Free King of the Middle March by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page B

“Whom will you guard?”
    â€œI will do all I can to defend and care for people less fortunate than I am,” I replied.
    As I said these words, I thought at once of Gatty. I could see her hoeing her croft, and singing. I thought of Jankin and Howell, and all the villagers at Caldicot. I thought of Tanwen, and Kester.
    â€œIn the kingdom of Britain,” I said, “many people suffer. Many go to bed hungry. It’s not just.”
    Cardinal Capuano looked down at me and rubbed his chin. I knew this wasn’t quite what he had expected me to say.
    â€œMy child,” he said, “all of us are equal in the eyes of God.”
    That’s what Oliver told me. And he told me poverty is part of God’s will. I don’t believe that. I think a knight is bound to do everything he can to look after the people in his manor.
    â€œArthur de Gortanore,” said the cardinal, “do you undertake to defend widows and orphans?”
    Gatty! She’s an orphan now. And my mother’s a widow.
    â€œI do.”
    â€œAnd will you oppose evil wherever you find it?”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œIt is said and well said,” the cardinal continued. “The Saracens are evil. Never doubt that for one moment. They desecrate the holy places in Jerusalem; they defecate on them. War is violent, war is cruel, war is bloody, but it is natural. It is natural, and peace is unnatural. Love God, and win honor by destroying His enemies.”
    Is that true? I thought. Is war really natural?
    Then Cardinal Capuano slowly proceeded round the circle. Everyone kissed his cross except Lady Cécile and Tanwen. He rudely walked past them, I don’t know why.
    The cardinal turned to Milon and nodded, and at once Milon drew his sword and stepped up to me. I bowed my head, but I could still see the tip of the blade trembling above my right shoulder.
    As the first ray of sunlight at Caldicot touches and sets light to Tumber Hill…
    Three times and lightly Milon tapped me on the shoulder.
    â€œIn name of God and all His saints,” Milon said, “I dub you knight. Sir Arthur! Le chevalier Arthur! Courage! Courtoisie! Loyauté! ”
    At once everyone in the circle shouted, “Sir Arthur! Sir Arthur!” ten times. One hundred times! Then they all scrambled to their feet, and began to grab my arms and hands, and hug me and tousle my hair—well, what’s left of it.
    After this, Milon himself fastened a new sword to my belt.When I unsheathed it, everyone covered their eyes because it was so dazzling.
    â€œBravee!” cried Milon. “Sir Arthur bravee!” And then he showed me what his armorer had engraved on my sword, just below the hilt.
    A ring. My ring! How did Milon know about it? The same square, flat top. A mother and her child. Wouldn’t my mother be proud for me now? She would, wouldn’t she?
    I looked at Milon. His expression didn’t alter, but his eyes simmered. Mine began to sting.
    â€œRing of hope, ring of patience,” Milon said quietly. “Ring without end.”
    I didn’t dare look at my father; I didn’t want to. And I mustn’t let him see the ring. I lowered my head and my eyes filled with tears.
    â€œCome on!” said Bertie enthusiastically. He helped me dress in a new white surcoat, embroidered with a bloodred cross on the front and back, and then Serle gave me a length of sacking taller than I am.
    â€œHere!” he said. “From Sir John.”
    â€œSir John!” I exclaimed.
    I unrolled the sacking and inside it was the most beautiful bow, made of yew.
    â€œHe says he knows it’s scarcely the right gift for a knight,” Serle said, “and yew’s against the law anyhow because you’re not yet seventeen.”
    â€œHe gave you yours when you were sixteen,” I protested.
    â€œBut seeing as he promised you…”
    â€œIt’s wonderful!” I cried. “It’s wonderful.