The Ballad of Sir Dinadan Read Online Free Page B

The Ballad of Sir Dinadan
Book: The Ballad of Sir Dinadan Read Online Free
Author: Gerald Morris
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sudden desire to see if he was a good enough minstrel to make his own way in the world. It was a challenge, the first he had ever cared enough about to accept.
    They rode into the village, which seemed not to have a name but to be called universally just "T'village," and Dinadan located the alehouse at once. It was a large building on the square where a man in bright clothing was already playing a rebec and telling a tale. Disappointed that he had been beaten to the best spot, but nevertheless intensely interested, Dinadan tied his horses to a tree at the far edge of the square and took his own rebec over to the alehouse to listen.
    The minstrel was terrible. He played only three or four different notes on his instrument, and after watching him for a few minutes Dinadan felt sure that those notes were all the musician knew. The tale that was being told was one that Dinadan had heard more than once from Thomas the Rhymer, about how Sir Gawain and Sir Tor had chased a white hart and a white hound into a forest filled with dark adventures. This minstrel told the tale wretchedly, all in a gruff, tuneless, sing-song, monotone that grated on Dinadan's nerves. A portly man in a spattered butcher's apron snorted nearby. "I've heard better," he commented, to no one in particular.
    "Oh, he's not so bad as all that," a woodsman beside him replied. "Remember that spindle-shanked chap who only knew two bleeding songs, and both of them little love ditties?"
    "Ay," the butcher said. "That fellow could play his instrument, though. This one's hacking at it like a sawyer at a board. Don't see myself giving more than a penny for this business."
    Unable to restrain himself, Dinadan said, "Don't give him a groat! He's awful! He's butchering that song worse than you'd butcher a hog!"
    Unfortunately this outburst, spoken too loudly to begin with, came just as the minstrel had finished his song and was taking a bow to the silent crowd. Dinadan's voice carried well, and it was clear that most of those present heard. The minstrel flushed and looked about for the speaker. Embarrassed but defiant, Dinadan met his eyes.
    "And why," the minstrel said angrily, "would you be taking bread from my mouth, child? Is it that you think you could do better?"
    It had not occurred to Dinadan until that moment that his disparaging remark, intended merely as a criticism of the man's artistry, might also hurt the man's livelihood. He reddened with sudden shame. It was too easy for a nobleman with a full money pouch to be scornful. Dinadan lifted his chin. "I could, friend, but I did not mean you harm." He swung his own rebec off his shoulder and gently pushed his way forward through the crowd. "I shall make you a bargain. I shall sing to this crowd, and you shall have all the money that I take in, save only enough to buy us both a pint at this alehouse. Is that fair enough?"
    The crowd laughingly called its approval, and the minstrel nodded curtly, folded his arms and prepared to listen. Dinadan tested the strings on his rebec, carefully tightened one, then cleared his throat. "Today, for your entertainment, dear lords and ladies—"
    The crowd laughed again, and Dinadan grinned. They were with him. He could feel their interest and attention. He looked out over the faces of the market-goers, and he knew as if by magic exactly what they were thinking, how they were feeling, and what exactly he should do to make this wonderful, mystical connection stronger and stronger. It was the most exhilarating feeling he had ever known, and he continued almost without conscious thought: "The Noble Tale of Sir Dinadan, a great knight from the land of the fens."
    "Never heard of him," called out a burly, disheveled fellow with a red nose.
    "Never heard of him?" Dinadan replied immediately. "Impossible! And you with the look of a royal courtier, too!"
    The crowd roared with delight, and even the red-nosed man grinned appreciatively. Dinadan strummed his rebec, waiting for the
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