The Dragon on The Border

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "I did not mean to be so long," he said.

  "Long?" said Liseth. "But it was only a moment, as you said."

  "Ah," said Jim, fully awake now, "under conditions of magic, time is sometimes different. You have heard of those stolen by the fairies, or Naturals, who thought they were gone only days and returned to find that years had gone by?"

  "Oh yes," said Liseth again, "my nurse used to tell me all those old tales. I particularly remember the tale of Cinderella and her slipper—and how the Prince she married made her wicked step-mother and step-sisters dance in red-hot boots at their wedding. I laughed and laughed!"

  "Er—yes," said Jim.

  They went on down, to the foot of the stairs; and out through the Great Hall and into the stables. These, unlike the kitchens, were in an outbuilding at a small distance from the tower, in the courtyard.

  It was only when they stepped into the furious scene of activity that was the stable, that Jim remembered he had left his weapons, his armor and most of the things he would need for at least an overnight trip still up in Sir Brian's room. He was searching his mind for some way of making a further excuse to go back up and get them, when he noticed them in a pile by the stable door of his war horse, Gorp.

  "Why," he said, "my weapons and armor and all other things needed have been brought down from Sir Brian's room!"

  "I was so bold as to have the servants bring them down for you," said Liseth. "Did I do wrong, m'Lord?"

  "No, no!" said Jim. "You did exactly what was right. You picked out just the right things, just what I'd need. I'm indebted to you."

  "Indebted to me?" echoed Liseth, frowning. "Surely not, m'Lord. These are only those things that belong to you. Nothing of mine or of the Castle de Mer has been added to them."

  "Ah," said Jim, "pardon my ill choice of words, m'Lady. We magicians sometimes speak a little differently from ordinary people. I should have said I'm obliged to you."

  He saw at this moment a groom come out of the stall that held Gorp, leading the horse, which was already saddled and with Jim's lance upright in its socket to the right front of his saddle.

  "I will assist you in donning your armor, m'Lord, if you wish," said Liseth.

  Looking at her, for the first time, it struck Jim that the expression on her face was definitely very demure. For the first time he realized that he might have become attractive to her, as he had found himself to be—even in his dragon body—to Danielle o'the Wold. In both cases it had been the same thing. It had been the aura of magic about him. Danielle had fantasized that he was an enchanted Prince. Or, at least, that was what Danielle seemed to be doing, unless she had simply been using Jim to make Dafydd, her future husband at that time, jealous.

  Magic and everything to do with it in this world seemed to have the same sort of attraction for its inhabitants as lotteries had in the world Jim had grown up in and left. In both cases there was the dream of marvels, wonders and riches to be gained by even being close to someone with magic. No doubt, as with lotteries, the chances of gaining any of these things that magic promised were one in a million; nonetheless it was exciting even to be in the vicinity of such a possibility.

  Hastily, Jim began to get into the armor, pausing only to eat from the bread and meat and drink from the wine that was being handed around to them. Liseth helped him put the armor on. It did not slow him down any to see that Herrac and his five sons were already armored, packed and on horseback, and Lachlan was almost armored and ready—in spite of being still somewhat drunk from the night before; and scowling at Jim and Liseth, for no apparent reason.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They made, Jim had to admit, as they rode northward with the rising sun of morning to their right, a pretty effective-looking band. He had read once, in an excellent book on the Scottish Border, how most Borderers could put an armed force out of bed in the middle of the night and into the saddle, ready for the hot pursuit of raiders who had driven off their cattle, within something like twenty minutes or so.

  He, himself, was riding in the lead of the little troop, which went two by two where it could on the trail they followed, and single file where the way was narrow. Beside him was Sir Herrac, who bulked enormous in his armor, on a large, heavy-headed war horse which seemed well able to carry its rider, plus its own armor of hanging mail.

  Jim had not sought out this position; but had found it made available to him, so obviously that he had no choice but to take it up.

  The truth of the matter was, he thought to himself, that he was once more in the grasp of that almost ridiculous fourteenth-century method of assuming that those of highest rank should naturally lead—officially, at least, in any time and at any place. Particularly when the proceeding was toward possible battle.

  Right behind him rode Lachlan and Sir Giles, both of whom he knew had more right to be up front here than himself. For that matter, Dafydd also should have been riding ahead of him—but it was unthinkable, of course, that a bowman should lead belted knights, under any circumstances.

  The trouble was, that in this upcoming ambush of theirs, they, all of them—even including an old, experienced warrior like Herrac, who knew these woods—would still expect him, Jim, to command the fight on their side. And all because he'd been idiot enough when he first landed on this world to claim that he was a baron, thinking it would be a help.

  That claim had got him into more trouble since than all the help it could possibly have afforded him.

  He rode along with his face apparently serene, but his mind whirling inside. What he knew about ambushes you could put in a thimble and still not see with a microscope. Particularly, ambushes involving fourteenth-century weapons and fighters.

  Damn it, he thought to himself, he should have had time before they set out to contact Snorrl again and alert him about the ambush. Also time, above all, to meet with the Little Men once more and somehow get them committed to join in the final battle against the Hollow Men. It was typical of the people riding with him that they did almost all things wrong end to.

  Even Herrac, here, was setting out to kidnap an envoy and a chest of gold belonging to the King of Scotland, without even having bothered to check with his fellow Borderers, to see if they would help in the battle that was planned to result from the kidnapping.

  Jim wished very much that he could talk to Lachlan MacGreggor and find out from that individual what kind of plans the Scotsman had originally had for the ambush. But there was no polite way to fall back from riding at Herrac's side, at this moment. He would just have to be patient until they stopped for some kind of a break, or finally reached the place that was to be their destination.

  It turned out to be waiting until they reached their destination. There were no breaks along the way that allowed him any chance at an extended conversation with Lachlan. In the end, Jim was forced to hold himself in until they had reached the spot on the trail which Lachlan had picked for the ambush.

  They were a little off the trail. Not so much in a clearing, as in a spot where the pines around them were not growing too thickly. Yet there was room to unsaddle the horses, and sit down together; to help themselves to some of the bread, meat and wine Herrac had had brought along on a baggage horse.

  "Well, you've seen the place now," said Lachlan, once they had eaten and were comfortably into their wine. "It's a bonny spot, is it not?"

  Jim had to admit it was.

  The trail they had been following—his companions spoke of it as a road; but since nothing had been done to make it into a road, Jim thought of it as a trail—was simply a track worn into the earth. A wagon might have gotten down it; but it would have had to have been a very thin wagon. In fact, the trail, as Jim persisted in thinking of it, was really fit only for a couple of horsemen riding abreast as they had been.

  For some distance before they had reached their present position and ahead of them as far as Jim could see, the land through which the trail ran was fairly level. However, from where they were now, for som
e seventy-five to a hundred yards before and about the same distance behind them, the ground sloped upward on either side away from the trail. Both sides were thickly treed; as had been most of the landscape through which they had passed just recently.

  The angle of either slope was not remarkable. On this side, they were no more than twenty yards from the trail, and the ground they stood on could be no more than three or four feet higher than the trail itself. It was thickly covered with pine needles, however, which made even the hoof-strikes of the horses almost soundless; and on foot a man could move noiselessly, indeed.

  They had not lit a fire, first because the day was warm enough not to require it, and secondly because they did not want to advertise their presence. Moreover, the sun was now at noon overhead, and its heat was enough to make Jim, at least, uncomfortable inside his gambeson and armor. His companions—just as Brian and Dafydd had seemed indifferent to the chill on their way up to the Castle de Mer—now seemed indifferent also to the warmth of the day.

  Temperatures, apparently, from a fourteenth-century point of view, were something over which you had no control; so, when there was no way of alleviating them either with clothes or walls, you simply ignored them. As the Greeks of classical times were said to have done with headaches.

  "There's no sign of anyone approaching, down the road," said Herrac. "Therefore, I think they will not come for a while at least. In fact, I would think that they might well be several hours from us yet. If we have not seen them by the time the sun is westering, I would assume that we will also not see them until tomorrow. What is your counsel on that, Lachlan?"

  "You're right enough," said Lachlan. "They'll cease their travel as the day darkens and chills; and set up camp for the night. The MacDougall was ever a man who liked his comfort. He'll want a fire going and food and wine at his elbow, well before sunset."

  "As I thought," said Herrac. "Therefore, we have time to become settled about our plans. What're your commands, m'Lord?"

  There it was, thought Jim fatalistically. He was in charge whether he liked it or not. Perhaps the others would have wisdom enough to give him reasons why what he told them to do was not practical. He hoped so. A thought occurred to him.

  There was one thing he was allowed, as leader. It was that, in typical leadership fashion, he could call for the opinions of those who would be fighting with him. Normally, this would mean sampling the opinions only of those who were sub-leaders. But since they were too small in numbers to really have more than one leader, everybody could be invited to have his say.

  "I must know something more about the situation, before I decide specifically what we should do," said Jim. "Lachlan, perhaps you'll tell me what you had in mind?"

  "Why, I'd have told you, anyhow," said Lachlan, who was sitting beside him. They were in a rough circle seated cross-legged on the pine needles. "They'll be riding two and two, down the road, with the MacDougall in the lead, with—it might be—a sumpter horse behind him; and then, it might be, the six or eight armed men he'll have with him, mounted, with one or two horses carrying the gold in their midst. At a signal, we charge on foot down upon them—"

  He turned to Herrac.

  "You'll have seen me do this in wee fights we've been in together before," he said to Herrac. "It's a matter of ducking under the bellies of the horses, ripping those bellies up with our daggers—and out with us, the other side. The horses will rear, and most of their riders will go off them. Those that hit the ground will be fairly easy for the killing. The MacDougall himself is likely to do little, if once his men are taken down. But one of us should go ahead to bar the road before him, lest he take off at a gallop with the sumpter horse and maybe the horses carrying the gold as well, and we, unhorsed, are left behind."

  "Well—" began Jim, but he was interrupted by Herrac.

  "Are you suggesting," said Herrac; and, although his voice was not raised more than a little, it seemed to roll ominously forth under the shadow of the pines, "that we others also descend from our horses to attack on foot?"

  "We'll do a deal better that way," said Lachlan.

  "I had thought you knew better what knighthood implied!" said Herrac. "When I took my vows to be belted knight, it was not to leave lance and horse behind me and fight on foot like any common man-at-arms! Nor was it to duck under a horse's belly and slice open his guts like any naked Heilandman! When I fight, I fight as a man and a knight should, on horseback, shield to shield and sword to sword, if there is not room for lance-work. And so shall fight my sons."

  "And so say I also, Father!" cried Giles.

  "Ah, you're become as foolish as the English theirselves!" cried Lachlan in disgust. "And you call yourselves Northumbrians!"

  There seemed to be the nucleus of a fair-sized quarrel threatening to break out between two of the most important members of the expedition. Jim hastily spoke up to deflect the controversy.

  "I make it a point," he said, "not to ignore any experienced man's words. It may, indeed, turn out that we will fight in several different ways. And if Lachlan's way is the most effective for him, certainly he, at least, should fight that way—"

  He looked around the circle of faces.

  "Meanwhile," he asked, "what is the opinion of the others here?"

  "There's one here whose opinion is made up for him already," said Herrac. "Lachlan, you warrant this MacDougall is harmless?"

  "If y'mean by that he'll nae fight if his men are slain," said Lachlan, suddenly back into his accent, "there's nae doot to it. If y'mean a knife in the ribs when ye're not looking, why then, he's up to it. Have no fear."

  Herrac turned to look at his youngest son.

  "Christopher," he said, "you will be the one to sit your horse and bar MacDougall's way. Understand, you sit, only. You make no attempt to close with him!"

  Christopher did not smile. Lachlan also turned to him.

  "Christopher," he said, "big as you are, for all your youth, in armor and with lance leveled ye'll hold the MacDougall as well as an army."

  The sixteen-year-old son of Herrac had the appearance of someone who would like to look sour, but dared not with his father's eye upon him.

  "Yes, sir," he said wearily. "It's understood, Father."

  "Mind you just sit your horse, though!" said Lachlan. "For if ye make a move toward him, he may well feel he has no choice but to fight for his life. Then, my lad, you may find yourself facing a man of some experience, weight and skill. I'd not give you a chance, then. But sit your horse, tall as ye are, not moving, lance leveled and visor down—and he'll never doubt but what ye're one of the paladins of Arthur's Round Table, brought back to life to face him."

  Christopher allowed a slight smile to creep onto his otherwise unhappy face.

  "Well," said Herrac, "it seems that Lachlan here will only fight on foot; and I and my sons will only fight a horseback. How does this affect what plans you had in mind, m'Lord?"

  Jim decided to run a little test.

  "You mean to tell me," he said sternly to Herrac, "if I commanded you to fight on foot, you and your sons would not do so?"

  "Sir James," said Herrac, looking directly back at him—and there was a world of meaning in the difference that he used Jim's knightly title rather than addressing him as m'Lord, "I am a knight, and have my knightly honor to consider; and the honor of my sons rides with me. We will not fight on foot."

  Well, thought Jim, that was that. He had grown experienced in having the door of medieval custom slammed in his face. It was plain Herrac meant exactly what he said. That meant he would stand behind it with his life.

  "It ill beseems it," the soft but carrying voice of Dafydd broke the silence, which was beginning to threaten to be awkward, "for an archer to speak up in such a company of gentles. But I feel I would be wrong not to point out that, hidden by the trees and at such close range as is possible here, I could almost offer to empty all six or eight saddles without any of the rest of you stirring hand or foot."

  This stat
ement gave rise to a new silence. Jim saw that it would be necessary for him to actually take command, or else the whole expedition would disintegrate.

  "Very well," he said hastily. "These, then, are my orders. Lachlan, you will go in as you described, dagger in hand, beneath the bellies of two of the horses and out the other side. But I direct you to attack, not one of the horses belonging to one of the riders, but the one or two that seem to be carrying the gold. If you cut their girths and even half their gold is dumped in the road, those we fight will be less likely to try to abandon it. Meanwhile—

  He turned to Herrac.

  "You, Sir Herrac and your sons," he said, "will attack on horseback, as you wish, directly at the riders. But with Christopher barring the way, there are only five of you, and myself, and I gather it's likely there will be at least six of them. I have no doubt that you consider yourselves more than equal to those six, by yourselves. Nonetheless, I am more concerned with winning the day, than with how little force we win it."

  He paused to take a long breath.

  "Therefore, you, Dafydd," he went on, "will take up post in the woods; and before anyone else moves you will clear as many saddles as you can with your arrows. Sir Herrac, you and your sons will ride the moment Dafydd's arrows have been discharged. Lachlan, you will move at the same time, counting on the turmoil of the assault by the others to distract attention from the horses carrying the gold. Are all things understood?"

  He was careful not to ask if his commands were agreeable to the others, but to take it for granted that they would be. In fact, this worked to perfection. No voices were raised against what he had said. Instead both Lachlan and Sir Herrac nodded. Dafydd merely smiled.

  "Well now!" said Lachlan cheerfully, reaching for the wine skin. "It only remains for us to wait their arrival. For my part, I consider that gold as good as in our hands."