The Scarred Princess (part 10)

The giant looked slightly taken aback when Sir Perditus entered the hall armed, but then his expression shifted to one of sarcastic amusement.

"I see you deem yourself ready to fight," he said with a smirk.

"There shall be delay no longer--I have dallied too long already," answered the knight. "Face me now, or I shall slay you here in this hall."

"Very well," said the monster. He motioned to his guards. "See him to the tourney grounds. And bring me my armour."

Sir Perditus was led to what had once been a gay and festive field, where knights had jousted in bright-coloured arms, bearing favours from their ladies, and merry yeomen had shot the mark to the approbation of peasant girls. There were stands raised all about for spectators, once painted in cheery blue, silver, and gold, now faded, grey, and decrepit. As he waited, they began to fill up with all the inmates of the castle, somber and subdued, but whispering with a suppressed excitement. And as he looked into their faces, he saw faint traces of something beginning to dawn that had been lacking in every visage he had met since entering this dismal realm: hope. His heart swelled with emotion, and he resolved to conquer, for their sake as well as for his own.

The giant appeared, armed in an enormous coat of overlapping plates like scales, and a grotesque helm with bull's horns on top and the visor shaped into the face of a swine, complete with tusks. He bore a huge and cruel-looking mace, and a shield the size of a table, and his boots were set with wicked spikes.

The fearless knight could hardly wait for the marshall of the lists to make the prerequisite announcements, naming the terms of the combat and the prizes of victory. As soon as the signal was given, he was on his foe with a fury that took the giant quite by surprise, stabbing, slashing, dodging, deflecting, and dancing around his larger opponent, always just out of reach. Sir Perditus drew first blood within a minute, and the giant roared with pain and outrage.

Then began the combat in earnest, for the giant saw that here indeed was a formidable foe, one whom he could not defeat without considerable effort. Every knight he had faced for many years, he had beaten with ease, until he had become quite lazy, arrogant, and complacent--no one had ever given him this much trouble before. But now he became grim, purposeful, and cautious.

As Sir Perditus had suspected on first seeing him, this was no slow and stupid giant such as the common ones one finds among the rocks and hills of the wilds. Not only was he clever, but he was fast, so that you could not even run from him, but he would catch you in a few steps, as a parent will catch a child who is trying to run away, and thus many poor souls had met their grim demise. Soon the first vehemence of Sir Perditus's assault passed into a more cautious and measured combat, and then the giant's size and strength began to turn the fight in his favour.

And Sir Perditus, despite his anger, his courage, and his resolve, felt fat, weak, and slow. A week of idleness, with as much food and wine as he could hold, had taken the edge from him and dulled his skill. The giant hadn't needed to drug his food: the food itself had done its work well enough.

Sir Perditus fought valiantly. He fought ferociously. He fought heroically. But he could not win. He wounded his foe many times, but the giant was simply too strong: he beat him down; wore him out. The spear was broken by a swing of the mace; he cast it aside and drew his sword. Again and again Sir Perditus was knocked down by the impossibly heavy blows of the giant's mace, and again and again he rose to fight. But each time there was less strength, less vigour, less spirit in his movements. And every time, there was less hope in the faces of those watching, until finally they began to trickle away, for they could see now the outcome without any doubt, and did not have the heart to watch. There were only a few left to see as the giant's mace came crashing down on the knight one final time, and he buckled, fell, tried to rise, but failed and lay sprawled facedown in the blood and dirt. The giant leaned on his mace for a moment, catching his breath, then seized Sir Perditus by the foot and dragged him away, back to the castle, where he was cast into the lowest and darkest dungeon in the place.