The Dragon Knight

by Gordon R. Dickson

  Jim turned about.

  "Aragh!" he said.

  Aragh opened his eyes, which had been closed, and half raised his head from the stuffed saddlebag upon which he had been lying.

  "Who were you expecting, James?" he growled, "some lady's lapdog?"

  "Well, no," said Jim. "I'm just glad to see you. But—"

  "And now you're about to ask me what I'm doing here, is that it?" said Aragh.

  "As a matter of fact, yes," admitted Jim. He was about to explain further but Aragh cut in again.

  "Don't," said Aragh. He closed his eyes and laid his head down again.

  Jim turned back to his two friends and looked at Brian, who shrugged his shoulders slightly and shook his head. So apparently Brian did not know either. Jim put the matter aside for the moment. Meanwhile, Giles had already ordered up the inevitable pitcher of wine and wine cups. Seated around the table in their quarters, Jim began to catch up on what had been happening to the other two.

  Giles, it seemed, had had an uneventful day-and-a-half's ride after leaving Jim, before he reached Amboise and put up at the inn. He had scarcely been there an hour, however, when there was a commotion outside; and he went downstairs to find Brian arriving with a number of their men.

  As might have been expected, the arrival of such a force of armed individuals within the walls of the town had caused a considerable fluster there. Particularly, since the armed men happened to be English rather than French; although it was the habit of the good citizens of these towns to look askance at anyone whose trade seemed to be war and battle.

  "The uproar began at the gates," Brian explained, taking over from Giles, "but since there were only four guards on the gate, and none of them had the wit to take notice of us until we were right at the gateposts themselves, we simply rode on past them. After that, it was just a matter of following the main street until we could collar somebody and get them to point out the largest and best inn in this town."

  "I can imagine it," said Jim. He could, indeed.

  "There was a fresh uproar at the inn here," Brian went on. "There were far too many of us for the inn to have even enough outbuildings to shelter us all. Happily our innkeeper—you've seen him?"

  "Yes," answered Jim. "He told me you two were here and led me up here to you."

  "He's a long drink of water and may not look like much," said Brian, "but he's a tidy enough man for all that. As tidy, I wager as anyone to be met in this city. Unless I miss my guess he's been a man-at-arms himself, when he was younger. At any rate, he of all the rest, kept a cool head. He saw to it that the men found some kind of roof in each case, and formed a plan for getting food to everybody. Then he brought me up here to Giles."

  "And glad I was to see him," said Giles, twisting his mustache happily. "We're now a good little force in case we meet with any band of Frenchmen. Also I felt that with him here, you could not be far behind. And, by St. Cuthbert, here you are."

  "Yes," said Jim, "and I'm glad to be back with the two of you too."

  He looked at Brian.

  "To tell the truth, I'd hoped; but I really hadn't expected you this quickly, Brian," he said, "particularly with the men along with you. How many did you bring, by the way?"

  "Thirty-two," answered Brian. "The rest are still behind us with John Chester and Tom Server. I brought only the seasoned men, including your new squire, Theoluf. As for our being able to catch up with you so quickly, it was a matter of their getting shipped shortly after you left. For that we have to thank—"

  Jim held up his hand.

  "Aragh," he said, looking over at the apparently sleeping wolf. "Is there anybody close enough so that they could be listening to us, through a hole in the floor or a tube in the wall, or some such thing?"

  "No stink of your kind except the three of you within a good dozen lengths of my own body," answered Aragh without opening his eyes.

  "Thanks, Aragh," said Jim. He turned back to Brian. "However, I think that from now on maybe we ought to avoid using certain names of people or places out loud, anyway. Perhaps there're no ears to hear, but it doesn't do any harm to play safe."

  "You're right indeed, James," said Brian, and Giles murmured an admiring assent. "At any rate, we were able to move quickly and reach this town before you yourself. There you have it in a nutshell."

  "I stifle in this box here," said the voice of Aragh, but when Jim looked at him he was still lying with his eyes closed and apparently unmoved. "When do we get out of here?"

  "Is there any reason why we can't move out tomorrow?" Jim asked the other two.

  They both shook their heads.

  "There're some things we should discuss, though," said Brian. "James, you remember that our friend's advice was that I stay behind you with the men. Sitting where he was at the time, that may have seemed most sensible to him. But my own counsel now is that we leave the men under their present leaders to follow; including all those I've brought with me, save one, who should be of particular use and cannot be left behind in any case. These five of us will go on by ourselves in advance. Sir Giles and I have had some talk on this; and we can give you more of our reasons once we're out on the open road and can speak with absolute freedom."

  "The five of us, that is, including Aragh," put in Sir Giles.

  "Absolutely including Aragh," came the voice of Aragh himself.

  "Of course, Aragh," said Jim hastily.

  He looked curiously at Brian, however.

  "Who is the fifth, though?"

  "You passed him in the common room on the way in," answered Brian, "although he may not have been easy to see; since he likes to tuck himself into a corner and he is a quiet man in many ways. The Welsh bowman is with us."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Dafydd?" said Jim incredulously.

  Brian's and Giles's faces showed no expression at all. Obviously this was something that Jim would have to find out about for himself; and probably directly from Dafydd. On the other hand, if he knew Dafydd, there would be no point in asking the Welshman directly. He would get a pleasant, soft answer that told him nothing, and probably a polite hint that he should mind his own business.

  Accordingly, he put everything else out of his mind for the moment and lost himself in the celebration of the occasion. It was not until the next day, when the five of them were on the road to Blois and Malvinne's castle, somewhere beyond Blois, that he thought about asking a few of those questions that were knocking around in his head.

  The weather had cooled off a little bit, although it was still a warm summer day. The countryside had not had rain for a couple of weeks now; and was beginning to show the effect of it.

  The road was more than a little dusty. The three knights rode first, side by side, each with a lead rein to the war-horse behind him.

  Just behind them rode Dafydd, his long legs tucked up on either side of the horse that had been given him, in order to fit his feet into the stirrups at the maximum extension that their straps allowed. The Welshman's sling was gone, his bow was over his shoulder, and on the other shoulder was his quiver of arrows, neatly covered against a sudden change in weather. Behind him on his horse was a pack of his own personal supplies, including the tools he used for working on bow staves and arrows. On leads from his horse, followed three sumpter horses with all their baggage and supplies.

  Aragh had vanished the minute they were beyond the city and screened by trees. Jim did not really blame the wolf. He knew how the other hated to be penned up. Several nights spent in what must have been like a wild clamor of smells and noises at the inn, would be more than enough to justify Aragh wanting to be off by himself for a while.

  Jim felt sure the other would rejoin them, if not at the end of this day, when they camped for the night, then within a day or two after that. Certainly he would have reestablished connection with them once they were beyond Blois and moving directly for Malvinne's castle.

  But there was another matter that could be investigated now. Jim made his ex
cuses to Giles and Brian, and dropped back to ride level with Dafydd.

  "Forgive me for not taking time to talk to you before this, Dafydd," he said. "I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you with us."

  "Indeed, I am happy that you are happy," replied Dafydd, in his gentle voice. "It is well that at least one of us should find my being here a good thing."

  "You don't regard it as a good thing yourself, then?" Jim asked.

  "I am not sure at all," said Dafydd, "whether it is a good thing, or whether I should think so. I will not deny that I am attracted, as I always have been, to unknown places; and people who might be powerful with bow or crossbow—with any other weapon, for that matter. For I am interested, look you, in those who make an art of weapon use, no matter what that weapon might be. Still, I cannot say that I am happy to be where I am; though I am not really unhappy. It is a strange mixture of feelings that I have, Sir James, and I am not sure in truth how I feel at any moment."

  "It's certainly possible to like a situation for one reason, and nor to like it for another," said Jim. "I run into that myself. However, it's something that usually takes care of itself in the long run. One feeling or the other comes to the top and stays there."

  "I do not think that will be the case with my feelings, indeed," said Dafydd, gazing ahead between the ears of his horse at the road. "Since both feelings in me stem from causes in that island from which we both came, I doubt that they will resolve themselves here. Yet you, Sir James, and the other two worthy knights, are both good friends and brave company to be in. So I do not regret being here."

  "I'm glad to hear that," said Jim. "If there's anything I can do to help you at any time, just ask."

  "I will that," said Dafydd. "In fact—"

  His gaze ranged ahead to Brian and Giles, who had increased their lead somewhat, so that their dust would not be directly in the faces of both Jim and Dafydd—but most particularly in Jim's. What with the sound of the two knights' horses' hooves and their own animated conversation, they were effectively out of earshot of anything that Jim and Dafydd might say.

  "Yes," said Dafydd to the horse's ears, "perhaps I will impose on your kind offer of help, Sir James. Perhaps you might favor me with some advice, so be it you have advice to give me in this matter."

  "Anything I can," said Jim.

  Dafydd raised his gaze from the horse's ears and looked sideways at Jim.

  "We are both married men, are we not?" he said. "I do not mean to presume upon your rank, Sir James, but there is that in common between us, is there not?"

  "Of course," answered Jim. "As for the matter of rank, forget it, Dafydd. We are old friends in a sense that makes rank of no importance."

  "It is good indeed of you to say it," said Dafydd, "so I will ask you a question. Do you find that the Lady Angela puzzles you mightily at times?"

  Jim laughed.

  "Often," he said.

  "I am sorely puzzled by Danielle," said Dafydd, "and, look you, for no small reason. Almost from the moment I first saw her, I gave her all my heart. And if it were possible, after that I gave her all that remained, so that for some time now I have belonged to her—heart, body, and soul. Also, I would have sworn that she had done no less to me; so that we could not be more in love, the two of us, and could not be more happy together than we were. And indeed, happy we were until just a month or two before you left England. Then came a strange time upon us, in which it seemed that in some way I could do nothing right."

  He paused, and rode for a long, long moment of silence, staring at the horse's ears before him.

  "Go on," Jim urged him finally. "That is, if you want to."

  "I do want to," said Dafydd, "for in this I have come up against something that is beyond all I've understood of life in the years I’ve lived it. Always, the road was clear before me. If something was needed, then I had only to reach inside myself to find it. If it was the art of a bowyer, I reached and found it. If it was the art of a fletcher, I reached and found it. If it was marksmanship with a bow, that too I found. And when I found Danielle whom I love, what was needed, it seemed to me, was only a matter of having the courage to tell her so. And courage I brought to it; and courage, I would have sworn, had at last brought her to love me too; and all things would be well between us from then on."

  Jim was tempted to say something; and then thought it would be best just to let the other go on at his own will and pace. After a while Dafydd heaved a deep sigh, and spoke again.

  "I own that, at first, I may have said something about wishing I could be in France to see if there I would find men of the bow, whether it be long or cross, against whom I could truly measure myself. Because, for some time now, I have found none that can push me even a little to outdo them," he said. "I do not exactly remember what I said or how I said it. I am not even sure I said it. But I am willing to believe that I did say something like that. But the moment Danielle seemed to find the idea unwelcome, I put it from me and said as much. I do not remember my exact words on that, either, but I am sure I told her so. That she was first and more important for me; even before the arts of the bow or anything else in my life."

  Jim waited.

  "So I gave no more thought about it," went on Dafydd, "until about a month before your leaving. Then—I know not how—it began to seem that all I said was said amiss, or all that I did was done at the wrong time; so that, look you, I was more of a trouble than a help to her in our lives."

  "Yes," murmured Jim encouragingly.

  "Then we made that visit so that Danielle might have some time with your Lady; and she stayed on at Malencontri, spending little or no time with me, but a great deal of time—in fact, it seemed she would have spent all time had it been possible—with the Lady Angela. Meanwhile, her dissatisfaction with me grew no less. I continued to say and do things wrongly; until at last she flatly told me that I should go to France and join the rest of you, if that was what I wanted. But in any case to leave her alone and not bother her again until she sent for me."

  He looked at Jim with a face that was surprisingly haggard with sorrow.

  "Never had I expected to hear such from her, indeed." Dafydd said, "nor did I know the reason why. Nor do I know it now. Only one thing I know; and that is that I am not wanted where she is. Therefore, since there was nothing better for me to do, I followed the road you had taken, and caught up in Hastings with John Chester and your men-at-arms, just before they took ship."

  He stopped speaking. They rode on in silence together for a while. For a long time he had gone back to staring at the ears of his horse, but finally he looked more at Jim.

  "You have nothing to say to me, Sir James?" he asked. "No explanation that might help me understand what has come upon me; no advice?"

  Jim felt badly torn apart inside, remembering what Angie had told him about Danielle's being fearful that, once Dafydd had seen her swollen with her pregnancy, he would cease to love her. That was not his secret to tell Dafydd; and there was nothing else he could say to give the man comfort. Even though he would have been willing to spend a small fortune to be able to do so.

  "The only comfort or hope I can give you," Jim said at last, slowly, and was surprised to hear himself speaking almost like Sir Brian or Sir Giles, in the slightly more elaborate language of this world, "is that there's always a reason in an instance like this, and soon or later a woman will tell you what it is, if she really loves you. And I give you my word that I really believe that Danielle loves you, just as she always did."

  "Would I could believe that," said Dafydd.

  He fell into a new silence, and this one lasted to the point where Jim understood that the other was through talking. Jim lifted his reins and rode his horse forward to rejoin Giles and Brian.

  "Dafydd is very unhappy," Jim said when he rejoined the other two.

  Giles looked at him, a little bewildered. Brian stared straight ahead, his jaw clamped.

  "Under God," said Brian, "each of us makes his own life; an
d that life is like a house, where one must be invited to enter, before coming in. If I am so invited I'll do what I can. Otherwise, we each have our own houses to live in; and those houses presently are concerned not with Dafydd but with what lies ahead. It is high time we talked about that, rather than other things; now that we are on the road, and none can possibly overhear us."

  He looked at Jim suddenly.

  "Unless by magic?" he asked. "James, could we be overheard by magical means?"

  "I'm afraid I'm not enough of a magician yet so I can be sure about answering that," Jim said, "but I'm almost sure we can't be. That doesn't rule out the possibility. I just don’t think so."

  "Then let us talk!" said Sir Giles, almost explosively. "By St. Cuthbert, I have had enough of whispers and silence in this matter! We have before us an estate owned by a man, who is holding our royal Prince as prisoner. Let us to the business of discussing how he may be freed and taken safely away from there. "

  "It was Sir Raoul's rede, if you remember," said Brian, "that we meet one who was formerly a man of his father's, in the woods surrounding the castle of this magician; and this man would show us a means of entrance and a way to find where our Prince is being held. We all have directions to find this place of meeting, in memory."

  "Er—yes," said Jim guiltily. His directions were written down.

  "But the question arises," went on Brian, "whether the directions may not be sufficient to let us find this spot. Or, that for some reason, the former servant of his father will not be free to come and look for us there, even though we wait several nights. The longer we stand around in that wood, the more likely we are to be surprised by others of Malvinne's guardians. Therefore, it would not be an ill thing if we made plans for a case in which we must needs do without the help of his former servant."

  "What plans can we make?" asked Sir Giles. "If the castle is as extensive as Sir Raoul gave us to believe, we could take weeks to simply search all around it for some safe means of entrance."