"Well, ah; the decision was a rather sudden one ...... said Bertram plaintively.
"If you have in truth come to join your fortunes withour own, Bertie," said Beatrice, "we shall find good use for you. But you, friend wizard; how can I know to trust you?"
"Well ... you know," said Timaeus, "glad to help out a fellow Old Durfalian. I mean, old school ties are the ties that bind, and ... and so forth." He saw that this logic was not having the intended effect on Beatrice. He gave a cough and tried again. "As it happens, we have a rather valuable cargo, which good Sir Broderick has been plotting to seize, killing us in the bargain."
"Verily, that sounds like the man," said Beatrice, "but how did you learn of this scheme?"
"We have our means," said Timaeus. "Don't we, Jasper.
"Quite so," said Jasper, inches away from Beatrice's left ear. She started and whirled—to see nothing but a point of green light.
"Your servant," said Jasper, bobbing.
"I—see," said Beatrice.
"Indeed," said Timaeus, "it would be in our interest to remove Sir Broderick from power."
Beatrice arched an eyebrow. "My aims are not so grandiose," she said. "My men are doughty, but 'gainst hardened warriors .. ." She shrugged.
Timaeus puffed smoke thoughtfully. "Even with magical support?" he suggested. "And the legitimate heir at the van?"
"At the van ... ?" said Bertram, looking faintly ashen.
"We shall have to hold council," said Beatrice, smiling and serious.
Sir Broderick stamped into the guardroom, scattering water from his waxen coat, a floppy felt hat on his head. "Damnation, Blentz!" he thundered. "I've had it up towhat's Barthold doing down here?"
The baron, who had been napping in an armchair, woke up with a start. "Good day, brother," he said dangerously. "How d'ye do, you despicable swine."
Broderick was obviously startled, but quickly rallied. "Good heavens, an unexpected-and remarkably rapidrecovery. Well, this is good news. Glad to see you back on your—"
"I shall expect an immediate accounting of your expenditures since your arrival here," said the baron, "and access to your files. To start with, you may order these men to release me; they seem to be under the misapprehension—"
"See, here, Barthold," said Broderick. "You don't seem to understand—"
"I understand quite well!" said Barthold, standing unsteadily up in rage. "I am giving you a chance to make amends! Cooperate, and I shall do my best to see that your reputation emerges from this mess unbesmirched—"
"Oh, shut up," snapped Broderick. "You always were a moralistic jackass, do you know that, Barthold? Marek, Gaston—take him to the dungeon."
Blentz, puffing and red-faced, sparse hair plastered to his skull with the wet, had come into the room in time to hear the end of this exchange. "Sir Broderick," he said. "Is that wise? If word gets out——"
"Be quiet, Blentz," said Broderick, sinking down in the armchair that Barthold had vacated. He seemed unhappy, surprisingly calm, almost moody. "I see no alternative," he muttered to himself.
Blentz looked as if he had something to say, but held his tongue.
Abruptly, Broderick became aware that Sidney was still present, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall.
"Damnation," he said. "And a witness, too. Better lock
her up as well. Separate cells, mind."
They moved through the dripping woods. From ahead and to the flank, birdcalls came: not the natural song of the wild, but reports from Beatrice's scouts. At present, Beatrice wished to avoid contact with Broderick's men, something she could best achieve with advance warning of their presence—hence the need for scouts. Timaeus was impressed with this show of military expertise on the part of a pack of peasants and woodsmen.
He, Nick, and Kraki walked with Beatrice. Bertram and his bearers brought up the rear. Though this was climax forest, with little ground cover, the bearers were forced to step over fallen logs or dodge tree limbs from time to time. The stretcher was rarely level, and often jostled. Bertram was still suffering considerable pain, and the unevenness of the path did nothing to relieve it. He had been quite happy, therefore, when Jasper had resumed their sub rosa conversation; at least it kept his mind off his leg.
Well, all right, Jasper, said Bertram, if you fellows really think it's wise, I'll go along. But, I mean, good heavens, we're talking about war. Brother against brother, sword and flames, blood in the streets sort of thing.
Fiddlesticks, said Jasper, flitting above the stretcher. Do you want Beatrice or not?
Well, yes, rather, said Bertram.
Well, then, it's obvious enough, isn't it? Misled by your evil uncle, you aided him in his usurpation of your father's demesne, but now love has burgeoned in your breast. The beautiful Beatrice has shown you the error of your ways, the scales have fallen from your eyes, epiphany has struck bolt-like from the heavens, and so forth and so on. Therefore, as the valiant young heir of the House of Biddleburg, you will ride forth, rally the folk of the realm, and lead them, together with the doughty woodsmen of the Band of Beatrice, 'gainst Biddleburg Castle. Having gained the ramparts, you will free your father from durance vile, wed the noble Beatrice, and unite the people of your realm, former rebel and loyal townsman alike, in glorious harmony. Wedding bells ring, the heroic couple walk off into the sunset, hallelujah and hooray, omnia vincit amor.
Yes, well, said Bertram, it sounds very neat. But, you know, I'm really not the blood-and-thunder type. You want someone like, like your friend Kraki—
Kraki? Nonsense, not his style at all. He'd just kill everyone in sight, and sell everyone else into slavery. No, for this kind of job, you want the young but stalwart heir—
Oh, come on, Jasper, whined Bertram, there's no point, really. She despises me, I'm completely useless as a man of war, I'm—
Snap out of it, said Jasper, practically shouting in Bertram's brain. Do you want her or not?
Well, rather.
Then play the role. Besides, chin up. She did call you Bertie, after all.
She did, didn't she? said Bertram. Do you think that's a good sign?
My dear chap, said Jasper, I think the thing is practically in the bag.
Mr. Bates rang the gong in the Great Hall; it was dinnertime at Biddleburg Castle. He stood stiffly by the main entrance, ready to guide the guests to their appointed places. An antipasto was on the table, and back in the kitchen the chef de cuisine had already prepared a cold vichyssoise, a melange of fresh vegetables, and the dessert, a Carte aux framboises, and was busy with the finishing touches for the rack of lamb with rosemary. Mr. Bates, who was no mean trencherman himself, rather hoped that Sir Broderick would eschew another of his interminable hunting stories tonight, as the butler hoped to retire to the Steward's Room as quickly as possible, in search of his own sustenance. Rack of lamb was one of Bates's particular favorites.
Broderick arrived, looking a little flustered; he had barely had enough time to change out of his wet things and into appropriate garb for dinner. "A bit of the Moothlayan, Bates, if you please," he said, and gravely accepted three fingers of whisky.
Broderick paced a bit about the hall, sipping his drink, while Bates stood as impassively as ever. After several minutes, Blentz opened the door and walked rather awkwardly into the room. He'd been asaddle all day, and his thighs were feeling the strain.
"Where's Bertram," snapped Broderick, "and his damnfool friends?"
"Haven't seem them," said Blentz shortly, sagging into an armchair.
"What about it, Bates?" demanded Broderick.
"If ye please, sor," said the butler, "I've nar seen them since the morning. Sharr I inquire amoong the staff?"
"Please," said Broderick, and so the butler departed.
Blentz stared moodily into the fire, and Broderick poured himself another drink. After several minutes, Bates returned.
"I'm soorry, sor," he said, "but the staff has seen nar hide nar hair oof Sir Bertram, nar oof his f
riends, since the incident doon in the toon."
Broderick was rather alarmed at this news. "Neither hide nor hair?" he said incredulously. "I thought I saw them leaving the square toward the castle as we set out in pursuit of the rebels."
"Mayhap, sor," said Bates apologetically. "The staff was in toon, ye ken, foor the festivities, and did not return tirr later. They may hae coome, and departed."
"Departed for where?" asked Blentz tiredly.
"Begging your pardon, sor," said Bates, "boot I canna say."
Blentz groaned. "I suppose you'll want me out searching the woods again," he said to Broderick—but the man was gone, running out the door.
Blentz sat up and peered at the antipasto. He was famished, but it would not do to start in on the food, not before everyone else arrived. He and Bates exchanged glances, both feeling rather put-upon.
"Shall I bring in a cheese tray, sir?" inquired Bates.
Blentz smiled in relief. "Just the thing, Mr. Bates," he said. "Thank you very much.".
"Noot at arr, sir."
Broderick and Bates returned almost simultaneously, Broderick, in a reversal of roles, holding open the door so that Bates, bearing an enormous silver platter set with crackers and a large wheel of brie, could enter the room. "They left the wagon," Broderick said with satisfaction.
Blentz blinked a minute; he had forgotten about the wagon. "And the statue—"
"Still there," said Broderick.
"May I take it, sor," asked Bates, "that we wirr be ony three at dinner?"
"Three?" said Broderick.
"You, sor," said Bates, "the good captain; and the baron, of coorse."
Broderick blinked. "Ah, I see," he said. "No, Mr. Bates, my brother won't be coming down to dinner tonight; he's somewhat indisposed, I'm afraid."
"Sharr I have a tray taken oop, sor?"
Broderick cleared his throat. "Ah-no, thank you, Mr. Bates; why don't you bring the tray here, and I shall take it up myself, after supper."
Bates's impassive faced betrayed nothing, but internally he felt a quiver of alarm. Why would Sir Broderick want to prevent him from seeing Sir Barthold? "Just as ye say, sor," he murmured. "If ye wirr take your paces, then, gentermen, I sharr ca' the wine steward."
The fire crackled; they burned hemlock, a wood notorious for sparking. It was down to the embers now. About the camp, snores resounded. Nick found himself wakeful.
In such a mood, he knew, it was pointless to lie abed, mind whirring uselessly. He got up and went to relieve himself and drink at the purling stream.
Returning, he caught sight of a figure: Someone stood atop the rise that flanked their campsite. Nick's breath caught; the profile was indubitably that of a woman. He climbed upward.
Up here, there was little sound; merely the soft breeze, soughing through the pines. The stars spread gem-like across the velvet sky. Beatrice stood gazing at them, one booted foot atop a boulder, leaning on the shaft of her bow.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Nick said.
"Aye," said she, half turning toward him. "'Tis nearly enough, the glory of creation, to justify the vileness of mankind."
"Are all men vile, then?" asked Nick, standing closer to her. He drank in her scent; to another, the smell would not have been attractive. There was rarely time or opportunity to bathe, in the greenwood, as Beatrice's odor gave evidence, but to Nick, at that moment, it seemed the veriest perfume of paradise.
"Vile enow," said she.
"I'd show you different," Nick murmured.
She permitted him to kiss her, then drew away. "I think not," she said:
He smiled quizzically at her. "Life is short," he said, "and pleasure fleeting; we must take it where we may. How better to spend an hour, in this soft air, under the distant stars?"
"Fool," said Beatrice softly. "How do you imagine a woman may lead this band of bandits? Either I must have all men, or none."
"Who's to know?" said Nick, reaching an arm around her waist.
"Actions have consequences," said she, lifting his hand away.
"And youth and love must have its way," said Nick.
Beatrice laughed. "Sirrah," she said, "to hear you speak of love is even less credible than to hear it from Sir Bertram.
Nick gave an unwilling smile. "Well," he said, "if you won't, you won't."
"And I won't," she softly said.
Nick nodded and trudged down the slope, back to his bedroll, where he spent a sleepless, lust-tortured night.
Beatrice got little more sleep than he. Broderick, she
saw, watching the wheeling stars, had robbed her of her youth, as well as her inheritance. The latter she might regain, but the former was forever gone.
VII
At dawn, Master Gorham, the stonewright, stood at the center of Bain Bridge, for which the barony's second town was named, staring critically down at the bridge's stone supports. The River Bain was swollen with yesterday's rain, white water crashing down its channel. Master Gorham had lived with that noise all his days, the constant susurrus of the stream against which Bainbridge lay, a comforting burbling that lulled the citizens of the town to sleep each night. He hardly noticed the sound most days, but this morning had been woken by a change in its tenor. The stream had been full before the rains, still running with snow melt from the high mountain peaks above Biddleburg; but rain had swollen it almost to its banks.
It was not flooding that concerned Gorham; the Bain's channel was deep. Rather, he was concerned for the bridge.
It was impossible to tell from this vantage, but he feared that the waters were undermining the piers, the stone pillars on which Bain Bridge stood. In earlier days, the mere suspicion would have been enough to charm a fat contract for repair from Baron Biddleburg; alas, Sir Broderick was a more tightfisted man. Worse than that, thought Master Gorham; he was a tyrant, or so the citizens of Bainbridge accounted him, for he had hanged a half dozen of the townsfolk's men, in punishment for their support of Sir Benton's rebellion. Broderick would be letting no contracts to Bainbridge's stonemason, Master Gorham told himself, no matter the state of the bridge's repair.
Because he was up so early, and on the bridge that led into town, Gorham was the first to spy the approach of Beatrice and her men. He looked at them wide-eyed for a moment, then turned and hurtled toward the village.
By the time Beatrice and the others arrived, half the village was already in the courtyard before the Greep Couchant, the inn at the center of town. In better times, the whole community would have turned out for such an event; but half the village, apparently, thought discretion the better part of valor, and had no desire to risk meeting rebels, in revolt against a lord who had proven his vindictiveness, especially well-armed rebels who might prove as dangerous as the enemy they fought. Sir Broderick had few friends in Bainbridge town; but that did not mean that the Band had many.
"Madam Helsing, Master Gorham, Mistress Entright," said Beatrice, nodding to folk she had known from childhood, "I bid ye well."
"Get ye gone froom here!" shouted Madam Helsing. "We hae suffered enow in your famiry's cause. Why dee ye endanger us again?"
"Be quiet, woman!" shouted Mistress Entright. "E'er has the house of Bainbridge served the toon well! Wourd ye kiss the whip tha' scourges ye?"
"Marss Beatrice," said Master Gorham worriedly, "toomany toonsfolk hae suffered for us to greet you joyfurry. Can we ask why you—"
"What, you too, Master Gorham?" said Beatrice.
Gorham looked blank for a moment.
"I am not `Miss Beatrice,' " she said, projecting her voice like one accustomed to addressing crowds, speaking in a conversational tone but with sufficient volume to reach everyone present. "Nor Mademoiselle Beatrice, nor yet Madam Beatrice. Sir Benton, my father, is dead; he hath no male issue. Wherefore, I inherit his title and demesne; I hight Lady Beatrice, a peeress of right, though Baron Barthold has not yet received my oath of fealty. Before he may do so, he must be freed from his brother, who usurps—"
&nb
sp; "So said yer father, and see what good it did him!" said Madam Helsing.
"Though Sir Brodick's rure be oonerous and his taxes bear heavy, it wourd seem to be lawfur," said Master Gorham apologetically. "He says he acts foor the baron while Barthord is sick, and he has the suppoort of Sir Bertram, the heir. You say he is a usurper, but lacking proof—'
I say she's right!" said a voice from behind Beatrice, from amid her Band.
"Who speaks?" said Master Gorham.
"Stand me up, lads," said Bertram. They set down his stretcher and helped him to a standing position, a shoulder under each arm to bear him aloft despite his broken leg. "I do, good sir," said Bertram.
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