The Knight of Silk and Steel by Terry Deary Page A

leagues today. I need a little food and wine to wash the dust from out of my throat.”
    Leonard the landlord bowed so low he almost scraped the floor. “Of course, my lord, we serve the very finest wine … for those who can afford to pay!”
    The knight lifted a purse that hung from the silken belt around his dress. “I’ve money … gold or silver, groats or guilders,” he said.

    “A groat will buy you wine, and two will buy a plate of stew,” Meg said merrily.
    “That’s two groats for our finest wine and four groats for our better stew,” her father put in greedily.

    Ulrich threw a piece of gold upon the counter top. “That should do to buy a drink for everyone here in the tavern… Keep the change,” he shrugged, as Leonard the landlord snatched the coin. “When all my new friends have been served, then I shall tell my tale.”
    Ale splashed into cups, and from the cups slopped into mouths, while Ulrich drained the tavern’s finest flagon of rich, red wine.
    Meg made sure the man had only plates of lean beef stew and crusty white bread to mop the tasty gravy. The dogs looked up and dribbled down their chops to smell the meal that Meg had made.

    At last, the tavern settled back onto their stools and looked towards the bar.
    Ulrich was a handsome knight. He wiped his yellow beard carefully and looked around, and fifty pairs of eyes looked back. (Well, fifty-five, if we add in the dogs.)
    “My name is Ulrich,” he began. “My tale goes back to when I was a boy of twelve.”

    “I’m twelve,” Meg said with a grin, and Ulrich nodded.
    “I was a squire.”
    “I know what that is!” said Meg. “It’s a boy who helps a knight – he fastens on his armour, cares for his horse and polishes his weapons.”
    Ulrich nodded once again, then went on with his tale. “My master was a lord of Alsace on the borders of France. Now, knights must have some deeds to do.”
    “Kill dragons!” Tom Fool said, but Ulrich shook his head.
    “I’ve never seen a dragon, and I think they just exist in old stories told to frighten children. Real knights fight for what is right against the greatest evil of them all – wicked men!”
    “Ahhhh!” the crowd inside the tavern sighed.
    “But there is one fight greater than all other fights,” the young knight said. “There is one thing that a knight may swear to live and die for…”
    “I know!” Meg squealed. “Yes, I know just what you’re going to say.”
    “A knight should find a lady fair that he can give his life to,” Ulrich said.
    “A lady fair !” Meg moaned. “My hair’s as dark as coal.”
    Ulrich laughed. “When I say fair, I mean fair of face – or pretty.

    She doesn’t have to have fair hair!” he said, and pointed to his own blond wig.
    “That’s good,” said the girl. “Carry on. When you were twelve…”
    “When I was twelve, I first met with that old man … Death.”
    The crowd let out a sorry moan.

Chapter Three
Wine and Wig
    “When I was twelve, my master fell in love with Isabel, the fairest lady in the whole of Austria.”
    “Then he married her,” Sam the blacksmith groaned. “And they lived happy ever after. Pah! We’ve heard that tale a hundred times. We want the other tale – the one that tells us why you’re wearing a green, silk dress!”
    “Oh, silence, Sam!” came Helen’s voice from somewhere underneath the table. “Let the knight tell us his tale in his own time.”
    “The Lady Isabel is married,” Ulrich went on. “Her husband is a miserable man. He punishes his peasants, uses them as slaves, he’s mean with money … he lets fair Isabel dress in wool instead of silk.

    “He holds no feasts and keeps no jesters, guests get dry bread, wine like vinegar and beds that have more fleas than fleece.”
    “We know his sort,” said Ben the badger-baiter quietly. “Your master fought this wicked lord and killed him as dead as some duck’s toenail?”
    “Oh, no, my story has a much sadder ending,”