A deep-voiced acclamation sounded in the room. When it had died down. Sir John turned again and Jim felt the knight's eyes upon him coldly.
"You were about to tell us the substance of your talk and agreement with the Little Men, Sir James," said Sir John. "Pray go on."
"They will come, in numbers equal to your own and perhaps surpassing it," said Jim. "Their first response was to ask how many Borderers would be at this council. I guessed eighteen—I see that I was wrong. We will have more than that. Ardac, son of Lutel, then answered me that in that case eighteen Little Men would be sent to join the council."
A clamor broke out in the room, of half a dozen voices speaking at once, with an undertone of angry mutters in the background.
"What gives them to think that we will welcome eighteen of them to our council?" shouted William of Berwick, pounding the table. "One were enough, and more than enough, to carry our decisions back to them. After all, they will be fighting under our command."
There was a silence following that, and Jim found himself glad that he was on his feet.
"But they will not be under your command. They will be under their own commander, who is Prince Merlion here—who shares some ancient brotherhood of blood with them."
"This is foolish," said Sir John the Graeme. "Two leaders will simply make a disaster of our fight. Yet I admit it is hard to ask his Highness here to serve under a simple, if noble, knight like Sir Herrac."
"I am willing." Dafydd's voice, soft as usual, still carried through the room.
"Why that, I say?" shouted William of Berwick, hitting the table again. "What need we with the Little Men at all? It is our right to destroy the Hollow Men, ours alone. And we will do it with ease!"
There was a thud suddenly in the middle of the table and every man there froze, for one of Dafydd's war arrows stood with its head all but buried to the tines in the thick, oak top of the table.
"Permit me to dispute with you somewhat on that point, Sir William," said Dafydd, gently but carryingly.
He had come into the Hall with his bow on his shoulder and his arrows on his hip, since the others were all wearing their swords, and they—living in a country where the archers were weak; and in a land and time in which all belted and armored knights looked down their noses at the commoners who bore bows—had never stopped to think what a weapon it was, and that it could be used indoors in this fashion. It had simply never crossed their minds. Swordplay between these walls, they could have envisioned. But not this.
Sir William sat silent, staring from the arrow to Dafydd.
"I wish to point out something with the arrow you see there," went on Dafydd. "Now it happened I merely plucked my bowstring so that the arrow would stand upright in the table. Let me show you how it would have gone had I plucked it a little further."
So fast that it almost seemed like a form of magic itself, another arrow was fitted to Dafydd's bow and flew from it—into and through the table until it rested against the floor beneath. Only the tips of its feathers and its notched end showing above the table top.
"You see," said Dafydd, almost kindly, "that this bow of mine is not an unworthy weapon. In fact—perhaps, Sir Herrac, you would now have summoned in to us your son Sir Giles, who was with Sir James and myself in France, that he might tell the story of the sword with which he defended the Crown Prince of England against nearly a score of knights belonging to an evil magician. Will you do so, Sir Herrac?"
For answer Herrac merely turned his head, lifted his voice and bellowed out a call that would easily have penetrated the door behind him and the servant waiting without.
"Ho! Fetch Sir Giles—at once!"
The door was opened almost as if on cue and Sir Giles stepped through into the room, closing the door again behind him.
"There was no need to seek me, Father," he said. "I, also, have been waiting outside to hear the results of your meeting."
"His Highness, here," said Herrac, still letting his voice roll through the chamber, "would that you tell of a sword with which you defended the Prince of England last year in France."
"Yes, Father," said Giles. He looked down the table and lifted his voice to reach everyone in the room. "The sword with which I had the honor to fight for the young Prince, was one that I got from the Prince Merlon, himself."
He turned to Dafydd.
"Noble Sir?" he asked. "What is it you wish me to tell these gentlemen about the sword?"
"All," said Dafydd. "From what I told you of how it came into my hands until how it passed into your hands."
"I will be more than willing to do so," said Sir Giles. He was probably the shortest man there. But his mustache bristled fiercely; and the large nose of which he was normally rather ashamed lifted proudly like the prow of a ship about to go into battle.
"It was before the battle of Nouaille-Poitiers; and the Prince Edward was swordless. He asked that one of us who was there present, and wearing swords, give him one of ours, for that it shamed him that he, a Plantagenet and a Prince, should be swordless on a day of battle."
He looked at Dafydd, who nodded at him to go on.
"In truth, all of us were loath to give up our swords. For what is a knight without his sword?"
There were murmurs of agreement around the room. Jim was a little surprised, then remembered that these Northumbrians were only recently included under the English Crown; and, in any case, they would not have been all that ready to give up their swords themselves.
"So we hesitated," went on Sir Giles. "And his—the Prince Merlon—said to the Prince Edward, who knew him only as a simple bowman, that perhaps he could solve the problem. The Prince Merlon then went off, and returned from his baggage with a magnificent knight's sword in a jeweled scabbard. He gave it to the Prince who half drew it, held it a moment and appeared uneasy. 'I cannot carry this sword,' the Prince said."
Sir Giles had the room dead silent. He took a deep breath and went on.
"At this point, shame overtook me that I had not offered my own sword before," said Giles. "I stepped forward, unhooked my scabbard from its sword belt and offered it with the sword within it to the noble English Prince, saying, 'If you would do me the honor of accepting the sword of a common knight'—and graciously, the Prince accepted it. While I took the sword that the Prince Merlon had brought and hooked it to my own belt. It was with that sword, then, that I essayed to keep the young Prince of England safe against his enemies."
He stopped speaking.
"Thank you, Sir Giles," said Dafydd. "But you have not yet told how the sword came into my hands."
"Oh. Forgive me," said Sir Giles. "I should tell you all"—he was addressing the room once more—"that Da—"
Sir Giles caught himself just in time.
"—His Highness of Merlon told us the story of how he had acquired the sword. It was at a time when he was disguised as a bowman, as he is now, but in that land that was formerly called Wales, but now is English territory. It seems that one of the English Wardens there believed in holding tournaments to demonstrate the prowess of his knights, particularly to his Welsh subjects. This day the Warden had thought of an additional entertainment."
Sir Giles stopped to take a deep breath.
"So, since he had heard of the bowman the Prince Merlon was supposed to be, as one very skilled with that instrument, he had him fetched to the tourney ground and faced with five knights in armor and lances. These five were on horseback, and he alone, afoot, with his bow. They rode upon him, but he slew them all with his arrows before they reached him; before indeed they were even close to him."
Giles paused again; but in this instance it was to give the muttering this statement had given rise to time to die down.
"He had made a request that if he should win the day, he should—like any victor in the list—win also the arms and armor of his opponents; and the Warden had laughingly agreed. As a result, he came into possession of all the armor and weapons of those he had just killed; but turned all back e
xcept this one sword, which he kept. The which he had brought with him, and later offered to the Prince. Again, it was this sword with which I essayed to defend his Grace of England."
"Thank you, Sir Giles," said Dafydd. He turned back to those in the room. "That story and those arrows in the table I have had you see and hear for a purpose. This weapon is not usual among you gentlemen, and no gentleman uses it except for hunting or sport. But it is a powerful weapon, nonetheless; and I, for one, do not feel my rank diminished by the fact that I go disguised as an ordinary man of the bow."
He paused.
"I would that you consider, therefore and likewise, gentlemen, that no gentleman ever bands with other gentles in a schiltron, on foot, with spears, to meet their enemies. Yet the Little Men do this, and do it well. May I point out they have held their borders against the Hollow Men all these centuries, which is no mean feat. You who have met scattered bands of the Hollow Men know that they are not easy to fight.
"What I am saying," Dafydd said, "is that they, by right of combat and blood and lives lost, have as much right to be there at the ending of the Hollow Men as yourselves. They have won that right on fields of battles, innumerable. I am proud to be chosen their leader, and I am not too proud to serve under Sir Herrac, as our supreme commander. But, since I know many of you feel uneasy about the Little Men, I asked that they reduce their number from eighteen to no more than five representatives at our council the night before the battle. This they agreed to. This, as their commander, I place before you not as a request but as a demand."
The room was silent.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The silence persisted in the room. As it stretched out, a tension could be felt in the air, beginning to gather itself together, as the spring of a watch gathers itself into a smaller and smaller space when it is wound tight. Into this tightening silence, Herrac's voice broke like the prow of a ship splintering its way through new ice over freezing water.
"As the chosen commander of the Borderers in this endeavor," his powerful voice said flatly, "I accept the Prince Merlon's proposal that no more than five of the Little Men shall meet with us on the night before our battle with the Hollow Men in council for final planning. Any who wish not to follow me in this matter may now declare themselves apart from it and leave the rest of us. I would have no man follow my orders who does not do so willingly, and with a full heart."
For a long moment more nothing happened; then the tension began to dissipate, as a spring might unwind, without ever having been brought to full tightness.
No one moved to leave the room.
"I am glad so many of you will be with us," said Herrac, dominating the room again with his voice. "For it will take the strength of all of us; and the strength of the Little Men as well, to put an utter end to the Hollow Men. It will be no easy task."
He broke off for a moment to emphasize his last words.
"I have already considered some plans of battle," he went on. "I will continue to consider them; and do all of you consider, yourselves, whether there is anything that we might do that would improve our chances of winning this battle, with as little loss on our own side as possible. Then, if you think of any such, bring it to the council on the eve of battle, to be spoken there; and advise the rest of us on it. For tonight, unless there is further discussion of anything important, I will declare this meeting closed."
There was another silence; but this time it was a short one.
"I would believe our commander has the right of it," put in Sir John Graeme. "I can think of no further reason to prolong this meeting. So let us all move to the Great Hall of this castle, where I understand our host has prepared food and drink for us. To any, of course, who have business that takes them elsewhere without delay, I say farewell, and I look forward to seeing you again, before the battle."
With a sudden outburst of voices, the meeting broke up. Everyone was standing up at the table, and mixing with those behind them. The door had been opened and Herrac had led the way out, followed by Jim and Dafydd, with Sir John Graeme close behind them. The rest trailed after in an unstructured, loudly talking tail of men that wound through the short corridor outside and into the Great Hall of the castle where they had gathered.
The meeting, as was not uncommon in medieval matters, turned into a drinking party.
Jim, taking advantage of the pretense that he had things to do, left early so as not to befuddle himself with more wine than he wanted to drink. Dafydd chose to come with him—and, surprisingly, Herrac as well.
"I thought you might feel obligated to stay, Sir Herrac," said Jim, once they were on their horses outside and headed back toward Castle de Mer; with Sir Giles and some of the de Mer men-at-arms riding with them, on general principles of defense, considering the land and the times.
"None will miss me," said Herrac. "Also, if I had stayed, there might have been a tendency for some to try to advance some privy point with me; and others to gather perhaps around someone like Sir John the Graeme, who might still choose a separate way of his own and take some others with him."
"You were wise," murmured Dafydd. Herrac went on.
"It is my belief that a commander should be at some distance from those he commands. Since you two gentlemen are guests of mine, I can hardly distance myself from you. But I intend to either command or not command; and I think the first step in that direction is to establish the distance I spoke of."
"I agree with Dafydd," said Jim, just loudly enough to be heard over the creak of their saddles and the sound of their horses' hooves on the hard ground underneath. It was a chill, cloudless night that made the horses' breath smoke before them, and the moon was three-quarters full. Their road was bright enough, accordingly, so that none of the party were required to carry torches and go ahead. Jim found himself appreciating Herrac's position.
The knight was in fact, Jim thought, a natural leader. Only his other responsibilities had kept him from it until this moment. He wondered if now Sir Herrac was actually enjoying the fact that he had been chosen commander. Which reminded him that there was something more to be said.
"Sir Herrac," he said, "you spoke up in just the nick of time back there, after Dafydd had mentioned that five Little Men would be attending our council. None of us meant you to take the responsibility all on yourself—
"That is my job now," interrupted Herrac. "Would you not consider it your job, if you had the command in keeping, Sir James?"
Jim thought for a moment and was a little surprised.
"I might," he said. "Yes, I might just do exactly that. Still, it was your presence and your voice that did it just now; and I doubt mine would have had that persuasive an effect on all the other Borderers there."
"They know me," said Herrac briefly.
Jim could well believe it. Herrac, with his strength and size, and even his selkie blood, could be a living legend among these Borderers. But that was hardly a point to make, right at this moment. Consequently he said nothing.
They reached the castle safely, and separated to their various bedrooms, Jim only going along with Dafydd for a short visit to Sir Brian. Brian was in his bed, because he was too tired to stay on his feet any longer. But he was chafing at his inactivity; and the fact that he had not been able to go to the meeting himself.
He listened, therefore, with interest to what Jim, Dafydd and Sir Giles—who had also come along with them—had to tell him of it. He exclaimed with delight over the account of Herrac's command that the Little Men should be accepted at the council; and applauded when Jim repeated Herrac's remark later that a commander should be a certain distance from those he commanded.
"How very right the good knight is!" said Brian. "I've yet to see a successful leader of men who did not keep his distance. Those who mix and mingle with the ones they lead are invariably liked and well thought of, but not always well obeyed. Better for all to be apart; and even—yes—disliked by those you lead; than to be too close, so that you are taken for less than
you are."
"So I told him—more or less," said Dafydd.
"Dafydd was the one to bring it up," said Jim. "But I said after him and I have to say now that I agree with him, and you, Brian. Sir Herrac is a natural leader."
"We, his sons," put in Sir Giles, "have known this all our lives. You do not have any idea how much Father has seen his responsibility to his family. Not the least to my mother, who he loved most dearly; as did we all."
The last words ended on a note of sadness; which might have blighted the conversation for a while, if Brian had not burst out in a new direction.
"But you, James!" he said. "You must begin practicing immediately; and it must be well away from this castle here, so that no eyes, that should not, see that perhaps you are a little rusty, or not yet as skilled as you might be with weapons."
"That's a polite way of putting it, Brian," said Jim. "You know, and we all here know, that I'm nothing to talk about as a fighter. My great fight against the Ogre was with the advantage of the reflexes of the dragon whose body I was in. If it hadn't been for Gorbash, the Ogre would have squashed me in half a minute—"
"You will get better, James, you will get better!" said Brian. "Particularly with practice and under my tutelage. Now, as I say, you must practice out of sight of anyone else in the castle here. I would counsel that not even Sir Herrac—if you will pardon me, Sir Giles—know of you and your limitations with sword and other like tools."
"You're right," said Jim thoughtfully.
"We must all go off by ourselves from the castle tomorrow," Brian went on. "All of us, that is, except you, Dafydd—unless there is some reason you want to accompany us. Then, when we are a distance from the castle that is sufficient to make sure we cannot be overseen or overheard. Sir Giles will practice with you with the various weapons; and I will stand by and order that practice, since I am yet perhaps a day or two from being able to practice with you myself."
He was a good deal more than a day or two, Jim thought. But he knew better than to mention such a thing in front of Brian. Instead he struck another note.
The Dragon on The Border Page 31
