The Dragon and the Fair M

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "Sit! Sit!" said Carolinus. "Forgive me, my lad. Of course I'll sit down!"

  He did, taking the end chair of the small table, so that the three of them sat as close together as conspirators.

  "All right," said Jim, "let's look at the situation. If nobody's going to come to our rescue, we're going to have to drive off the goblins with what we can pull together ourselves."

  "Five knights and one squire among the King's men—plus you and Dafydd and Brian, and maybe your men-at-arms—what few you've probably got left? Have you gone mad, Jim?"

  "There's also Hob and maybe Tiverton hob. But I was forgetting the plague for a moment. How could I do that? Angie, how many people of the castle have we lost?"

  "Twenty-three," said Angie. "Ten women—all servants, no mistresses, but thirteen men—nine of them ordinary men-at-arms, no masters, but Master Carpenter is in the Nursing Room, very close to dying. Buboes like you had, Jim, and he's an old, old man!"

  "Carolinus! lend me just a handful of magick!" Jim started to his feet with hardly a wobble, "just enough to get me down to the Nursing Room and back!—Where's the opium and opium pipe, Angie?"

  "Right here. I'll get it!" she said, jumping to her feet and darting off toward the wardrobe.

  "We'll all go down," said Carolinus. "You've got the opium things? Here we are, then."

  And there they were, standing beside one of the beds below the dais, looking down at the carpenter. Age had long ago shrunken him from the size he must have been when he was younger, but now, lying in his sickbed, he looked even smaller and more ancient. He was not making a sound, and his eyes were closed, but his chest stirred with shallow breaths.

  "Light here!" shouted Jim. "Angie, you've got opium in the pipe? Give it to me. Now, where's that light?"

  But May Heather was already running toward him with a lighted splinter of wood, as if she had read his mind the moment the three of them suddenly appeared. Jim put the mouthpiece between the carpenter's tightly pressed lips.

  "Light it, May!" Jim got the pipe started himself, then looked down at the old man in the bed.

  "Open your lips and take the mouthpiece into your mouth, you stubborn old man!" snapped Jim.

  The carpenter's eyes flew open at the sound of Jim's raised voice, and his mouth gaped. Jim put the mouthpiece into the opening.

  "Now inhale!" he ordered. "Breathe in. That's right—"

  The carpenter's chest heaved. He burst into the same kind of explosion of coughing as Jim had, on his first breath from the pipe. Jim held the mouthpiece firmly between the chapped and withered lips.

  "Keep breathing in," he ordered. "It'll help the pain!"

  The carpenter turned his head to one side to let the mouthpiece slide out from between his lips.

  "Give it to one of the younger ones," he managed to whisper. "One with some life and use, still…"

  "No!" Jim pushed the pipe end back between the lips. "You, Master! You're to get well. You're the only one who knows everything! Hear me! You're to keep breathing in on that pipe until you're all right again. The castle needs you! That's an order!"

  "Yes, m'lord. Always rush, rush, rush…"

  His whisper died, but he continued to suck on the pipe.

  "Watch him, May," said Jim. "Don't let him stop smoking or pass the pipe to anyone else!"

  "Yes, m'lord."

  Carolinus, Jim and Angie were once more back in the Solar, standing around the table. They sat down.

  "Now, what was the gain in that?" said Carolinus. "You could have given the pipe to a man-at-arms, or at least someone able-bodied."

  "Would you have?"

  "I might have!" But Carolinus avoided Jim's direct stare. "Now what was this nonsense about counting on hobs?"

  "If we're going to be fighting goblins and we can get the word out, we might get hobs from all over. Dozens of them—maybe hundreds."

  "But they're just as vulnerable to those magick-poisoned spears as we are—and none of them will have ever touched a weapon in their life before, and where do you plan to get weapons small enough for them to wield?"

  "They bring them with them when they come—whatever they want to fight with. As for being vulnerable to the spears—not if we armor them."

  Carolinus stared.

  "How in the name of the First Magick do you plan to do that?"

  "I'll tell you," said Jim. "But Carolinus, let me finish before you start asking questions, please. This is going to sound a little complicated."

  Chapter Thirty

  "I would hardly," said Carolinus, grimly, "be an A-triple-plus Magickian if I could not sit still and listen."

  "I never doubted that for a minute," said Jim. "All right, in a nutshell: without help from London, we're going to have to put together an army with what's available. As I just said, the hobs could be one source."

  "Rather like sending sheep to fight wolves, wouldn't that be," said Carolinus, entirely forgetting his promise of a few seconds before. "Will hobs actually fight the goblins?"

  "Yes," said Jim. "Don't forget they have the same goblin heritage. Our Hob, who's the most gentle creature in this world, and I believe would aid even a goblin who was helpless and in trouble, immediately begged me to get him a sword to fight with, and the hob of Tiverton, who was captured and tortured by the goblins in that castle, can't wait to take on the whole goblin breed. Oh, they'll fight all right. In fact, we'll have to teach them to wait for the order to attack."

  "Well, well—hobs then. But who else?"

  "There're our neighbors, if we can get messages to them asking if they want to volunteer. Don't forget they've all seen the plague, now here in Somerset, and death in battle is a much kinder death than the one plague puts you through. They'd have their own armor and weapons, of course, and they're not likely to hesitate once they hear the goblins were the ones who brought the plague here. Then there're the dragons."

  "Dragons! Jim, I know dragons—better than you do, for all they've accepted you into their eyrie in your dragon form. Dragons have their good qualities, but they're not going to put their lives on the line for mere friendship. They're as hard-headed and practical-minded as your wolf friend, Aargh!"

  "They won't have to. I think they might jump at the chance to be in on the excitement, if there's no danger to them—particularly the young dragons of this Dragon Patrol Secoh's organized. They can also overfly the goblins for us and bring back information."

  "Well, maybe," said Carolinus. "Come to think of it, Secoh's the one dragon who might fight for you. He considers himself one with you, Brian, Dafydd and Aargh, and Secoh'll do anything to prove he's still a Companion."

  "Then," said Jim, "there're our common men, who, just like the knights, would prefer a clean death in battle to dying of the plague, and they like a fight as much as the knights. If a safe way can be made to get them past the goblins and into the castle here, they could make up perhaps the largest contingent of our force."

  "Hmm, yes. But getting them in—how would you do that?"

  "I'm not sure yet. There're several possibilities… and then, of course there's the Earl of Somerset. He's got knights and we're in his shire, after all."

  "Hmm…" said Carolinus. "It's true, he could give you more of a real force than anyone else…" He left the rest of his sentence unspoken. But then he added, "You're going to ask him?"

  "Actually, I was going to ask you to do that."

  "Me?"

  "He thinks more of you than of any other man alive," put in Angie. "His lady wife told me so last Christmas."

  "Oh? Well…"

  "You've got the rank, which I haven't," said Jim carefully. "He'd take your word for something, where he wouldn't take mine."

  "There's one objection to my giving him my word about 'something,'" said Carolinus acidly. "I've got to know that something is true, myself. Show me your hobs ready to fight, your commoners also ready, your knights agreeing to pitch in. If I see those things are facts, I can tell him about them. Not otherwise."r />
  "Of course," said Jim. "I hadn't thought otherwise for a moment. But there's something direct you can do before that. Getting all these forces together and armed is going to take a lot of magick, and I haven't a scrap right now—which reminds me, if you could just lend me a small amount for the equivalent of pocket money, just for the present to get things started—"

  "Oh, very well. I'm far too generous and indulgent with you, Jim. I should know better. Next thing you'll be asking me for that large amount of magick you just now mentioned needing, to put the whole thing together."

  "I will," said Jim. "But as you've mentioned a number of times, the most important thing is to save the life of the King. How he's missed catching the plague at Tiverton, and even here at Malencontri, so far, beats me."

  "Hah!" said Carolinus, suddenly thoughtful. "He's both anointed and Destined, of course—but no telling how long that may protect him from sickness. Jim, if you really can put this patchwork army together with any hope of driving the goblins back to Deep Earth, and so making the King safe—you can count on not only anything I can do or give you, but the full resources of the whole Collegiate as well. Dammit! We should have had you as a full member before this."

  "I appreciate the compliment," said Jim. "I want to be a member of the Collegiate, if they want me."

  "Quite right and proper attitude!" said Carolinus. "But—have you thought of this? What if the King catches the plague before you have your battle and win it?"

  "I think I can protect against that, too—with magic," said Jim. "But since you're going to hold back the large amount of magic I'm going to need to put together the army, can I hold back on explaining what can be done first? I'm still going to need to borrow a certain amount of regular working magic to get started."

  "Fair enough," said Carolinus. "You have it, then."

  Jim looked closely at him.

  "Well, don't you have to call the Accounting Office and tell them I'm to have it? Kinetete did just that when I borrowed from her the time I had to go to Lyonesse."

  "Kin," said Carolinus dryly, "has her magick, I have mine. The Accounting Office has already noted that transaction between us. You are supplied."

  "Oh, sorry," said Jim. "I should have realized."

  "You should have indeed," said Carolinus. "I must be going then. Good luck, lad. And by the by, if and when I do take you into the whole Collegiate in session to propose you for membership, will you be very sure to pronounce the word 'magick' properly? There're enough questions about your difference from the usual apprentice without worrying the members about your strange dialect and accent."

  "You have my word."

  "I'll count on it—and I'll talk to Somerset as soon as it looks like your army is a possibility." Carolinus disappeared.

  "What's this about protecting the King from the plague?" said Angie. "If you have that magic, and you'd used it, you could have saved the lives and sufferings of our own people here in the Nursing Room!"

  "I don't have it—not the necessary full magic of it worked out. The idea for it just came to me when Carolinus asked me how I'd save the King before the goblins were routed. It came in a flash—but I only have the fringe of it so far. The back of my head's still got to produce the details—that's why I couldn't tell Carolinus. I don't want that fringe to tear off in my hand, so to speak, leaving me with nothing."

  "So that's it. That habit of yours—in thinking."

  "Right," said Jim. "As I told you once, it's always worked that way for me, even when I was a child. A good excuse never popped into my head until the last second."

  "All right," said Angie. "But tell me the minute you have it. If we can just save the poor people downstairs who are infected but still living, I want to know!"

  "I'll tell you—if and when. I can't control these inspirations. But I'll tell you the moment I do."

  "I know you will," said Angie. "Well, come on, now. Time we were at the High Table for dinner with the rest. I'm all ready. How about you?"

  Medieval dinners were usually expected to be at the noon hour. This one turned out as usual, with a fair amount of wine drunk, some arguments—all carefully held to a polite level—and by Jim and Angie's modern standards, about twice the modern amount of food eaten, per person.

  Jim and Angie excused themselves early.

  "Sometimes I wonder why they aren't all as fat as pigs," Angie remarked, back up in the Solar. "What was the rush to get away?"

  "They aren't fat for the reason you and I aren't," said Jim. "They burn it off climbing stairs, riding horses—all the physical life they—we—all live here. Actually, I wanted to get away so as to start on that mixed army I told Carolinus about."

  "Of course," said Angie thoughtfully, "it also helps that every so often they have to miss meals, too—and sometimes for days." She looked up. "So what's first?"

  "The hobs," said Jim. He directed his voice towards the fireplace. "Hob!"

  "The real problem will be getting them to hold and fight together," said Angie.

  "What'll hold them together will be they'll all want to kill goblins. If I can just convince each different contingent that they all need each other. Now, if I only had half a hundred archers with unlimited arrow supply—" he raised his voice. "Man-at-arms, here!"

  "M'lord?" The familiar, high-pitched voice sounded once more.

  "Ah, there you are, Hob—enter!" The man-at-arms on duty was opening their door. "Enter! You'll be Tim Tyler?"

  "Yes, m'lord."

  "I thought so. You're new here. You don't have to scratch for entrance when I call you. Take a message as fast as you can to Sir Brian, Master Archer Dafydd, and my squire. Ask them to come as soon as they're free to do so. Understand?"

  "Yes, m'lord. Sir Brian and Master—"

  "No need to repeat the message to show you've got it. We're in a hurry here. Just get that message to them. Send other men you meet on the same errand if that'll get them to me faster."

  "Yes, m'lord." The door closed behind the man-at-arms.

  "Now, Hob," said Jim, "we're going to put together an army to fight the goblins out there."

  "Oh, thank you, m'lord!"

  "This is for everybody. I'll need help. Particularly I'll need as many fighting hobs as I can get. They've each got to find and bring their own weapons, though. How many other hobs can you reach and ask in the next day—in not more than two days—by riding the smoke to them and asking?"

  "Oh, m'lord!" said Hob happily. "I don't have to go. They're already here, a lot of them, and more coming in all the time. But I can send a message on the smoke just as well, to all hobs I know, telling them to pass it on to other hobs they know. They'll be so grateful, m'lord!"

  "Grateful!" said Angie. "This isn't a picnic. You Naturals will be poisoned just as much as we humans by those spears of the goblins."

  "Maybe not, m'lady. Goblin magic may not work on hobgoblins. But even if it does, it's worth it. Should I send the smoke message right away, m'lord?"

  "Yes," said Jim. Hob vanished back into the fireplace.

  Angie muttered something about lambs to the slaughter.

  "Lambs? What about lambs?" asked Jim.

  "Nothing," said Angie. "But except for Hob, none of them have ever seen a human battle."

  "Well, you saw how Hob felt about it. All of the rest of us will be taking the same chances. Now, how about getting the invitation to our neighbors? I don't suppose we have message pigeons to many of them."

  "But I have for Malvern Castle," said Angie. "And Geronde's here. She could use one of our Malvern homing pigeons to send an order to her castle to send messages to the neighbors. Shall I ask her to do that?"

  "Good! Yes," said Jim.

  "I'll do that, then! She'll be all for it. I can get her to send a message to her steward. Geronde's got pigeons for at least another dozen families in the shire, and each can send messages—whether by pigeon or a human messenger—to people they know."

  "Couldn't be better," said Jim.
r />   "Then I'll go find Geronde right now."

  She went.

  Jim absentmindedly poured himself a splash of wine and sat down to think about the fringe of his idea. It was beginning to take shape, when there was a hearty knock on the door. Brian walked in immediately, followed by Dafydd. Relatives and close friends generally entered with no more announcement than that, oblivious to the state of dress or the current activities of the occupants.

  "You came quick," said Jim. "That's good. We're going to fight the goblins!"

  "Hah!" said Brian, his face lighting up. Dafydd allowed himself a pleased smile.

  "Sit," said Jim. "Have some wine—"

  This time it was a scratching at the door.

  "Squire Theoluf to see you as commanded, m'lord," called the voice of Tim Tyler, back on duty at the door's other side.

  "Enter!" said Jim.

  Theoluf came in, wearing his helm to signal he was on duty, and took it off immediately, holding it in his hand.

  "Theoluf," said Jim. "How many armsmen have we, well enough to fight?"

  "Twelve, m'lord."

  "How many archers?"

  "Three, m'lord."

  "Only three?"

  "I regret, m'lord, the plague—"

  "Never mind. I should have expected something like that. You can go, but I may call you back at any moment. You can go."

  "Yes, m'lord. I will return swiftly if needed."

  He left. Jim looked at Dafydd.

  "Dafydd, we could really use about a hundred archers, with more shafts than they can shoot in three days, to stand in the battle. Any chance of getting them—any chance at all?"

  "Of getting archers in that quantity, now, James?" said Dafydd in his usual deliberate, calm voice. "Not in a two-month, not even if you had the wealth of Croesus."

  "Just as well," said Brian. "At this range, with beseigers, it would be like shooting ducks in a pond on a village green. You want to leave some of the sport for the rest of us—no offense to you or the rest of your skill, Dafydd! Who is Croesus?"

  "A rich King of Lydia, many centuries ago," said Jim, hastily before Dafydd could give a fuller and more leisurely explanation. "Well, that's that, then. We'll have to do without—"