Chapter 4 Benoit
Benoit
The Chevalier Fortune—whom I mentally nicknamed Little Lord, after seeing his small stature when he later dismounted from his horse—proved to be a fair master and knight indeed.
He slowed his horse to a walk when we left the forest, so I would have no trouble keeping up. I had packed my meager belongings; this place had only been a temporary home to me, since my family had been driven out of our birthplace by Emperor Matapa, years ago.
He revealed that his father was an aging nobleman, and so the knight had been obligated to take up arms to discharge his family’s service to the king.
King Aristide had only been my king for some three or four years, but my loathing of Emperor Matapa was so complete that I would gladly side with any rival of his.
In our conversation while walking the half-day to the next town over, the Little Lord proved to be remarkably well-read and erudite.
I had received a similar education, in a land now overrun by Emperor Matapa, before we had been forced to flee.
We compared thoughts on the classic philosophers, and I noticed when the Little Lord tried to subtly steer the discussion towards the recent influence of faerie politics on our own thinkers.
Clearly, he had some keen interest in the fae world, and he had guessed that I, too, had been touched by it. I did not care to reveal my secrets to a stranger, though. Nor one so young and untested; I assumed him to be around five years younger than I, but oh, so innocent and untouched by war.
But the Little Lord began to earn my trust, quite sincerely at that.
True to his word, he paid for every meal, and a man of my stature can eat quite a lot.
The first night, he set us up in lodgings fit for a prince.
And he seemed quite concerned about whether I would be comfortable and happy there: me, who’d been sleeping on forest floors for longer than I could remember!
His concern was sweet, and I almost told him so, but he seemed so earnest in his desire to make sure I was satisfied in his employ that I abstained.
The next day passed much like the first. The village we reached at day’s end was but a small outpost bordering a forest, and the inn had only two rooms. But as we were the only visitors, it was still an acceptable situation.
By this point, I was sufficiently impressed by my Little Lord’s honesty and chivalry that I would have offered to sleep in the stable so he could have a bedroom to himself.
He still seemed a bit shy and retiring when it came to privacy.
I wondered, at times, if we should find a tavern and find him some companionship—male or female, whatever his preference was—to grant him some more experience.
As I prepared to bed down, it occurred to me that my Little Lord might not even know what his preference was.
It wouldn’t be uncommon, for a noble raised out in the country, to have not been exposed to more than the basics of reproductive sex.
He had a fine countenance, and if I were interested in men I would offer to teach him about pleasure myself.
Instructing him through the proxy of a woman, though…
the images that flooded my head made me hot and uncomfortable, and it took me a long time to find sleep.
The bonds of friendship began to blossom between us the following day. We were in a massive forest, and my Little Lord looked about, his blue eyes keenly scanning the underbrush for game. We had picked up supplies at the inn, but the jerky was tough to the tooth.
“Do you hunt, Milord?” I asked.
“Yes, some,” he afforded. “With my father growing older and few servants we could afford to keep, it fell to me to find small game to feed our household. Do you?” he asked me, turning those beautiful sky blue eyes on me.
“Aye, it is how I kept myself fed on many a night in the forest,” and, I added to myself grimly, many a night as a refugee from Emperor Matapa. The memories from the cold and anxious nights spent fleeing would not leave my psyche anytime soon.
“Can you teach me some more skills?” the lad asked shyly, his gaze downcast.
“It would be my honor,” I responded, and we set to work.
Thus the day passed pleasantly, with a brace of rabbits and pheasants that came easily to our hands. We paused to start a fire to roast them, since I felled a few trees in mere minutes for the wood.
And that’s when the horse talked.
“Sir, another faerie-charmed man shall come this way soon,” the horse said.
I leapt to my feet in surprise.
“Calm yourself, good companion,” Fortune said, holding up a hand to steady me as though I were the skittish colt. “My horse Comrade is a faerie steed, and he offers wise counsel. To tell the truth, he is the one who advised that I stop and speak with you.”
I eased back to sitting on a log. There was clearly more to my new master than met the eye. I wondered if he had been given a harsh bargain with a faerie like I had. If he had suffered like I had. But with another stranger on the horizon, now was not the time to ask.
We had roasted the game and were eating it atop slices of a rustic loaf of bread, having set some aside if we were to add one to our number, when a man hobbled into the clearing.
I looked first at him, very closely, for I was becoming protective of my Little Lord.
The man was about as tall as I, though less filled out with muscle in his arms and back. His black hair was gathered in a knot at the nape of his neck, his gaze fixated on the ribbons that trailed around his lower half, binding his legs together.
His eyes whipped up to regard us, and I saw that they were golden-brown, like his skin, and widened in fear.
“Peace, good man,” Fortune called. “I am the Chevalier Fortune. My associate and I wish you no harm. In fact, we have just roasted some game, and would invite you to join us to sup.”
The man’s expression eased, from one of anxious regard to something more neutral. He shuffled in our direction, and made a deep bow, constricted as he was.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Milord. I was just now preparing for the hunt myself.”
My eyes widened in incredulity, but I let my Little Lord be the one to speak.
“What, do you mean you can run faster like that?”
“No, Milord,” the man answered. “The bindings will lessen my speed, but that is my desire, for when my legs are free, I outpace my prey by leagues at a time, thus losing both my quarry and the joy of a fair hunt.”
“I see,” my Little Lord said slowly. “You seem quite remarkable, and you sound like someone I would welcome to join my party. We travel to serve King Aristide and his knights in his fight against Emperor Matapa. And as my companion Strong Back, or Benoit, can attest, I treat my men quite fairly.”
I caught the new man’s eye and nodded. Milord continued: “What are you known as?”
“They call me Fleet Foot,” the man responded, straightening up to his full height. “My given name is Lucas, and if you would have me in your fight, I would happily join your party.”
He swore the same oath as I, a promise that threatened to cut both ways if it were violated; this was but one example of the changing world, for the older songs were full of oaths broken with no dire consequence.
I caught Lucas’s eye once more, giving him a look that promised a conversation yet to come.
But our banter by the fire was companionable enough; he was well-spoken if a bit skittish at first. Given his willingness to swear an oath to Matapa’s obliteration, I wondered if his history were similar to mine.
More of the day passed in discourse than any of us had apparently expected, for as the sun descended from its full height towards the western horizon, the horse once again spoke, advising us to stay in the forest for the night.
“Merde!” Lucas shouted, springing to his feet.
He had released the bindings from his legs during our fireside talk.
Within the blink of an eye, he had vanished.
I scanned the clearing, clenching my fists at my side, ready to defend my Little Lord if this man turned out to be a threat.
But no—he had reappeared opposite us, so far away that it was as though he’d moved as fast as a falcon.
“Please do not be alarmed by my horse Comrade, as he was instructed by the faeries before becoming my beloved companion,” Milord said in a soothing tone. Lucas zipped back to our side of the clearing to kneel before Milord.
“Accept my apologies for overreacting, Milord,” Lucas said. “My path in life has not been an easy one, and I am quick to alarm.”
“All is forgiven, good man,” my Little Lord replied. And indeed, all seemed right with our small party.
That evening, we feasted; between my hunting skills and Lucas’s speed, we were able to bag more game.
My Little Lord proved to be a surprisingly deft hand with preparing the meat.
Then, he stomped on the ground and a large trunk appeared out of thin air—more faerie gifts, no doubt—and supplied each of us with quilted cloaks to sleep on.
“I shall keep first watch, Milord,” I said.
“No need, Strong Back,” the horse replied. I was, in truth, not accustomed to it yet. “I need little sleep and have both sharp ears and eyes.”
“Very well then,” I said with a small bow. “Perhaps Lucas will help me ascertain that there is no danger outside the clearing.” The slender man leaped to his feet, checked the bindings along his legs, and followed me outside earshot of the clearing.
“Surely you know I can outpace you, so what need for this ruse?” Lucas asked.
“I wish only to know that your intentions towards Milord are pure.” I paused to lean against a tree trunk, making sure to push enough of my weight into it that the wood groaned loudly.
His golden-brown eyes narrowed; he was a smart man and took my veiled threat for what it was.
“I lost everything when Matapa’s men seized my home, wanting to cleanse my village of its ‘Moorish blasphemy’, as he put it.
I bargained with the faeries to become what I am now, and yet my survival is not guaranteed.
I swore an oath to follow Milord, and I will swear again to you if you require it. ”
I had the feeling that he was not telling me everything, but then, I had not revealed my own history either.
“It is not necessary,” I said, clapping him on the back with one hand.
To his credit, he withstood the force, though I perceived his feet to sink into the earth slightly.
“I believe Milord will win you over himself, so gentle and generous a soul is he. We are lucky to have such as a master.” With that, I returned to the clearing, while Lucas did a quick lap and met me there.
The next day proceeded much like the first, and Comrade advised my Little Lord to pause and consider taking another faerie-charmed man into his employ.
This one crouched at the edge of a marsh, putting a bandage over his eyes.
He revealed that his eyesight was too keen for him to hunt unhindered.
He, too, agreed to join us, though not without some bargaining and related difficulties first. Something about him put me off, though I could not find the words for it.
He seemed among the type of such men who generally prefer their liberty, though of course my Little Lord was able to win him over.
He was called Good Shot, though his given name was Guillaume.
When Comrade spoke to advise that we press on past dusk, as there would be a nearby inn, Guillaume did not startle.
I stared more closely at him, then: his face was knife-lean and pale, his figure gaunt, his eyes a piercing gray when they were uncovered.
Black hair hung in lanky strands past his shoulders.
That night, after my Little Lord had settled into his accommodations at the inn, Lucas and I drew Guillaume aside, hoping to persuade him to give my Little Lord a chance.
Lucas had become fond of Milord in just a day’s time, I could tell.
Though Lucas was a shy man, I was glad to have him by my side, yet I sensed a dangerous undercurrent in the new man.
But before we could proceed with our intended conversation, Guillaume spoke up.
“Our lord is no man at all.”