The knight rode his steed as fast as he dared, for he was late to a most important meeting. The sunlight slashed through the trees as he flew by them, the blood red light reminiscent of the battle he had only finished moments ago, the crimson coloring splashed on rider and horse. As he rode and sun turned from blaze to ember the night darkened and the moonlight began to shine off of his armor through the forest. He shone like a beacon on the path to the palace.
As he neared the front gate he took full note that the sun was well beyond the horizon and the moon had begun it’s slow arc into the night sky. It hung low and full. As the knight led his steed to the stables and dismounted, he approached a stable boy for a bowl of water and a clean towel. The boy promptly served him that which he had requested. He wiped his face and found his way to the main dining hall and heard the clamor of a meal already underway. He approached the Kings table and bowed low when the King stopped all motion and speaking with a raised hand. The crier was no longer at his position due to the fact that the dinner had been underway for some time and so the hall remained silent as the King acknowledged his arrival. As the King lowered his hand and the commotion began anew, the Knight looked for his place at the table. All of the seats were occupied. Near the end of the table a shortened stool sat, and so he pulled it up to a smaller table, apart from the main section, and sat. He could no longer see the King from this location. The servants approached with some trepidation and brought the news that the main course was depleted. They did have soup prepared, however, and could bring him a bowl of that with the Kings finest rolls. The knight looked longingly at the meat and vegetables that were being pushed aside all along the table with hardly a bite in them. He accepted the offering of the soup, as it was no one’s fault but his own that he was late to such a prestigious affair.
The delicious soup had not yet begun to cool in his bowl, nor the butter to melt on the rolls when there was a burst of shouting and shock from near the head of the table. The knight, still wearing his battle gear, leapt at the chance to protect the King, hand on sword. The King sat calmly and the source of the disruption was standing at his place at the table. He was a knight who wore colors that our own knight was not familiar with and he looked as though he had been offended by the highest degree. He stalked out, through the great hall and into the cool night air. There was a great silence. The knight noted that there was no threat to his King, and so he sat back down, pausing only a moment to wonder who could be so foolish as to reject such a wonderful opportunity. To sit with the King. To speak with him. To dine with him. He continued eating the soup that had been brought out, a vegetable and beef stew of sorts that was most savory, when the guests began to file out, individually at first, and then in larger groups, until the Knight was left alone at his side table, and the King alone at his great table. He had only finished his bowl of soup as the very last guest made his way out of the great gates into the courtyard. He instinctively knew that he should be on his way, but he had come straightaway from the battle, and secretly wished there was more soup. The knight did not hear the King approach, and so when He rounded the corner and stood at the foot of the smaller table, the knight stood quite abruptly and bowed low. “My King! Please forgive me overstaying my welcome. I only meant to finish the bowl of soup that your cooks have so graciously made available to me, as I arrived too late to enjoy the main course you have set out to your honored guests.”
“What, that roast? Yes, fit for a Kings audience, it is. The only problem with that is that even though it was prepared by a master chef, the larger the audience, the more bland the food must be, to be able to appease all who attend such a dinner. Even worse is when a discourtesy interrupts such a dinner and puts off a person’s appetite.” He paused, with his eyes on the knight in a manner that made the knight feel as though he was supposed to answer, that the King was weighing his forthcoming answer, even before he formed it. “I do not know the reason of the outburst, but it shamed me to know that a knight would behave in such a manner, and even more so to act so in the presence of a king.” The knight meant no currying of favor with this response, it was just as he felt, and there was no attempt to please with his words. “Knight Baelor of Castle Noctur felt that he should sit in my seat, rather than by my side. He was very near to me, until this night.” There was a thing in the king’s voice that the knight had not heard in a royal tone, grief. It pained the king that tonight’s events had happened the way they had. The knight did not know how to respond to this. The king broke the uneasy silence, “Is that the beef and vegetable stew that they have served you?” The knight followed the kings’ gaze to his bowl, mostly empty but for broth and a small piece of potato. “Yes, king. It is, but I fear I have finished this serving. They made one for me, since I was late to arrive at the dinner.”
“Oh, no,” The king laughed, his eyes going from that sad expression to that of a man who knew an amusing secret. “They have offered you my favorite stew! I have made it known that it should always be on hand, as the royal appetite strikes when it wants!” His voice was as jovial as his eyes were. He made a motion at his cook, “Bring us two full bowls of stew! And more rolls and butter. And our finest wine!”
At this news, the knight began to gather his shield and helmet, and the King surprised him yet again; he pulled out a small chair from the end of the great table, and sat at the small table. Then the Master Chef brought out the soup, in a larger more ornate bowl than had been offered the knight the first time. He brought out rolls and butter and wine. The king ate across from the shocked knight. “Well? Eat!! Drink!! I have waited for this day long enough!” The king said, sipping from his wine glass. An amused expression played in his eyes and he stared at the knight as he started to eat. The knight wondered what the king meant, about waiting for this day.
The next word the King spoke stopped the knight in his tracks, mouth open, and spoon midair. He looked up at the King. The king said the word again.
The knight put his spoon down, humbled and awed by one simple word. His eyes dropped, and he lowered his head. How could this be? How could the King know that?
“My king,” he whispered, mostly into his bowl, “You called me when you called thousands. You cleansed me among the multitude! How could you know… my very name?”
The king sighed a long sigh and leaning in close, he said the knight’s name again, and said “Long have I longed to sup with you. I have known you and your deeds long, and have longed to sup with you. Though I may have called and cleansed you among the thousands, I have longed for the night when you would sit at my table, and share my food and drink, and converse with me. Come, the King longs to have dinner with you.”
With those words ringing in the knight’s ears, the doubts and remorse of a hundred losses faded, and the knight dined with the King, and they conversed, laughed, and shared tears and memories deep into the night.
