The Dragon in Lyonesse

by Gordon R. Dickson

  It was an incongruous face to see above the large and powerful-looking body. Jim's stare was suddenly interrupted by what seemed an avalanche of white, filmy cloth, as the lady kneeling on the Bright Knight's other side threw herself across the still figure—between the fallen man and Jim.

  "Do not kill him—oh, do not kill him!" she cried. "If you must kill someone, kill me! I was the one who sent him against you. He will yield to you. I promise he will yield to you. Have pity. Wait but until he can speak. Spare him!"

  Now she was the one Jim stared at. It came to him, admittedly a little late, that she had assumed he had taken off the Bright Knight's neck armor so that he could cut the other's head off.

  "I didn't—" he began; and suddenly realized he could be stepping into a trap. If he admitted to having no intention of killing his opponent, then from the practical point of view of this lady and the retainers, the Bright Knight had not lost the fight at all. Once he was revived, he and the retainers could still take care of Jim and Brian.

  Jim swallowed. He stared at her.

  He had assumed she was the Lady of the castle. But only now did he appreciate how expensive, in cut and quality, was what she was wearing—like a Witch Queen, herself. The fabric of the dress he looked at was many-layered, of some fine, thin material; and there was a silver chain around her neck, with what seemed to be an enormous pearl at its lowest point—a pearl a good three inches in diameter.

  Her hands were long and slender, with smoothly tapered fingers; and she was not merely good-looking, she was beautiful. Nor was her beauty spoiled now by the tears running down her face—rather the opposite. Everything about her spoke of rank and power. Jim felt an unexpected sweep of sympathy for her within him; and all his instincts cried out for him to reassure her that the unconscious man was in no danger.

  But caution came quickly to check this. Several years now in a medieval environment had taught Jim that a pitiful face could change expressions like lightning. Jim had seen fourteenth-century ladies make the shift from helpless waif to Valkyrie just that swiftly, on occasion.

  "Pray, Sir Knight!" she began now. "I pray you—"

  Brian, Jim saw, was standing close by, looking at Jim with a strangely concerned expression.

  "Stay!" said Jim to her, as sternly as he could. "I must first see if all has been well with my friend here whom you held captive!"

  With that excuse he got to his feet, and left her, still pouring tears; and now stroking the unconscious face of the Bright Knight. Jim stepped aside with Brian.

  "Brian…" he began in a low voice.

  "What's amiss!" broke in Brian, almost angrily, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Will you let this woman charm you into sparing one who has no knightly honor, rights with a magic advantage, breaks all the rules of fair lance work—and he is not even married to her, is no more than her leman!"

  "He is not my leman!" choked the Lady. "The world has called him so; and for his safety I have let them think it. But he is my son, my only child!"

  Now Jim really did stare at her. She looked hardly more than in her early twenties, herself. But in this era, girls could be married off at nine years of age, or even younger, and bear a child a year or two later.

  "Bah!" said Brian to her now. "Rather the other way about!"

  "I will swear it!" cried the Lady. "Bring me a Holy Cross and I will swear to it. Oh, my Lords, I have kept him safe, lo these many years, by a spell granted me by my great Mistress, Morgan le Fay—but alack! Neither of us suspected there might come someone like yourself, so skillful with the lance. I pray you, spare him! Perhaps you have a son of your own and can understand…"

  Her words continued to pour forth.

  Jim risked a glance at Brian, who was staring at her in outrage. He moved the same outraged look to Jim.

  "James," he said, stiffly, but low-voiced enough so only Jim could hear, "I hope you are not taking to heart any of what we are now hearing. "… one so skillful with the lance! indeed! I wonder you did not wish to hide your face on hearing it. By Saint James—your name Saint, doubtless—flattery has its limits; and this demoiselle far exceeds them!"

  Jim scrambled in his mind for an answer that would placate Brian and at that same time deal with what indeed was an outrageous buttering-up by the Lady. But, as it happened, she was still talking—now back on her feet.

  "… a lad of twelve, to die so young—" she was now saying to Jim in a choked voice.

  "Twelve!" said Jim and Brian at the same time, staring at the six-foot figure on the ground.

  "He is big for his age. All were astonished at how he grew. But then his father was full seven feet in height—"

  Now Brian and Jim looked at each other. Men seven feet tall were not unknown in these times—though inevitably they were well known when they happened. Harold Hardradda—Harold the Third of Norway, Jim remembered from his future life—had been mentioned in the Heimskrin la as being some seven feet tall. He also had one eyebrow higher than the other, according to a more contemporary historian—for some reason that detail, too, had stuck in Jim's mind. Then there had been France's King Charlemagne…

  "—but rather I will die myself. If you will not slay me yourself, then suffer me to throw myself on your sword, for I will not outlive him, in Mary's name—" And she made a snatch at Jim's sword.

  He tightened his grip on it just in time—some of these women of the gentry were as able with weapons as men—and he was surprised by the strength he had to use to keep her from taking it.

  But by this time, the Bright Knight had recovered consciousness. His voice boomed at them from the ground.

  "Will you stay out of this, Mother? I'm a knight. If he cannot grant me mercy, I must die as a knight!"

  "Never!" shouted the Lady. "Before you kill him, you must kill me first!" And with that she threw herself once more on top of the young man, child, or whoever he was; literally interposing her body between him and any weapon—and, incidentally, effectively muffling whatever he might be trying to say from beneath her.

  Both Jim and Brian looked at each other. Then Brian beckoned Jim.

  "If by your courtesy you would step aside with me for a moment?" he said.

  They walked several steps farther away from the pair on the ground and Brian lowered his voice once more.

  "James."

  "Yes, Brian?"

  "I do not know exactly how the words of your vows went, of course, when you were knighted. Doubtless there was some difference from mine. But you must have had the part about rescuing and protecting women and children?"

  Jim hated to lie to Brian, but of course his imaginary knighthood would have had equally imaginary vows, if either of them had existed at all before his necessary protective lie on his first meeting with Brian.

  "Yes," he said.

  Brian coughed.

  "Well, it seems we may have something of a conflict here, James. My vows were quite clear on the subject, and I will imagine yours were so as well."

  "I imagine so."

  "That leaves it as a problem for us—for you, I might say, but I feel an obligation, since it was to rescue me you engaged in this spear-running. The words of our vows ill rest beside your slaying not only a child of possibly twelve years—if such a child boy he is indeed. But can we take upon our souls the chance of breaking vows made before the altar?—by compassing not only his, but the sin of his mother's death as well? It might well be a great double sin, James. Against my own inclinations I feel I must crave your indulgence by counseling you to grant them both mercy."

  Jim's heart lightened amazingly.

  "Well, perhaps you're right. I guess so," said Jim. "I suppose there's no hope of doing anything else?"

  "No hope at all, alas, that I can see."

  "That's it, then," said Jim.

  He turned and walked back to where the Lady still lay covering a good area of the Bright Knight and glaring up at Jim. He looked past her at the one eye and ear of the Bright Knight that was visib
le.

  "I grant you mercy," he said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Let us all to the castle, then," said the Lady, now on her feet, tears magically gone, all smiles and a sweeping curtsy, with the Bright Knight on his feet also, hulking behind her—his brightness no longer blinding them, however—"so that we can celebrate this day of deliverance!"

  "Better perhaps out here under the trees," said the QB, suddenly reappearing. Was it Jim's imagination, or had the Lady's face suddenly turned a shade paler? But she laughed merrily, and clapped her hands at the servants. They were too far away for the sound to be heard by any except those with the keenest ears; but evidently the mere sight of her hands in action brought them all running to her.

  "A pavilion! A table! Meats! Wine!" she ordered. "Strike the irons from this other good knight"—she pointed at Brian—"and return his weapons!" They raced to obey; and most hurried back toward the castle as she turned once more to face Brian and Jim.

  "Sirs," she said, "I am the Lady Annis of the White Castle, that Keep you see behind me; all of which is now at your disposal. May I crave your pardon, Sir Brian, for any discomfort you might have encountered while you were prisoner in my home?"

  "You have it," said Brian, deep in his throat and without a smile. "Though I have slept more comfortably before this."

  "We will endeavor to make you amends for that, Sir."

  "And you," said Brian, speaking over her head to the Bright Knight, "I was never made acquainted with your name. But if you are in any way disappointed with my showing against you, it will be my pleasure to remove that disappointment any time you wish to meet me once more with the lance—or any other weapon, for that matter."

  "Sir, my name is Sir Boy; and I join my Lady in hoping that your stay with us was not too burdensome upon you."

  "I minded it not."

  Some of the retainers now returned with a blacksmith, who quickly cut off Brian's manacles; and this was speedily followed by the return of his equipment and arms, and the erection of a pavilion, and its furnishing with table, tablecloth, wine cups, platters, wine, and food—it all would undoubtedly have been faster if they had been conjured up by magic—but not by much.

  "To your great healths, my Lords," said the Lady, once they were all seated, downing a nearly full cup of wine, unmixed—as far as Jim could see—with water.

  Jim thanked her graciously. Politeness had now automatically laid its hand on all of them. Even Brian, Jim noticed, was relaxing now that he had drained a cup of wine—a little greater swallow than usual on his normal company manners—after that first prickly verbal exchange with Lady Annis and Sir Boy. His spine was still stiff, however, and his face unsmiling.

  Both Brian and the QB seemed unusually alert, on guard with their hosts. The QB, apparently taking his inclusion in the party for granted, was standing now at one end of the table in the pavilion, the serpentlike forward part of his body curving above its surface on a level with their own.

  One odd thing, Jim recognized suddenly, was that—while he could have sworn no trees were close enough to where the pavilion had been pitched to do any such thing—now the shadows of branches could be seen on the cloth roof over his head. They lay dark above the table's end occupied by Brian and himself, while above Sir Boy and Lady Annis at their end, the cloth showed bright with unshadowed sunlight.

  "What do you in Lyonesse, Messires?" asked Annis. "For I see by your armor and weapons that you are from elsewhere."

  "Just passing through," answered Jim. He was trying to think of some way of learning more about her connection with Brian's capture—Boy was clearly of minor importance.

  Undoubtedly it had been Morgan le Fay behind Brian's capture; but there must have been some reason it was this Annis of the White Castle who had been chosen to do it.

  That reason—and possibly other useful information—might be extracted from Annis if he could be clever enough in questioning her, thought Jim. But he doubted he was that clever—particularly if she was determined not to talk. Her swift and easy switch to the role of genial hostess, and her skill in playing the social part involved, was as good as a preemptive strike. As long as the assumption was that he and Brian were now guests, pinning her down with any obviously hard questions had become socially difficult.

  Had Morgan wanted Brian just as bait to catch Jim again, perhaps? No, Morgan could never have arranged for the QB and Merlin to work as a team to feed him the information on where Brian was being held.

  Of course not—and one puzzle at a time. He would get further by finding out more about Annis herself. For a beginning, she had certainly managed to at least obscure the question of whether Boy was her lover or her son. But she certainly—he searched for the word he wanted—had seemed disappointed, at least, at not being able to get both Brian and Jim inside their castle.

  Meanwhile, the QB, since his reappearance, had been acting very much as if he was on his guard, since suggesting they sit down outside, rather than following Annis under her roof. Jim found himself wishing for an excuse to move the QB and himself out of her hearing, so he could question this one friend he and Brian had here, about this situation.

  But nothing came to mind that would sound natural. Only, why hadn't Annis objected to sitting down with them out here; and insisted on their going to the castle? Of course, obviously the appearance of the QB had been a shock to her. Any such insistence under these conditions probably would have sounded suspicious.

  Clearly, if Morgan le Fay was the cause of all that was happening to both Jim and Brian, there seemed to be something more than just a Queenly annoyance involved.

  As Queen of Gore, she was too important, here in Lyonesse, to go to this much trouble over the minor irritation Jim and Kineteté had caused her. Almost certainly the Queen had little doubt she could deal with Kineteté with one hand tied behind her back, if she only had Kineteté here.

  It was an opinion, Jim was fairly sure, that would be very badly wrong. He would bet on Kineteté any day. But Morgan—used to having most things her way here on her home grounds—would have to learn better the hard way before she would believe. Meanwhile, it was annoying that he and Brian could not be about the work they had come to Lyonesse to do, because of this chance side issue—

  A wild thought struck him suddenly. Surely, Morgan le Fay—independent, all-powerful here in magic with Merlin out of the ring—could not have been recruited or brought to be an ally of the Dark Powers in their attempt to take over this land!

  Or could she?

  There was some evidence that the forces involved here had already started to line up on opposite sides. The QB was on their side; and Merlin, the one individual possibly more powerful in magic than Morgan, had pretty well declared himself out of the contest. But the trees were helping; as they had been ready to help on the Gnarly trip, by reaching down and strangling the black-furred giants the QB had ordered to leave Brian and Jim alone.

  How in the name of this crazy world could a takeover of Lyonesse by the Dark Powers be to Morgan's advantage? For that matter, how could it be to the advantage of the Dark Powers? The Powers might be able to win it; but they couldn't occupy it without physical servants to hold it at their orders. And Jim could not see Morgan voluntarily becoming the servant of anyone or anything.

  But that wasn't the situation. None of this made sense. Morgan's siding with the Dark Powers did not make sense. Moreover, this was the first time, Jim realized, that he might have encountered someone who could be considered to have evil in her bones—so to speak—instead of being merely human—or animal, or Natural—and seduced into evil by greed for wealth or power. He found her and all those around her, like Annis, hard to understand…

  While he had been thinking all this, however, Annis had continued talking, keeping up an easy flow of unimportant conversation. He came back to sharp attention suddenly, though, when he heard her saying "—and it would pleasure us deeply if the two of you would guest with us for a few days."

&nbs
p; "I regret," said Brian, without waiting for Jim to answer.

  "Yes, I'm afraid we've got matters that'll have to take us away from here," said Jim with almost equal quickness.

  "Sir Boy would be so glad to learn what knights like yourself could tell him of the finer uses of weapons, and no doubt as well of the many adventures you both have had."

  "Sir Boy—," began Brian harshly—then checked himself, coughed, and buried his nose in his wine cup.

  "It's too bad; but as we say, we have to move on," added Jim, for he could feel Brian's temperature beginning to rise once more. To Brian the situation here must be intolerable: Sir Boy, if truly twelve years old, in Brian's eyes could in no real sense be called a knight—a member of a highly trained profession. He could never have been dubbed—unless he was someone like a king's son, in which case knighting could come ridiculously early. No way could he be both knight and boy at once.

  The danger of an explosion of outrage was still fizzing under Brian's barely polite surface; and a word could set him off.

  "Perhaps," Jim added hastily, "you can help us on our way."

  "Anything at all I can do to aid you both, my Lords."

  "You, having been one of the demoiselles of Queen Morgan le Fay, undoubtedly can tell us something of her. Is she at all alarmed by the attempt upon Lyonesse now being made?"

  "You speak most knowingly of a matter no one has ever mentioned to me. What makes you think I have served the great Queen?"

  "A man in a tree told me about it,"—and Jim, this time without question, saw her face pale—"but is she alarmed by the Dark Powers?"

  "The—" Annis stared at him for a second, then laughed ringingly. "You must forgive me, my Lord. I have never heard of those Powers you speak of. What did you call them—the Dark…"

  "Dark Powers," said Jim. "So, you never heard anything of them from her?"

  "Oh, but my Lord! I was only one of her demoiselles, by your admittance. It is not likely she would speak to me except to give me orders."