Lyonesse

by Jack Vance

  *The water-level comes in several forms. The Ska used a pair of wooden troughs twenty feet long with a section four inches square. Water in the troughs lay perfectly horizontal; floats at each end allowed the troughs themselves to be adjusted to the horizontal. By shifting the troughs in succession, the desired horizontal could be extended indefinitely, with an accuracy limited only by the patience of the engineer.

  A Ska overseer directed the Skalings with a pair of soldiers to enforce discipline, should such control be needed. The overseer and the guards tended to remain at the open end of the tunnel, where the air was cool and fresh. By noting the rate at which the wagons were filled, the overseer could estimate the vigor at which the Skalings performed their duties. If work went well, the Skalings ate well, and drank wine with their meals. If they slacked or loitered, their rations dwindled in proportion.

  Two shifts worked the tunnel: noon to midnight and midnight to noon. Neither could be said to be preferable since the Skalings never saw the sun and knew that they were never to see it again. Aillas, Cargus and Yane were assigned to the noon-midnight shift. Immediately they began to consider escape. The prospects were even more discouraging than those at Castle Sank. Barred doors and suspicious guards confined them off-duty; they worked in a tube similarly sealed against exit.

  After only two days of work, Aillas told Yane and Cargus: "We can escape. It is possible."

  "You are more perceptive than I," said Yane.

  "Or I," said Cargus.

  "There is one single difficulty. We shall need the cooperation of the entire shift. The question becomes: are any so broken that they might betray us?"

  "Where would be the motive? Everyone sees his own ghost dancing ahead of him."

  "Some persons are traitors by nature; they take pleasure in treachery."

  The three, squatting by the wall of the chamber in which they spent the off-hours, considered their fellows, one by one. Cargus said at last: "If we share together the prospect of escape, there will be no betrayal."

  "We have to assume as much," said Yane. "We have no better choice."

  Fourteen men worked the shift, with another six whose duties never took them into the tunnel. Fourteen men bound themselves in a desperate compact and at once the operation began.

  The tunnel now reached about two hundred yards in an easterly direction under the plain. Another two hundred yards remained, through shale, with occasionally an inexplicable ball of iron-hard blue sandstone sometimes three feet in diameter. Except for the sandstone, the ground yielded to the pick; the face moved forward ten to fifteen feet a day. A pair of carpenters installed cribbing as the tunnel advanced. They left several posts loose, so that they might be pulled to the side. In the gap thus cleared certain members of the gang dug a side-tunnel, slanting toward the surface. The dirt was shoveled into baskets, loaded aboard barrows and transported back precisely like dirt taken from the face of the tunnel. By partially closing two men into the side-tunnel, and with the rest of the men working somewhat harder, there seemed no lessening of progress. Always someone with a loaded barrow waited thirty yards from the start of the tunnel, should the overseer decide to make an inspection, in which case, the lookout jumped on the ventilation tube to warn his fellows. If necessary he was prepared to turn over his barrow, ostensibly by accident, so as to delay the overseer. Then when the overseer passed, the barrow was rolled so as to flatten the ventilation tube. The far end became so stifling that the overseer spent as little time as possible in the tunnel.

  The side-tunnel, dug five feet high and three feet wide, and slanting sharply upward, went swiftly, and the diggers probed continually with cautious strokes, lest, in their zeal, they strike a great hole into the surface which might be visible from the fortress. At last they found roots, of grasses and shrubs, then dark topsoil and they knew the surface was close above.

  At sunset the tunnel-Skalings took their supper in a chamber at the head of the tunnel, then returned to work.

  Ten minutes later Aillas went to summon Kildred the overseer, a tall Ska of middle-age, with a scarred face, a bald head and a manner remote even for a Ska. As usual Kildred sat gaming with the guards. He looked over his shoulder at the approach of Aillas. "What now?"

  "The diggers have struck a dike of blue rock. They want rock-splitters and drills."

  "'Rock-splitters'? What tools are these?"

  "I don't know. I just carry messages."

  Kildred muttered a curse and rose to his feet. "Come; let us look at this blue dike."

  He stalked into the tunnel, followed by Aillas, through the murky orange flicker of oil lamps, to the tunnel face. When he bent to look for the blue dike, Cargus struck him with an iron bar, killing him at once.

  The time was now twilight. The crew gathered by the side-tunnel where the diggers were now striking up at the soft top-soil.

  Aillas wheeled a barrow of dirt to the end chamber. "There will be no more dirt for a time," he told the winch-tender, in a voice loud enough for the guards to hear. "We have hit a lode of rock." The guards looked over their shoulders, then returned to their dice. The winch-tender followed Aillas back into the tunnel.

  The escape tunnel was open. The Skalings climbed out into late twilight, including the winch-tender who knew nothing of the plot but was happy to escape. All lay flat in the sedge and saw-grass. Aillas and Yane, the last men to depart the tunnel, pulled the supporting posts back in place, leaving no clue as to their function. Once on the surface they wedged the escape hole right with bracken, pounded dirt into the choked hole and transplanted grass. "Let them think magic," said Aillas. "All the better if they do!"

  The erstwhile Skalings ran crouching across the Plain of Shadows, through the gathering dark, eastward and ever deeper into the kingdom of Dahaut. Poelitetz, the great Ska fortress, loomed black on the sky behind them. The group paused to look back. "Ska," said Aillas, "you strange dark-souled folk from the past! Next time we meet I will carry a sword. You owe me dear for the pain you put on me and the labor you took from me!"

  An hour of running, trotting, and walking brought the band to the Gloden River, whose headwaters included the Tamsour. The moon, almost full, rose above the river, laying a trail of moonlight on the water. Beside the moon-silvered veils of an enormous weeping willow, the band paused to rest and discuss their situation. Aillas told them: "We are fifteen: a strong band. Some of you want to go home; others may have no homes to go to. I can offer prospects if you will join me in what I must do. I have a quest. First it takes me south to Tac Tor, then I can't say where: perhaps Dahaut, to find my son. Then we will go to Troicinet, where I control both wealth, honor and estate. Those of you who follow me as my comrades, to join my quest and, so I hope, to return with me to Troicinet, will profit well; I swear it! I will grant them good lands, and they shall bear the title Knight-Companion. Be warned! The way is dangerous! First to Tac Tor beside Tintzin Fyral, then who knows where? So choose. Go your own way or come with me, for here is where we part company. I will cross the river and travel south with my companions. The rest would do well to travel east across the plain and into the settled parts of Dahaut. Who will come with me?"

  "I am with you," said Cargus. "I have nowhere else to go."

  "And I," said Yane.

  "We joined ourselves during dark days," said one called Quails. "Why separate now? Especially since I crave land and knighthood."

  In the end five others went with Aillas. They crossed the Gloden by a bridge and followed a road which struck off to the south. The others, mostly Daut, chose to go their own ways and continued east beside the Gloden.

  The seven who had joined Aillas were first Yane and Cargus, then Garstang, Quails, Bode, Scharis and Faurfisk: a disparate group. Yane and Cargus were short; Quails and Bode were tall. Garstang, who spoke little of himself, displayed the manners of a gentleman, while Faurfisk, massive, fair and blue-eyed, declared himself the bastard of a Gothic pirate upon a Celtic fisherwoman. Scharis, who was not so old as Aillas,
was distinguished by a handsome face and a pleasant disposition. Faurfisk, on the other hand, was as ugly as pox, burns and scars could make him. He had been racked by a petty baron of South Ulfland; his hair had whitened and rage was never far from his face. Quails, a runaway Irish monk, was irresponsibly jovial and declared himself as good a wencher as any bully-bishop of Ireland.

  Though the band now stood well inside Dahaut, the proximity of Poelitetz cast an oppression across the night, and the entire company set off together down the road.

  As they walked Garstang spoke to Aillas. "It is necessary that we have an understanding. I am a knight of Lyonesse, from Twanbow Hall, in the Duchy of Ellesmere. Since you are Troice, we are nominally at war. That of course is nonsense, and I earnestly cast my lot with yours, until we enter Lyonesse, when we must go our separate ways."

  "So it shall be. But see us now: in slave clothes and iron collars, slinking through the night like scavenger dogs. Two gentlemen indeed! And lacking money, we must steal to eat, like any other band of vagabonds."

  "Other hungry gentlemen have made similar compromises. We shall steal side by side, so that neither may scorn the other. And I suggest, that if at all possible we steal from the rich, though the poor are somewhat easier prey."

  "Circumstances must guide us.. .Dogs are barking. There is a village ahead, and almost certainly a smithy."

  "At this hour of the night he will be soundly asleep."

  "A kindhearted smith might rouse himself to help a desperate group such as ours."

  "Or we might rouse him ourselves."

  Ahead the houses of a village showed gray in the moonlight. The streets were empty; no light showed save from the tavern, from which came the sounds of boisterous revelry.

  "Tomorrow must be a holiday," said Garstang. "Notice in the square, where the cauldron is ready to boil an ox."

  "A prodigious cauldron indeed, but where is the smithy?"

  "It must be yonder, along the road, if it exists."

  The group passed through town and near the outskirts discovered the smithy, at the front of a stone dwelling, in which showed a light.

  Aillas went to the door and rapped politely. After a long pause, the door was slowly opened by a youth of seventeen or eighteen. He seemed depressed, even haggard, and when he spoke his voice cracked with strain. "Sir, who are you? What do you want here?"

  "Friend, we need the help of a smith. This very day we escaped the Ska and we cannot abide these detestable collars another instant."

  The young man stood irresolutely. "My father is smith to Vervold, this village. I am Elric, his son. But since he will never again work his trade, I am now smith. Come along to the shop." He brought a lamp and led the way to the smithy.

  "I fear that your work must be an act of charity," said Aillas. "We can pay only the iron of the collars, since we have nothing else."

  "No matter." The young smith's voice was listless. One by one the eight fugitives knelt beside the anvil. The smith plied hammer and chisel to cut the rivets; one by one the men arose to their feet free of the collars.

  Aillas asked: "What happened to your father? Did he die?"

  "Not yet. Tomorrow morning is his time. He will be boiled in a cauldron and fed to the dogs."

  "That is bad news. What was his crime?"

  "He committed an outrage." Elric's voice was somber. "When Lord Halies stepped from his carriage, my father struck him in the face, and kicked his body and caused Lord Halies pain."

  "Insolence, at the very least. What provoked him so?"

  "The work of nature. My sister is fifteen years old. She is very beautiful. It was natural that Lord Halies should want to bring her to Fair Aprillion to warm his bed, and who would deny him had she assented to his proposal? But she would not go, and Lord Halies sent his servants to bring her. My father, though a smith, is impractical and thought to set things right by beating and kicking Lord Halies. He now, for his mistake, must boil in a cauldron."

  "Lord Halies—is he rich?"

  "He lives at Fair Aprillion, in a mansion of sixty chambers. He keeps a stable of fine horses. He eats larks, oysters, and meats roasted with cloves and saffron, with white bread and honey. He drinks of both white and red wines. There are rugs on his floors and silks on his back. He dresses twenty cutthroats in gaudy uniforms and calls them ‘paladins.' They enforce all his edicts and many of their own."

  "There is good reason to believe that Lord Halies is rich," said Aillas.

  "I resent Lord Halie," said Sir Garstang. "Wealth and noble birth are excellent circumstances, coveted by all. Still, the rich nobleman should enjoy his distinction with propriety and never bring shame to his estate as Lord Halies has done. In my opinion he must be chastised, fined, humiliated, and deprived of eight or ten of his fine horses."

  "Those are exactly my views," said Aillas. He turned back to Elric. "Lord Halies commands only twenty soldiers?"

  "Yes. And also Chief Archer Hunolt, the executioner."

  "And tomorrow morning all will come to Vervold to witness the ceremony and Fair Aprillion will be deserted."

  Elric uttered a yelp of near-hysterical laughter. "So, while my father boils, you rob the mansion?"

  Aillas asked: "How can he boil if the cauldron leaks water?" "The cauldron is sound. My father mended it himself."

  "What is done can be undone. Bring hammer and chisels; and we will punch some holes."

  Elric slowly took up the tools. "It will cause delay, but what then?"

  "At the very least your father will not boil so soon." The group left the smithy and returned to the square. As before all houses were dark, save for the yellow flicker of candlelight from the tavern, from which issued a voice raised in song.

  Through the moonlight the group approached the cauldron.

  Aillas motioned to Elric. "Strike!"

  Elric set his chisel against the cauldron and struck hard with his hammer, to create a dull clanging sound, like a muffled gong-stroke.

  "Again!"

  Once more Elric struck; the chisel cut the iron and the cauldron no longer was whole.

  Elric cut three more holes and a fourth for good measure, then stood back in mournful exaltation.

  "Though they boil me as well, 1 can never regret this night's work!"

  "You shall not be boiled, nor your father either. Where is Fair Aprillion?"

  "The lane leads yonder, between the trees."

  The door to the tavern opened. Outlined against the rectangle of yellow candlelight, four men staggered out upon the square, where they engaged in raucous repartee.

  "Those are Halies' soldiers?" Aillas asked.

  "Quite so, and each a brute in his own right."

  "Quick then, behind the trees yonder. We will do some summary justice, and also reduce the twenty to sixteen."

  Elric made a dubious protest. "We have no weapons."

  "What? Are you folk of Vervold all cowards? We outnumber them nine to four!"

  Elric had nothing to say.

  "Come, quick now!" said Aillas. "Since we have become thieves and assassins, let us act the part!"

  The group ran across the square, and hid in the shrubbery beside the lane. Two great elms to either side filtered the moonlight to lay a silver filigree across the road.

  The nine men found sticks and stones, then waited. The silence of the night was only enhanced by the voices across the square.

  Minutes passed, then the voices grew louder. The paladins came into view, lurching, weaving, complaining and belching. One called out to Zinctra Lelei, goddess of the night, that she might hold the firmament more steady; another cursed him for his loose legs and urged him to crawl on hands and knees. The third could not control an idiotic chortle for a humorous episode known only to himself, or possibly to no one whatever; the fourth tried to hiccup in time with his steps. The four approached. There was a sudden thudding of feet, the sound of hammer breaking into bone, gasps of terror; in seconds four drunken paladins became four corpses.


  "Take their weapons," said Aillas. "Drag them behind the hedge."

  The group returned to the smithy and bedded down as best they might.

  In the morning they rose early, ate porridge and bacon, then armed themselves with what weapons Elric could provide: an old sword, a pair of daggers, iron bars, a bow with a dozen arrows, which Yane at once took into custody. They disguised their gray Skaling smocks in such old torn or discarded garments as the smith's household could provide. In this style, they went to the square, where they found a few dozen folk standing aloof to the sides, scowling toward the cauldron and muttering together.

  Elric discovered a pair of cousins and an uncle. They went home, armed themselves with bows and joined the group.

  Chief Archer Hunolt came first down the lane from Fair Aprillion, followed by four guards and a wagon carrying a beehive-shaped cage, in which sat the condemned man. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor of the cage, and looked up only once, across the square to the cauldron. Behind marched two more soldiers, these armed with swords and bows.

  Hunolt, halting his horse, noticed the damage done to the cauldron. "Here's treachery!" he cried. "Breakage upon his Lordship's property! Who has done this deed?" His voice rang around the square. Heads turned, but no one answered.

  He turned to one of his soldiers: "Go you, fetch the smith."

  "The smith is in the cage, sir."

  "Then fetch the new smith! It is all one."

  "There he stands, sir."

  "Smith! Come here at once! The cauldron needs mending."

  "So I see."

  "Repair it on the quick, so that we may do what must be done."

  Elric replied in a surly voice: "I am a smith. That is tinker's work."

  "Smith, tinker, call yourself what you like, only fix that pot with good iron, and quickly!"

  "Would you have me mend the pot in which to boil my father!"

  Hunolt chuckled. "There is irony here, agreed, but it only illustrates the impartial majesty of his Lordship's justice. So then, unless you care to join your father in the pot, to bubble face to face—as you can see there is adequate room—mend the pot."