The Ballad of Sir Dinadan Read Online Free Page A

and had awakened him from his nap. Dinadan drank from his water bag, then picked up the rebec, ran the bow pensively over the strings, and sang.
"Then saw the maiden how her lover fell,

With mortal wound by Dinadan's sharp sword,

And, swooning nearly, crumpled by his side.

Then Miriam prayed unto the gracious Lord
"To take her soul from her in that same breath.

Then from a chain she bared a cruel knife

Held it before her virginal, pure breast

And with a mighty plunge closed off her life..."
    "No, deuce it," Dinadan muttered. "Not 'closed off.'"
    It was the hardest part of his new poem, the dramatic death of the beautiful Lady Miriam, who, upon seeing her dastardly lover Sir Annui die at the hands of the noble Sir Dinadan, took her own life rather than continue without her true love. It wasn't exactly what had happened, of course, but a tragic suicide made a much more satisfying conclusion to "The Noble Tale of Sir Dinadan" than Lady Miriam's tripping over Sir Annui's corpse and falling on her own blade. Of course, it had not been easy to rewrite the facts to make Lady Miriam a tragic heroine. Dinadan could not think of Lady Miriam without shame and anger. But a tragic heroine made for a better story, so Dinadan had memorialized his enemy as a beautiful victim of love, and for his own relief and amusement had written a spiteful poem about women in general.
    The "Noble Tale" had been well received when he sang it to Sir Edmund Grace and his neighbors, even though the poem was then still in very rough form. He had worked on it off and on for the two weeks he had stayed at Gracemoor, and polished the language considerably, but there were still parts that needed work.
    He set aside the rebec and loaded his gear onto the horses, being careful to disguise his armor with a thick blanket. It was less complicated to be a wandering gentleman than a questing knight, who might be expected to fight someone. Since leaving Sir Edmund, he had been having a splendid time traveling incognito. He had ridden alone through the forest, singing to himself, had kept company for a while with a troupe of actors, had eaten simple meals with peasant families, and had carefully avoided every female he could.
    When he finished loading, Dinadan mounted and rode off. Before long, he came upon a well-beaten road, upon which a line of carts and oxen and country people with bundles marched. Interested, Dinadan rode alongside a thick-set farmer who had a basket of chickens on his shoulder. "Here now, fellow, what's to do?"
    The farmer looked up at him, a bit apprehensively, but when he had looked into Dinadan's face, his own expression relaxed. "Market day in T'village."
    Dinadan smiled widely. "Market day! Sounds fun! What do you do?"
    The farmer now gazed at Dinadan with amazement. "'Aven't you been to a market day? I did think you was a minstrel, what with your tune-box there. You ain't a knight, are you?"
    Dinadan laughed easily. "Do I look like a knight?"
    "Nay. I thought you might be, at first, when I seed you with them two flash 'orses, but then I looked at you and knew you wasn't. Too friendly like. But then, ain't you a minstrel?"
    Dinadan hesitated, then said, "Yes, I am, but I'm only starting out. I've never been to a market day. What should I do?"
    The man seemed to accept this explanation and was happy to describe the event at length, especially after Dinadan told him to heave the basket of chickens onto his spare horse and gave him a drink from his water bag. The farmer recommended that Dinadan take a place near an alehouse and begin singing. "That's where we all go after we sell our wares," the man said confidingly. "And when we gets there, we all 'as a bit of coin. I've tossed a few coppers to minstrels myself, but only if they suit me, mind you. A bad minstrel starves even faster than a bad farmer."
    Dinadan actually had plenty of money, having taken from his home everything of value that he could easily carry, but he was struck with a