The Kingdom on the Edge of Reality

by Gahan Hanmer

  "I think we have a lot to learn from each other," he said.

  "A pleasure, Sir Leo," I said. "Thanks ever so much." He reached out with his hand and we clasped forearms in the ancient way, his dark blue eyes smiling into mine. What was happening to me? I had never in my life had the slightest notion of ever becoming a soldier. But standing there beneath the outer walls of Albert's castle with this comrade-at-arms, I felt as though I was being challenged to focus all my intelligence and intuition, and even my warmth and love, into my new profession as one of Albert's knights. Rescue some fair damsels. Get some cats down out of trees. Let your guide be your own high sense of ethics.

  "I'm going on quest, Leo."

  "Oh, that's wonderful!" he said. "The first time I went out on quest . . . Well, you'll see for yourself. I don't have to tell you. There's nothing like a quest. When are you going?"

  "As soon as you can get me ready."

  The armory had many things in common with a blacksmithy, but it was neater, not as sooty, and very interesting to me because I had an eye for the aesthetics of old weaponry. The armorer was a short man with a potbelly who looked me up and down when we walked in. "Oh, so you're the fencing master," he said, as though he'd seen better.

  "How did you know?"

  "For one thing, I've never seen your face before. Also, you're wearing the sword the king had me make for you. What do you think of it?"

  "It likes me well. It's a superlative weapon that was fashioned by a consummate artist."

  "Well, if you know that much," he said, smiling with one side of his mouth, "maybe you do know something. What can I do for you lads today?"

  "Sir Jack is going on quest, Don. He needs a bit of this and that."

  "I think we can fix him up," said the armorer with pleasure, rubbing his hands together. "This will be your very own bow, and here's your quiver."

  The bow had a reflex curve like Leo's and the quiver was divided into compartments for different kinds of arrows. "These arrows are for small game," Leo explained. "These are for big game. And these," he said, holding up an arrow which had a long thin iron head, "are armor-piercing."

  I thought he was joking, but he gave me a deadly serious look that made me wonder if I was missing the point. Now Don was showing me a two-foot, hickory-handled clobberer with one triangular spike on the side of its iron head, and I recognized it right away from my weapon-collecting days. It was called a war hammer, and it too was meant for piercing armor.

  "This is from a Spanish design," he said, offering it to me handle-first.

  "Uh, hold on a second here, Don," I said. "Are the rabbits and the bluebirds out there really as dangerous as all that?"

  "Oh, no," he replied good-naturedly, "but Lord Hawke's soldiers are very heavily armed now, as I'm sure you've heard, and so we really have to—"

  "Lord who in the hell did you just say?" I suddenly felt like the sky had come down very low and heavy, ready to drop right on my head.

  Leo and the armorer exchanged a very amazed look. "Lord Hawke has the fourth fief," said Leo, and he and the armorer exchanged another look. "Is it possible that you haven't heard about him?"

  Guy Hawke? I opened my mouth but no words came out. Still holding the war hammer, I walked slowly over to the door of the armory and stared out at the edge of the thousands of miles of deep woods that held me virtually a prisoner in that kingdom. There was no longer any mystery about the situation. All the answers to all the puzzles came crashing together in the same horrible instant.

  Yes, I had certainly earned my prize as the most gullible of chumps back to the beginning of chump time, but I understood it all now. Everything all the way back to Rudy Strapp's rather unconventional way of making sure I took Albert up on his invitation to a little study break at the old homestead.

  I laid the war hammer nonchalantly across my shoulder like a giant in a fairy tale, and turned back to the room. Whatever look was on my face at that moment must have been a scary sight because both men took a defensive step backwards.

  "So what else hast thou, O Don, for my protection and self-preservation?" I asked.

  We all understood that there was more to be said, but they gave me the time I needed to get ready. "Well," said the armorer, "there is an extra something that I made up special. Slip off your tunic and try this on for size."

  It was an undervest of chain mail, heavy but not excessively so. It must have taken great patience to fit those tiny rings together. "Thanks, Don," I said, smiling through the heavy fog of my thoughts. I was touched by his skill and his thoroughness, his concern for someone he had only just met. And as the truth of my situation was sinking in, I also felt grateful for anything that would make me feel safer.

  "The next thing on the list," continued the armorer, "is your battle axe. You'll see quite a few of those out there. They are very handy for getting in the firewood." A short, double-edged version of the ancient weapon, it was economical in size, but sharp and heavy enough to chop a man in half. There was a small round shield of leather and steel, and heavy leather gloves with steel strips in strategic places. To top it off, there was a light helm just low enough on the sides to cover the ears. It had a nose guard but no visor. "That's all for now," he said. "Your saddle has slings for your gear, so it will all be conveniently at hand."

  I felt very strange indeed. Reality had not caught up with me, and I could only experience myself as a character in a story or in a dream. "Gentlemen," I began haltingly, "you may have noticed that I was surprised to hear about this Lord Hawke. Would that by any chance be Guy Hawke, who went to school with the king?"

  "I'm not sure of the first name," said Leo. "But, yes, I think that might be it. What do you say, Don?"

  The armorer looked uncertain. "Yes," he said finally, "I believe that's right. And it's for sure he went to high school with the king, just like Lord Griswold and Lord Dugdale."

  I had been hoping and praying that it wasn't so, but now the truth resounded in my mind like the slamming of a heavy iron door.

  "And this Lord Hawke—I'm just guessing now, gentlemen—this Lord Hawke is causing some problem, shall we say, in the kingdom. Am I on the right track?"

  "I'm shocked that nobody has told you about this," said Leo.

  "Inexcusable," echoed the armorer.

  "Yes, well, okay, but this is the big question now, gentlemen. Did someone have the crazy notion that somehow I was going to do something about whatever problem Lord Hawke is creating?"

  "The mage saw it in her cards," said the armorer. There was no irony in his tone or expression; it was obvious that he had nothing but respect for Marya and her prescience.

  "Well, I suppose that's enough of a surprise for right now," I said, meaning that I felt like any minute my brain was going to start bleeding. "I think you said there was some way to put all this stuff on my horse. Could you show me how to do that, please?"

  While we were saddling my horse and Sir Leo was showing me how to sling my armaments so as to make them most comfortable and accessible, I was trying to pay attention; but it was difficult because my thoughts were in such a turmoil. Do you still ride well? Do you still fence? You used to be a real champion.

  "Are you still going on quest?" Leo asked me.

  You really don't have any idea what's going on here, do you? "Yes, I suppose so. I need to do some thinking alone. I don't want to see the king right now."

  "I cannot tell you . . ." Leo began.

  "Yes, yes," I said, putting up my hand. "Let it be. What's done is done." I wasn't feeling stoic or forgiving. I just didn't want to talk about it.

  "Well, mount up then," said Leo. "There's one more thing I need to show you. Ha, ha! It's a little harder getting aboard when you're wearing all that iron, isn't it? Never mind, you can do it. Up you go! Now pay attention. Pollux is a real war-horse. He's had some very special training. Get a good grip on him now. Make sure you're set." Leo dropped his voice to a rough whisper. "Now yell: Albert!"

  "Albert!" I yel
led, and Pollux sprang forward so suddenly that it took everything I had to keep from going backwards over his tail. By the time I had regained my seat, he was running at a full gallop. Some Pollux! He was so possessed that it was difficult to turn him. We galloped in a wide circle and came back to where Leo was standing. I waggled my head in appreciation, and Leo laughed. "I guess that's what you call a charger," I said.

  "Exactly right. He's a real charger. Have a good quest, Sir Jack! Here's a little bag of gold, though you probably won't need it. Everyone likes Albert's knights and everyone will be glad to see you coming. But keep your wits about you if you cross into Lord Hawke's fief. You have every right to be there, but sometimes his soldiers don't act that way. Don't let them intimidate you. Remember that you ride for the high king."

  I jiggled the little bag of gold in my hand. "And Leo, what about the Picts? Can you tell me . . . Oh, never mind," I said, as this look of total perplexity spread over his face. "Sorry I asked. I'll just have a look for myself. Good-bye, thanks for everything. See you in a few days."

  "Good-bye, my friend," he waved. "May God go with you!"

  As I rode away the absurdity of my whole situation broke upon me like a wave. I began to giggle and chuckle insanely, and my laughter made my armor jingle in counterpoint to the rhythm of my horse. You may have noticed that people who are sure of themselves and focused on what they are doing have little sense of humor; a little now and again, but not much. I think a real sense of humor is the main safety valve for people who lead erratic or desperate lives. It protects them from insanity and despair.

  I was riding slowly and aimlessly, and I hadn't gone far before I came across Marya Mage. She was out of breath, and she had been looking for me.

  "There's something I need to tell you before you ride out on quest."

  "I already heard."

  "Are you angry?"

  "I just heard about it. I don't know what I feel. Whatever possessed that fathead king of yours to let Guy Hawke into his kingdom?" No, what I said wasn't true. I felt angry as hell.

  Marya put a finger to her lips—I was not to express disrespect for the king. Then she beckoned me off my horse.

  "All right," I said. "What's the story?"

  Marya led me into the privacy of a nearby grove. "It's an old story, Jack. It takes a lot of money to set up a kingdom like this, and Guy Hawke had a lot of money to kick in. That's why he's a duke instead of a marquess like Bennett, or an earl like Griswold. It's just the history of the world repeating itself."

  "But . . ."

  "Listen, I'll tell you how it was. Duke Hawke didn't do so badly in the beginning. In fact, you could say we owe him a great deal. That's what makes it complicated. You see, in the early days of the kingdom, when Albert was trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together—well, they didn't fit together very well. There was something missing, and you know what it was? Albert really didn't know how to be a king. He didn't know how to command. He was too nice, too obliging. He wanted people to do what he told them to because they understood and agreed with him. So there was too much delay when decisions had to be made, and it started to get chaotic here. Little factions formed among the farmers, and there was hostility and even a few violent encounters between them. The whole project was about to come unglued."

  "He was always too sweet for his own good. I'm amazed by the change in him."

  "According to Albert, it was Guy Hawke who pulled it all together during that crisis. He knew how to act, and he knew what to do. He is a medieval man, Jack. You'll see that when you meet him. He might never have lived in the modern age at all, so little of it shows in his personality. Anyway, he kicked some butts, and he cracked some heads; he had the dungeon dug under the castle, and he taught Albert how to be a king."

  "So what's the problem?"

  "The problem is that now we have the social order and the kingdom functioning smoothly and the people are about as happy as people are likely to be. So Lord Hawke doesn't have any butts to kick. The problem is, Jack, that underneath his good qualities he's really an unhappy and rather brutal man, and he's the one person in this kingdom Albert has no control over."

  "Why doesn't Albert stick him in the dungeon? That's the cure-all around here, isn't it?"

  "Jack, maybe he should have but he hasn't. I don't want to say he doesn't dare, but you'll understand it better when you meet Lord Hawke."

  "So you went to your oracle and the Tarot told you to import Jack, the bully-buster. Is that the story in a nutshell?"

  "More or less."

  "And Albert didn't bother to tell me about any of this because if he had, I never would have come here in the first place."

  "That's part of it."

  "And because once I was here, I was trapped here anyway."

  "No," she told me. And suddenly I saw, for the first time I guess, the real Mage Marya that wasn't a college co­ed anymore—no, not by a long shot! Her eyes had turned into steel ball bearings, and I was taking an involuntary step backwards when she reached out and took me by the collar and yanked me in close.

  "No, you're wrong about that. We didn't tell you until now because we wanted you to have a chance to fall in love with this kingdom, which happens to be the nicest kingdom that ever was."

  She had me pulled in very tight, but I wasn't trying to get away because I was too busy admiring what a lot of raw power she had developed.

  "And here's the bottom line, Jack. We've got a desperate problem here, and my oracle, my Goddess, thinks you can help us somehow. But if you're not up for this—if you haven't got the sand—then I will take you to the king and I will move heaven and earth, Jack, to get you back out through those woods and get you a nice limousine ride back to your crappy little cottage in Marysville!"

  She let me go then; and if you don't think I felt totally crazy, you have to remember that I was dressed from head to foot as a medieval warrior, and with what I had on my horse thrown in, I was carrying about two hundred pounds of armor and weapons and standing in the middle of some impossible kingdom on the farthest edge of reality. I wasn't in any state to make a rational decision about anything, but in my gut I knew that going back to Marysville wasn't an option, whether or not that could be accomplished anyway. The life I had left behind didn't seem attractive or even real anymore. It was more like a half-remembered dream. The only solid ground I had in the world was right under my feet. I couldn't say that I was actually in love with Albert's kingdom, but I was certainly intrigued and amazed by what I had already seen, and I had been anxious to begin my quest because I wanted to see more. So I knew in my gut that my course was set, dangerous as it obviously now appeared to be.

  "So what exactly has Duke Bully-boy been up to that no one seems to know what to do about?"

  "He's doing what he likes best, I guess, and that's making people afraid of him. There's a shadow over his fief, an apprehensiveness, as though his peasants are worried that they might accidentally do something wrong and have to pay dearly for it. I'm not saying every single person feels that way, but it's like a disease, this fear, and if it keeps spreading, God help us all."

  "What does he do that makes people afraid?"

  "He does it just by looking at them. He's very good at that. He threatens people with his eyes. But that's not all, of course. He has a mean bailiff who follows his example, and a spineless reeve who—"

  "A which and a what?"

  "A bailiff is an overseer. The reeve is a peasant chosen by the peasants to represent them in councils. But the Duke's reeve is too cowed to speak up. The worst of it is the way he recruits his soldiers. Each of the fiefs has different soldiery, and this reflects the lord's personality. Albert's soldiers are the best. They're the most helpful and the most responsible because that's what Albert wants and expects of them."

  "I know one of them. His name is Gordon. He's a pip."

  "Isn't he? I love Gordon. Well, the duke's soldiers are all little buckoes because that's what he promotes in them."

>   "And Albert says nothing?"

  "Albert does not say nothing, but Lord Hawke is not good at listening. He is quick to recall that his own strict methods held the kingdom together at one time; then he will turn around and attack Albert for being soft on the Picts."

  "What says Duke Hawke about the Picts?"

  "That they should be driven away. Killed if necessary. It's horrible!"

  "Tell me more about these soldiers. What do they do exactly, Guy Hawke's buckoes?"

  "They are up in people's faces when they have no reason to be. They stop peasants on the market road without cause, search their wagons, help themselves to a snack. Sometimes they say things to the women, even paw them."

  "What, in front of the men?"

  "Sometimes. It's getting worse every season."

  "And what do the men do?"

  "They have to put up with it. The duke's soldiers are heavily armed and they always travel in pairs. And there's no excuse for it, Jack. They don't have to be so heavily armed. No one is going to bother them. In fact, there's no trouble or danger in the whole kingdom compared to those soldiers themselves. Last year two of the peasants mixed it up with them. I'm not sure exactly how it got started, but there was a ruckus and the soldiers killed one of the peasants and crippled the other. He walks with a limp now, and of course it's his word against theirs. Albert spoke to Lord Hawke about it, but as usual Lord Hawke was not very receptive. He said he would keep an eye on the two soldiers concerned; but what he did was make them his personal guard, so it was actually a promotion. After that, his other soldiers began to behave even worse."

  While she was talking I could feel my jaw tighten, and I knew my temper was coming up. I have never gone out of my way to look for trouble, but at the same time I have always had a hard place in my heart for bullies. I guess each of us has something that he especially dislikes, something that seems impossible to tolerate. Heavily armed bullies that traveled in pairs . . .

  "Well, Marya," I said, "I got up this morning to go on quest, and that's what I'm going to do."