The Knight’s Yuletide Gift

By

M. L. Stidmon

The woods were cold and barren. The snow was dingy, having not been refreshed in many days. With an overcast sky the gloominess of the forest was somewhat oppressive. This was in contrast to the joy that should have been during this yuletide season. The Knight rode on through the disparaging surroundings wrapped up in a dirty brown cloak providing little warmth against the wet chill in the air.

The odd part about the woods was that he had not seen any living animals or birds since entering. It was thus very quiet traveling other than the steady clip clop sound of his horse’s hooves. There were signs though, of the road he was traveling on having been used recently, a cart of some sort pulled by a single draft horse by the looks of the tracks. Over lapping the wagon tracks were the biggest wolf tracks that the Knight. There was no doubt that the wolves were trailing the wagon. However he had yet to see any evidence of the wolves attacking the wagon, it was as if they were content to hang back and stalk the horse drawn vehicle. Nevertheless, the Knight had his sword out and resting across the pommel of his saddle.

It was late in the day and the gloom of the day was fading into darkness, when the first howls from wolves wailed through the trees. The Knight reined in the horse as he sat and listened for a moment. He figured the howls were from the owners of the tracks. He urged the horse on at no faster pace than what he had been traveling at before. After all he had been through; there was nothing that he feared especially a pack of mangy half starved wolves.

The Knight turned a bend in the road and the trees opened up into a clear field. Again the Knight stopped despite the closer proximity of the wolves. This time he gazed upon the small manor like castle that was on a slight rise dominating the vast open field. The place looked equally gloomy as the weather and the surrounding woods. He could see that the place was occupied. There were no visible lights but there was smoke drifting up from chimneys. The Knight looked about still not showing any expression of fear or apprehension towards the wild canines closing in upon him and his mount. He gave the horse a slight nudge and moved towards the safety of the castle unhurried despite the closer sounds of barking and howling of the wolves. He was not naïve of the danger of the pack coming through the woods towards him, nor was he so bold with unreasonable bravado. The Knight was fearless due to the conditioning of facing nearly insurmountable danger and threats to the point of being a routine occurrence.  

The Knight had entered into the field when the first of the wolf pack came into view. The lead wolf was a huge dark male with an intensity in his eyes that would have frozen most people in fear. Several of its companions were just as big as they too emerged from the trees and spindly brush and came to a stop. The Knight stopped and looked back at them to see what they were up to. For the most part they were in an agitated state as they eyed the Knight and horse as if their last hope to stave off death from starvation had slipped away after being so tantalizingly close. The Knight wondered about the strange behavior of the now fully gathered pack as they were unable or unwilling to cross the invisible line that kept them from feasting on the Knight and his steed. He looked at the pack and for a second then turned back to the small castle. Before spurring his horse forward he bowed his head in a silent little prayer.

The Knight then rode up to the portcullis gate of the castle. The place was not really a fortress he saw and would not have been able to defend against even a small force of determine attackers, let alone an army. The place was designed to keep out bandits and brigands and the wild beast of the forest. The Knight looked over the place for what he could see and thought he saw a shadow pass by one of several windows. With the pommel of his sword he moved forward and banged on the gate. He then sat back and waited.

The wait was not long before a slumped over dower looking man came to the gate and called out to him, “Who call’s on this night?”

The Knight looked down at the man and replied, “A weary traveler looking for shelter on Christmas Eve.”

“Go away,” the man rudely said. “The master does not want guest.”

“Please, I plead to your Master’s Christian charity. There are wolves lurking in the woods and there is no inn for miles.”

“I said be gone or we will run you off,” the man snarled just as threatening as the wolves had been.

The Knight looked at the lone man and smiled. “Go get your Master. I don’t take orders from underlings.”

The gatekeeper gave the Knight a curious look of both anger at the insult and also of pity. Then the man slouched away from the gate suffering from a terrible limp. Soon he was back looking at the Knight with a scowl.

‘The Master will see you,” the gatekeeper said while sliding back bolts and then pulling on a chain to lift the iron band gate of the portcullis.

The Knight looked at the man as he rode through the manor’s sally port. He got the impression that the gatekeeper was reluctant to let him not out of suspicion, but out of something else. The Knight paid the gatekeeper’s misgivings no mind.  He was not one to fret over someone else. He then dismounted in the small courtyard waiting to be attended by someone. Shortly the gatekeeper came up to him once the gate had been lowered back down and secured.

“I’ll take your horse,” the man said as he walked up to the Knight. “The Master will see you that-a way, in the hall.”

The Knight looked in the direction indicated and nodded. He gathered up a bundle of green cloth that had been tied to the back of his saddle on top of his bedroll. The Knight then walked to the large main entrance doorway.

The large single door was slightly ajar and he pushed it in. The interior was dimly lit as he stood at the entrance of the main hall. He could see the usual trappings of a country nobleman. Adorning the walls were hunting trophies along with a variety of arms and shields. There were some curious tapestries of scenes of battles also hanging on the walls. Curiously there were no portraits of ancestors or a heraldic devise or coat of arms either.

At the far end was a large fire pit with a low burning fire stoked up. A few torches provided most of the dim light. A small table with two high back cushion chairs was by the fire. The Knight had only been standing there for a moment when the gatekeeper came in through the door and closed it behind him.

The Knight gave him a disapproving look because there was no way that he had taken the saddle off and properly brushed the faithful horse down and provided food and water in that short amount of time.

“I took off the saddle and got him water,” said the man as if reading the Knights mind. “After I tell the Master you are here I will finish taking care of the horse.”

The Knight nodded and moved more into the hall and waited. Despite the fire in the hearth the air was still cold, so he left his cloak on for the moment. As he looked about the strange collection of odds and ends hanging on the wall he also noticed that the hall had a musty smell to it. For the Yuletide season he thought he would be smelling the sweet aromas of Christmas cooking or at least the aromatic fragrance of newly cut pine boughs. The Knight shook his head at the lack of cheer in the manor castle.

“Good evening,” a smooth clear voice interrupted the Knight’s casual muses.

The Knight turned about and saw a well-dressed man come into the hall. The Knight figured him to be the lord of the manor and noted that he carried no weapons not even a dagger which was usually customary. This was in contrast to the Knight who was wearing a long coat of mail under his cloak and a sword belt where he had a large hand and half blade sheathed at his side. There was a long dirk on his opposite hip from the formidable sword, too.

“My apologies of coming so late to your manor,” the Knight said as way of introduction.

“Nonsense,” the noble looking man said, “we get so few visitors to Joyous Fleur.”

“Thank you for letting me in and Merry Christmas to you,” the Knight said with a smile.

A brief expression of irritation crossed over the noble looking man. As quick as it was there it was gone. The expression had not been meant to be noticed however the Knight had saw it and even broaden his smile even more.

“Come let’s sit by the fire,” the host said leading the Knight over to the fireplace where the chairs were. The Knight followed and sat down after taking off the cloak and draping it over the back of the chair. He still carried the bundle of green cloth and set it down next to him.

The gatekeeper man came up to them with a tray of food and drink. He set it on the table between the Knight and his host. The Knight could not help but notice a wary look the man gave his Master. The Knight set his thoughts aside and kept his emotion blank. It was all too obvious that something was not right at this castle.

“We get so few visitors through these parts as I said,” the noble looking man said to start inquiring of the Knight. “What brings you here?”

The Knight looked at the food and drink and saw that his host was not eating. He however had no inhibitions and dove into the platter of food. He was actually quite hungry and the offered wine was not bad. After gulping down several mouthfuls the Knight looked up at his host.

“I’m looking for something.”

“Perhaps I could be of assistance? I have many things that people have traveled far to come and bargain for,” the Knight’s host said indicating all the unusual things about the hall.

The Knight took a drink and then set the cup down. Then very coolly he said, “No assistance is needed. It’s not what I am looking for, but who.”

The man of the manor stiffened and looked at the Knight with a look of suspicion. He then leaned back and looked at his visitor as if appraising him all over again.

The Knight was now done eating and drinking and looked at his host.

The man looked at the Knight, as he seemed to inch forward in his chair. “And who is it that you are looking for?”

“I was sent to look for you,” replied the Knight nonchalantly.

“And who am I to you?” the man asked clearly sitting straight up at the edge of his chair. “And who sent you?”

The Knight was still sitting way back into the cushions of his chair. “Its not a question of whom you are but what you are? And it was the church and his holiness that sent me.”

The man’s eyes had narrowed and he was clearly setting himself up in a pounce like position. His legs were curled up beneath him as his hands gripped the armrest of the chair. The Knight did not react to the obvious threatening stance. He just looked coolly back at his host across from him.

“What is it that you think I am,” the man asked. His face was now expressing a threatening attitude towards the Knight.

“Don’t be coy with me,” the Knight said menacingly. “I’m tired and would just as soon get it over with.”

The noble looking man gave one last look at the Knight. Then with lightning like speed he literally leapt from his chair pouncing upon the Knight like a cat. The creature, for he could not be called a true man now had long claws that were splayed out seeking soft vulnerable flesh. His mouth was suddenly full of long sharp fangs looking to clamp down on the Knight’s throat.

As the creature landed upon the Knight it let out a terrific high pitch scream. The Knight threw the creature off of him and watched it land in the coals of the dying fire in an explosion of sparks. It tried to crawl out of the large fireplace but was in obvious pain as it clutched at a long wooden steak protruding from its chest. The Knight was now standing with naked sword in hand facing the dying creature.

The creature managed to crawl out of the fire pit and looked up at the Knight in hatred. Frothy blood flowed from its mouth as it took its last gasp.

Then it said, “I’ll see you in Hell.”

The Knight watched it die with no emotion and no move to do anything more. The things clothes had caught on fire and when it stopped twitching the fire started to consume the body of it. A noxious smoke started to billow up and fill that part of the hall before being drawn up the chimney. The Knight was forced to back away.

“Who are you?” the voice of the servant man spoke from behind the Knight.

The Knight turned about and looked at the man holding a spear leveled at him. The Knight had put away his sword and was holding his cloak in one hand and the green roll of cloth in the other. Without a word the Knight unrolled the green cloth to reveal that it was a simple surcoat with three golden interlocking circles emblazon on the front.

Seeing that the servant did not understand who he was, the Knight explained, “I have been sent by the Pope himself to rid you of that monster; and if there are any others.”

“There are no others,” the man said trying to comprehend the fact that he was free of a horror that he had been forced to live with and serve.

“I did not think so,” the Knight said rolling up the surcoat again. “If there would have been any others around they would have attacked by now. Are you alone?”

The man had been staring off at the fireplace where the last remains of the vampire were burning away. “There’s two families left and my daughter. He fed on us. He would do things.”

The man turned away ashamed for that which he was unwilling to share, dropping the spear. The Knight looked at the man and felt genuine sympathy. These people of this once prosperous manor had lived through an unspeakable ordeal of obscene depravity. They had not asked for it, unlike what he had done once long before.

The Knight put his hand on the clearly distraught man and turned him about. “Could you find me some paper and ink?”

The man nodded and dutifully went off to get the material. When he came back the Knight took the writing material and was followed back to the chairs. Sitting down he picked up the pen and looked at the man.

“What is your name?”

“Reginald.”

The Knight took a few moments to pen something. When he was satisfied he picked up the paper and blew on it to dry the ink. The Knight then got up and handed the paper over to the man. The man took it and looked at it dumbfoundly.

“I can’t read,” the man said.

“Its okay; a gift from me. You are now lord of this manor and the lands beyond. You are a vassal of the church. I just put you in charge of this place.” The Knight said putting the cloak back on and gathering up the green roll of his surcoat.

“Me? Lord of Joyous Fleur? How’s that possible? I am a lowly man of peasant birth,” the man servant said bewildered looking at the freshly penned declaration.

“This place was to be mine once I destroyed the creature. I do not want it. It is yours.”

“Me? I have no claim to the manor? You killed…,” the man was unable to finish.

“No,” the Knight said knowing what the servant of this place was thinking, “I have another destiny to fulfill. I need to be going.”

Reluctantly the man followed the Knight out to the courtyard where his horse was still saddled and the gate was opened. The Knight gave the man a nod of understanding.

“I tried to warn you away. But it is hard when the Master could hear everything. So, I kept your horse ready in case you were able to escape.”

“Thank you,” the Knight said and then he mounted the horse.

“What about the wolves?” the man asked. “They obeyed the Master. That’s why we could never flee.”

From up on the horse the Knight looked down upon the man and smiled. He unsheathed his sword and said, “I just freed you from a vampire. What makes you think I am afraid of a pack of mangy dogs?”

With that the Knight spurred his horse that reared up on its hind legs before galloping out of the manor and up the road in the direction they had come from. The man watched till he could not see the Knight. While he watched the others and his daughter joined him. He heard a distant howl, but for the first time he was not afraid. If anything he was savoring the gift from the knight not the acquisition of the manor and lands but freedom from evil.

The man felt a tug as his daughter took the roll of paper from him. She opened the roll and read it. Then she looked up at the man and then at the others.

“Papa, this says you are to be lord of Joyous Flour,” the girl said in surprise. She showed him the note and read, “By order of his Holiness the Bishop of Rome, on this date of our Lord, Reginald the Gatekeeper is now hence forth Master of Joyous Flour and all its land, vassal only to his Holiness the Pope. By order of Sir Petra of the Knights of the Holy Order of God.”