"No," said Jim. "And his natural inclination to be with the fighting men… but I wanted to ask about your archers, Dafydd."
"They have been ready for some time," said Dafydd, "and are becoming restive. Their line will be ragged. However, I believe they will fight well. They will follow your horsemen, of course. I have found eight passable men of the bow among your forest people—that gives us fifteen archers, split in two groups, as I presume you plan to put one group on each wing, to harass the goblins who try to flow around the charge of the horsemen. Danielle, my wife, is kept back from being one of them only by the presence of our children. But she is so good as an archer that she can be as effective from the battlements as those bowmen on the ground."
"Sounds good," said Jim. "I—"
Angie was just coming back into the room, Jim saw, with Joan, who was looking fresh and even more like royalty and the Fair Maid of Kent than she had before. Does that woman ever turn a hair? wondered Jim. However, first things first.
"Very good!" Jim said, still answering Dafydd. "That's to be the order of attack, then. The horsemen can if needed fall back around the ends of the spearmen while the archers hold up the goblins temporarily, and the spearmen will hold their ground while the horsemen regroup for the next sally, and the archers, having been useful with their arrows, can then run back to the castle for more. Dafydd, what do battle-experienced archers usually do if the enemy start coming around the ends of the ground fighters?"
"What you just suggested, James. If no more chance remains, they are to run for the castle. The small gate in your great one should be ready to open. They are too valuable to lose and in no place to fight where they are, unarmored and un-weaponed except for knives. They can still be very useful shooting from the battlements. Also they are light on their feet to run, unencumbered."
"All right, that's settled then. I can let you both go. I'll be talking to you in your head, Brian, if necessary. I don't think I'll need to be in touch with you, will I, Dafydd?"
"No need," said Dafydd. "God be with you, James, up here."
"And God be with you, indeed, James," said Brian. "You and the Mage are the head of our fighting body." He was already turning with Dafydd to leave.
"A moment longer, if you would be so good, Brian, Master Dafydd," said the voice of Joan. Jim turned to her. Angie was still beside her, and he was now sure that they must have had some arrangement for Joan to be heard before everybody left. Brian and Dafydd stopped and turned around.
"If you will forgive me, Sir James," Joan went on in an unusually formal voice. "Time presses upon me after all, and I did wish to see you all together. But what you've just been talking about touches on one of the two matters I came to speak to you on—the other I can tell James after you have left… But, to the first—of course I have no experience of battles, and all I know from what I have read approves the order of battle you have just settled upon, as a tried and trusty method. But may I suggest this is not the usual sort of enemy, where the knights are in strength to break through the opposing lines so that the spearmen can move up and hold what they have won. Therefore, could I propose a difference to the order you've planned?"
Bold words by a woman in the fourteenth century at a moment like this, thought Jim. But you had to admire her guts.
About to politely say "no" without further thought, however, Jim saw Angie signaling him to listen. Time was very short, but Joan should take very little of it, Jim thought. Brian's eyebrows were drawn tight together in disapproval, and Jim could imagine him saying sternly, "No offense, but what does she think she knows of the war game?"
But Jim's earlier loss of heart had given way to an almost reckless confidence.
"Tell us then, my lady," he said.
"I might just suggest, Sir James, and gentlemen, that since our fighting men are so small in number, would it not be better that the spearmen advance first? There was some evidence that among the ancients this was occasionally a fruitful way of proceeding—the horsemen to come from behind and around the ends of the spearmen, to begin to slay while the spears hold the enemy temporarily trapped."
"A bold and interesting suggestion, my lady," said Brian severely. "But what are the goblins going to be doing when they see, over the heads of the spearmen, our horsed warriors moving to take them on the flank? They will hardly ignore what is in plain sight, but turn to face them."
"In that case, Sir Brian, the spearmen move forward, themselves taking the turning goblins now in the flank. The goblins have only one poisoned spear apiece, and only one pair of eyes, likewise."
"A very pretty move in theory, my lady," Brian said, "but in practice, I have been told by such as Chandos that he had never seen any fancy maneuvers produce anything but confusion. The spearmen would have to make up their minds to charge instead of hold in a eye-wink, without thought. If we had a month to train them, or a miracle to divert the goblins' attention while our footmen, each man for himself, make up their minds what to do—"
"Er, Brian," said Jim, who saw this discussion getting out of hand, "it happens I have something—not a miracle, but a great flock of full-grown dragons with flaming wings diving on the goblins at the same time as the move my lady has proposed. Hob, you're the expert on goblins. Do you think the flaming dragons would hold the goblins' attention for perhaps long enough for the horsemen to get around the line of footmen and attack them?"
Brian happened to be standing closest to Jim, so only he picked up the mutter under his friend's breath.
"Books, ancients, women who never held a sword or bow, hobs—what a war council!"
But meanwhile Hob was answering, after a second of thought.
"M'lord, I think it must. They know the dragons eat them, they hate and fear fire. Once one of them sees a flaming dragon diving towards him, that one is sure to cry out, and others will then look up—they will be thrown into confusion. Meanwhile, the noble knights and other people on horses can go attack a disordered enemy. If the spearmen then move forward, forewarned of the dragon attack, the goblins will not know who to fight first."
There was a long moment of silence.
"What do you think, gentlemen?" asked Jim.
After that there was unanimous approval—the experienced fighting men, practical-minded at bottom, Jim thought, were more than a little dazzled and gratified at the thought of dragons stooping to aid them with fire. Carolinus observed a nonvoting silence. Brian was now emphatically approving.
"God send we may throw them into panic," he said, "scatter them like chaff, and send them back to their Deep Earth! But if this is to be the course, I must go to the mounted men without further talk and warn them both of it and that the dragons will be on our side. You will warn us of the dragons coming in ample time, will you not, James?"
"Count on it, Brian."
"I, too, must go alert the footmen and archers to this plan, James," said Dafydd. "To save time, perhaps you might magickally return Brian and me to the places from which you called us?"
"I think I can do that—this short distance in a place I know well." Jim glanced at Carolinus, as usual hoping for some sign of approval or nonapproval, but as usual Carolinus's face gave no sign. Jim went on to Dafydd and Brian: "Tell everyone to be ready to sally, spearmen first. I've just got a matter of necessary magick to talk over with the Mage, briefly, then I'll speak to you in your heads, as I did to get you here, and you can give the word to attack."
"Good!" said Brian, very strongly indeed, as Jim sent them both on their ways. They vanished.
"My lord," said Joan, "with that dismissed, mayhap you have part of a moment for the other matter I came to speak you on." She glanced at Carolinus and then at Hob. "I would that none besides yourself and your lady wife—who already knows—should hear this…"
"Speak freely," said Carolinus commandingly. "Neither I nor Hob will hear you until you ask us back into your conversation. My word and magick upon it!"
"Thank you, Mage," said Joan gratefully. But Carolinus
only raised his eyebrows in the manner of someone who did not catch the last words someone else had said. "Well, I am grateful and will thank you again when this is all said. James, I have something to tell you about your Prince."
"Yes?" Jim was suddenly alert. From the beginning there had been a fear in him that the Prince would find some way—undoubtedly well-intentioned, but disastrous to the plans that all others understood…
"I have known him since we were children at court together—as you know," said Joan. "Believe me when I tell you something about him."
"I'd be glad to hear it," said Jim, cautious of signing blank promissory notes, even in conversation.
"He has always been the same at bottom. Quick to fly into a temper, like all of we Plantagnets, and ready to try any rash and dangerous action on a moment's notice. But also he has been generous to a fault, even to those who have injured or tried to injure him—leaving himself open to further injuries from them. He worships all about chivalry. He would have given up his expectation of a throne to be in Lyonesse with you when, as stories say, in that final battle Arthur himself appeared only for an hour or so to win the fight."
"Yes," said Jim, with a voice deeper in his throat than he had intended. "I've seen some of these traits in him."
"I am not sure I know what you mean by 'traits,' but I am encouraged that you will listen to what further I have to say with an understanding ear. He cannot say this himself, so I must say it for him: he believes himself deeply in your debt, not only in that you rescued him from the rogue Magickian in France, but for saving his father from Tiverton and many other things, and he has pledged himself to obey you and your friends without question in all things."
She stopped talking. Jim did not know quite what to say.
"And now," she spoke into his silence, "having said that, I will go.—Mage and Hob, thank you for your courtesy. There is no reason to magickally stop your ears further."
She turned toward the door.
"My lady," said Jim, finding his tongue, "I don't have the words to thank you and him—"
"None are necessary," she said. "I leave you here. May God be ever with you, Angela."
The door closed behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"That was fast," said Jim, staring at the door that had just closed behind the Fair Maid. "Said what she came to say and that was that."
"She knows you're busy," said Angie.
"Still, I appreciate it. It's good news when you hear the Prince will obey his advisors. He could wreck things. Strange young character."
"Not so strange if you were in his shoes," said Angie, "having to play the royal one moment and ask favors of his inferiors the next. I think he's done a brave job of it—but you're busy."
And Angie turned and started toward the door.
"No. Don't you leave!" said Jim. "I may need you to help me remember—I want you here."
Angie came back and sat down in one of the chairs, looking up at him. Jim suddenly realized that, in spite of the effort involved, he had been, like Carolinus, on his feet. Planning a battle evidently was something nobody did in anything less than a crisis mode. Gratefully, he sat down again and returned his attention to Carolinus.
"Where were we?" he asked. "Oh, yes, you'd just agreed to ward the legs of the horses for those on horseback. Now, about the flaming dragons—I'll have to be-dragon myself for a moment, fly up and tell them when to go into their act, and about the flames, if that's really to happen. So, how about that, Carolinus? Is it possible to give them all the illusion of flaming wings—I'd better be able to demonstrate on myself that it wouldn't burn them or do their wings any damage—that reminds me, I've got to brief Secoh about this. I'll call him in—I wonder where he is—"
Secoh materialized in the Solar, facing them and looking startled.
"Well, thanks, Carolinus," said Jim. "It's good of you to bring him in. I was wondering how to specify his location."
"Exactly the reason I brought him instead. All right. He's here—speak to him, but by the way, Jim, you'll need to watch yourself on that with the Collegiate. A good number of them think that these little magick coups you've pulled off from time to time have gone to your head…"
"Little!" said Jim, remembering his struggle, with body as well as mind, to acquire the magic staff with which he had been able to safely lead a few people—who were anything but close friends of each other—in a human wall to hold back a tremendous magic force. It had been the only way to drive one of the greatest of Great Demons, Ahriman, back into the Kingdom of Demons and Devils.
"Well, possibly for an apprentice, something more than little. But never mind that. Of course, the illusion of flaming wings can be possible, for you if you're in dragon form and them when necessary. Illusions are not magickally expensive. Just tell them to say 'HAH!' and they'll light up. If they want to turn it off, say it again. If they want to light up a second time, say it once more. Each time it's said, it'll change back to what it was just before. You can use the same word yourself to demonstrate its use to them."
Secoh made an embarrassed, semistrangled sound in his throat. Jim and Carolinus both looked at him.
"Er, Mage," he said, shifting uncomfortably on his back feet, upright, "we dragons don't much say 'hah'—indeed, it's very seldom. In fact, we never say it."
"Try it now," said Carolinus.
"Well… hah…"
"Louder, marsh-dragon!' snapped Carolinus. "Roar it out!"
"HAH!" exploded Secoh in desperate earnestness, deafening them all in the confines of the Solar. The deafness went away immediately, however, Jim noticed. Carolinus's doing, of course.
"Demonstrate to your dragon friends," said Carolinus. "I chose it just because you don't use it ordinarily. You now understand?"
"Yes, Mage," said Secoh, humbly.
"Then off with you to wait for the adult dragons—"
"They're on wing already, Mage, but staying just out of sight of Malencontri."
Thank whatever dragon gods there be, Jim said to himself, for the caution and wisdom of full-grown dragons. Secoh's youngsters would have been unable to resist the temptation to edge in to see what how the battle was going—and so be seen ahead of time.
"All the better," Carolinus was saying to Secoh. "Go let them practice saying 'HAH!' and tell them Jim will be along to explain the harmless fire from their wings to frighten the goblins." Secoh winked out.
"There you are, Jim," said Carolinus. "I hope that pleases you."
"It does indeed. But now we come to the hard part."
"Hard part?" Carolinus frowned.
"Yes," said Jim. "I realize the toughness of this demand, but it's critically important."
"Well, I told you I had a drawing power now on all the Magickians of the Collegiate—but we can't work miracles, you know—you ought to know."
"I do," said Jim. "I do! This doesn't require a miracle, but it could take a large amount of magick. In a few words, could you make complete, individual wards around each of our footmen, the spearmen and archers alike?"
Carolinus glared.
"How many of them are there?" he said.
"Just a minute. I'll find out."
"You don't have that information at the tips of your fingers?"
Jim ignored the question. Mentally, he spoke to Dafydd in Dafydd's mind only.
"Dafydd, don't let me interrupt whatever you're doing. I'm finishing up my talk with Carolinus. As soon as it's done, we can attack—as we decided, the spearmen and archers go first, then the mounted men. But I need to know how many of both I'm talking about with the Mage. Can you think the answer?"
"Fourteen of what may by courtesy be called archers, and two hundred and nine spearmen," thought back Dafydd promptly, as if he had been answering mental calls for years, instead of for the first time, as now.
"Two hundred and twenty-three, altogether!" said Jim aloud, as shocked by the number as he fully expected Carolinus to be.
"Two hundred and n
ine!" echoed Carolinus.
"Oh—and fourteen archers," said Jim unhappily. "Two hundred twenty-three, all told."
"Full wards? Two hundred and twenty-three adult humans?" said Carolinus. "Impossible! Totally impossible, Jim!"
"This is war, you know," said Jim.
"I don't care if it's a country dance! Two hundred and twenty-three living bodies—"
"That's the point," said Jim. "To keep them alive against the goblin magic on the goblin spears."
"Why don't you just ask me to disarm all the goblins, magickally? Do you seriously ask me to go back to face the Collegiate and confess I spent the open draws on their magick to that extent?"
"Could you actually disarm them, if you had the magick available?"
"Certainly not!" said Carolinus. "For eighteen reasons. The first being that it would need the complete magickal resources of everyone in the Collegiate—resources painfully built up over centuries. Second, it would be a direct violation of subsection one of the Encyclopedic Necromantic—"
"What subsection one?" demanded Jim. "There's nothing like that in my copy."
Carolinus glared at him.
"The subsection one that forbids us to use all our magick except to defend the Collegiate itself. These are things you aren't supposed to be privy to until you're a member of the Collegiate yourself. The flat answer is no!"
"But you might be able to individually ward completely our two hundred and twenty-three footmen."
"Nonsense!"
Jim was thinking. He decided to talk to Dafydd again, mentally.
"Dafydd?"
"Yes, James?"
"How did you get so many spearmen, Dafydd?"
"There was less than no difficulty. In fact, I had almost to fight some of the older men and lads below the age of fifteen, who were bound to be in the line, but I told them the big spears were too heavy—not to carry, but to use well—and that some were needed to defend the walls here if those in the field all fell. It is settled now, though there was one bad moment when Tom Kitchen swore he was fifteen and May Heather swore he was not—the two are betrothed, I understand."
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