The Continuing Education of Uomo d'Ingara

The snow stopped by the time Sir Uomo d’Ingara spied the small town emerging out of the primordial forest. Every part of his body hurt, from his face down to his toes. The snow had kept his armor clean and gleaming, but underneath he suspected that he would need many days of rest and a doctor to tend to his wounds. He couldn’t stop here, so after catching his breath, he resumed limping towards the town, and hopefully a bed he could have for a bit.

His foot was certainly broken, and there were red footprints behind him leading back to the bandit camps. He had pulled the spear piece out of his back halfway down the mountain, which left a crimson mess in the snow. Uomo hadn’t felt dizzy, yet, but he needed to find some help soon.

The town had no wall or palisade, and in the early dawn’s light, the streets were deserted. No one challenged Uomo as he trudged down the main street. No one called out to him. No one came forward to help him.

He spotted the sign for a local tavern, The Bawdy Tabby. There was a lit candle in the window, so Uomo hoped that it was open, and had an open bed for him. Each step towards the door sent twinges of pain through his body, but he reached it without needing to stop and take a breath. The door opened with a creak as Uomo pushed it.

He was immediately greeted by a fat orange cat, who rubbed against his armored legs and purred. The bartender looked up and smiled, “Don’t mind him, or his sister. They love everyone.”

Uomo felt a little bad. Apparently he wasn’t special, but it still felt good. “Its okay. I need a room and a doctor. Are you able to assist me?”

The bartender put his rag down, “Of course Sir Knight. I have a room for your use, but there is no doctor in town. I can have one of the wenches attend to your wounds. She is skilled with a needle and thread, and her hands are quite skilled. Pavia, come here.”

A lithe young woman, with long brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile emerged from the kitchens, and curtsied before Uomo. “Sir Knight, you look so dashing and brave. I will help you with anything you desire. An ale? Some stew? A massage to shake the dust from your feet?”

It sounded good and ridiculous at the same time. “I would like that all, but first, I need a room and place to tend to my wounds. Bandages, and wine. I could also use some assistance in removing my armor.”

She smiled. “Of course m’lord, anything you wish. Please honor me by unburdening yourself and allowing me to nurse your injuries.” She held our her hand, and Uomo grasped it and let himself to be led to a room. She turned back at him several times, smiling deeper each time as they moved towards one of the chambers.

She led him to a thick straw bed, where Uomo sat down, his weary muscles groaning with relief. Pavia had stopped at the door, and closed it. She turned towards him, and grinned. “My lord, what would you like to do first?”

Uomo stared at her for a moment, incredulous, and removed his helmet. She audibly gasped. “I want to get out of this armor, please help me.”

Pavia gingerly approached, her demeanor changed since she could see his face. He thought she may turn and run, but after a moments hesitation, she began to unbuckle his straps and loosen the ties that held the armor together. As the torso plates were taken off, the cool air soothed his skin. He could hear her gulp as she could see the extent of his wounds. “M’lord, you are gravely wounded. I...I need to bring you water, and bandages.” She rose, and started to walk towards the door.

“Pavia, please bring wine too, for the pain.”

She nodded and left. She returned after Uomo had finished removing his greaves, with two pitchers, a goblet, and a bundle. She set the pitchers on the end table, and poured wine into the goblet. She handed it to Uomo, and he drank deeply. It was a decent vintage, which would suffice for now. Pavia tore a rag out of the bundle, and poured some water into it. She sat next to him, and wiped away the blood, and dirt from his body.

“Sir Knight, what happened to you? I would like to hear how you came about to be wounded in such a way?”

“It is not a pretty story Pavia, and is not a tale of valor or glory.”

She kissed his shoulder, and squeezed the water out of the rag over his back, the water dripping down it. “I am sure it is. There is no need to be modest Sir Knight.”

Uomo took another drink, and swallowed it, “I was a part of the rescue party of Duchess Volopora. We heard that she had been taken by a band of vicious brigands while riding in the forest. As the party feasted in anticipation of starting up the mountain in the morning, I steeled my resolve to not wait, and I endeavored to reach her without that night.”

“Oh, my brave knight! What happened?”

He motioned for his goblet to be refilled, and she poured a large draught into it. Uomo took another drink, “I fought my way up the mountain, fighting and besting the bandit group singlehandedly. I cut my way through a nearly a dozen men to reach her, only to discover she needed no rescue. The entire kidnapping had been a lark, a ruse to get Prince Chadwyck to notice her.”

“The Prince is such a handsome man. I would very much like to meet him.”

Uomo took a smaller drink. “Handsome indeed, and he meets with many women. Well, after discovering this, I left the bandit camp, and headed here. Even though I didn’t know where here is.”

“You didn’t rescue her? You didn’t profess your admiration for her? You didn’t pledge your sword to defend her honor?” Pavia appeared to be confused.

“No. She needed none of those things. I left, and all I need now is to heal my wounds. I am quite weak from loss of blood and battle. Could you bandage me?”

Pavia muttered something softly, but stood and curtsied. She wrapped his open wounds and produced a needle and thread to close the larger ones. Uomo lay down when she finished, and before he could thank her, he drifted off to sleep.

***

Uomo awoke, seeing the room just as he had left it. His armor lay where they placed it after removing it from him. His body ached, but the exhaustion that amplified his wounds was gone. His broken foot was wrapped in cloth, and there was a crutch laying against the wall near the door. He found that he could stand, and when he did so, his stomach growled loudly. Time for food.

It was slow going to get back to open room of the tavern. There were several patrons out here, and there were multiple wenches bringing food and drink to them. She spotted Pavia near the bar, talking to the bartender. “Pavia, my girl, please bring more wine, and a platter of rare beef. I have quite a hunger about me.”

She looked over at him, and scowled. Then she walked over, “And will there be anything else?”

Uomo shook his head. She left quickly, and went over to the bar. She helped three other patrons before bringing his pitcher of wine over to his table. “Here.”

Uomo frowned, “Did I offend you in some way? How long have I slept?”

Pavia didn’t look right at him when she spoke, “Your weakness offended me, sir. You slept for one day, it is the following morning.”

“My weakness? What do you mean?”

She still refused to look at him. “When you came in here, your quality was obvious in your armor. You were a picture of a brave knight. But your weakness underneath, and your lack of social graces when it comes to me and the Duchess mark you as a weak man lacking a functional manhood.”

Uomo sat back, agasp. “I apologize milady, but I don’t understand. I braved battle, in which I was out numbered, to rescue a maiden. Surely this demonstrates my character.”

“A real man would have rescued her. I see that you are like all lower men, taking credit for greater men’s achievements. A herald from the Duke came through this morning, stating that Prince Chadwyck had rescued his daughter from the bandits yesterday, and it was but by the grace of the King that the Duchess remained unhurt, as a deranged man tried to ravish her just before the Prince arrived.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “Deranged man? The herald said all this?”

She smirked, confident in her righteous cause, “No. Other succeeded him in arrival, and told us the story from the rescue camp. You are that man, no true knight.”

What slander!? Uomo felt the rise of bile and anger rise within him, temporarily deadening the physical pain of his body. “That is a lie, and I demand to see the man that spoke such lies!”

The bartender had quietly approached behind Pavia, his chinstrap beard quivering as he spoke, “I’m going to have to ask you to pay for the lodgings and drink you have used so far, and then leave the premises. We don’t serve the likes of you here.” Pavia gazed at the bartender, and nodded forcefully. She looked back to Uomo, “That means now, foul creature!”

Uomo wanted to unsheathe his blade, but stayed his hand. He rose, and walked back to his room, grabbing a burlap sack to carry his armor in. He placed them in the bag, his stomach aching as he did so. The fat tabby came to his room, and rubbed against his legs against, the only one who hadn’t turned on him.

“You want to come with me, but I can’t feed you. I can’t even feed myself. You need to stay here.”

The cat meowed at him, pleading Uomo’s case. It deeply purred as Uomo petted it, and rubbed its face against his hands. “I’ll remember you, cat. At least you don’t believe that story.” The cat looked confused at him, and then went back rubbing on his legs, meowing for pets and scratches.

Uomo heard a commotion out in the main room, and limped back, carrying his sword on his back, the sack over one shoulder and the crutch under the other. A voice called out, “They are coming!”

The main room was deserted, so Uomo headed out the front door, greeted by a thronging crowd lining the streets. A column was approaching from down the street, the heads mounted on great black destriers. Uomo squinted to see as to who they were, a frown growing on his face as they approached.

Prince Chadwyck and Duchess Volopora rode astride those horses, waving to the assembled crowds and beaming in the soft morning sunlight. Gone were her stained garments, and her disheveled hair. She looked all the part of a princely consort. Chadwyck looked every bit a crown prince, his blonde hair gleaming in the light, his smile from cheekbone to cheekbone, and square chin jutting out inviting a blow.

Uomo’s anger grew as they approached. It should have been him in Chadwyck’s place, he did all of the work cutting down the bandits, fighting them singlehandedly. But it was him standing along the road, his body wounded and beaten, and those who offered to help turned on him by the word of a stranger. The procession kept getting closer, and Uomo wondering if they would stop and recognize him, perhaps even giving him some small credit for his deeds.

The Prince was tossing wreaths of flowers into the crowd, causing those maidens who caught one to faint to the false chagrin of the crowd. He turned to face Uomo, not stopping his horse. Surely, he would say something. He had met the Prince in the rescue camp, and even drank with some of the retinue. But no recognition flashed across the Prince’s face, and a laurel cleanly landed around Uomo’s neck as they passed.

Neither of them even looked twice towards him. In that moment, the rage died away. Everything he had done up to that point was for naught. He was no one, and his deeds mattered for nothing. He watched the foot knights trudged behind the couple, some of whom were not able to avoid stepping in a mountain of shit deposited by the Duchess’s horse. To think, only two days ago he would have been proud to be one of those men.

Uomo waited for the procession to pass, and the crowd to disperse. He limped over to a fountain down the road, and cupped water in his hands to drink it. He had a small amount of coin. There looked to be a stable at the far end of the road. Perhaps he could purchase a mount, and find a good meal and a place to rest his head in another town. He left the laurel around his neck. He wanted to remember this moment.