Argument

Herein I write down the adventures of knights which began with the matter of the bell that are so strange and many as but I must think some will not believe them to be true. I would not believe that either, for I was not there, save that I was told them by honest men.

The Tale of the Hundred Knights 1

When newly-founded Chrysasty grew so that it filled the span between the hill-crowning castle and the walls, high and long enough to guard a great number, Hector its king thought it right to send to well-harbored Ephys that he might have a bell made there to place in the grandest church of the city. For it was the habit of Ephysians who set up colonies that they should honor their mother city in that way, and the king knew no reason he should do otherwise.

He asked Duke Anders his cousin to allow him that, and the duke liked it so well that he said both yes and no. Yes that the bell might be cast in Ephys his city, but no as to the plan that it should be at King Hector's cost what were better made a gift between lords. The duke out of his own treasury caused a bell to be crafted and carried over the blue-gray sea by a wave-cleaving ship, the fastest there was in his city, to the harbor nearest land-ruling Chrysasty, which was Mumport.

The knights of King Hector who were not about the country, slaying beasts and brigands for the peace of the land, few as they were, set out at their lord's command. They aimed for wave-watching Mumport with this duty, which was to escort the bell with as much care as they would bring to the matter had Duke Anders of Ephys himself traveled there. Sir Wyatt of Equevalle led those warlike men from Chrysasty, Sir Matthias the thief-taker for one, Sir Poemen of Argetych, Sir Opilio of Tenephon, Sir Cosmas of Kourocephai who fashioned his own arms most skillfully, Sir Clovis of Salisville, and others, a small number more who desired that their names be in writing near adventure alone and not when they carried out some common task their squires might do with no fear of failing it.

It was Sir Wyatt's way always to be early when leading men, for so war had taught him that was hard in its lessons. For that reason they arrived so swiftly that the ship still sailed the blue-gray sea that split Ephys from Mumport. Lord Desmond of Mumport gave them such welcome as befit a host who had known war together with his guests against a blood-shedding man, great alike in his might and his greed for gain and rule. Not at all had he forgotten King Raymond or the struggle they had against him, or the men lost then, brave and young.

They had their chance therefore to eat and talk, Chrysasty's knights and Mumport's, and Sir Donn of Caerffos ate with them as well whose cousin Lord Desmond was. That knight traveled much over the sea and never stayed long in a city from his liking to see what was new. He told them this. “Only fools trust every rumor to be true, and only fools think nothing happens that is odd. Therefore each must judge what to do about this, which is that I have been told in more lands than one of a galley that moves wondrous fast by the strength of its rowers, enough so that no ship can catch it, though many have tried. Nor does the wind slow it, or the currents, but it goes where it wishes like a king in his own country. As for a figurehead there is none, and its sails are plain. That galley has done nothing of notice so far as I have heard, but it is strange and marvelous nevertheless. Though no host is finer to have than my cousin, my mind is set on seeing it if I can. Does any knight desire to come and prove me no liar if I bring back word of it?”

Every knight of King Hector's did, for though Chrysasty's ruler came from Ephys, they had not, and cared little for its customs. Neither were the roads so unsettled by ogres and bandits as they had been, so that their role as escorts seemed to them more one of pomp and honor than might and trouble. Sir Wyatt saw that and, like a buyer of linens who ignores cheaper goods the sellers have brought that he might have the finest with what wealth he amassed for that day, allowed them this freedom. “Two of us, I think, may be spared this duty to scout that galley, since our lord will wish to hear of it. Do you each place your dagger on this table. Lord Desmond, will you hide your eyes and pick two for us, in that manner starting the picked men on their task with honor?” So he said, and all Chrysasty's knights save he did off their knives while Desmond their host wound a cloth about his lordly head, for he liked to be asked.

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Lucky Sir Clovis of Salisville and Sir Poemen of Argetych, great in his height and the length of his sword, were the men chosen by their daggers. Those two knights and Sir Donn rode from Mumport then, for to delay were an insult to those left to wait for the bell. Down the shore they traveled through land under Mumport's sway, between fields harvested by men where sickles were used on their left and the blue-gray fields on the right where nets did their work. Whichever way they looked, to the left or to the right, behind them or ahead, the people there thrived in the peace Desmond their lord and his allies had made for them by their armies and their will to do what they ought.

The knights saw seaward boats that had nothing perilous about them, which accorded well with the wishes of the fishermen, but the sea cared no more for that than a tree does for the pleas of its leaves to be left alone and not be scattered by the mischievous winds. It darkened, and did not stay peopled any longer than it took the boats to flee before waves which waxed in size and no longer concealed their might that the sun shuddered to see and so hid itself above thickening clouds.

A sudden change in light and the sea's fierceness is a warning to everyone, those on shore as much as hurried rowers of foam-tossed boats, but Sir Donn, Sir Poemen, and Sir Clovis were minded to stand watching for what they hoped to see. And they saw it, which was a ship whose long oars reached to sweep back the angered waters and did so with no heed for how high or swift the waves became. It made neither for Mumport to the north or southern Ampherae as a galley laden with goods would, but instead made for the shore where the knights stood without listing left or right. That ship had a deck, and on it no sailor dared the storm but one, a man who was still and straight though the wind, well fierce by then, sought to wrest his beard from him and send the man straight into the thirsting sea.

Such speed had the galley that though the keen-eyed knights saw it afar, it came upon them before Sir Poemen drew his sword from its peace-loving scabbard which he did weening that wonder to be one of ill to those who saw it. And he was not mistaken in his judgment, but to no good use. For the uncanny captain declaimed in words too vile for an honest mouth or ears so that the knights understood none of the meaning in it, but they were grasped tight by unseen hands that obeyed wicked speech and not the good. They had learned wrestling in countless bouts on the training fields and in combat where a single loss was too many, but with all their strength and skill failed to win free from sorcery's terrible grip.

Instead, unwilling, they boarded the eerie ship which left the shore to rove the dolphin-ways while they went below and were chained to oars, and they were not alone in that. Seven and ninety other men were there, seated on shields, those who had them, and their other arms were under the benches. Any scars their bodies bore were the marks of battle rather than the whip, for they were warlike men suited for risk and daring, and not rowers save that they were forced to it. One hundred knights worked those oars and made the galley to move.

The uncommon captain of that uncommon ship came down among the benches and spoke to his hundred rowers who were his prisoners also. “The sorceries I gained from forty years of study are not to be overcome by you. Never think that they are. There is no ransom for you or any reprieve but that you do my will. My commands are that you row and fight with all the vigor in your limbs, and after that you may go your own way. Our course lies westward, far west, where is the castle called Cuculna owned by my enemy. It is a hard task altogether I set you, but I sought only knights capable of it.” So he said, and climbed up, and left no guard behind nor needed none, for the knights were not able to rise without his leave or go against him in any wise.

“I have heard the name Cuculna,” one of them said, and his name was Sir Micah of Luros, who though a prisoner spoke words that had cheer in them. “The teacher Simasoon is the wisest sage there is, which I have learned to say upfront because though all should know him, they do not. He told me of it. A sorcerer rules from Cuculna who drives away the good but feeds the bad with his own hand with the result that his knights are weak, but will fight to the farthest that their feeble limbs allow, fearing his doom is theirs as well. The aiding of a wicked man, as our imprisoner must be, grieves all who hear of it and still more those forced into the thing, and yet the hope of unseating so foul a tyrant as Cuculna's must move every knight and make us glad.”

He pulled hard at his oar then, and Sir Poemen across from him thought his speech good and matched his effort. Soon every man strained and did all he could so as to prove his strength, much as when instruments carved from unwilling wood nevertheless sound pleasing notes when played and win crowns for musicians. The galley sped west, splitting the waters mightily as it went so that any ship that followed in its wake must run aground on the sea's very bottom.

Nor was there ever any better vessel used by any king or merchant to send goods or soldiers to other lands in the hope of gaining by it, not only in its swiftness but in every virtue of ships. The waves and winds swayed it not an inch from the course its captain chose. Neither was there worry from pirates, for the captain wrought sorceries so that those only he wished to see it could, and all who did had cause to regret it. Another merit the galley had was that it sped past ports and ship-greeting shores both night and day without cease, but the rowers felt the lack of food and drink not at all.