The Dragon on The Border

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "Very well then," said Lachlan, "I thank you both for your courtesy. Now, I will listen."

  He folded his arms and sat silent, waiting.

  "Concerning this idea of getting them all together and killing them off all at once," said Herrac. "It is certainly an excellent answer to the situation—though I would have to point out that it is an answer that we have talked of here on the Border many times without coming to any definite plan. It is a little like the story about the mice who would bell the cat until one of them asked who would do it—and then there was a great silence, because the question was not answerable. We have men enough on the Border and more, all who hate the Hollow Men well enough to forget their individual feuds for long enough to rid the face of the earth of them. But again and again, the question remains. How can we ever know we've killed them all?"

  "Has none been able to think of a way," said Dafydd, "to make certain that they were all together, in one spot at one time?"

  "None," Herrac answered. He looked at the two of them. "Have either one of you any idea?"

  "I know of none," said Dafydd, "but it is in my mind, and this I have believed all my life, that there is no question without an answer."

  He turned to Jim.

  "James?" he asked. "Can you not think of some way, natural—or perhaps magical—to make them be at one place at one time?"

  Both Herrac and Lachlan fastened their own gazes on Jim with a new alertness, as they waited with Dafydd for Jim's answer. Jim looked back at them, thoughtfully and—internally—a little sadly. Once more he was encountering the universal and unbounded belief of fourteenth-century people in magic. The feeling that a magician could do anything, solve anything, by using means that were not ordinary.

  "Offhand, I can no more think of a way than the rest of you," he told them. The alertness seemed to leak out of both Herrac and Lachlan; so that both men seemed to slump a little at the table.

  "But," Jim went on, "if you'll let me think about it a bit, I can try to come up with an answer."

  "Take all the time you wish," said Lachlan quickly. "We'll wait, and gladly. But I doubt that you've anything to tell us that's not been thought of and seen useless, before."

  They fell into a silence at the table. Herrac refilled everyone's cup; and they all, except Jim, sat, drinking and staring either at the table top or at nothing.

  This continued for some little time. Then Jim spoke.

  "In situations like this," he said, "it sometimes happens that it's wise to know as much as can be known about the situation." He looked at Lachlan. "Will you tell me how you come to know about these plans, and as much as you know about the way things will be done—also who are the people involved in it?"

  "Well," said Lachlan slowly and thoughtfully, "you see I've been at court myself—the Scot court, of course—these last ten months—" He coughed disparagingly, and took a sip from his wine cup before going on. "It was on business of my own, but also I was at the very court itself by favor of m'Lord Argyle, with whom I have some small connection."

  He took his eyes from his glass and looked directly across the table at Jim.

  "It was so I heard of it, this plan of an invasion," he said. "How it began—well, it was one of those whispers in the beginning, doubtless. Either a whisper at the French court by someone there, and word of it passed to those friends of France at our court, possibly the MacDougall himself. Then no doubt it was talked over and about by those same friends of France at our court; until, finally, the MacDougall—who has the ear of the King—began to speak of it to him."

  "I see," said Jim, feeling some kind of acknowledgment was due from him.

  Lachlan nodded.

  "So the thing was talked up, and it grew in favor and gathered more people of the court behind it that were of the MacDougall's shape of mind. Until finally, plans began to be made."

  He broke off and turned to Herrac.

  "You met my Lord Argyle, yourself, Herrac," he said. "Would you consider him a wise head or not?"

  "I would say he is," said Herrac.

  "Well, my Lord Argyle saw no profit in this sort of a wild attempt upon England as France's pawn. Like myself and others, he knows how often the French have promised aid, and that aid that has only been coming in part. At any rate, he set me to the task of finding out the plans. How I went about that is my own affair, but I found that French money had been promised, that it was due at the court any day and that the MacDougall would be taking it down himself to bribe the Hollow Men to fight for the Scottish forces. He would give them part payment down only, ye understand. They are to have the rest after the expedition has been a success. But he and the gold will be leaving shortly for a meeting with the leaders of the Hollow Men, if they can be said to have leaders, which some doubt—

  Once more he looked at Jim.

  "I was hoping that the men of the Border, or yourself, now that I find you here, could think of some way of turning his visit to the Hollow Men around so that they either refused to go or else can be brought to betray the reason for which they are bought. Ye see, I know when the MacDougall will be coming down, and roughly his route. It will be no trick to intercept him; and with enough men, we can do so and if nothing else, gain for ourselves the gold he is carrying."

  "Lachlan," said Herrac sternly, "it's not just the gold you're thinking of, in this instance, is it? With the danger to Scotland and the Border and all the rest as an excuse to let you steal it?"

  "I'm thinking of it all together!" said Lachlan, turning to him. "The point is that if he cannot pay the Hollow Men, they certainly will not perform for him. Ye see that clearly enough?"

  "Indeed, it is obvious," murmured Dafydd.

  "There, now!" said Lachlan, to Herrac and Jim. "The Welshman's mind goes right to the heart of it, as he aims the arrows from his bow!"

  "It's a simple solution," said Herrac, "too simple. We here on the Border, and particularly those of us at the Castle de Mer, are well within reach of the hand of the King of Scots. He would soon get wind of the fact that we had a hand in stealing this French gold, and his armed men would be down upon us. I have no eagerness to have myself and my family hung from my own roof tree—or worse!"

  "Well, now," said Lachlan, "the whole matter of the gold's a well-kept state secret. The King himself would not be quick to want it talked about, particularly if it were stolen—

  "What of the MacDougall?" Herrac interrupted him. "Aside from the King, the last thing I'd want would be MacDougalls swarming over the landscape and the castle because I'd slain or wounded their clan chief—or had a hand in the slaying or wounding. The results would be the same as if the King heard I had stolen the gold. No, Lachlan, simply stealing the gold is not by itself our easy and simple answer!"

  "Well, then," said Lachlan, turning to Jim, "is there any way you could by magic cause the gold to turn to brass, or some such thing? The Hollow Men would be none too pleased if the MacDougall tried to bribe them with brass tokens."

  "I don't know," answered Jim. A devilish thought stirred in him. "But if you want, I can find out."

  Turning his head a little to one side, he spoke to empty air.

  "Accounting Office?" he asked. "You have my rating as a magician on file. Can I turn gold into brass?"

  "No!" replied a deep bass voice unexpectedly out of thin air about three feet above the ground where Jim was looking. "Even a AAA magician would have to have special reasons for making any such change. The balance of precious metals in the world is not to be disturbed, even by a minute amount."

  For a moment after the voice of the Accounting Office had finished speaking both Lachlan and Herrac sat stunned. The voice of the Accounting Office was impressive enough by itself. Coming unexpectedly and out of nowhere right beside them in answer to Jim's question, was too much for men of the fourteenth century to take calmly. Only Dafydd, who had heard the Accounting Office respond to one of Jim's questions before, was not startled. He was, in fact, a little amused. He did not smile, but
there was a glint of humor in the squint wrinkles of the sun-tanned skin around his eyes. The fact was, the other two seemed to be so robbed of speech that Jim became slightly alarmed, as the moment of their silence stretched out.

  "Well," he said, to bring them out of it, "it seems that turning the gold into brass won't work either."

  Herrac's eyes focused and Lachlan's eyes blinked, as he seemed almost to wake up. He shifted at once from astonishment into something like anger.

  "Well," he said, "if ye canna turn gold into brass, what use are ye as a magician? What is it that ye can do?"

  "That," Jim reproved him, "is what I've been busily thinking about. Let me think a little while longer."

  "Weel, weel," said Lachlan, his accent suddenly very broad, "gang ye're ain gate, then. We'll wait on ye. We'll wait a whiles, at least."

  Jim could not tell if Lachlan's reaction was one of disillusionment in discovering Jim was unable to turn gold into brass, or simply a weariness at what seemed the hopeless search for a solution. Jim drank a little of the wine from his cup and thought hard. The truth of the matter was, Dafydd was right. There ought to be no problem that did not offer some sort of solution. The only trouble here was that the sort of solution they needed had been looked for without success for a thousand or more years. In fact, even in his own century, there were still no lack of unanswered questions; and no way of knowing how long it would be before answers would be found.

  Nonetheless… he thought hard.

  "Tell me," he said to Lachlan, "you said you knew the route that this MacDougall would be taking, and about when he'd be going down it. Did I understand that you also know the number of fighting men he may have with him as a guard?"

  "I do," answered Lachlan promptly. "He'll be starting his trip with several dozen. Either MacDougalls, or those who are friends of theirs. But, somewhere short of the Hollow Men's land in the Cheviot Hills, he will leave most behind and go on with only several; and even these will be left behind, at last some miles back from where he is actually to meet with the leaders of the Hollow Men."

  "And at that time he will have the gold with him?" Jim asked.

  "Of course!" said Lachlan. "Do you think those Hollow Men are going to believe him if the man merely talks about gold? It'll not be the whole down payment, ye understand. But it'll be enough to make them covetous of more to come. Also, it will be a load that he can carry easily by packhorse, alone, during the last short ways of his trip."

  "Do you think it would be possible for us to set up an ambush for him at a point when he had left everyone else behind and he was by himself?" Jim asked.

  "I see no reason why not," said Lachlan. He looked at Herrac. "My old friend here and his sons would be more than enough. In fact, if need be I could take him prisoner myself, though he has something of a reputation as a fighter with the English broadsword and shield."

  "Have you thought of a plan, m'Lord?" asked Dafydd.

  "No," Jim shook his head, "but I may be on the track of one."

  They stared at him with new hope in their eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Well, don't just sit there, man!" Lachlan exploded. "What's this plan of yours?"

  "I'm afraid," said Jim, getting to his feet from the table, "I can't tell you right away. As you suggested earlier, Lachlan, it involves magic and I can only talk about that magic after I've made sure of it. So I'm going upstairs now to our room for a short while, while I do certain things magical—" He broke off.

  "I forgot," he said. "Brian is recovering from his wound in our regular bedchamber. I'll need a chamber all to myself, even if it's only a small one."

  He looked at Herrac.

  "Is there such a chamber?" he asked.

  Instead of answering directly, Herrac turned his head over his shoulder and shouted for a servant.

  "Ho!" his powerful voice rang out.

  Within seconds there were three of the male servants at his elbow.

  "Go fetch the Lady Liseth!" Herrac snapped. "I want her here immediately."

  The male servants left at a run for the kitchen; and within another half-minute or so, Liseth showed up. This time, however, she was walking—if somewhat swiftly—since there was a difference between being summoned, and being sent on an errand; particularly if you were Chatelaine of the castle in which the summons occurred.

  She reached the table.

  "Yes, Father?"

  "M'Lord, here, requires a chamber to himself in which to do some things magical," said Herrac. "Will you show him to such a chamber, and do whatever else he may require for these purposes? Thank you."

  "Gladly, Father," said Liseth. She turned to look at Jim, standing on the other side of the table.

  "If you'll come with me, m'Lord," she said, formally, and almost demurely.

  "Thank you," said Jim, uncertain whether to address her as m'Lady in this instance—as he addressed Herrac m'Lord because of their respective positions as commanders of the castle—and compromising by not using any direct form of address or title toward her.

  He went around the table and she led him back through the kitchen, upstairs in the peel tower to the floor just below the one which held the room in which Brian now lay. She was about to turn off down a corridor leading away from the stairs when Jim stopped her.

  "If you'll forgive me," he said, "I'll have to go to the room that I shared with Sir Brian and Dafydd, to get my bedding. Could we go up there first?"

  "Of course, m'Lord," said Liseth, and returned to the stairs to lead him up into the room.

  Brian was still apparently sleeping there, and the pitchers were on a table that had been set up by his bed. The four servants gazed at Jim with scared eyes.

  "He looks to be getting along all right," said Jim, to put them at their ease. "Has he drunk any of the small beer?"

  "He has, and it please you, m'Lord," said the older of the two women, "if your lordship would glance into that pitcher next to him, he will see that it is now only about three-quarters full."

  "Good," said Jim. "Keep urging it on him whenever he wakes."

  A chorus of assent came from the servants. Jim found his rolled-up mattress that Angie had made, and tucked it under one arm.

  "Now," he said to Liseth, "I'm all set. Lead me to the other room."

  "This way, m'Lord," she directed.

  They went back down the flight of stairs and along the corridor there and into a much smaller room. To Jim's surprise, it was furnished. There was a typical, very small medieval bed in a corner, also a rough straight chair of wood and a wardrobe taller than his head, of dark wood and with its two tall doors closed and bolted shut. The room itself was so small that he would barely have floor room on which to unroll his bedding. But what surprised him the most was a drinking cup with some yellow and white wildflowers in it, just before the narrow arrow-slit of a window.

  Jim had never seen flowers in a medieval dwelling before—except in his own castle, where Angie brought them in to their bedroom. He stared at them; and then understanding awoke in him. He turned to Liseth.

  "Liseth," he said, "is this your room?"

  "It is, m'Lord," said Liseth. "I apologize for the smallness and meanness of it for someone like m'Lord; but all other possible rooms have not been cleaned for years, or are filled with such stored things, as—even removed—would leave an ill atmosphere for m'Lord."

  "Well, I must say, I'm grateful," said Jim. "The room is not mean at all, m'Lady Chatelaine—even if it may perhaps be a little smaller than the one above. It will do excellently, since I have room to put my bedding on the floor. I was admiring your flowers, which add a very kind touch to the chamber."

  "I am perhaps over-fond of them," said Liseth, "but when they and those like them bloom in the spring, I dislike to be separated from them, even for a night. So I bring some here and put them where a little sun will reach them. But they do not well, once they are picked and brought inside."

  "Just as a suggestion," said Jim, "you might try put
ting a little water in the cup that holds them. Sometimes that helps flowers keep their freshness longer."

  "Say you so?" said Liseth. "Now I think me of it, there has been something like that mentioned; but when I was very much younger and I had not paid attention. I will take your suggestion and add water to the cup—but not now, so as not to disturb you."

  "That's good of you," said Jim. "Just a minute!"

  Liseth had already turned to leave.

  "I wonder if you could make sure that I'm not disturbed?" Jim said.

  "No one will disturb you, m'Lord," said Liseth. "Not only are these upper floors for people whom no servant would trouble, but I doubt that any would have the hardiness to disturb a magician without orders before time to do so."

  "One moment more," said Jim hurriedly, for once again she was turning to leave. "There are a few things I'd like to talk to you about for a moment. As you probably heard downstairs, I'm about to work some magic. It has to do with finding a way to solve the problem that Lachlan MacGreggor has brought. I don't know if you know about it—"

  "Thank you, m'Lord," interrupted Liseth, "but I do know about it. All about it. Lachlan would hardly dare not tell me, even if my brothers or my father did not."

  "I see," said Jim. "Well, we were seated at the table down there trying to come up with some answer to the situation; and I got the beginnings of an idea that might do it. It requires not only the magic, but certain information. I'll begin by going into a magic sleep. Once I wake up, I'd like, without delay, to find that wolf Snorrl again. I need him to tell me about locations in the Cheviot Hills, in the territory held by the Hollow Men. I understand he goes where he wills, including there, and knows every foot of the land for some distance in every direction."

  "Yes. Yes, indeed he does," said Liseth. "I will try to locate him by sending Greywings out to look for him. Once Greywings finds him she will stoop on him and cry out at him. She cannot speak, and he may misinterpret what she means. But I'd think it most likely he would think that Greywings would not be coming to him in such a fashion unless I myself had some great need of him. Therefore, I think the chance is good that he will come to a meeting place near the castle that he and I both know well. If you and I can go there, and wait, once you have woken up—Have you any idea, m'Lord, about how long you want to sleep?"