Errant Knight

Content note: mention of eviction and beheading

Paul was a knight, and had been one for quite a few years now. Technically his name was “Sir Theopoulos, Knight of the Forlorn Meadowsweet,” but the first half was a mouthful and the second half a bit odd, so he asked people to just call him Paul. It was always a tad embarrassing to explain how he had come by the title, so he tried not to mention it.

He winced inwardly, as the herald announced him to the court. As usual, about one quarter of the nobility present snickered, another quarter sighed, and the rest were not paying attention. He stepped forward, bent his creaky knee, said something nice to the princess and was led to a seat. Formal dinners were the worst, but they could not always be avoided. He just wished he could have brought his dog. That way there would have been at least one friend in the hall. But the dog would probably have more fun in the stables.

Sir Paul was a landless knight, and as such was usually in search of income or connections, as connections usually led to income. He knew other knights made a living circling the tournaments, and a good one, but instead he scraped by with useful tasks that did not bring glory, but a good conscience. And he was getting too old for tournaments.

As most noble tasks didn´t pay that well, he was now attending this dinner, as the princess was in search of a husband. He had heard that there were a couple of tasks and challenges prepared to select the best candidate, and that each of these tasks came with a reward. If he could just win a few tests, it would likely keep him well provided for over the winter. Depending on the reward, of course. Those things were not discussed in polite society, so there was no way to know.

Sir Paul soon felt that he was not the princess’s favorite candidate, as he was handed the least glorious, most tedious tasks: while other knights were given escort duties or diplomatic duties, he was sent to collect taxes, evict tenants, disinvite people from the next ball and work out very unsatisfying compromises for age-old squabbles. The rewards were not great, but he did not need much to get through the winter, so he seriously considered dropping out early.

The day after the dinner, Sir Paul was sent to investigate rumors of an evil hag who was supposed to live in a lake in the south. He found the valley with the lake easily enough and got off his horse with a sigh. Sunlight played on the water, dry leaves rustled in a light breeze and the air smelled of moss and roses. This was a place where he could build a hut and call it home.

Instead, he was supposed to look for a hag. He shrugged. All was quiet, except for the dog playing in the leaves. Obviously, there was nothing at all living here. Sir Paul made to get back on his horse, regretting he had to leave this peaceful place already. This quiet stillness. With one foot in the stirrup, he paused. No place was this quiet. He tied up his horse and walked slowly closer to the lake, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready, but not yet threatening.

“You were supposed to leave,” grated a voice, as the air shimmered and a veil lifted from the lake, like morning mist diffused by the sun. Sir Paul stood still, careful to not twitch or turn. Everything still looked the same and also very much not. The air still smelled sweet, but rather cloyingly so. The leaves were still dry on the ground, but looked like they had been dead for years. The sunlight painted illusions on the water and the ground, and shifting shadows seemed to creep closer. Slowly, carefully, Sir Paul turned in the direction the voice had come from.

Greenish grey, tall and wiry, with long matted hair, dripping as if she had just risen from the lake, the hag was standing just out of arm’s reach. Small piercing eyes glinted left and right of a sharply hooked nose. Thin lips moved as the voice, like chalk on glass, spoke again. “You should leave while you still can.” Sir Paul removed the hand from the hilt of his sword and held it up. “I am sorry, I can’t. I need to warn you first.” The hag lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a joke or a threat?” Sir Paul chuckled. “Neither.” The dog rolled in the leaves, tail wagging.

And so he told the hag that he had been sent here to find her; that people already knew about her. The hag huffed. “The princess! Every so often she pretends to look for a husband, gets enterprising men to woo her and do all the work she does not like, and then, under some pretense, sends them all home again.”

Paul nodded. “Nevertheless, my lady, sooner or later she will find someone to drive you from this place, and it would be a shame if you had to leave.” The hag narrowed her eyes. “Why are you telling me all this instead of trying to behead me?”

Paul shrugged. “I don´t know, but compared to the princess you seem like a nice person. And I have learned to trust my dog. If he is not scared, then neither am I.” Hearing his name, the dog jumped up from the leaves and came over, ready to be petted. “And why are you competing for the hand of the princess, if she is so un-nice?” the hag wanted to know. Paul sighed. “I am not, really. I just wanted the chance to make honest money before the winter comes. But I fear I came to the wrong place for that.”

The hag gave him a calculating look. “The princess and I have an agreement. As long as I scare away the suitors she does not like, she leaves me in peace. I’ll offer you a deal: Tell the princess that you got rid of me, and you can spend your winters here, where snow never falls. I am tired of doing her bidding.” Paul hesitated. “They will want proof.” The hag nodded. “I will provide you with proof.” And they both shook hands on it.

The hag gave Paul something he knew was just a tangle of moss and water lilies, but looked very much like her head, down to the beady eyes and hooked nose. He handed the bag over to chancellor, whose eyes widened in shock and new respect for the knight. As he made to hand over the purse with the reward, Paul stopped him. “I would give back the previous purses if instead the princess would be so kind as to grant me the lake and the valley in which it lies.”

The chancellor was gone for a while, probably discussing with the princess. “Will you pass the princess’s portion of the tax from the village to the castle?” Paul had not even noticed a village. Maybe it was on the other side of the lake. He nodded: “I will.” The chancellor seemed surprised, as it was not customary for knights to pay taxes and he had hoped to deter Sir Paul with this request. “Will you lay claim to any other villages outside the valley?” Sir Paul denied this. “Will you defend the valley to the best of your abilities?” The chancellor seemed uncertain about what these abilities were. The old knight did not look like much, but he had defeated the hag. And she never paid taxes. Sir Paul vowed to defend the valley and everyone in it and the chancellor handed over the deed, confused but also relieved to see the strange knight leave. And to have the purses back.

Grinning to himself, Paul rode back. The hag did not know that he had wanted to claim the valley, as he had not been sure it would work out. Once at the lake, he dismounted. “I have done as we agreed,” he called out. A flock of birds rose at this sound, but to his surprise they scattered in all directions instead of staying together. When nothing else happened, he got worried. Had the hag left this place after all? Had something happened to her? He would have to investigate. But before he could mount, a shimmer started to spread over the lake again. The air smelled of summer.

When the hag appeared before his eyes, he recognized her at once, although she looked very different. She looked more human, more grandmotherly. The dark eyes still glinted left and right of a sharply hooked nose, but with a hint of mischief rather than threat. She smiled at him, taking in his surprise.

“The birds tell me there is no ambush, so you kept your word. If you wonder about my appearance: I thought that if we are to spend the winter together, I might as well look more companionable than scary.”

“And which is your true form?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” she answered, petting the dog.

Paul smiled. “Not really. But there is a change to our plan.”

The hag stayed her hand and the dog rubbed against it, dismayed that the petting had stopped. “What change?” she demanded.

The old knight pulled the deed to the valley from his saddle bags. “You need to fear no more pestering by others. I have exchanged my rewards for the valley and have sworn to protect it and everyone in it.” He winked. “Although the chancellor and princess probably do not think that this includes you.”

The hag frowned. “You know that I am stronger than you?” Paul nodded. “You know that I wield more power than you?” Paul nodded again. “You know that I do not need anyone to protect me and will not defer to some piece of paper?” Paul nodded once more and then spoke up. “I know that you could as easily defeat me as defend me against a dozen knights. But the world does not. For them the name of an old and tired knight still has more weight than all the magic of the waters and the earth could ever have. As long as we know that this is your valley and your lake, does it matter what the paper says?”

The hag looked at him, long and hard. “It does. But I see your point.” Then she smiled and petted the dog again. “As long as you do not require me to call you ‘my lord’ or anything like that.”

Paul chuckled. “As we are going to spend some time together, my lady, you can call me Paul.” She nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Paul. Though no one has done so in a long time, you may call me Meadowsweet.”

It took a while for Paul to stop laughing and a good bit longer to explain. It ended in the first of many shared laughs rippling over the lake that winter, and the ones that followed.

Paul could easily live a simple life off the bounty of valley and village, so he did not have to run errands anymore. And after a couple of years he adopted a “young lass” that he claimed to have found in the woods and left her the deed to valley and lake. The story of Sir Paul, who had defeated the hag, had grown so much that no one dared tell him that women were not supposed to hold land, especially as the princess herself was still unmarried and held a whole kingdom.

The legend of Sir Paul and the hag is all but forgotten. And even those who remember it do not know that his true victory was helping a friend get what should have been hers all along.