The Dragon on The Border

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "It is hardly something said—" The tone of Herrac's voice was beginning to deepen ominously. Jim stood up and put a hand on Herrac's shoulder.

  "Sir John," he said, looking directly at the Graeme, "I will be perfectly glad to give you an example." He thought of his low account with the Accounting Office, and mentally crossed his fingers that the other would not take him up on what he was about to say. "If you will show me that you are a skilled swordsman, as a knight must be, by standing up right now and striking a blow with your weapon at the knight next to you."

  Reflexes on the Border were not slow. The knight next to Sir John Graeme—Jim had forgotten his name—was on his feet in a moment.

  "Now, now," said Sir John soothingly to the standing man, "calm yourself, Wullie." Sir John had been careful not to stand up himself. He looked now back at Jim.

  "You make a worthy point, Sir James," he said, still soothingly. "You have not seen me in battle and I have not seen you at your magic; and neither is a thing lightly demonstrated. You are quite right, and I crave your pardon. We should take each other on trust; and on the word of our good host and his worthy son, Sir Giles."

  He turned to the knight who had stood up beside him.

  "Seat yourself once more, Wullie," he said soothingly. "You know I've no desire to draw sword upon you, or you upon me."

  Sir William of Berwick sat back down at the table.

  "Well now, Sir John," said Herrac grimly, "if you've fully satisfied yourself about everyone concerned with the situation—"

  "To be sure—to be sure." Sir John waved a hand almost as large as Herrac's. "Let us continue. Perhaps Sir James will be good enough to tell us his plans."

  Jim was still on his feet. He debated sitting down again, then decided against it.

  "I assume you've already heard them from Sir Herrac," he said. "Nonetheless, you can hear them from me now, if you want. I intend to gather the Hollow Men at a certain place, which can be told to you. I will know the time of their gathering; and once they are all in position there we will move in close around them, under the screen of trees that surrounds part of this area—the rest being fenced in by unclimbable cliffs."

  He paused to see how they were taking this. They were all closely attentive, but noncommittal.

  "I will have gathered them together under the pretense of paying them to spearhead an expedition by the King of Scotland into the north of England," he said. "Not so much for what damage they can do; as for the fear they can spread among the English by the fact they are ghosts. I will tell you my feeling about how forces should be arranged, once we are there. At any rate, you will see me, because I will be upon a ledge of rock a little higher than the floor of this place where they are met, handing out to them, one by one, the gold."

  He paused again. They still listened, but showed no commitment.

  He went on.

  "The gold, in short, will be the bait that will make sure we have all of them together. I will have made the rule that no Hollow Man will be paid unless he shows up; and the evidence over the centuries has been that none of them trust each other enough to have another of their own kind collect for them. When I give a certain signal you will all move in. Remember, the aim is to make sure that every one of them is dead. So that none still lives to give those killed the ability to rise again."

  "It may well be a bloody cockpit, this place you talk of," said another knight down the table, whose name Jim had forgotten already and completely.

  "It could hardly be otherwise," said Jim. "The only reason to support it being so is the need of doing away with the Hollow Men once and for all. Over the centuries the families of all of you have paid many times over in goods, money and family, compared to what we will be spending in that spot at that time."

  "That is true," said Sir John Graeme, thoughtfully staring at his hands, closed together before him on the table, "but if the figure of two thousand Hollow Men that Sir Herrac has given us—"

  "Have any of the rest of you better guesses?" Jim asked.

  There was silence around the table.

  "As I say, this figure of two thousand Hollow Men," Sir John went on as if nothing had been said by Jim, "means that we must commit most of the strength of those who are here, and possibly that of a few others as well, to be sure that it is a battle to the death—a battle to the death of all the Hollow Men."

  "Exactly," said Jim. "That is why I have talked to the Little Men and got their agreement to fight with us."

  All the knights around the table made sudden movements. None of them showed extreme startlement, but Jim read shock in every one of them.

  "I did not tell them that," said Herrac, in a low voice to Jim, but one which the rest of the people at the table could hear.

  "Have any of you a good reason why you should not fight alongside the Little Men in this matter?" Jim asked boldly. "They've suffered also, and for more centuries than you have, from the Hollow Men. They've fought them valiantly, holding their borders against attempts by the Hollow Men to move in on them. They have a right to be there at the final killing. Not only that, but being as they are, with their particular weapons and their way of fighting, they will help bring the battle to a speedy conclusion."

  "They are not mortal or Christian," said Sir John Graeme, looking up at Jim. "They are not of us. How do we know that they aren't Satan's children—or even secretly in league with the Hollow Men in this? It would not be the first time an ally had betrayed righteous men to their enemies."

  "I can assure you that they are not and what you fear will not happen there," said Jim.

  "Forgive me if I seem again to doubt you," said John Graeme, who seemed more and more to be the speaker for the group, "but your assurance is a thin rod upon which to lean if we are to commit all our strength to this battle."

  "I can give you some reassurance on that," said Jim. "For the Little Men refused to follow but a leader of their choice. And it seems that they will accept one among us only. A man who is here at the castle in the disguise of an ordinary bowman, but who bears a high rank which both Herrac and I privily know."

  "For certain reasons the Little Men are willing to accept him as their leader. But him, only, if they fight by your side. The one I speak of is just without this chamber right now. If you like I can bring him in."

  They all looked startled—including Herrac, who did a good job of seeming to turn an astonished and inquiring face to Jim.

  "Forgive me, friend Herrac," said Jim, possibly a little more emphatically than was necessary, "for not mentioning this to you sooner. He will come in, of course, only with your permission and the approval of those here. But I asked him to stand close, so that he might be available if necessary. Perhaps that necessary moment has come?"

  He had turned his head back to face all the others around the table as he said this. There was a long silence; and then one of them nodded, then another nodded. Finally the wave of agreement ran completely around the table; ending, as Jim had more than half expected, with a nod from John Graeme.

  Jim looked at Herrac, got a nod from him, and rose to step to the door and open it.

  "Noble Sir," he said, "would you deign to step in here, if it so please you?"

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see every man there straighten up in his chair. "Noble Sir" were words that were used only to royalty.

  All there could not help but recognize it as such.

  Dafydd came through the door. He was not carrying either his bow or his quiver; but it was as Herrac had said earlier—he could not have been mistaken for anything but a bowman, no matter how he had been dressed. There was a general set of body signals in the way he moved and the way he stood, that certified to the fact that this was a man who used the bow. As Jim shut the door behind him, he advanced to the end of the table and stood behind Herrac looking at them all—looking down at them all.

  Jim came back past him and, standing behind his own bench, turned toward Dafydd. "For special reasons," he said, "may
I ask your Highness to introduce yourself to this company—since no one else can introduce you properly?"

  "Willingly," answered Dafydd. "Gentlemen, I am the Prince of—"

  —And once again he pronounced that string of liquid syllables that neither Jim nor anyone else had been able to properly imitate.

  "Sir Herrac?" asked Jim. "Since he is known among us by the name in the disguise he now adopts to preserve his privacy, would you speak that other name? It may come more readily to the tongues of these gentlemen, as it did to us."

  "He is the Prince of Merlon," said Herrac, pronouncing the name "Merrrlon" as he had suggested.

  There were silent stares from everyone around the table—and a long silence.

  "Pardon me, noble Sir," said one of the men at the far end of the table, at last, clearly taking no chances that he might be committing a social error by not using this newcomer's proper title, "but are you not Welsh? Something about your voice seems to say you are Welsh."

  "Indeed," said Dafydd, smiling—and for the moment, standing as he was, he did appear unmistakably regal as he looked down at all of them. "And since I'm in the disguise of a Welsh bowman, how else should I sound?"

  Jim turned to Herrac.

  "With your permission, Sir Herrac," he said. "And with that of your Highness"—he looked back at Dafydd—"I will give these gentlemen some explanation of how you happen to be here."

  "Let it be so," said Dafydd.

  Jim turned back to the people at the table.

  "Where are your manners, gentlemen?" he said. "None of you has risen; and his Highness is still on his own feet."

  Herrac pushed back his bench and rose to his feet. Around the table, the others also rose hastily.

  "Sit. By all means sit," said Dafydd, with a wave of his hands. "And if someone will be good enough to bring me a seat, I will join you."

  Slowly, those around the table reseated themselves. Jim offered his own bench to Dafydd, who took it, managing in his own inimitable manner to appear to lounge—and lounge in princely fashion, at that—while the others were essentially forced by their benches and the table to sit stiffly upright. It was true that all of them had been bred to the saddle and to seating themselves in this manner. Nonetheless, there were none there who could have lounged with the cool indifference that Dafydd displayed. It outdid MacDougall's earlier performance by a country mile.

  "With the permission of your Highness," Jim said to Dafydd, seating himself, "I will explain how you happen to be here at this time, when you are so badly needed."

  "Continue," answered Dafydd, with another wave of his hand.

  "Gentlemen," said Jim, addressing the table at large, "the Prince Merlion has heard of our problem with the Hollow Men; and—since his people once had a like problem—comes specifically for the purpose of aiding us in our task. I need not ask gentlemen like yourselves to keep his true rank and name secret. I believe he will solve the problem of all of us, as to fighting alongside the Little Men. The Little Men have already recognized his identity and his rank at first sight (for they have long memories, as all know); and they have also already welcomed and accepted him as their leader among us in this endeavor, if sobeit takes place."

  Several of the knights began to speak at once. Then all fell silent except the single one at the end of the table who had spoken about the Little Men not being mortal before.

  "With your pardon, noble Sir," said this individual, "but where is the kingdom that you come from?"

  Jim spoke up quickly, to insert himself into the gap.

  "It is indeed close to Wales," he said, "which is why his Highness adopted the disguise of a Welsh bowman." He was scrambling to come up with an explanation on the spur of the moment. "However, the kingdom in which his Highness is Prince was a very old kingdom, that has since sunk below the waves. In spite of this, his people magically continue to live, underwater, and none in this island knows of them. Am I right, your Highness?"

  "You are," said Dafydd, unruffled.

  "A wall of magic bars their kingdom off from the land as we know it, so that it seems nothing but sea where they live," said Jim.

  He went on.

  "But," he added, "I, being a magician, was able to pass through that wall and move underwater to where he and his people live. I entreated his help, and he was good enough to come. He was reassured; since I asked him to come to this castle of Sir Herrac's, a knight of whom he knew."

  It was Herrac who looked startled now. Jim cast a meaningful glance at him. All there were perfectly aware that Herrac was a selkie; and therefore able to travel in the waves and below them, and presumably also to visit such a kingdom as Jim described.

  "His Highness's people had known the Little Men well, many more hundreds of years ago than the families of any of you have lived in this area. They were close friends at a time when his Highness's country was above water. That was why they recognized His Highness at once; and accepted him as their leader if they were to fight together with you—which I may tell you, they were not eager to do otherwise."

  Jim stopped to let this point sink in.

  "In fact, they had flatly refused, at first, until he had consented to be leader to them," he went on. "He will bring some of them with him to our council table before the actual battle; but it is he who will have the overall command. You see, he knows, as you do not, that the Little Men are indeed mortal. Only, they are in some small ways, magicians as I am, myself; for only humans may make and use magic. All Naturals and other creatures owned and created by the Dark Powers are given powers suited to their purpose, but do not control them, any more than a falcon controls his ability to see closely the surface of the ground below him from great heights."

  There was a long silence after Jim had finished speaking. Then Sir John Graeme turned to speak directly to Dafydd.

  "Noble Sir," he said, "it will be an honor to fight beside you in this small matter."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jim and Dafydd, with their horses and a pack horse carrying the chest with gold, were making their way through the Cheviot Hills, with Snorrl as a rather wraithlike guide, flitting into visibility before them to signal the way for a moment, and then disappearing again.

  Jim was puzzling over the fact that a problem that completely sweeps you up into it at the time, once solved, becomes nothing at all; and you are immediately swept up and enclosed by another problem. He had seen the Borderers' agreement to fight with the Little Men as the big hump to get over. But, with Sir John's acceptance of Dafydd as Prince Merlion and Dafydd's leadership of the Little Men, the rest of what possible opposition there might have been, among the group gathered in the de Mer castle by Herrac, crumbled.

  An agreement had quickly been reached to meet together at a certain point in the Cheviot Hills that all knew, on a certain date that Jim would announce. It would be between one and two weeks away from the present. Also, they would meet again on the evening before the battle.

  The morning following, they would gather with their men in the woods at a place to be appointed, not too close to where the Hollow Men would be meeting to collect the gold.

  Once all the Borderers had arrived, they would move together as a group, coming up gradually to surround the area where Jim (acting as the Scottish envoy) would have insisted that the Hollow Men gather to get their pay in advance.

  Now that it was all over, it seemed to Jim that there had been no real problem at all to getting the cooperation of the Borderers. He knew this was not so but it felt so. In any case, what was deeply worrying him now was exactly how he should deal with the leaders of the Hollow Men when he at last came face-to-face—an unlikely word to use, but he could not think of any other—with them.

  "We're not far from the place of those leaders of the Hollow Men you wanted to talk to," said Snorrl, unexpectedly appearing by Jim's left stirrup and trotting alongside. "They've been there several days already; and you'll find it no sweet place to the nose of such a two-legged one as yourself
."

  "It can hardly be very bad, if they are but ghosts," spoke up Dafydd, riding beside Jim on his other side.

  "They're not being ghosts right now, Master bowman," said Snorrl. "They are in every way as human as yourself, except they cannot be seen except when they are dressed. And being like the rest of you, they make the sort of messes that you humans always make. Although these may be a little worse, since they have no respect for anything, each other, or even themselves."

  He opened his jaws once more in the silent wolf laugh.

  "Only me—that is the one thing they respect."

  "Why is that?" asked Dafydd curiously. He had not been in earshot when Snorrl had first mentioned this to Jim.

  "I know not—neither do I care," said Snorrl. "I only enjoy to see them fear me as men fear devils!"

  "Well, in any case," said Jim, "we'll just have to put up with the smells."

  "That you will," said Snorrl. He closed his jaws. "I take it you will not be wanting me in my magicked form at this meeting?"

  "No," said Jim, "not until the final gathering. I think the full effect of you will be greater if they don't know you're going to be there."

  Snorrl laughed again.

  "It may well be you're right," the wolf said.

  He lifted his nose suddenly in the air as he went along.

  "They have set a sentinel," he said, "to warn them of your approach. He's in the low branches of a tree up ahead. Go a little further, and he'll see you. I'll leave you now and meet you again after you've left the camp. Only remember to come back in this direction; though I will be watching and find you, in any case."

  With that, abruptly, with that magiclike behavior of wolves, he was gone.

  With word that a sentinel would soon be looking at him, Jim decided he could delay using his small magic account no longer. He had been dressed in those clothes of MacDougall's which would fit him and rode MacDougall's horse. Unfortunately—the other being much smaller—Jim wore his own clothes and armor. But he had been careful to put on the MacDougall's resplendent surcoat over it—and that should be enough to identify him to the Hollow Men leaders.