed contemptuous.
I sighed. It was the same old story all over again. just win a few fights, and they'll accept you. Wasn't there anything more to a man than his fists?
"You are welcome among us now," the commander assured me. Of course.
But he was still watching me warily.
"Thanks for your hospitality," I said wryly. "I assure you, I won't start attacking without an invitation."
He shrugged the comment away. "We have swords enough. As to this wrestling, 'tis a peasant's sport-yet you do it well."
"Maybe too well?" I hazarded, from the look on his face.
"Mayhap." He turned, glowering. " 'Tis a most strange manner of wrestling. Where did you learn it?"
"In the East," I said. Okay, so America was west of here, assuming I was in Europe; but Japan was west of America, wasn't it?
And it was the East. So I had learned it in America, but it was Japanese, and America was east of Japan, so I had learned it in the East.
"All." His face cleared; he nodded grimly. "The land of the paynim. Any rarities might come thence."
He meant the Near East, I was pretty sure-but Muslim culture was just different enough from his that, for all he knew, anything, but anything, might be there. It struck me with sudden inspiration-an excellent means of explaining any way in which I didn't fit in. "I lived in the distant land for many years," I said. "I'm a scholar, and not terribly interested in the things of this world-but their wise men taught me that training of the body has to come before any really advanced training of the mind."
"There is truth in that," he allowed. "With what weapons were you trained?"
"Only the staff," I said. "They drew their scholarship from holy men, who taught that it was wrong to use edged weapons."
"As do ours." The commander nodded. "Save for we few who are sworn to defend the True Faith by force of arms."
"I was wondering about that," I said. "You have tonsures. Are you monks, or knights?"
He frowned more closely at me. "How long have you been away from Christian lands?"
"Since I was very young," I admitted. After all, the American public schools fit that description, these days.
His face cleared. "Small wonder, then. Know that we are knights of the Order of Saint Moncaire-yet monks, also."
Well, now, that rocked me. I mean, I'd learned about the Knights Templars in school and read about them in Ivanhoe, and been thoroughly scandalized by the mere notion that a man who is purportedly dedicated to God could also be dedicating himself to smashing up his fellow human beings with a Clydesdale and a mace. But I tried to be tactful. "Uh
... isn't that kind of a contradiction in terms?"
Instantly, the frown was back. "Why, how mean you?"
"Why," I said, "a monk is dedicated to love of his fellow human beings, and to upholding the Commandments-including 'Thou shalt not kill,' and 'Love one another.' But a knight is dedicated to hurting those same people."
"Assuredly, you cannot mean it!" He paled, and I could have sworn he was genuinely shocked. "Do you truly know so little of your own faith?"
"Of my own civilization, you mean." I frowned up at him. "You forget I've spent most of my life in a foreign land."
"Aye, I had forgot." He gathered composure around him, but still seemed rather shaken. "Know, then, young man, that we, as knights, are dedicated to the protecting of God's people from those who worship evil. And they who are dedicated to evil, scruple not to kill and maim in their lust to capture all that they can. It is therefore necessary to take arms against the minions of Satan; only major force
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