by Mike Resnick
“Certainly,” she said. “Let's turn around and go right back inside.”
“I don't want to disturb General Gruenwald and the Lord Mayor none,” I said. “Why don't we mosey around to the back entrance?”
“If you wish,” she said.
We reached the stairs in the back a couple of minutes later, and I turned to her and shook her hand.
“Thanks, Griselda,” I said. “You've been right understanding about my condition.”
“Can you make it up the stairs yourself?” she asked.
“I made it up the seventh stair this afternoon before I collapsed,” I said. “I feel a lot stronger now. I can probably make it to the tenth or even the eleventh before I have to crawl the rest of the way.”
She put my arm around her shoulders. “I'll help you,” she said.
“No,” I said. “Fun's fun, but I can't have a full-blooded princess compromising her reputation on my behalf, even though there ain't no one here to see us.”
“Just be quiet and save your strength,” she said, helping me up the first stair.
Well, it took some work, but we made it up to the second floor, where I dropped to my knees and told her I'd make it the rest of the way without her.
“I won't hear of such a thing,” she said, helping me to my feet and letting me lean on her until we reached the bedroom.
“I'll be all right now,” I said.
“You're sure?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I'm supposed to bathe my wounds every two hours, but that can wait til morning.”
“And risk infection? Nonsense!”
“I don't know what we're gonna do about it,” I said. “If I can't give you a friendly little pinch, I hardly figger I can take my clothes off in front of you.” I paused for a moment. “Of course, I could turn the lights out and have you swab my wounds in the dark.”
“Well ... “ she said hesitantly, “I suppose that would be all right. After all, they do have to be cleaned.”
Modesty and a sense of literary decorum forbids me from relating the rest of the scene, except to say that after she couldn't find no wounds on me I started pointing out where they were on her so she would have a firmer grasp of the situation, and pretty soon we were grasping each other so firmly that both of us plumb forgot about my wounds, and we might have stayed like that forever except that about four in the morning I woke up and started feeling kind of eleven o'clockish a good seven hours early, so I climbed back into my clothes and moseyed on down to the kitchen to see if I could scare up a little snack, and ran smack-dab into General Gruenwald and Lord Mayor Rembert, who were there sipping glasses of brandy.
“You took an enormous risk,” said the General. “You should never be alone with anyone who knows Philbert.”
“There are certain circumstances under which three is a crowd,” I answered. “Or at least a mighty peculiar arrangement.”
“Has she guessed who you are yet?”
“No,” I said. “But Von Sykoff has. Or, at least, he's guessed who I ain't.”
“Damn!” muttered the General. “We'd better triple the guard around Philbert. If Von Sykoff can't get to him, he'll have to come after you.”
“Me?”
The General nodded. “Absolutely.”
“I don't know how to tell you this gently,” I said, “but from my particular point of view, that ain't a consummation devoutly to be wished.”
“One can't always have what one wants,” said the General.
Well, as you can imagine, I wasn't in no mood to sleep after this particular conversation, and Griselda was in no mood to wake up, so I finally took to wandering through the palace, absently pocketing such little objets d'art as caught my eye.
By sun-up the palace was bustling with activity, and I grabbed some breakfast, and then I figured it was time to wake Griselda and send her home, so I went up to the bedroom, but she had other ideas, most of which I'd given her the night before, and it was another hour before I made it back downstairs, where the General and the Lord Mayor were waiting for me.
“It's time for you to make a speech to Parliament,” said the Lord Mayor.
“What about?” I asked.
“The economy,” said the General. “We've written it down for you. All you have to do is read it.”
It sounded easy enough, so I took a quick look at it while we were driving over to the Parliament building, and then, after waiting in the wings to be introduced, I walked up behind a podium and started reading it, but when I came to the part about how we were going to raise the peasants’ taxes again I got a better idea, so I just put the speech aside and suggested that maybe we should just let Wilhelm Von Sykoff and his cronies pay for the government, since they were trying to steal it anyway, and suddenly Von Sykoff was on his feet cursing a blue streak and demanding satisfaction, and I explained as patiently as I could that if he hadn't gotten no satisfaction last night I felt right sorry for him, but we didn't want to hear about his sexual problems on the floor of the Parliament.
Then he walked up to the podium and took his glove off and kind of waved it at my face, so I took it from him and tried it on, and explained it was a mite large for me and did he have anything in the next smaller size, and suddenly he was cursing again and carrying on something awful, and insisting that we have a duel.
“Some other time,” I said. “I'm busy giving this here speech now.”
“You must face him, Your Majesty,” said one of the members of the Parliament.
“I am facing him,” I said. “I just ain't gonna fight him.”
“The honor of Sylvania demands it,” said another.
“He's no Sylvanian!” shouted Von Sykoff. “He's an imposter!”
“Don't pay him no never-mind,” I said. “He's been out in the sun too long.”
“Would King Philbert behave like this?” demanded Von Sykoff. “He has many faults, but cowardice isn't one of them!”
I turned to General Gruenwald, who was still standing beside me.
“What happens if I admit he's telling the truth?” I whispered.
“You lose the quarter million, and the mob tears you apart.”
“And if I don't admit it?”
“Then you have to accept his challenge.”
“What weapons is he good with?” I asked.
“All of them.”
“Let me re-word that just a bit,” I said. “Is there anything he ain't good at?”
“Losing,” said the General.
Well, I figured as long as I was probably going to die anyway, I might just as well die fighting for a quarter of a million dollars, so I turned back to Von Sykoff and said, “Okay, if you want a fight, you got one.”
Everyone stood up and cheered, and Von Sykoff just grinned at me and bowed.
“I choose swords,” he said. “Everyone knows that Philbert is a superb swordsman. If I am wrong, he will make short work of me.”
The Lord Mayor stepped between us and turned to me.
“What type of sword do you select, Your Majesty?”
“There are types?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said the Lord Mayor. “There are foils, epees, sabres, scimitars, broad's swords...”
I thunk about it for a moment, and I figured that from the sound of it a broad's sword was probably a dinky little weapon that might not draw much blood, and that maybe we could all shake hands and have a drink when the fight was over.
“I choose broad's swords,” I said.
There was a gasp from the audience.
“But we haven't used broad's swords this century!” exclaimed Von Sykoff.
“Well, if you want to call the thing off, I got no serious objections,” I said.
“No!” he snapped. “Broad's swords it is.”
Well, they cleared a huge area in the middle of the floor, and we each took off our fancy coats and rolled up our sleeves, and then two big burly guys walked out with a long box that looked like it weighed a ton, and they se
t it on the edges of two chairs and took the top off, and there were the two biggest, heaviest swords I ever did see, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of broads had been able to fight with them.
Von Sykoff walked over, placed both his hands on the handle of one broad's sword, and dragged it away to where he had been standing. I tried to lift the other one and couldn't, and finally the two guys who had carried ’em out gingerly hefted up the point and helped me take it back to where I was supposed to start.
“Are you ready, Wilhelm?” asked the Lord Mayor.
“Ready,” muttered Von Sykoff.
“Are you ready, Your Majesty?”
“Ready?” I said. “Hell, I can't even pick the damned thing up.”
“It was his choice,” said Von Sykoff. “He can't back out now.”
“I'm afraid he's right, Your Majesty,” said the Lord Mayor. “You will begin on the count of three: one, two, three!”
Well, Von Sykoff somehow or other managed to raise his broad's sword over his head while I was still trying to lift mine off the ground, and he kind of staggered over to where I was. I could see he was about to take a mighty big swing with it, so I made one last effort and pulled on the handle with all my might, but the damned sword was so heavy and my hands were sweating so badly that I lost my grip on it and fell backward just as Von Sykoff's sword came down on where I had been.
It hit the marble floor with the loudest clang! I ever did hear, and suddenly Von Sykoff shrieked and dropped his sword and fell to his knees.
“I think I broke both my hands!” he said.
He tried to pick his sword up, screamed again, and let go of it.
“Your Majesty is free to administer the coup de gras at your leisure,” said the Lord Mayor.
“What in the world do I want a cup of grass for?” I asked.
“He meant you may deliver the death blow whenever you wish,” said the General.
“I can't even lift my sword,” I said. “Besides, the Good Book tells us never to smite a helpless opponent, especially when he's got a lot of friends and relations watching. Why don't you just cart him off to calaboose and give him a couple of months to think about whether he really wants to kill the King?”
“I haven't broken any law!” protested Von Sykoff.
“Well, there's another alternative,” I said agreeably. “We can all hang around here until I figure out how to lift my sword and finish the fight.”
“No,” said Von Sykoff. “You win.”
So they took him away, and everyone cheered, and even his followers figgered I was a pretty nifty King for letting him live, and the General was pleased as all get-out and said that he'd make sure that Von Sykoff stayed in jail until Philbert was back in shape, and the Lord Mayor said that things would be so peaceful for the next month that they could announce I had taken a vacation to the Alps and no one would try to overthrow the government, so I could take my money and leave if I was of a mind to.
It was a mighty tempting proposition, but being the noble and decent Christian gentleman I am I just couldn't bring myself to break poor Griselda's heart, so I hung around for another few weeks, and when Philbert finally got back on the job he found himself a mighty changed and friendly fiancee.
As for me, I finally had enough money to build my tabernacle, and I figured it was time to go scout out the proper location for it—and besides, I'd made it almost a month without running into one of the ladies whose sword I'd used, and the Good Book tells us not to press our luck when we're on a winning streak.
3. Treasure Hunting
I figured that if I was finally going to settle down and build my tabernacle it made a lot of sense to do it where the weather was pleasant all year around and the people had been sinning for a good long time, so I headed south to Greece to scout out properties.
I wanted something with a nice view, maybe on a hillside or something like that, but all I could find in Athens were a bunch of real old buildings that were falling apart. So I went further out to the countryside, where the buildings weren't a lot newer but the land was cheaper, and finally found myself in a little town called Tinos, overlooking the Aegean Sea. I decided to put off looking for a room until I stopped off at a local bar for a little something to quench my thirst with maybe just enough alcohol in it to whip the tar out of the germs.
I took my glass to a table in the corner and sat down to drink it in peace and quiet, when suddenly a familiar-looking figure sat down next to me.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, Doctor Jones!”
“You got me mistook for someone else,” I said as soon as I recognized him. “I ain't never heard of no Doctor Jones.”
“Nonsense!” he said with a smile. “This is me, Erich Von Horst, you're talking to.”
“Every other time I ever talked to you I wound up dead broke and usually in the hoosegow,” I said sullenly.
“Let's let bygones be bygones,” he said amiably. He signaled for two more drinks. “I'm buying.”
“You ain't never bought nothing in your life,” I said.
“You mustn't be so bitter, Doctor Jones,” he said. “In the end, all it will do is get you an ulcer.”
“Why ain't you still back in Africa, cashing in on elephants’ graveyards and lost diamond mines and the like?” I asked.
“Because I found something better here in Greece,” he said.
“Well, I wish you luck with it, and don't call me, I'll call you,” I said.
“Is that any way to speak to an old friend?” asked Von Horst with a hurt expression on his face.
“Show me an old friend and I'll think about it,” I said.
“I see you still have your delightful sense of humor.”
“Look,” I said. “The first time I laid eyes on you you robbed me of two thousand pounds in Dar es Salaam.”
“I paid you back,” he said.
“With counterfeit money,” I said. “That was the time we met in Algeria.”
“You did try to swindle me out of the Jacobean Red Letter edition of the Bible,” he pointed out.
“There ain't no such thing as a Jacobean Red Letter edition of the Bible!” I shouted at him.
“Ah, but you didn't know it when you tried to cheat me out of it.”
“All I know is you wound up with the biggest ruby in Africa and I wound up with a bunch of money that wasn't worth the paper it was writ on!”
“That's all in the past,” said Von Horst with a shrug. “I'm a changed man. I'll be happy to make amends.”
“I'll just bet,” I said.
“If you'd like, we can go to my hotel room just as soon as we've slaked our thirst, and I'll pay you the seven thousand pounds I owe you—the two thousand from Dar es Salaam and the five thousand from Algeria.”
“Fine,” I said, as the waiter brought us our drinks. “And in the meantime, don't say a word.”
“Why on earth not?” he asked.
“Because every time I listen to you it costs me money.”
“Doctor Jones, you cut me to the quick!”
“It's a pretty tempting thought,” I said.
“Truly, you misjudge me,” said Von Horst. “I wish there was some way to make amends for all the trouble I seem to have caused you.”
“Just give me my money and get out of my life, and we'll call it square,” I said.
“I said I would, and I will,” replied Von Horst. He peered across the table at me. “Have you got any money?”
“That's none of your business.”
He grinned. “That much?”
“I don't want to hear this,” I said.
“Forget the seven thousand pounds, Doctor Jones,” he said. “How would you like to make some real money?”
“With you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I'd hate it.”
“You could triple your investment in a week.”
“You want me to start quoting psalms at you,” I asked, “or should I just hold up a cross to make you g
o away?”
“There's absolutely no risk involved.”
“Go away.”
“I just want to make amends for our prior misunderstandings,” he said.
“Shut up,” I said.
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
I finished my drink and sat there staring at my glass for a few minutes.
“I could triple my money in a week?” I said at last.
“At the very least.”
“I don't want to hear about it,” I said. “Just leave me alone.”
“Certainly,” he said.
I lit a cigarette and smoked it all the way down.
“No risk?” I said.
“None at all.”
“Then what do you need me for?”
“I don't,” he said. “I'm simply trying to make restitution for my past indiscretions.”
“Let's hear it,” I said.
“Not here,” said Von Horst. “Too many interested ears are listening. Let's go back to my hotel, and I'll lay it out for you.”
He got up and I followed him out.
“Beautiful place, Greece,” he said as we walked down the pavement. “Far more opportunities for entrepreneurs like you and me than there were in Africa, eh, Doctor Jones?”
“You seemed to find more than your share in Africa,” I said.
“Do I detect a trace of bitterness?” he said.
“Von Horst, I trust you about as far as I can spit with my mouth closed,” I said. “I'll listen to you until I spot your scam, and then I'm taking my seven thousand pounds and leaving.”
“That's all that I ask, Doctor Jones,” he said. “By the way, since we're such old friends, may I call you Lucifer?”
“No.”
“As you wish,” he said with a sigh. “But after I explain this deal to you, you're going to realize that I'm truly doing you an enormous favor.”
“The next favor you do anyone will be the first,” I said. “Let's just get this over with.”
“Ah, here we are,” he said, stopping in front of a little waterfront hotel.
“You're making seven thousand an afternoon and you're staying here?” I asked.
“I don't want to attract undue attention to myself,” he said. “Come on in.”
He waved to the desk clerk, and we climbed up to the fourth floor, where he opened a door and led me into a suite of rooms.