So I wait while hope dwindles.
FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD SCHWARTZ
The evening after my Trial by Combat, I was annoyed to discover that my loyal carpenters were so convinced that I would lose and be killed that they had made a beautiful coffin for me, and that my loving masons had cut me a fine tombstone. Now they wanted me to tell them what to do with the damn things! I ranted for a while about their lack of faith. Then I rejected my first three thoughts about where these things should be stuffed, deciding that the man who had lost the fight didn't deserve any special favors from me.
The coffin was really a nicely carved rectangular chest, without anything overtly morbid about it, so I told them to carry it back to Three Walls. I'd use it for storing clothes.
We threw away the stone, and much later I found it used as an outdoor table, with my name still carved on it. I should have smashed the damn thing.
I was also miffed to discover that most of my workers had bet against me when I fought Sir Adolf. One of them explained that it was the sensible thing to do. After all, if I won, they knew that their futures were secure, but if I lost, they would each need every penny just to survive! It still left a bad taste in my mouth.
I was able to talk to the Bishop of Wroclaw just before he returned to his cathedral. He was actually in the saddle when he granted me an audience.
"Your excellency, I now have a city of over nine hundred souls without a full-time priest. But I don't want just any priest. I want a man who is capable of running an entire school system. Is it possible for me to get such a scholar?"
"That's interesting, my son, for not three days ago I got a letter from an excellent young scholar looking for just such a position. I shall write him immediately on my return to Wroclaw. Yes. It will be nice having an intelligent Italian in the diocese."
He gave me his ring to kiss, and rode off before I could reply. I had to wait for someone to come all the way from Italy? That could take a year!
Sir Stefan and his father, the baron, were leaving at the same time. There was a lot of bad blood between us, starting last winter over a disagreement about working hours. Since then, a number of other things had caused friction between us, and the man had become my avowed enemy. Everything I did seemed to fan his hatred, and I had just about given up trying to get him off my back. As he left, he bit his thumb at me in insult.
"It's not over, Conrad!" he shouted.
Christmas at Okoitz was as raucous as it had been the year before. With my people there as well as Count Lambert's and the workers from the cloth mill, the church was no longer big enough to hold us all. They cleared the dyeing vats, washing tubs, and other equipment out of the first floor of the cloth factory, and we held the affair there.
Along with Count Lambert and myself, Sir Vladimir, his two brothers, two of his sisters and all of their husbands and wives, plus his parents sat at the high table along with the priest and the priest's beautiful wife. Added to these were my four remaining ladies and Count Lambert's current six (he was trying to cut down). Thus twenty-four nobles were available for the peasants and workers to take out a year's aggressions on. You'd think that the pranks would have been spread around a bit more, but Count Lambert and I still caught the brunt of it.
At least this year I knew what to expect, and could psych myself up to play the clown before I had to do it. They selected a King of Misrule by passing out bread rolls with a bean in one of them. As luck would have it, the bean came to one of my topmen, the men who climbed to the tops of the huge trees to cut them off so that the trees could be felled. The topmen were all extroverted Yahoos, and I had not been polite to them lately.
The Queen of Misrule fell to one of the clothworkers, a remarkably attractive young woman who at least looked the part.
I won't bore you with the buffoonery that went on. Count Lambert and I left as soon as possible and retired to his chambers.
"Gad! I swear it gets worse every year!" Count Lambert said as he took off the yard-long codpiece he had been forced to wear. He filled two silver goblets from the silver pitcher on the sideboard and handed one to me.
"I can't see how next year could possibly get rowdier, my lord." I took off the pointed wizard's hat I'd been given and took a long pull. The drink was what I needed, though in fact it was wretched stuff. The lack of glass bottles and decent corks ruined medieval wine pretty quick. Most of it was drunk in the year after the grapes were squeezed, and nobody ever considered recording the vintage; wine didn't last long enough to age.
"Just wait. On some matters a peasant can be very creative. But there's nothing to be done. Custom is custom." He sat down on a chest next to a table and motioned me to the one opposite. A chessboard was already set up.
"Still, my lord, it marks the end of quite a year." I picked up a pawn from each side, shook them in my cupped hands and concealed one in each fist, offering them to him.
"It has been that. Think! A year ago today was the first time I'd met you. One might say it's our anniversary. A year ago yesterday you killed that brigand, Sir Rheinburg, who had been infesting my lands and killing my people. And three days ago you killed Sir Adolf right here on my tourney field. Counting your battle with the Crossmen on my trail, that makes three fights in one year!" He had chosen black and was moving his pieces out in the Dragon variation that I had made the mistake of showing him.
"More than that, my lord, depending on what you call a fight. By the time I got here, I had been involved in four separate acts of violence." There wasn't much I could do about his opening but make the standard replies.
Seeing his eyebrow raise at "four," I said, "There was my first run-in with Sir Adolf where he bashed me in the head. Then one night on the river at Cracow, Tadaos the boatman killed three thieves who were trying to murder him. You know about the irate creditor on your trail, and the fight with Sir Rheinburg's band of hoodlums. The fight with the whoremasters' guild in Cieszyn took out three of the thugs, and against those child molesters, Sir Vladimir and I killed or maimed six out of the seven Crossmen."
"I guess I can't count the incident at the ferry at Cracow last summer, since it started when I got a rock on the side of my head and it was over before I got my wits back. The rabies victim wasn't a fight. He had me so scared that I killed him out of fright. It was simple murder." The opening was over, and Count Lambert was moving from a Sicilian defense into a strong center position.
"That last thing you mentioned, this 'rabies victim,' was a vampire. They must be killed. You did right, Sir Conrad. But think, in about a year you have been in what? — say ten bits of action. You forgot your brawl with Sir Stefan. Do you realize that I haven't had the chance to draw my sword in earnest in four years? And I must spend a third of my time on the road."
"True, my lord, but you always travel in the company of a dozen armored knights." Now what the devil was I going to do about that damn bishop?
"Dog's blood, but you're right! From now on I'll travel in simple garb and I'll travel alone! Let the rest follow an hour behind! That ought to get some action going."
"My lord, I was just talking idly, trying to get your mind off your chess. I never meant to get you killed!" I was being forced into the comers where I couldn't maneuver.
"Well, damn the chess! I know! I'll fill two saddlebags with silver, and try to hide the fact. Word will spread like a covey of scared rabbits!" He took my queen's bishop.