Part 25 (1/2)

'You heard. You're a knave, a cad and a blackguard, and . . .' Boamund delved back into the archives of his mind, 'you cheated in falconry.'

A red curtain of rage swept unexpectedly across Galahaut's consciousness, obscuring everything else. 'What did you just say?' he gasped.

'You heard,' Boamund snarled. 'At the end of the summer term back in '08. You bought a cage of white mice from the pet shop, and you-'

'It's a lie!'

'It's not,' Boamund retorted. 'I found the receipt in your tuck box.'

'And what were you doing looking through my tuck box?'

'That's beside the point. You used those mice to-'

'So that's where my Aunt Ysoud's fruit cake got to!'

'You used those mice-'

'Greedy pig!'

'Cheat!'

.The girl looked at them, puzzled. Well, at any rate, they were definitely going to fight.

Von Weinacht jumped down from the sleigh and called for his axe.

It had taken two hours - two hours! - for the pick-up sleigh to arrive, and then the tow-rope had broken, one of the reindeer had escaped, and they'd flown the wrong way over the Harris Ridge. The Graf took the axe from a trembling page and advanced towards the malfunctioning sleigh. He'd give it metal fatigue!

He noticed the alarm, and snapped his fingers imperiously.

'All right,' he yelled, 'I'm back now, you can turn that G.o.dawful racket off!'

Radulf, who had come out to meet him, was trying to tell him something, but von Weinacht couldn't be bothered right now. All he wanted to do was give that worthless heap of Nipponese junk a service it would never forget.

'Excuse me.'

Something was tugging at his sleeve.

The Graf looked down and saw a dwarf. He frowned. Years since he'd seen a dwarf about the place. The last one, he remembered, had handed in his notice and gone south to work in the diamond mines. Funny.

'Excuse me,' the dwarf repeated, 'but could you possibly spare a moment? You see, two dangerous knights have broken in, and-'

'Knights?' Von Weinacht scooped the dwarf up in one enormous hand and held him about an inch from his nose. 'Knights?'

'Yes, sire, two knights. Boamund and Galahaut, sir. They're in your daughter's sitting room. Having tea.'

'Tea!' Von Weinacht roared, dropped the dwarf, and broke into a run. Toenail picked himself up, rubbed his elbow vigorously, and followed.

He just hoped he was in time, that was all.

'Will these do?' the girl asked.

It was odd, she was saying to herself, I thought knights always had their own swords. In all the books she'd ever read, a knight didn't go anywhere without at least one sword, sometimes two. Still, there it was. Sometimes, she felt that she didn't really know an awful lot about real life.

'Thanks,' Boamund said gruffly. 'That'll do fine.'

'I found them,' the girl was saying, 'in Father's study. He's got lots of swords and things in there. I think he collects them or something. I brought swords, but there's axes and flails and maces and daggers too, if you want them.'

'Just swords will do fine,' Galahaut said. 'Unless, of course, Sir Boamund wants a s.h.i.+eld or anything. He always insisted on having a s.h.i.+eld at school.'

'I did not.'

'And if he couldn't have one, he used to burst into tears.'

'At least I didn't put an exercise book down my front when I was tilting.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'You heard.'

'There are some books in the library,' the girl put in helpfully, 'if anyone wants one.'

Boamund drew his sword from its scabbard. It was very cold. 'Shall we get on with it?' he asked. 'That is, if Sir Galahaut is ready.'

'Perfectly ready, thank you.'

'After you, then.'

Von Weinacht stood outside the sitting room and caught his breath.

'In there?'

Toenail nodded.

'Right.'

One kick from the Graf's enormous boot sent the door flying open. But the room was empty.

Oh G.o.d, Toenail thought, I was too late. They've gone off to fight it out; there'll be nothing left but torn clothes and a hundredweight of minced knight. b.u.g.g.e.r.

'I thought you said...'

'They must have left, sir,' Toenail replied. 'Gone somewhere else, I mean.'

'Somewhere else?' There was an extra edge to the Graf s voice, which implied that it was bad enough their being there at all without them moving about like a lot of migratory wildfowl. 'Where?'

'Somewhere where there's plenty of room, I expect,' Toenail replied. 'You see, they were wanting a fight . . .'

The Graf lifted his head and roared with laughter.

'A fight,' he repeated. 'Well, they've come to the right place, then, haven't they?'