The Dragon, the Earl, and

by Gordon R. Dickson

"No," said Jim. "Damn it, I forgot. But I can do that from here by magic while you're going back there, come to think of it. Go ahead, Brian."

  Brian went; and Ned, after looking at Jim for final approval and getting Jim's nod, moved out beyond the large tent.

  Watching around the curve of the tent, Jim saw the kennel lad put the horn to his lips and visualized the horn blasting forth three ascending notes, louder and more fierce than any that had been blown so far today. The regular herald had turned and stared at Ned, but had not yet decided to approach him. Ned dropped the horn to his side and turned to face the stands. He opened his mouth.

  Jim, staying well behind the curve of the tent, where he could see Ned but was still out of sight of most of those in the stands—and not likely to attract attention in any case, since he was not in anything like jousting armor—raised his cupped hand and spoke into it barely above a whisper, concentrating on imagining the words that came booming forth, deep-toned and ominous, from the lips of Ned.

  "The jousting is not over!" Ned seemed to thunder. "A challenger comes!"

  There was obvious consternation in the stands. At least half the people had stood up to leave and were only waiting for those seated below them to get out of the way. A muted hubbub of query and baffled answer floated back across the distance separating the stands from the tents.

  Jim stood there, warmed with the success of this first move—then suddenly remembered he had still not turned the boar into a horse and put magic armor on Mnrogar.

  Hastily he closed his eyes and visualized first Mnrogar in armor, then the boar as a huge black horse, completely saddled, bridled and caparisoned with a black cloth with gold edges. The saddle and spear, sitting upright in its boot and tied to the saddle, were also black. The armor was uniformly black, from the massive tilting helm to the iron covering—and hiding—the troll's taloned feet.

  He felt, like an actual physical movement inside his head, the magic take hold and the changes happen in troll and boar. Turning, he hurried to the place where Mnrogar and the boar had been kept.

  When he got there Mnrogar was already in the saddle; looking unbelievable, like a black giant who might well have emerged this moment from a split in the riven earth and unknown reaches underground.

  "All right," said Jim, "I'll take it from here—no, wait a minute. There's one thing missing."

  He had worked up the scenario for the Black Knight's entrance in his mind, and one of the details had completely slipped out of memory. For the entrance he wished Mnrogar to make, another person was needed, and he had planned to take this part himself.

  "A horse!" he said. "I'll be squire, it's just a matter of changing my face magically. But I'll need a horse. Do we have a horse? Where can we get a horse?"

  "There's my palfrey," said Brian. "Those in the stands would instantly recognize Blanchard of Tours."

  The truth of this was undeniable. Brian's war horse, on which he had spent all of his patrimony except the run-down Castle Smythe he had inherited, was almost as famous as he was.

  "Someone get the palfrey—quick!" said Jim.

  "He's right here, my Lord," said John Chester. He ran off and returned, bringing along the good-natured brown riding horse that Brian used for everyday purposes. It was a gelding, deceptively fast, but neither large nor especially strong; and almost too sweet-natured for its own good. It already had Brian's extra saddle and bridle on it.

  "Good!" said Jim. "I'll have to change his color, though—"

  Hurriedly he tried to visualize both horse and equipment as turning the same shade that Mnrogar and his steed showed.

  "Zaap! You're black," he muttered to himself.

  However, the palfrey only turned a sort of muddy gray for a moment and then faded back to brown again. Jim was uncomfortably faced with the fact that visualizations could not be made offhandedly. He took a deep breath, willed himself to calmness, shut his eyes and concentrated. The palfrey was suddenly black in every part, including its hooves. This time the color stayed.

  Jim swung himself into its saddle. Then remembered Brian.

  "Brian, is it all right—"

  "Certainly," said Brian.

  But just at that moment a strangely hoarse, almost falsetto voice spoke from about the level of Jim's knee.

  "Did messire wish for a herald?" the voice said. Jim looked down and blinked at a slim, rather ridiculous-looking man, standing by his right knee. The fellow had a curiously pointed chin and exaggeratedly pointed ears; a corkscrew mustache, like that of the fictional detective Hercule Poirot, was under his nose.

  "Angie?" said Jim disbelievingly.

  "I showed up to help after all," said Angie. "Do you still need a herald?"

  "No!" said Jim. "But I need a squire!"

  He swung down from the saddle on the palfrey and helped Angie up into it.

  "You're terrific! They might have recognized me," he said, "but they'll never recognize you. How did you do it—no, wait, don't tell me now. We've got to rush. Just sit this horse, and I'll speak through your mouth magically."

  Chapter 36

  "Papeir mâché," said Angie, as he was leading the palfrey by its reins, Angie on it, out of the woods behind the tents that concealed their approach from the crowd in the stands.

  "Papier mâché?" echoed Jim. The word brought up a vague image of strips of newspapers soaked in water with glue and then molded with the fingers into different shapes. That would account for how she had made her pointed ears. The fourteenth-century paper they had would probably work for that—but how had she colored the ears to make them look like flesh? Jim checked his mind from running off and hauled it back to more important matters. He reached the entrance of the large tent and halted; and as he did inspiration came to him.

  He had not given much thought to how he would word Mnrogar's challenge. But Angie's homemade make-up had started his mind to perking.

  "Hang on a moment," he said to Angie; and concentrated. The black cloth that he had magicked up to caparison the boar-horse suddenly developed a thicker band of cloth-of-gold added to its bottom. The studs on the face of Mnrogar's shield were replaced with bright gems—diamonds, rubies and sapphires; and around the top of the troll's tilting helm appeared a golden crown.

  "What on earth—?" said Angie.

  "You'll see, when I utter his challenge through you," said Jim. "Now, Angie, what I want you to do is simply ride out around the tent, to near Ned Dunster, ahead of Mnrogar. Mnrogar will say nothing whatsoever. Then Ned will put his horn to his lips, and I'll magically make it sound once. Wait until the last note has had a chance to linger on their ears for a few seconds. Then open your mouth and mime the motions of speaking. I'll speak through your mouth magically and issue Mnrogar's challenge. It'll end up with a question—does anyone here want to take up that challenge?"

  "That other trumpet's going to answer yes within seconds, I bet," said Angie.

  "I think so, too," said Jim. "However, you wait for it; and when it comes, turn back and ride past Mnrogar, taking hold of the bridle of his horse and leading him back around the large tent and into it. Both Mnrogar and you look like something the devil dreamed up, so I'm pretty sure by that time no regular attendants will be showing up to help. Brian, myself, and our men-at-arms will still be here. Mnrogar's all ready."

  "Why take him back inside, then?" Angie asked. "It seems to me—"

  "I want him out of sight except when he's actually jousting," said Jim. "He or the boar-horse might do something to make people too suspicious. Now, when you go out later for the jousts, you'll be carrying his spear. You get down and hand it up to him. Then Ned Dunster will play herald again; I'll make his trumpet sound, and Mnrogar will ride against the first knight chosen to ride against him. We may have to wait for some time in the tent first, though, while the knights who want to try taking on Mnrogar argue who's to be first."

  "That's all right," said Angie. "Both Enna and the wet nurse are in our rooms, the men-at-arms are there—and that was a
very good idea of yours to have Hob-One up the chimney."

  "Oh, you know about that?" said Jim. "I haven't had time to tell—"

  "Hob-One's beginning to trust me," said Angie. "When I was alone in the front room, he came down and really talked to me for the first time."

  She stopped speaking, because Brian, Mnrogar on the boar-horse and the men had come up behind them. Jim turned his attention to them as they halted with the boar-horse just behind Brian's transformed palfrey.

  "All right, Brian," Jim said to him. "Angie's ready to ride out as the squire, and Mnrogar should come out maybe ten feet behind her. Is he all ready?"

  "He is," said Brian. "I'll leave you to say when he is to follow though, James, and how to act. He obeys all commands since Carolinus magicked him. But it is no doubt best he hear only your voice commanding him from here on. Now I must get back to the stands, myself, to be on hand there when knights start to call for their chance to ride against Mnrogar. As winner of the tourney I have pride of place."

  "Brian!" said Jim. "You're not thinking of riding against Mnrogar, are you? You know what he's capable of doing, particularly with that boar-horse—"

  "Oh it would pleasure me to ride against him. It's just possible I might—but, no," said Brian, "we want Mnrogar to win over all he rides against. After me, Sir Harimore has best claim to ride first against the Black Knight. He will defer to me, of course; but I will say that Blanchard has come up with a limp, and I do not want to risk him by riding him in the lists again today. All understand that no knight would want to joust unless he was properly horsed. Harimore will know the limp is only an excuse; but he will also know I am not saying this out of any lack of will to fight. He will take it as a courtesy to him, because of his saddle breaking and costing him in our last essay."

  Angie unsuccessfully did her best to smother a chuckle. Brian glanced at her in a puzzled fashion for a moment, then went on.

  "After that," he continued, "there will be whoever else wants to ride. I would warrant a half-dozen at least, for all Mnrogar's size and fearful appearance. Also, you remember we talked of someone in the stands who could suggest that Mnrogar might be other than human, against which it was the duty of a Christian gentleman to ride. I will be there to help that idea along, if any should be doubtful that a gentleman might be lowering himself to oppose this Black Knight from nowhere."

  "I'd forgotten about that," said Jim. "All right, Brian. You can start right away if you want. Mnrogar, are you listening to me?"

  "Yes," came the hollow and slightly distorted voice of Mnrogar from inside the enormous helm.

  "You are to ride out peaceably after the squire, here, on the horse in front of yours, just now. You are to say nothing. The herald will sound his trumpet," Jim said, "and the squire will deliver his message. Then the squire will ride back past you, take the reins of your horse and lead it and you with him back into the tent, where you will wait until the time for the first spear-running. Remember, you're to say nothing. The squire will say all that's necessary for you. Do you understand me, Mnrogar?"

  "Yes," said Mnrogar, again.

  "Then here you go," said Jim. "Go ahead, Angie. Mnrogar, you follow. When the squire stops, you stop and stay stopped until he comes back for you."

  "Yes," said Mnrogar.

  Angie lifted the reins of the palfrey and rode out around the curve of the tent's side into view from the stands; and Mnrogar followed her. There was a strange sound, almost like a groan from the crowd—as if half in apprehension and half in delight—at the first glimpse of him, massive in his armor upon his massive black horse.

  Angie reined the palfrey to a stop. Behind her, Mnrogar hauled back on the reins of his boar-horse and it stopped. Standing a little in front of them, Ned Dunster lifted the trumpet to his lips.

  Jim, peering around the curve of the tent, concentrated on making the trumpet sound—a single note this time, rising, and ending in a sort of eerie wail; a sound he remembered he had heard once made by a bagpipe, back in the twentieth century.

  The notes were effective, but entirely unnecessary. All attention was on Angie and Mnrogar in any case. Angie had been involved in amateur theatricals when she and Jim had been undergraduates, and Jim had the feeling that she was enjoying the role she was presently playing. Leisurely, she reined the palfrey around so that she faced the distant stands, although Mnrogar still sat facing down the lists.

  She opened her mouth and Jim, still watching, created for her a booming voice and words that echoed across the distance to the stands, louder than a human voice should be able to sound.

  "My master, the Black Knight, is of no man nor woman born. But he is a king in his own country and he is come here bidding me issue this challenge to all present. These are his words: I am come here to take part in no human tourney; but to see English knights go down before the end of my lance—if sobeit there are any brave enough to ride against me!' "

  There was a moment's dead silence from the stands, and then a welling uproar of vocal rage and excitement. The Earl could be seen leaning forward to shout down to his herald.

  A trumpet blast answered immediately. A figure in monk's garb was leaning toward the Earl, out around a red-robed figure between them. Whoever it was, he seemed to be protesting. The Earl was not listening.

  Angie turned her horse the rest of the way around and rode back, catching hold of the bridle next to the bit in the mouth of Mnrogar's horse, and leading it after her, back around the curve of the large tent and into it. Ned Dunster, holding the trumpet, followed them around behind the tent.

  Even inside the tent, the hubbub across the way from the stands could still be heard. Angie dismounted from the palfrey and dropped its reins. It stood obediently. She looked at Jim.

  "Shouldn't Mnrogar be allowed to get down too?" she said. "I'd guess they're going to be a while sorting out who rides first against him. It sounded as if everyone there were shouting at the top of their voices. I've never heard a crowd that worked up."

  "Oh, yes," said Jim. "Mnrogar, you can dismount. John, Theoluf—one of you, or one of the men-at-arms probably— should hold the reins of his horse. We don't want it getting excited or moving around here in the tent. There's no room for that sort of thing."

  Theoluf took the reins and passed them to a nearby man-at-arms, who shortened his grip on them until his fist was almost up against the lips of the boar-horse; and he stood holding them like a sentinel. Even Jim's household servants were normally nervous in the presence of magic; but everyone associated with this project seemed to be caught up in the play-acting aspect of it, Jim thought.

  There was a bed in the tent, evidently intended for any hurt jouster who might need it, and five stools around the square table. Angie had already sat down on one of the stools.

  "How are you going to watch the spear-runnings from in here?" she asked.

  "I'll lift the back edge of the tent up from the ground, a little," he said. "It's easy. Aargh's been scouting around and he can get under them all right, so I ought to be able to lift the edge enough to see."

  "I see what you mean," said Angie, who was seated facing the side away from the stands. "Here he comes through it now."

  Jim turned around on his stool; and, sure enough, the edge of the tent was pushed up and Aargh was coming in underneath it, not really crawling this time but merely crouching. He came all the way in, stopped and looked at them with his noiseless laughter.

  "The trolls have moved in closer," he said. "But not much closer. They're upset. They can't understand what Mnrogar's doing in armor, and why he's riding a horse that smells like a boar. You've puzzled them. They expect those who go on two legs to do strange things; but any of us who go on four should act the way we always do. When we don't, the world is turned upside down."

  "Could they get upset enough so that they'll go away and not bother us and Mnrogar any more?" asked Angie.

  "Not that," said Aargh. He lay down and began to lick one of his forepaws.

&nbs
p; "Why, your paws are all cut up!" said Angie, getting up from her stool and squatting beside him to look at them. "What happened?"

  "You don't dig through ice and frozen ground without a few scratches, Angie," said Aargh. "It's nothing. I'll keep them clean with my tongue, and in a day or so they'll be as they were."

  Angie went back to her seat at the table.

  "As a matter of fact, there are a couple more things you might find interesting," the wolf went on. "Brian's on his way back here."

  "Already?" said Jim. "I thought he'd wait a while, then slip away when nobody was looking. If he comes back this fast, maybe something's gone wrong."

  "I doubt it," said Angie. "Nobody there has their mind on anyone but Mnrogar, right now. But, come to think of it, did you know Carolinus is in the stands now? That red robe of his really stands out, on a day like this."

  "Carolinus!" said Jim, sitting up straight on his stool. "I hope he stays there. I've been trying to get hold of him—"

  "I know," said Angie. "That's why I mentioned it."

  "I thought you both knew," said Aargh indifferently, still stropping a paw with his long tongue. "Otherwise I would have mentioned it too."

  "He's sitting beside the Earl," said Angie, "with someone in a black monk's robe on his other side. I imagine that's the Bishop. Agatha Falon's on the other side of the Earl; with the Prince on her other side."

  "Bound to be the Bishop," said Jim thoughtfully, "if he's allowed to sit that close to the Earl. But what do you suppose Carolinus is doing there?"

  Aargh did not bother to answer.

  "I wouldn't have any idea," said Angie, "but if you want a guess, I think he's there to help us."

  "What makes you think that?" Jim stared at her.

  "He's got to know what you've been up to all along, with Mnrogar," said Angie.

  "Well, of course," said Jim. "He was told about it at the time I first came up with the idea, just as Aargh was; and he helped set it all up."

  He looked over at Mnrogar, who had gotten down from the horse; and, somewhat to Jim's surprise, was now simply squatting, with every appearance of comfort, armor and all. It might be perfectly natural for a troll to squat if he wanted to adopt a resting position; but it was most disconcerting to see someone that large, particularly wearing full armor—and particularly armor that rich with gold chasing and the gold crown on top of the tilting helm, in that position. Knights did not squat—at least Jim had never seen one doing so, and particularly not in armor.