The Dragon At War

by Gordon R. Dickson

  It was very clear what had happened. Carolinus's place had been surrounded by one of the roving bands of vagabonds and ruffians who were continually on the move up and down the roads, working when they had to, stealing when they could, and belonging to no particular Lord or Master.

  It was equally clear that they were here at this present time like vultures at a carcass, in the hopes that Carolinus would not survive, and that they might find valuable pickings inside his house and property. Right now, of course, they were merely waiting to see what would develop.

  Angie, Jim saw, recognized them as quickly as Jim himself had—and he was sure that the men-at-arms behind him had done so even more quickly. He heard the slight rattle and clink of metal on metal as his eight men-at-arms and Theoluf made sure their weapons were close at hand and in position for quick use.

  Ignoring them all, Jim led the way, riding his horse through the crowd, forcing it to scatter and clear before him until he came to the gravel path. Then he dismounted, and Angie with him. Among the sullen muttering of the mob a voice could be heard explaining this was the dragon who was a knight.

  "No, Angie!" he said urgently, in a voice low enough for her to hear but not loud enough to carry to those around. "Stay on horseback. It's safer. I'll go in alone."

  "You certainly will not go in alone!" said Angie. "I want to look at these so-called nurses!"

  She had dismounted and started up the gravel walk before Jim had a chance to do anything but hurry after her. They reached the door and Jim flung it open without knocking.

  A gush of ill-scented air struck them in the face, and for a moment the gloom inside confounded their eyes, adjusted to the outside sunlight. Then they saw that Carolinus was lying on his bed, the head of which was against a far wall of the downstairs room. One woman was standing over him with folded arms while another stood across the room, both looking around with startled faces at Jim and Angie.

  Margot's description had not exaggerated. Both of these "wisewomen" had three or four inches of height on Jim; and they probably outweighed him by something like fifty pounds apiece. They were as broad-shouldered as they were tall; and the folded bare arms of the woman who stood by Carolinus's bed showed muscles like those in the arms of Jim's blacksmith. It was this woman who was the first to react to their entrance.

  "Who be ye?" she snapped in a baritone voice. "This be a sick house. Out with ye! Out!"

  And she freed one of her arms to wave them away as if they were flies.

  Jim felt himself brushed against from behind and Theoluf suddenly appeared beside himself and Angie. The squire had for the moment reverted back to being the chief man-at-arms he had once been; and not merely his face, but his whole manner, was anything but friendly toward the two women.

  "Silence!" he snarled. "And show proper respect for the Baron and Lady of Malencontri." He laid a hand on his sword hilt and took a step forward. "Did the two of you hear me? Let's hear some courtesy from you!"

  "Elly!" cried the woman across the room, shrinking back against the wall. " 'Tis Sir Dragon and his Lady!"

  "Dragon Knight or no," said Elly, unmoved, still standing by the bed with her arms still folded, "this is no part of their domain; but land that belongs only to the Mage, whom we are here to tend. Here, we give the orders. Out with the two of you! Out! Out!"

  Theoluf's sword rasped out of its scabbard.

  "How say you, m'Lord?" he said. His eyes glittered. "Shall I call the lads and take these two out and hang them?"

  "Hang them?" cried Angie in her ringing voice. "No! They must be witches. Burn them! Take them and burn them—both of them!"

  The one against the wall, who was obviously the sister named Eldra, gave a shriek and crammed herself even further back against the wall. Even Elly, by the bed, seemed shaken. Jim stared at Angie. He had never heard that tone of voice from Angie before, or expected her to express such sentiments before. This was his gentle Angie, talking about burning people alive? Then he realized that Angie did not mean the threat. She was merely trying to crack the composure of Elly, the stronger-minded sister.

  Elly, however, remained stoutly by the bed, although even in the relatively dim light of the house with its few narrow windows, it could be seen that she had turned pale.

  "Talking of burning's one thing. Doing it's another!" she said stoutly. "Happens we have a few friends outside who might have a word to say if your armed men try to harm us, m'Lord—"

  "Excuse me, m'Lord, m'Lady," interrupted a new voice; and a small man wearing the tattered rags of a brown robe with a rope girdle tied in three knots at the waist—the dress of a Franciscan Friar, came out of the shadows beneath the stairs to the cottage's upper floor. His hair was black, dirty and shaggy; but the crown of his head had been shaved bare to give him a tonsure. "Indeed, gentles, the good women here are only doing the best they can for the Mage, who is badly ill."

  He walked around to confront both Jim and Angie, ignoring Theoluf and his bared sword.

  "I am Friar Morel," he said, "shepherd to the little flock you see outside."

  He crossed himself.

  "—Which God protects along with the Mage and these two good women and your noble selves." He crossed himself again. "Dominus vobiscum."

  In spite of Jim's general lack of religion, he had not spent a good chunk of his graduate time learning medieval church Latin without being able to understand and respond to the friar's pious, "The Lord be with you."

  "Et cum spiritu tuo" he said. "With you as well."

  He was aware that the friar had brought up the Latin exchange more by way of proving his credentials than anything else. But now the little tonsured man was speaking again, this time to Angie.

  "M'Lady," he was saying reproachfully, "you could not really have meant what you said about burning these two good women. I can tell you in the Lord's name that they are not witches, but only wisewomen who lend their help to the sick and troubled. Only by their efforts has the Mage remained alive until now."

  "Is that so?" asked Jim. He strode forward, elbowing Elly aside. In spite of her words, she backed off without protest. He laid one hand on Carolinus's forehead. It was cold and clammy rather than hot. But the old man seemed unconscious. Then the aged eyelids lifted briefly and words whispered from Carolinus's lips.

  "Get me out of here—"

  "Don't worry, Carolinus," Jim answered him. "We'll do just that. You'll be much better back at Malencontri in the castle. What have they been doing to you?"

  "Everything…" whispered Carolinus, and then evidently ran out of strength. His eyes closed.

  "Why, 'tis a foul lie!" broke out Elly. "Delirium, I say, brought on by his sickness! We've given him nothing but wholesome purges and drenches, and only bled him twice."

  "That's enough to kill him!" snarled Angie.

  She had joined Jim and was now standing by his side. She spoke over her shoulder.

  "Theoluf, have a couple of men make a litter. Let them get poles from anywhere and we'll use blankets or whatever cloth we have around to carry Carolinus on."

  "Yes, m'Lady." Theoluf sheathed his sword, turned about and went out through the bright sunlit rectangle of the doorway. They could hear him giving orders to the other men-at-arms.

  " 'Twill be his death!" cried Elly. "To take him from our care, when we have barely kept him alive all this time. He will not even survive the ride to your castle!"

  "Oh, I think he will," said Angie fiercely to the larger woman. She too had been feeling Carolinus's forehead. "He may not have been very sick to start off with; but you two have brought him close to death with the way you've been feeding him all sorts of rotten things!"

  "He is ours!" replied Elly fiercely. "Lady, you may be; but this, as I say, is not in your domain! The Mage's last sensible wish was to stay with us. And we will keep him here at whatever cost there may be to it!"

  "Indeed," said Friar Morel smoothly, "not merely these two good women, but all of my flock would be sad to see you try to tak
e the Mage from here to die on the way to your castle. In God's name, we would have to resist any such attempt!"

  "M'Lord!" called Theoluf's voice from beyond the doorway. "Could you come speak with me for a moment?"

  "Be right there!" said Jim. He swept his gaze around through the two women and to the friar. "If I find anything has been done while I step outside to either m'Lady or Carolinus, none of you will see another sunrise!"

  He was surprised to realize he meant it.

  He stepped to the doorway. Just outside on the front step, Theoluf was standing, while beyond him, with their horses facing outward and their hands close to their weapons were the eight men-at-arms they had brought with them. Effectively, these kept the scruffy crowd around them from getting close enough to overhear. Theoluf murmured in Jim's ear.

  "These ditch-rats," muttered Theoluf, "who are clearly here for the pickings they may gain from the Mage's house, are only waiting until they can make free of it. All there is that is here now will be warded with magic; but the magic dies when the Mage dies. They are clearly of a mind to keep us from taking him away from here and saving his life. I would we had brought another dozen of the lads! There will be long knives hidden about all of them, and even not a few swords."

  Jim ran his eyes over the now-scowling group, peering out from among their bright-colored, dirty rags of tent and clothing. It called for the death penalty by Royal Decree to carry a sword; unless you were of a rank, or authorized by someone of rank, to do so. But these people's lives could be forfeit on half a dozen other excuses at any moment. Yes, there would be swords among them. Clearly, also there were closer to forty than thirty of them. He, Theoluf and the men-at-arms would be outnumbered four to one; and while those against them might be untrained, they would certainly have had some experience with their weapons. It was not good.

  Not that that made any difference, Jim suddenly realized. This was the fourteenth century and he was a Baron and a knight. The very idea of giving in to any rabble like this would disgrace him forever in the eyes of his neighbors, including those of his best friends. In particular, Sir Brian Neville-Smythe, as his best friend, would take the shame personally. Brian, in his own right, would not have hesitated to attack an army by himself. In fact, Jim had occasionally thought Brian would probably have enjoyed the chance.

  So, the only question was not whether to attack and try to carry Carolinus out—but when and how.

  It occurred to him fleetingly that he could use his own magic to seem to multiply the numbers of his men or else make them several times as big so as to overawe the rabble. Then he remembered that if Friar Morel was actually a member of any order of the clergy, no matter how minor, while existing magic could not be erased, no new magic could be made to work here; particularly if Morel had prayed against its use.

  In fact, Jim realized abruptly, he must already have done so. Otherwise Carolinus would have used his own magic to transport himself in a twinkling from the hands of these nurses to Jim's castle—where, of course, he knew he would be well taken care of, even if Angie was there without Jim.

  Nor was there any doubt that there was some connection between the two nurses and those camped outside. Whatever had made Carolinus sick in the first place must have been something strange. Because Carolinus never got sick; although he had more than once pointed out to Jim that while magic could heal wounds, it could not cure sickness.

  So, it had probably been something not dangerous by itself, but enough of an excuse for the two women to move in on him. Then somehow those outside must have heard of it, and moved in also; since Elly and Eldra could hardly not have known that their treatments could only make Carolinus's condition worse.

  They knew that he was an old man and frail; and therefore his body would not be able to stand much abuse without giving up entirely. It was a good thing Jim, Angie and Jim's men-at-arms had gotten to him in time. In fact, it was a good thing the kettle had brought the message in time. Morel would not have been able to stop the kettle since his prayers could only block new magic.

  But, any magic Jim might try would be blocked. So, the use of it by him was out. That meant they would simply have to fight their way through with what they had. To do so, carrying Carolinus, would be no easy task; since those outside would be looking for an opportunity to kill him in the heat of battle.

  Come to think of it, however, it would be best to make sure that magic would not work before giving up on it. He beckoned Angie and Theoluf to him, frowning at Friar Morel who, uninvited, moved forward also. The frown stopped Morel.

  With Theoluf and Angie leaning close Jim whispered.

  "Stand back and give me room," he said. "I'm going to try changing myself into dragon shape."

  The two nodded and stepped away from him. Morel peered out through the front door and would have approached them then, but Theoluf put out a hand and thrust the smaller man back with no gentleness whatsoever. Jim wrote the accustomed spell in his mind.

  ME DRAGON SHAPE, CLOTHES TO VANISH UNHARMED → NOW!

  He stood where he was. Nothing happened. He remained Jim Eckert, with nothing about him resembling a dragon.

  Well, that was that, then. He looked at Angie and Theoluf, both of them gazing back at him in expectation.

  "I'll explain later," he said out loud and quite openly.

  They couldn't magic their way out; but also they could hardly take on odds of four to one and fight their way out, carrying Carolinus in a litter at the same time.

  It was swords or wits that were left to solve this situation. What would a good fourteenth-century knight like Sir Brian do in a fix like this?

  Chapter Four

  Of course!

  Jim's mind woke to a sudden inspiration. What Brian would do, would be to take a hostage!

  It was doubtful whether either of the two nurses would be particularly valuable as hostages. On the other hand there was Friar Morel.

  Jim pulled Angie aside and spoke into her ear in too low a tone for anybody else in the room to hear.

  "Did you arrange for anyone to come after us if we weren't back right away?" he asked.

  She shook her head and turned to whisper in his ear.

  "No," she said. "Certainly Yves Mortain is going to send somebody by tomorrow morning; in fact, I'll bet he'll send a considerable force, if we aren't back by that time. But I don't like the idea of spending the night here; particularly with Carolinus in the state he's in. I think we've got to get him back to the castle just as fast as we can. Get him warm, get some food into him, and start taking care of him."

  Jim nodded and Angie went back to paying attention to Carolinus with Theoluf, naked sword in hand, scowling at Elly, just in case either she or the other sister might think to interfere.

  Jim thought.

  He could pull the men-at-arms from outside to inside the house, then simply close the door and lock it. The magical wards Carolinus had put not merely around this house, but around the whole clearing, were better than the defenses of the most stout castle imaginable. Those outside would not simply be able to break their way in, even though the walls looked as if they would give way to a punched fist. A magician's dwelling simply did not yield like that.

  But there was this other point—Angie's feeling that they should get Carolinus away as soon as possible. Jim tended to agree. The old magician looked next to death. He was pale as a corpse already, lying on the bed in the uncleaned, grayish gown he was wearing.

  But could they get away simply by using Morel as a hostage? Undoubtedly, the vagabonds outside would have little love for Morel, personally—any more than they had for each other. The kind of people of which these groups were composed had put affections behind them a long time ago. They might not want to protect the friar for his own sake; but he was undoubtedly highly useful to them.

  Not only did he throw a cloak of semirespectability over them as a group, but he was probably the shrewdest one among them and could well be their leader.

  At this
point the door opened and one of the men-at-arms from outside stuck his head in.

  "We have the litter ready, m'Lord," he said. "Shall we bring it in?"

  "In a minute," said Jim. The head disappeared and the door closed. Jim turned back to Friar Morel. "We're going to carry Carolinus out of here. Now, if any of those people outside give us trouble we'll cut your throat; because we'll be taking you along with us as a hostage."

  "You cannot!" Morel drew himself up to what must be his full five feet five of height. "I am in Minor Orders and under the protection of clergy. Whoso harms me imperils his immortal soul."

  Jim had not thought of this. He was not sure that there was that severe a penalty for harming someone in Minor Orders; to one of which Morel almost undoubtedly belonged. Still… he had been about to give an order to Theoluf, and have the squire hold his poignard at the priest's throat.

  Glancing at his squire now, however, he saw that Theoluf had very definitely gone pale. Morel's claim was clearly nothing but that, backed up by the ragged robe he wore. But Theoluf was as clearly not ready to take a chance on what the friar threatened; and that meant that none of the other men-at-arms would be willing to lay hands on the friar, either.

  It would be up to Jim himself.

  He braced himself for the effort, and put on the most ferocious grin he could contrive.

  "I care naught for such threats!" he said, putting his face down close to the smaller man's. "I will be the one to cut your throat, if necessary! Be sure I will do it!"

  Now it was the turn of Morel's face to lose color. Jim could almost hear him thinking that the Dragon Knight might well have sold his immortal soul to Satan, long since.

  To emphasize the point, Jim drew his own poignard and, reaching around to the back of Morel's head, took a firm grip on the other's lank, greasy hair below the tonsure there, and jerked him around so that his back was to Jim. He placed the sharp edge of his naked blade against the other's throat.