Well of the Unicorn

by Fletcher Pratt

  Evadne clapped her hands. "Did I not say this was Alcides come again? We must take him into the family; if he will not speak for himself, brothers, I will speak for him and make him my future."

  Pleiander seemed to be chewing his tongue, silenced, unforgiving. Alsander said: "And if we lose?"

  "Rogai's resource of the hills. Rendezvous at the Count's Pillow."

  The Carrhoene passed a hand across his mouth. "The plan is good. It leans heaviest where we are best—though much rests on you exiles of Mariola."

  "I am of one mind with this," said Evimenes, "for even if they have been warned and close rank to go marching past without a battle, they will have lost much glory by the acceptance of our insult, and what they lose, we gain!" Now Pleiander must also give in his adhesion, but Erb the Lank said: "Forgive, Master Airar, and you captains, but though I think this plan is just the plan of a master like King Argimenes a' silver years, man would not be man not finding one flaw to alter, thus under leave—"

  "Get on with it," said Rogai.

  "Just this, then. You have two-three Mariolans who are horsemen, not hillmen, and there be two-three more of Hestinga. Why should a not stay mounted and move light on the flanks of they Carrhoene riders like they there gentours to pick out the loose men?"

  "I accept that," said Airar, "if Evimenes will lead this band, who knows all his way in swift movement." The conference broke up, Rogai to rouse his people and depart with the Whiteriverdalesman, since a march of eight thousand paces is not an easy one and they must be posted by dawn, whereas it was already falling night. Airar told Erb to set the watch and himself lay down; but not before Meliboe the enchanter spoke sidelong: "Young sir, you have done well. Oh, not your plan, which is mere battle and brutality and will succeed or not as fortune wills. But you have the sense of a very pretty philosopher; I marked how you rejected the argument moral against Pleiander's plan, yet destroyed the same plan with a plea rooted in pure reason. It is false philosophy, for it began with what you wished to prove and worked back to the proof empirical; but for method, well done, excellently well done."

  19 The Whiteriverdales: Spear and Shield

  "RISE UP," said Visto; "Today we go to battle," and Airar rolled wakeling from his cloak, all at once clear, though he had spent half the night talking to his free-fishers, group by group, to tell them how much hung on the fray and how they should place themselves. There were but one-andtwenty when the Hestinga men left them to mount, and one was detailed with other ones to take the horses back up a draw and keep them there. Erb had set a watch; they breakfasted meager and in haste; then moved out along the hill-shoulder past the mounted men, half of whom were already a-horse and armed, lest the enemy surprise them by too early coming. The rest took their meal. Meliboe was back with the horses; Evadne came to make farewells before joining him, but it was Erb she embraced, only touching Airar's hand, and he felt a twinge of jealousy even without desire, that made him wonder at himself, but there were too many concerns for time to spend on that.

  This would be his third battle-day; and though not confused with the wild turmoil of the first, he found still the same strange emotion, almost as though he were falling into the arms of a fair maid, and remembered the song of a harper who came down the road long ago, when Airar went to the stead of Sumarbo, where he tilted for apples on the old horse Pil:

  Give we again ourselves in surrender;

  Gather for others the fruits of tomorrow,

  Holding that life is the hostage of time;

  For those who know but a little of what have spent or shall spend.

  "Malediction," said someone as a branch ripped his sleeve; the day was breaking grey with a promise of rain, the slope was steep, and the trees around mainly beech hung with last year's brown leaves and birch touched with the green of new. Beyond the crest, on the face toward the west, the underbrush was thick, tall bushes with arms abroad and holding fresh little leaves in their hands (for there was more spring down here than on Hestinga's tall plateau), among which a discordant chatter of birds disturbed by the passage of so many armed men. Airar looked northward from this screen; there was the road, sweeping down to make a long graceful turn off to south and west; and the market-town the scouts had seen, fine and firm with its cobble-blocks; and on the opposite side a rising wood like that in which they stood with the stream round its feet. The careful Vulkings had cut everything back a hundred paces on either side to prevent a sudden onset from thickets—O excellent engineers.

  "Spread out, spread out," tall Erb was saying, and bidding the men lie down, well behind the screen of bush. "Now when we sight them coming at long distance, a shall rise and crouch to a single knee, but no more, on life and all, till Master Airar's bowstring snaps, which is our signal. A shall not fear to run out then and get a good cast for the first flight of spears—or back after, for 'tis our design to make them open out and follow."

  This had all been told before. Said Airar: "I would have you all to lie down now, then at a sign from Erb come to the crouch and hold there while I watch from the road. All rests on their not catching a glimpse of us."

  It was as well he thought of that. Burly Sewald had chosen a bush too small for his frame, which quaked clear as he rose; and Nene of Busk had on a damned red tunic whose sleeves showed bright from underneath his mail. When these matters were cared for, not without protest from Nene, who said the tunic was his luck, here was Visto to remark they had no banner. It was all one to the son of Alvar, and there was no way to come by what might stand for the Winged Wolf of Dalarna's wars; but perceiving his fishers held much by a symbol, he said that they should set on a pole the head of the cat killed overnight and follow that; "for it is as cats that we spring here." All applauded this design, and now there was nothing to do but wait, with rustlings as a man or two shifted position, but not many words said, for not one there but remembered the last time they had faced these terciaries at the causeway and the upshot of it, with the other good companions of the fifty gone, all dead or sold serfs now.

  A little after, Visto was back with the cat-head on its pole. Airar's keen eye caught distantly where the ribbon of road flowed down between the hills a glimpse of movement and "Down!" he cried, but it was only a single man horseback and moving at a fast canter. Airar let him pass, hoping the Carrhoene riders farther down would stop him, for the speed of the man's progress and the cut of his gear suggested a Vulking messenger to warn the posts that Rogai's band had attacked the deese. Then he began to wonder if he were right to have acted so, and wormed down the line toward the other end to ask Erb.

  "—different this time—" "—voyage to Uravedu; but when he came back, not one of the family—" "—let you use the left-handed stroke—" he caught fragments as he passed along, and felt well to know the free-fishers were of good cheer. But, when Erb was indeed reached, here sat the tall man on his haunches, arms around knees enclosing his spear, and head down.

  Airar touched him. Erb looked up with tears on his cheeks. "Are you low-hearted?" asked Airar, not knowing what else to ask, and Erb:

  "Oh, aye. But not for battle or wars, so under your leave, young master, you shall not lower me from my lieutenancy to make me a spearman, since this time your dog will cut off a's feet rather than lead out of the fight again, like at the Salmonessan causeway."

  "We'll have no talk of dogs," said Airar, liking little this form of address; "but what's the trouble, then?" "This—" He blew his nose, looking round. "This woman or witch, the Carrhoene. Master Airar, you be of an age when wenches bedwilling, but what's an old poop like me to do, that has never played with a dame in a's life? From first sight there in Salmonessa I thought her just fine and wonderful, like a queen or fairy fay; would ha' given seven lives to serve her; but now here this morning, a embraced me and thrust her paps against me, and now all my blood feels like turned to water and a man burns inside and thinks how un may be slain in the battle with never having dandled her—and yet she does not mean it at all."

&nbs
p; Airar looked at him sidewise, feeling himself somewhat flush, and to cover it said: "But she's a Carrhoene, and I have heard that those of that race are not above granting favors for sheer delight—nor below it, neither."

  "But if that, then for a young master like you, who'd bump her happily," said the tall man, and ended his saying with a sob.

  Now Airar realized quickly he had but repeated Meliboe's thought and could hardly bear to look at his man. "Oh, take—" he began, but someone exclaimed, and looking up the vale, he saw them coming, still a dark mass under the dark clouds of distance, and now it was too late to get back to his chosen place at the other end of the line, so there he must stay, taking arrows from his quiver and sticking them in the ground all in a row.

  Right on they came; closed up tight in marching formation, six abreast across the front, full-armed and in the Vulking quickstep rapidly, shield on each left arm and watchful, with the soft-pointed Vulking javelin in every right hand. There was no dust; the red triangle bobbed on its pole in the center of the group and behind them the deserion rode, with his red cloak flung back across his shoulder and helmet off in defiance of the world. There were two other men on horseback behind him, staff or messengers, but their mounts were ordinary, and it went to Airar's heart that when he loosed shaft, it could be against no target but the splendid brown animal the deserion bestrode.

  Yet there it was and must be. Along the line as far as eye could see among the boccage they were all on one knee. The Vulkings swept down the long curve, neither left nor right looking, with clang of arms and heavy steps, a touch of russet in the center showing there were still a handful of Allies with them. As they drew abreast and all had their left sides toward Airar, he hove up slowly as by a machine, set his feet and drew to the head, holding between the crotch of a branching dogwood with its blossoms inconsequently noted. Deserion and horse came into line; he released, and releasing, shouted he never knew what. The arrow flew true; for one flicker as he bent to pick up the second he saw it standing feather-deep with red blood spurting and the horse rearing. Airar nocked and loosed again as the fishers burst from their cover and the startled Vulkings turned; the shaft caught a shield-rim and glanced upward, a miss, as he drew at the third; but now there were free-fishers all across the rank dry grass, shooting with their stick-spears, and a side-rank Vulking went down with a clang as one of them took him through both calves. There was no clear sight; Airar was running forward with his sword out.

  The Vulking trumpet blew two discordant notes, their own javelins were in the air, and Airar saw their formation dissolving, spreading out into pairs as had himself predicted. He ducked a javelin; one of the men was right upon him, faceless beneath the dished-out helmet, and he cut backhand at the fellow's right arm to gain space, but the blow was caught on the iron edge of the big circle shield and Airar thrown off balance. In a moment of dreadful pale fear, Airar saw the man's companion reach round with a hand-held javelin to strike, but before he could do it, someone at the side drove a spear into the spearer's armpit, and down he went with a scream.

  The first Vulking whirled and Airar remembered he was a leader; ran back a few steps as the trumpet sounded again and found himself all alone at the break of the slope and end of the undergrowth with men dead and dying out before, one of Gentebbi with a Vulking javelin standing right through his armor and another's face smashed in by the short enemy sword, legs twitching; 'two or three terciaries down and russet Allies, while left and right the free-fishers were running with Vulking pairs in pursuit. But the trumpet had not blown for them; it had blown for the sight of the riders of Carrhoene, sweeping down in a tight squadron with lances all in rest.

  Those Vulkings were soldiers of the best, and not over half their number had spread. Those still on the road faced round at the trumpet-cry and formed steadily, the front rank kneeling, with their javelin-butts on the ground, the loose flankers to that side still looser, running forward to take the little tight knot of horsemen from the flank.

  "Ullu—ullu!" shouted Airar. "Come on!" and not looking whether he was followed, ran forward to strike at any cost the Vulking ranks from rear, out of the tail of his eye seeing one horse go down and the terciaries running forward to pounce on the rider. Then a flash and a crash and lancers were in on the deese. A javelin caught one horse in the side and at the same moment another was jabbed between his legs to bring him down, but they were too close in for this to be of service to the defense; horse and falling rider slid and pitched upon the doubled rank of foemen to scatter them like a stone from a giant's catapult, and the Carrhoene lances took the rest. For one moment there was a wild tangle of horses down and men down and then everywhere across the slope, along the road and into the water there were Vulkings running or throwing down shield and holding javelin high in token of surrender.

  Airar saw a Carrhoene sergeant drop his lance and smite down one such with a blow of the mace from his saddlebow; leaping forward, was just in time to go hurtling to the ground atop another before that one too was slain. "I give!" cried the man beneath in a muffled voice; a horse missed them narrowly, Airar rolled over and was up, jerking the fellow after him, and a glance at the silvern badges told how it was the deserion himself that he had caught. He looked round to see whether there were more he might save. But he'd no device for calling the sergeants to heel, and their Carrhoene blood was up; all across the road to trees they were butchering the last of the terciaries save a few who had given themselves into the hands of freefishers—or three to be exact, as was found when all gathered round to reckon their victory and its cost, lay out the dead, and congratulate each other.

  Of the Carrhoene sergeants, the two who had pitched from their horses were killed and another had a broken leg; so furiously had they smashed through that not another man was more than bruised. In Airar's band there were four gone, but only two of them free-fishers. Several were more or less wounded, one so badly in the leg he could not stand; he had been hamstrung. All in the council of leadership were agreed they could not remain close in the neighborhood, ignorant what force the enemy could bring against them and how quickly from the nearest castella, and indeed it appeared that the riders had already estopped two or three travellers coming north out of the market town before the fight. But there were their own dead to give honest burial and the bodies to pillage for whatever they had, chiefly weapons. There was praise to Evimenes for bringing the extra horses, on which the loot was loaded; the Vulking shields were well smashed and a litter made for the wounded man, on which the prisoners were bedded to carry him with their hands bound to the litter.

  The sun behind its clouds had now well passed zenith and no word from Rogai. On Alsander's word they sent ahead, north along the road, a pair of the well-mounted Hestinga men, whose dress might make them seem to belong to the Dales. Their weapons were covered. Now all took that same direction, since they knew no other direction to take, with a pair more of scouts dropped behind.

  A little after this march was begun, a slow drizzle started, and Evimenes swore a good deal about what it would do to his armor, which he had ungreased for the battle. They had not gone much above the two thousand paces that carried them to the break of the next big curve in the highway when a self-possessed dog with a curly tail came down the road to accost them, and country-bred Airar said that meant a shepherd was not far off. Sure enough, there was instantly a faint whistle; the dog cocked an ear, stepped intelligently on stones across the water, and trotted off up to the left, westward slope among the trees. Airar, with a word to his companions that guidance was most needful, dismounted and climbed after, up the steep slope, slippery with wet, following the dog by sound through trees and crashing underbrush across a crest to find himself looking down on a little open vale.

  There were fat grey backs on the far side among the trees, but no sign of shepherd, nor did any answer when Airar whistled the "Geme, plange, moesto, mori." He ran down the slope, crying, "Peace and good will to any here," and presently the man ste
pped forth among his animals, a surly, loutish-looking fellow, handling a nail-studded cudgel, wet dripping from a leather cap. Airar spoke him fair and gave him the tidings. The man only grunted at the tale of the deese wiped out, saying there was no sure way through the High Hills of Froy into Shalland till one came to Crow's Tower; this vale led up only into a false pass. Then, melting somewhat as the thought of the victory over the sons of Briella reached his slow mind, he suggested the vale as a good place for nighting, since hidden from the road, and agreed to exchange a pair of his sheep for some of Airar s silver, that the company might dine.

  On Airar's return one can imagine the Carrhoenes looking a trifle glum over his having changed single-handed the general plan for a march. But Rogai was still unheard from and they were men of war enough to see that under the weeping skies there had come on all the dreadful weariness of after battle to make it feel less like a very great victory than a defeat. Picquets were set at the road to watch for the return of the Hestinga scouts; the company toiled up slope and into the vale, and with some trouble got fires going and the sheep a-cook. The forage for the horses was but poor.

  20 The Whiteriverdales: Debate of the Deserion

  SAID PLEIANDER: "Let's have that bastard of a deserion here and sport him for sweets to our supper."

  Airar would have said no, thinking it less than high-minded to deal so with a surrendered enemy, but the girl Evadne clapped her hands. Meliboe's lips twisted in his beard, and Erb said: "We might have from un a tale of some use."

  They had the man fetched. He stood straight in the campfire light before them, rain striking down across his bare black curly head; short, hawk-nosed and well-built, like most Vulkings of the upper class, a certain dignity or insolence in his manner. Pleiander looked him up and down.

  "A pax, a pax!" he sneered with the Vulking war-cry. "Gay times will be had in Briella when you come again with your victory. How do you like to command a deese?"