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It was the heart of midwinter when the Ragged Knights arrived. Many had thought the roads to and from our village to be choked with the snows of winter, but here they were. Five men sat atop fine steeds, each in worn plate armour coloured as gaily as a fools motley and decorated with scraps and ribbons of many hues. At first the people of our village were happy to see the strangers, even more so when they produced bulging bags of coin and skins of wine and mead, but even then some of us could sense a strangeness about the riders, their clothes so worn and ancient, their horses so clean and white. Beneath their visored helms the pits of their eyes were stained as black as night so the whites of their eyes glittered like fat moons and their laughter, so bright and care free, hung like a cloud of doom around them.
On the first night they gathered all our village together in the long hall and bade us eat and drink, they paid a fine price for stocks of food and wine from the inn. From somewhere one of their number brought Bram, a farm hand who had been rendered simple and foolish as a child, and sat him with them and the burghermeister at the high table, they called for quiet and announced that for their stay Bram was to be the High King of the Feast, with winks and good cheer they fooled the poor burghermeister into handing over his chain of office and laid it about Brams neck. Then one took up a lute and led the feat in song and dance until the sun rose and the knights rode away.
On the second night the riders returned, this time bringing dragging with them two deer and boar with more flasks of wine upon their saddles. Once again they held their feast and once again Bram was High King, his word was law, enforced with smiles and joviality from the knights. This time Bram wore a crown made from leaves and antlers, woven through with golden straw. Once again a knight took up an instrument and led a night of dance and merriment until dawn arose again.
We didn't see the changes, each night the entertainments grew coarser, the knights used jokes and pillory as deftly as any sword. Those who flagged were mocked and teased, those who were shy were goaded on until we competed to be the most outrageous and daring. With careful words and humour the knights stripped away our inhibitions and caring, until we were little more than beasts of the moment.
Each day and night the cycle repeated, the knights returned each eve with fresh food and wine, each night they gathered the town and bade them drink and dance and despite our weariness we did, for none could resist the music the knights played out.
On the fourth night day the riders crowned five young women and five young men as the Lords and Ladies of the Feast, they weren't the fittest, the strongest or the prettiest, but those who had lost themselves the most to the revelries the knights had offered.
The next night the Lords and Ladies were brought crowns of gold and robes of white to wear. When dawn arose they rode out with the knights, laughing all the while. When night came again the Ragged Knights returned alone.
The townsfolk were nervous now, why had they lost ten of their number, what had been their fates?
When the people gathered once more in the long hall the knights assured all that the Lords and Ladies would be coming soon, and that one more night of revelry was all they wished for. But the town people were tired and the activities of the night had left to many marks of shame for many to bear.
When the riders started their music Bram asked the bakers daughter to dance for him. She refused, One of the knights asked her to obey her king and dance and again she refused. With a laugh the knight snatched up a torch and strode boldly to her side. “Will you not dance for your king?” he asked. “I will not sir.” She set her mouth and thrust out her chin “But if you ask perhaps I'll dance for you.”
The knight tutted and nodded to his fellows who took up a new tune. “Of course you will my dear.” He bowed deeply as one might to a dance partner, then set her dress aflame.
She screamed as the flames leapt up her, but the knight just smiled and danced around her, confounding her attempts to flee or douse the flames, he laughed and danced around her until she collapsed a charred ruin.
I can speak no more of that night, of the things the King and his knights commanded and the things we did to stay alive. But when the sun arose the knights rode away again, those of us alive and able watched them ride away. We burned the long hall that day, the King Bram still sat where he was slain upon his throne, struck through with five swords, the other bodies left where they had fallen or been placed. Unable to look each other in the eye again those of us left went our separate ways, each to live with the shame we took upon ourselves in order to survive.
The worst of it is when I see a man stumble and skin his knee, or see a lady left sobbing, a part of me remembers those Ragged Knights and laughs.
A tale recorded in Verity Goodnight's Folklore of the North
On the first night they gathered all our village together in the long hall and bade us eat and drink, they paid a fine price for stocks of food and wine from the inn. From somewhere one of their number brought Bram, a farm hand who had been rendered simple and foolish as a child, and sat him with them and the burghermeister at the high table, they called for quiet and announced that for their stay Bram was to be the High King of the Feast, with winks and good cheer they fooled the poor burghermeister into handing over his chain of office and laid it about Brams neck. Then one took up a lute and led the feat in song and dance until the sun rose and the knights rode away.
On the second night the riders returned, this time bringing dragging with them two deer and boar with more flasks of wine upon their saddles. Once again they held their feast and once again Bram was High King, his word was law, enforced with smiles and joviality from the knights. This time Bram wore a crown made from leaves and antlers, woven through with golden straw. Once again a knight took up an instrument and led a night of dance and merriment until dawn arose again.
We didn't see the changes, each night the entertainments grew coarser, the knights used jokes and pillory as deftly as any sword. Those who flagged were mocked and teased, those who were shy were goaded on until we competed to be the most outrageous and daring. With careful words and humour the knights stripped away our inhibitions and caring, until we were little more than beasts of the moment.
Each day and night the cycle repeated, the knights returned each eve with fresh food and wine, each night they gathered the town and bade them drink and dance and despite our weariness we did, for none could resist the music the knights played out.
On the fourth night day the riders crowned five young women and five young men as the Lords and Ladies of the Feast, they weren't the fittest, the strongest or the prettiest, but those who had lost themselves the most to the revelries the knights had offered.
The next night the Lords and Ladies were brought crowns of gold and robes of white to wear. When dawn arose they rode out with the knights, laughing all the while. When night came again the Ragged Knights returned alone.
The townsfolk were nervous now, why had they lost ten of their number, what had been their fates?
When the people gathered once more in the long hall the knights assured all that the Lords and Ladies would be coming soon, and that one more night of revelry was all they wished for. But the town people were tired and the activities of the night had left to many marks of shame for many to bear.
When the riders started their music Bram asked the bakers daughter to dance for him. She refused, One of the knights asked her to obey her king and dance and again she refused. With a laugh the knight snatched up a torch and strode boldly to her side. “Will you not dance for your king?” he asked. “I will not sir.” She set her mouth and thrust out her chin “But if you ask perhaps I'll dance for you.”
The knight tutted and nodded to his fellows who took up a new tune. “Of course you will my dear.” He bowed deeply as one might to a dance partner, then set her dress aflame.
She screamed as the flames leapt up her, but the knight just smiled and danced around her, confounding her attempts to flee or douse the flames, he laughed and danced around her until she collapsed a charred ruin.
I can speak no more of that night, of the things the King and his knights commanded and the things we did to stay alive. But when the sun arose the knights rode away again, those of us alive and able watched them ride away. We burned the long hall that day, the King Bram still sat where he was slain upon his throne, struck through with five swords, the other bodies left where they had fallen or been placed. Unable to look each other in the eye again those of us left went our separate ways, each to live with the shame we took upon ourselves in order to survive.
The worst of it is when I see a man stumble and skin his knee, or see a lady left sobbing, a part of me remembers those Ragged Knights and laughs.
A tale recorded in Verity Goodnight's Folklore of the North