The Kingdom on the Edge of Reality

by Gahan Hanmer

  As I rode away, I felt relieved to be free once again to enjoy the open road and the adventure of my quest, but I was also weighed down by my thoughts. Okay, I understood in a more personal and visceral way the trouble in Albert's kingdom, but how my presence in the kingdom was going to change the situation, I had no idea. If anything my experience had taught me to leave people alone to their own crazy ways. If you could change yourself, you were doing a good enough job. Trying to change other people was just naturally a big waste of time.

  My thoughts were going around and around in circles to no purpose. I felt like a good gallop would clear my head, but I didn't know what might be up ahead, and I didn't want to gallop over a child or run smack into a wagon. In the mood I sensed Pollux was in, he might be hard to stop, or even turn, if I gave him his head.

  Lost in thought, I continued to drift into Lord Hawke's domain. I had been headed in that direction when I met Mora, and now I was mindlessly headed the same way. I was just thinking about turning around when two riders broke cover from the forest and blocked the road in front of me with crossbows in their hands. I recognized them at once as the men who had been riding behind Guy Hawke; by themselves, they looked even more malicious.

  They were both smiling, but their smiles were belligerent and cruel. They were enjoying menacing me with their crossbows. There was no doubt in my mind that a crossbow bolt could tear right through my armor; but it would have to hit me first. And if they had known how their leering at Mora had made me feel, and how deeply angry I was about something that had been done to her, maybe they would have had second thoughts about crossing me.

  "Halt!" said one of them, waving his crossbow at me, not really aiming, just showing off his power. I continued to ride toward them, and I noticed a nervous glance flicker between them. Gauging the distance between us with regard to their bows, I reined in.

  "You are under arrest," said the same one. When I made no response and just sat my horse calmly, the men looked uncertain.

  "Armed strangers are not allowed in this fief. We will collect your weapons, and you will come with us."

  I shrugged. "I can ride wherever I please."

  "This is Lord Hawke's fief, and he commands here."

  "This is Albert's kingdom, and I ride for King Albert."

  His laugh was snarly and cold. "Albert, the Pict-lover, has no power here. You will come with us."

  "That is treason, and you had both better get out of my way."

  They looked at each other, conferring what to do next. For myself, I thought I knew what I needed to know, for they were talking too freely. I was not supposed to return to Albert's court. I was supposed to have a fatal accident, or maybe just disappear. All my intuition told me that if I surrendered to these two, I was pig meat.

  "Throw down your weapons!" The crossbows shifted in their hands, beginning to take aim.

  "Albert!" I screamed, and as Pollux catapulted straight at them, my sword leapt into my hand. I felt the wind from one of the crossbow bolts as it hissed past my cheek, but they had been startled and shot too quickly and that had saved me.

  Pollux crashed into the nearest rider and nearly upset him, horse and all, but the rider managed to keep his seat and draw his sword. I made one slashing feint to his right side, and as his parry came out to block it, I whipped my blade over to the opposite side, and cut him through the side of his neck. He looked surprised as he fell slowly out of his saddle.

  Something hard and heavy hit me in the chest, and now I was also falling. Was I dead? Apparently not, for I was madly dodging the hooves of both horses and trying to get to my feet. Above me the other rider was slashing down at me, and cursing because Pollux was in his way and spoiling his aim. I was trying to jab up at him and keep myself from being trampled at the same time. It was all chaos and confusion. Then it occurred to me to cut his saddle girth; that brought him crashing down.

  He jumped to his feet, waving his sword, but I just stood there, trying to catch my breath. The horses had moved off to the side, and now there was plenty of room. There was time and space for me to realize I had just killed a man.

  Then he attacked me, but I went on the defensive and continued to rest myself while the same image of that first soldier falling slowly from his saddle with his throat cut played over and over again in my mind's eye. I had never killed anybody, never even seriously considered killing anybody even when my temper was up. I fully intended to go through my whole life without killing anybody. Now I had done it, as simply as using that old feint and cut that used to get me points in college matches. Over and over in my mind, the dead man fell from his saddle. At the same time with another part of my mind I was weaving a simple defense against the second soldier's blows.

  I had gotten my breath back, and I was not in any immediate danger from this soldier who must have learned his fencing from a fly-fisherman or a rug beater; but I wanted space to think about what I had done, and I wanted him to get away from me.

  "You're the worst fencer I've ever seen," I told him. "Be sensible. You don't have a chance against me."

  Then he charged me, and that was the end of him. I don't know what he thought he was doing, rushing at me with all his weight like that. I gave his blade a little tap to one side, and let him run right onto my point. And he kept coming at me, not realizing what had happened, not realizing that he had a sword through his heart. I had to retreat a couple of steps so he wouldn't ram into me. His face was still contorted with rage when he finally fell down, with my sword sticking through him and out his back. He kicked awkwardly a few times, like a dog having its belly scratched. Then he shuddered and lay still.

  I dropped to my knees. In front of me lay the two men I had killed. The three horses were standing quietly, and one of them began to graze. All around me the forest was calm and still.

  What now? The idea popped into my head that I ought to find a phone and call the police. That crazy notion almost made me laugh, but my chest hurt too much.

  What had hit me? Wincing with pain, I managed to pull up my chain mail undershirt far enough to see the straight row of peculiar cuts where the iron links had been mashed right into my skin. It was five or six inches long. An axe blade? Sure enough, there was the battle-axe, much like the one hanging from my saddle, lying on the ground. Aimed a foot higher, it would have hit me right in the face. I never would have felt a thing. That crossbow bolt had barely missed me too. All around, it had been very, very close.

  And now I was a killer. But what else could I have done? I could have told Albert to forget it when he invited me to his crazy kingdom in the first place. I could have made a plan for my life and followed it, instead of drifting like a chip in a river. I could have made something of myself. Now I was a killer.

  I felt dizzy now, and when I put my hand to my head, it came away bloody. Exploring with my fingers, I found a gash in my scalp over my ear. When had that happened? It must have been during that scuffle between the horses. I looked myself over for other wounds, but except for my chest and my head, everything seemed to be okay.

  What was I supposed to do now? My chest hurt too much for me to think about it clearly. I needed to go back to the castle and tell Albert what had happened. It was his kingdom. He would have to decide what to do about it. It had been self-defense, hadn't it? They had tried to take my weapons; tried to force me to go with them. They had threatened me with their crossbows. There were two of them, and I was alone. I had the right to defend myself, didn't I?

  I got to my feet and looked Pollux over while he stood there calmly, unconcerned with the dead men in the grass and with the violence that had erupted a short time ago. Embedded deep in the wood of my saddle, I found the second crossbow bolt. That was good—it would support my story. I was still thinking about investigations, and evidence, and criminal courts, as though I still lived in the twenty-first century. But that wasn't true anymore. I was a knight living in the Middle Ages now. Well, then, would any of the knights of the olden days, like
Lancelot or Gawain or Gareth, have worried about killing a couple of scruffy villains who jumped them on the highroad? No, they would have drunk some mead out of a horn cup and put their weapons in order for whatever life sent them next.

  My own sword was still sticking in that dead body. I grasped the hilt and tried to pull it out but it was stuck fast. I had to put my boot on his chest and yank hard. The sword had been holding him propped up on one side, but now he settled onto his back. A trickle of blood was drying on the side of his mouth.

  I tried to wipe my blade on the grass, but it didn't come very clean, so I finished the job with my cloak. I was quite dizzy now, and my body hurt all over, especially my chest. It took me ever so long to climb aboard Pollux, and then I pointed his nose toward home. He took about ten steps before darkness began to swallow me. I tried to push it away, but there was nothing I could do. I knew I was falling off my horse, though I never seemed to hit the ground. Falling, falling, I fell through the darkness.

  When I woke up, I was lying on a straw bed, looking up at a straw roof. "What a lot of straw!" I thought. Then I was out again.

  The second time I woke up, I recognized Mora, who was nursing her baby. Something important had happened, but I couldn't remember what it was. She came over, still holding the baby to her breast, and looked deeply into my eyes. Taking the cloth from my forehead, she rinsed it in a bowl and laid it back in place. "You had a nice sleep," she said.

  The third time I woke up, Mora was sitting by the bed gazing at me. Hadn't I left her? What was I doing back here again? I was sure I had left on a horse, and ridden down the road. Then the memory came flooding back, and I groaned with the horror of it.

  "I wanted to watch you, so I climbed the hill. I saw you fight Mike and Mitch. When you fell off your horse, I came after you."

  "You brought me here?"

  "Yes. You kept falling off your horse. Don't you remember?"

  "Nothing. . ."

  "I think you got kicked."

  "It was brave of you to bring me here."

  Mora started to say something, but then she gave a little shrug. "Nobody liked Mike and Mitch."

  "Have those bodies been found?"

  She nodded. "Soldiers have been galloping up and down the road. No one's come here yet."

  "Where's my horse?"

  "I hid it in the woods."

  "Show me where."

  "Can you ride? I think you should stay here. They'll catch you on the road."

  "I don't want you mixed up in this. Is there some way through the woods back to the castle?"

  "You could ride along the river as far as the bridge. Once you cross the river you'll be in the royal domain."

  "Let's give it a try."

  Pretty soon I was leading Pollux through a tangle of brush while Mora led the way. When we came to the bank of the river, the other side was only about fifteen yards away, but there was a steep bank and the water was deep and swift. As heavily laden as Pollux was, it would be a hard chance to swim it.

  "Just before you get to the bridge, the river is wide and shallow. You could cross easily there."

  "I won't forget this, Mora." I owed my life to this sweet-smelling girl, but I didn't want to lead her on by kissing her like a lover. I took her hand and kissed it instead. She smiled, and dropped me a curtsy.

  Mounting up, I set off upstream along the river. The path was barely wide enough for a horse, and sometimes I had to dismount and lead him by the bridle. Getting on and off the horse was agony to my chest, but at least my head was clear.

  It seemed a long time before I came in sight of the bridge, but sure enough, the river broadened, and it was so shallow that the rocky bottom was visible. I was halfway across when I heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching the bridge. I had been trying to make the crossing as quietly as possible, but now I urged Pollux forward over the slippery river rocks as quickly as I dared. Although I was close to the opposite bank when the riders burst into view, I was not close enough.

  "There he is!" came the shout as they clattered across the bridge; within moments I was cut off, with four riders in front of me and the river all around me. None of them carried bows that I could see, and they did not seem inclined to enter the river; still, the open road to Albert's castle was blocked. Looking at their horses, which were as heavily laden with arms and armor as Pollux, I was willing to bet Pollux could outrun them. All I had to do was break through to the other side, but in order to do that I had to get out of the river.

  One spot looked as bad as another. There was nowhere to get a running start, and although the bank was not very steep, it was sure to go badly if they attacked me when I was halfway up. Now I could hear more riders coming from the same direction. I had to do something fast, but what?

  Suddenly I remembered my bow, snatched it from its scabbard, nocked an arrow, and shot almost without aiming into that clump of riders. With such a big target, my arrow had to hit something, and it took one of the riders in the thigh. He let out a cry and set his horse backing; it reared and threw him. I sent another arrow into their midst, and now there was confusion, and they were all in each other's way, giving me the chance I needed to climb the bank and gain the road. Behind me I could hear the other riders coming hard. I had no time for a third arrow. Stuffing the bow into its quiver, I drew my sword and charged, screaming Albert's name.

  Several blows were aimed at me, but none landed. The open road was in front of me, and I galloped toward the castle. Looking over my shoulder I saw the new riders cross the bridge with Lord Hawke in the lead. How far to the castle? Three miles? I was very afraid I'd never make it at that hard gallop that seemed to be cracking my chest wide open.

  "Darcey!" It was a voice I hadn't heard in a long, long time; the voice of someone that it galled me to be running from. Looking over my shoulder, I could see that his troop of soldiers had stopped. It was only Guy Hawke coming on at a comfortable lope, as though he was sure that I would stop.

  And I did. But not before I had put a considerable distance between myself and his soldiers. Hawke slowed to a trot, and then to a walk, reining in just out of striking distance. I had to admit that he sat his horse well, and looked very natural in his armor and surcoat. He was a striking figure of a man: strong, erect, alive. And there was something else that a man like me, who is just a puzzle all patched together out of disparate ideas and yearnings and experiences, might be inclined to envy: Guy Hawke was carved out of one chunk. He had no doubts at all about who he was.

  "What are you doing here, Darcey?" He had a good voice, deep and rich and full of ambiguous overtones that made the question difficult to understand, as if it were a bunch of different questions all rolled into one. "You don't belong here. We stopped adding new people a long time ago, Albert and I, and he had no business bringing you here. He also had no right to make a knight of you on a whim. That is an honor a man ought to earn and deserve."

  "As far as that goes," I replied, "you bought your title with your money, so don't give me that crap, Guy Hawke."

  "Do you dare to call me that?" he flared up. "In this kingdom I am a duke, and it is Lord Hawke to you, outlander!"

  "May it be as you wish, my lord. But the king of this kingdom made me a knight. And I am known as Sir Jack."

  He looked disdainfully away into the woods, and sat with his lips pursed, as though some offensive odor had passed beneath his nostrils. How I wanted to push him off his horse!

  "No," he said quietly. "You could never be a knight. What you are is a mercenary, Albert's hired sword. Do you think I don't know what goes on around here? That gypsy witch looked into her crystal ball, and now here you are," he said with scathing contempt. "Here you are to solve Albert's problems, of which I am the worst. I, who stitched this kingdom back together when it was ripping to pieces at every seam!"

  "Did you do that for Albert? Did you do that to serve your king?"

  "You have no right to question me!"

  "Then good day to you, Lord Hawke.
I'm sure we'll meet again." I began to turn my horse around.

  "Darcey," he said, and against my better judgment I faced him again. "I am not through with you yet. You murdered two of my men, in case it may have slipped your mind, and now you have to answer for that."

  "I will tell Albert what happened. He will decide what to do about it. He is the king."

  "Albert and I will decide what to do about it together. In the meantime, you are coming with me."

  "I am going to Albert's castle. Detain me at your peril."

  He gave a little nod, but it was not to me; and I understood immediately that he had been distracting me in order to bring someone around behind me. He turned his horse and tried to move away from me, and on a hunch I moved with him, not daring to take the time to look behind. Then he tried to move away again. Now I was sure that he was trying to get out of the line of fire, and once again I stayed with him.

  "Shoot him, you fools!" he shouted, trying to dart away. But this time I was determined to get behind him, to put his body between myself and his bowmen. "Shoot!" he screamed. But I had the fraction of a second I needed, and now I was behind him. Whipping out my sword, I laid the edge against his neck

  "If you want to live, tell them to throw their bows into the woods. You have three seconds. One . . . two . . ."

  "Do as he says, idiots!" he screamed at the bowmen, angrier at them than he was scared of me.

  What now? A quick thrust through the soft tissue behind the ear into his brain. Could I do it? He had strained every nerve trying to get his men to shoot me in the back. Wasn't that enough of a reason? I was a thorn in his side. I stood in the way of his ambitions. He was bound to try again.

  What was I waiting for? Behind me I could hear a commotion of voices and a rattle of gear back at the bridge. His men could easily see that I was holding their lord at swordpoint, and all hell could break loose in seconds. Why was I stalling?