The Dragon Knight
Page 47
"No, he isn't," said Carolinus. "You can't have him."
She whirled toward the sound of the spoken voice, her eyes ablaze with anger—then immediately softened at seeing who she was face-to-face with. She dropped a curtsy.
"Mage," she said, almost cooing, "I'm so honored to see you. You are beautiful, yourself. But I know you are far beyond my reach. Why should I not have my James, here?"
"For the same reason you couldn't have me," said Carolinus. "He also is a magician."
"A magician!"
Melusine's eyes grew wide, her arms dropped from around Jim's waist, and she stood back, staring at him. "All this time, James; and you never told me! How could you do this to me?"
"Well—" Jim began, not really knowing what to say.
Melusine began to cry daintily into a flimsy green handkerchief that she produced from somewhere about her gown.
"To lead me on so, only to have me face this cruel disappointment!" she said. "How could you, James!"
"Well—" began Jim again, helplessly.
"Oh, well." Melusine dried her eyes almost briskly and the handkerchief disappeared. "It is the way I have always suffered. I must look for a new love, it seems—ah, what a beautiful little man. I'll have you. And I'll never let you go!"
She had darted forward and clasped King Jean around his breast plate.
"You can't have him either," said Carolinus.
"Why not?" pouted Melusine, still keeping a death grip on the King.
"Because I am a King, Death of God!" spluttered Jean. "As a King, I am destined; and beyond all magic and the ways of all such unnatural as you!"
"Truly?"
Tears formed again in Melusine's eyes. Her hands dropped from the King. The handkerchief reappeared.
"To be twice so disappointed!" She wept into it. "And you are even more beautiful than James. I will always love you, my King. But—since you, too, are beyond me—"
She looked around, and her eyes fell on Giles, with Theoluf kneeling on the far side of him, trying to staunch Giles's many wounds with sections of cloth donated from the shirts of the men-at-arms around him.
"Oh, the poor one!" she said, running over and dropping on her knees on the other side of Giles. "He is hurt. I will mend him!"
"Can you make blood, lady?" said Theoluf bluntly. "He has no one wound enough to slay him. But so many are his lesser wounds that he has lost nearly all the blood in him; and is fast losing what little remains, for I cannot stop the bleeding."
"Make human blood?" said Melusine, dismayed. "Alas, that is one thing no one but a human may do for himself."
"It is not to be surprised he should bleed so," said Theoluf gruffly. "I counted six dead knights with black-marked visors before the hole wherein he hid the Prince."
"Could you not at least move him to the shade?" Melusine asked.
"That, at least, I can do," said Theoluf. "It was well thought of, my Lady."
He got up and began picking men-at-arms from the ones behind him, for stretcher-bearers, as she leaned toward Giles.
"Oh, it is so sad," she crooned. "You are so young and beautiful. And I have this strange feeling that we are like to one another."
Giles lips moved. No one else there could hear if he actually answered, but Melusine had evidently heard him.
"But your nose is beautiful! she said. "Never have I seen such a magnificent nose! It was the first thing I noticed when I looked at you. Oh, it is delicious. I could bite it right off you!"
She bent over, covering the nose with kisses.
"Pick him up gently, now!" said Theoluf, returning with the men he had picked. "We'll carry him into the shade of that tree right over there."
Gently, they did as he said. With Melusine following, they went off into the shade of the tree, while the rest of the men-at-arms there made room for them.
Meanwhile, Jim had been standing by, listening to the Earl of Cumberland negotiating with King Jean. Surprisingly, for all his burly physical appearance, the Earl turned out to be an astute negotiator. His arguments had reached the point of bringing the King finally to recognize that there was nothing to be gained by letting the battle go on; and, while the cost of surrender might be high, that too, was something that might be negotiated to better terms at a later time. Meanwhile, it made only common sense to preserve the veteran French warriors from death—and the kind of serious wounds that in this early time might bring them to death eventually—for future use against the English.
It was just then, however, that Jim noticed the Prince standing to one side of the Earl, with his gaze fixed steadily upon the nobleman. The Prince's face was more and more resembling a thundercloud that was about to spawn a tornado. Jim moved hastily to do what he could to avert a full-sized explosion.
He interrupted the Earl.
"Forgive me, my Lord," he said, "but I believe our Royal Prince might wish to have a word with you."
The Earl turned his head slowly to look at Edward, of whom he clearly could not have been unaware all this time.
"Yes, Highness?" he asked coldly.
"So you do know who I am, sirrah?" snapped the Prince.
"I know you as my Royal Prince," replied the Earl, still coldly, "though I have been informed you had lately turned from the English and the land of your birth, to lend your support to the French against all things English; and mayhap you had acquired a different title in the process."
"Insolence!" snarled the Prince. "Down on your knee before me, my Lord, or I'll have your head off in punishment for not doing it sooner. And I have the men with me who'll perform that task for me if I order it." He looked behind him. "Have I not?"
There was a sudden chesty shout from the men-at-arms behind him. There was nothing that would have suited their temper better at this moment, Jim realized, than to cut off a head of an Earl at the legitimate order of their Prince.
The Earl had come with only three companions. He sank down on one knee immediately.
"Look to your right, my Lord," went on the Prince in a steely voice. "You see that pile of clothes that somewhat resembles what I wear myself? Within those clothes until a short while ago was an impostor made out of snow by the magic of the evil sorcerer who stands behind you—and behind the King of France, as I now notice. He, it was, who gave substance to the false tale that I had joined the French. How could I leave England when England is myself? Will you tell me that you believed such a lie?"
"I will not say I believed it in my heart, Your Highness," answered the Earl. His face had paled, but his voice was firm enough. "Yet there was not only the tale, but the witness of men of good repute who had seen you, if from a distance, riding comfortably in French company, armed, and to all intents one of them. I could not easily find it in me to credit such a thing. But, being human, I wondered. Sire, I freely admit that wonder, which afflicted many English in this expedition. If that is a fault for which I should lose my head, then my head is yours to take."
"True," said the Prince, a little more calmly. "Still, you were probably no less bemused than others. And in fact it might be said that the magical impostor was such a complete copy of myself, I had difficulty believing I was not looking into a reflecting glass and seeing myself therein. Well, how do you feel now? Shall I prove myself further to you, my Lord? Shall I take horse and ride against the French on yon field? If so, there are at least some men behind me who will follow me." He turned his head back over his shoulder. "Are there not?" He challenged the knights and men-at-arms behind him.
"Are there not?" he repeated.
A shout, deeper and stronger than the one earlier, answered him fiercely.
"And this being so," said the Prince, "do you doubt, my Lord, that if I ride forth with these men at my back crying 'Saint George-Guienne' and attacking the first French I see, that all Englishmen there who see me will not in the end rally about me? I ask you."
"Your Highness," said the Earl with deep sincerity. "I myself would be among the first to follow you!"
"Rise, my Lord," he said. "I do accept you to be a loyal and trusty Lord of mine and of my Father the King. But never again give me reason to doubt you."
"That I will not, Highness," said the Earl, "while I live."
He rose to his feet again.
"Well pleased am I to hear it," said the Prince. "That matter being settled, you may continue discussing the terms of surrender with our cousin the King of France. I will listen and leave the discussion to you, because you have more experience in this, my Lord, and I admit it. Secondly, because it will the more ensure that the fighting yonder be brought to a conclusion as swiftly as possible."
"I am afraid you are in error, cousin," said King Jean. "At no point in our discussion have I agreed that we French should surrender. We will either continue the battle as men of honor should, or offer the English such light terms, that there will be no shame in their accepting them. I see the frown gathering dark upon your brows, young cousin. You are about to remind me that I am your personal prisoner. Let me dispose of that now, once and for all. You may cut off my head, instead of that of this the Earl of Cumberland, before I will give commands to my Frenchmen to yield a fight they have not yet lost."
"In that case," said the Prince, "I have no choice. A horse for me! A horse! Ho!"
The nearest horseman among the men-at-arms slipped from his saddle and led the beast up to the Prince, dropping on one knee and offering up the reins in his hand. The Prince took the reins and swung himself up into the saddle.
"You give me no choice then, cousin," the Prince said to King Jean. "For some time now it has looked to me as if the battle were very equal. Mayhap it may turn to the favor of the English, if I ride out on that battlefield. So ride out, I will—and your French will have their chance to see if they can win the day!"
He looked back over his shoulder again at the other mounted men.
"Follow me, all!" he said, pulling his sword from its sheath, raising it in the air, and turning his horse's head toward the field.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"Wait!" shouted King Jean. His face had not changed, but as close to him as Jim stood, he thought he could see a slight sheen on the royal brow, that could indicate a hint of perspiration there. "Wait, young cousin! I honor your desire to lead your English to victory. However, think you a moment. There are good knights on both sides that will die if you carry this through; for surely both Englishmen and Frenchmen will fight to the death once they see you on the field and in the midst of the battle—"
The fact that these were the very arguments that the Earl had been using on the King did not seem to inhibit the King from using them on the Prince.
"Consider, cousin," went on King Jean. "This day has gone awry in many ways. Let us not run the risk of piling error upon error. Certainly the matter should be discussed. If it is enough to keep you from the field, I am willing to discuss, not only the surrender of the English to the French, but the possible surrender of the French to you English—though I advance this merely as a matter for discussion, you understand."
"Highness?" said the Earl of Cumberland, swiftly and hopefully.
The Prince sat his horse for a moment in silence, apparently thinking deeply. Then he looked directly at the Earl.
"My Lord," he said, "you are experienced in these things. Would you counsel that I delay my going out to the field while you talk awhile longer?"
"I would Your Highness," replied the Earl swiftly. "I most earnestly would. I see no dishonor in it; and I think of your value to England, not only now but in the future, should some accident befall you out on the field of battle."
"I would not hold back from going out because of fear for myself!" scowled the Prince.
"No, no, I'm sure Your Highness would not," said the Earl hastily. "Still, I would strongly advise and counsel that we talk further with His Majesty of France."
Edward swung down from his horse.
"Very well," he said, "I will be guided by your advice. Continue your talk, then. I shall listen closely."
He stepped over to stand as a third in the group of two that had originally contained only the Earl and the King.
To Jim, also listening, the discussions now took an entirely new turn. It became obvious immediately that now both the Earl and the King were trying to work out some kind of no-win, no-lose decision for both sides. The apparent problem with this was in finding the proper language in which to fit it, since all discussions of this sort had been very strictly win-lose, with one side only doing the winning and the other doing the losing.
It looked almost as if the problem Carolinus had set Jim was solving itself for him. It was unexpected; for Jim had never stopped to think what the psychological effect would have been of the young Prince on the field leading the English into their fight with the relatively equal number of French who remained. The English, of course, would be tremendously heartened to find the Prince definitely on their side. And the French, inevitably, would have felt remarkably let down by the feet that their ace-in-the-hole, which the Prince's supposed adherence to France had implied, was no longer there.
It was exactly the kind of emotional factor that could sway the outcome of a battle such as this; and clearly not merely the Prince and the Earl, but King Jean himself realized this.
Meanwhile the discussion struggled to find the proper words into which to fit its solution to the present situation. It was difficult merely to call a truce, since the usual conditions under which a truce were called—namely, that the two armies had not tested each other's strength—was not there to hinge the agreement on. At the present moment the testing was literally going on.
The final solution agreed on was an immediate temporary truce. This, in theory, was to be followed by discussions, and a decision about who had actually won the battle would be put off and put off until it became ancient history. This was certainly a solution that was agreeable to both King Jean and the Earl; and it did not seem disagreeable to the Prince.
It was therefore agreed on. Unfortunately, the agreement brought up a very knotty question indeed.
How to proclaim the truce and get the armies to stop fighting.
The procedure was obvious. It would be to send Royal heralds about the field, with trumpets and proclamations; both French and English heralds proclaiming that an immediate truce had been called because the young Crown Prince of England was now restored to the English side; and diplomatic details needed to be ironed out before the matter could be put to the test of battle again. The fact that mere was no intention of putting the matter to the test of battle again—at least in the minds of those making the agreement right at the moment—was left unsaid.
The problem came from the fact, and it was a fact that was foreseen by everybody but Jim, that this was easier said than done.
"But what's the problem?" asked Jim quietly in Brian's ear, to that no one else could catch the question.
Brian turned his head to him so that his answer should go likewise unheard.
"Knights do not always stop fighting, just because they're told to," he said. "A command may stop them from starting to fight until it is time; but once started, they do not stop easily. Particularly, they do not stop, if one side or another feels it is winning; and that only a little more effort will bring victory into its grasp."
Jim was forced to believe this as he stood and watched, after both King Jean and the Earl had sent messengers to the Royal heralds on both sides to spread the word of a truce on the field. It began to dawn on him what Brian had meant.
What Brian had said turned out to be only too true. The heralds galloped from one end of the field to the other, blowing their trumpets and shouting their proclamations both in English and in French. But there was a remarkable lack of response by those still hotly engaged in battle.
Slowly, Jim began to understand. Your medieval knight did not go to war to stop fighting. He went to war to win battles
and kill people. Possibly, also—just possibly—to be killed himself. It was possible, if luck went against him, to lose a battle. But he never went to war to suddenly stop going to war. The truth was that these knights unabashedly liked fighting. He had heard their complaints all winter, even at the round of parties that be attended, that were given by anyone of the gentry who had a castle or a hall big enough to entertain. Winter was a period for passing the time impatiently until spring made it possible to do the one thing that made life worthwhile—fight.
As he had heard any number of the males in the gentlemanly class say on occasion, there were only so many meals you could eat, so much wine you could drink, and so many women worth being interested in. You went through these rather quickly, and after that it was a matter of twiddling your thumbs until the snow was off the ground, and the real business of a knight's life could take up again.
"James."
Jim turned to face Carolinus, with a sudden guilty feeling.
He remembered that Carolinus had spoken to him some moments ago about wanting to talk to him aside; and in the rush of events he had forgotten all about it.
"Come with me," said Carolinus. "No one else will notice you're going—except Malvinne. And he'll be expecting us to go off and talk."
Carolinus turned without waiting for an answer, and threaded his way among the men-at-arms. Jim followed him. He was interested to see that, although none of the men-at-arms seemed aware of them or deliberately shifted out of their way, there were little movements aside on the parts of many of them, to widen the space through which Carolinus might pass. They reached the outer ring and walked off a short distance, far enough into the trees so that they could not see the people behind them, and the sound of talk back there could not be heard.
At the foot of a large tree that shadowed them from the midday brightness of the sun, Carolinus stopped and turned back to face Jim. Jim stopped also; and their eyes met.