The Nonexistent Knight Read Free

other’s ignorance. “You must put in a request to the Superintendency of Duels, Feuds and Besmirched Honor, specifying the motives for your request and it will then be considered how to best place you in a position to attain the satisfaction you desire.”
    The youth, expecting at least a sign of surprised reverence at the sound of his father’s name, was mortified more by the tone than the sense of this speech. Then he tried to reflect on the words used by the knight, but so as not to admit their meaning, and also to keep up his enthusiasm, he said, “But sir knight, it’s not the superintendents who’re worrying me, please don’t think that. What I’m asking myself is whether in actual battle the courage I feel now, the excitement which seems enough to gut not one but a hundred Infidels, and my skill in arms too, as I'm well trained, you know, I mean if in all that confusion before getting my bearings ... Suppose I don’t find that dog, suppose he escapes me? I'd like to know just what you do in such a case, sir knight, can you tell me that? When a personal matter is at stake in battle, a matter concerning yourself and yourself alone ...”
    Agilulf replied dryly, “I keep to the rules. Do that yourself and you won’t make a mistake.”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” exclaimed the youth, looking crestfallen. “I didn’t want to be a nuisance. I really would have liked to try a little fencing exercise with you, with a paladin! I’m good at fencing, you know, but sometimes in the early morning my muscles feel slack and cold and don’t respond as I’d like. D’you find that too?”
    “No, I do not,” said Agilulf, and turning his back, he walked away.
    The youth wandered into the camp. It was the uncertain hour preceding dawn. Among the pavilions could be seen signs of early movement. Headquarters was already astir before the rising bugle. Torches were being lit in staff and orderly tents, contrasting with the half light filtering in from the sky. Was it really a day of battle, this one beginning, as the rumor went the night before? The new arrival was a prey to excitement, but a different excitement from what he had expected or felt till then. Rather, it was an anxiety to feel ground under his feet again, now that all he touched seemed to ring empty.
    He met paladins already locked into their gleaming armor and plumed round helmets, their faces covered by visors. The youth turned round to look at them and longed to imitate their bearing, the proud way they swung on hips, breastplate, helmet and shoulder plates, as if made all in one piece! Here he was, among the invincible paladins. Here he was, ready to emulate them in battle, arms in hand, to become like them! But the two he was following, instead of mounting their horses, sat down behind a table covered with papers. They were obviously important commanders. The youth rushed forward to introduce himself. “I am Raimbaut of Roussillon, squire, son of the late Marquis Gerard! I've come to enroll so as to avenge my father who died an heroic death beneath the ramparts of Seville!”
    The two raised their hands to their plumed helmets, lifted them by detaching headpiece and basinet, and put them on the table. From under the helmets appeared two bald yellowish heads, two faces with soft pouchy skin and straggly moustaches, the faces of clerks, of scribbling bureaucrats. “Roussillon, Roussillon,” they mumbled, turning over rolls with saliva-damped thumbs. “But we've already matriculated you yesterday! What d’you want? Why aren’t you with your unit?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, last night I couldn’t sleep at the thought of battle. I must avenge my father you know, I must kill the Argalif Isohar and so find ... Oh yes: the Superintendency of Duels, Feuds and Besmirched Honor. Where is that?”
    “He’s just arrived, this fellow, and he already knows everything! How d’you know of the Superintendency, may I ask?”
    “I was told by that knight, I don’t