Her Majesty's Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  "Guard her well."

  Matt looked up, startled, at the old friar.

  "Be mindful of your word, Sir Wizard," the old man reminded him. "Keep her safely till she comes to the place I have sent her. Beware of threats to her-and to yourself."

  "Uh, thanks for your concern, Father ... but I can't help thinking you're making a big deal out of a small one."

  "Such thoughts trip the unwary, Wizard. You and she both have further parts in this fell pageant." The old man smiled quizzically. "Great deeds are due in this poor land, as Powers clash, and you and this former witch may do them. Your places are greater than you know."

  That was not exactly a soothing thought. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, Father. My natural native modesty, no doubt, but--"

  "Your native gift for seeing only what you wish, rather." The old man's smile was stern, but also amused. "Bear my words ever in your mind; and swear now to me that you'll guard her, till she's come to her own place."

  Matt swore.

  "Enough-and good." The priest nodded, smiling again. "And I'll trust you, for I believe you to be a man of honor, despite what you may think. Now here's your charge."

  Matt looked up, startled, to see Sayeesa coming down the aisle "Done with her penance? So soon?"

  "Her words of prayer were but a prelude," the old man said sternly. "She must atone with her whole life. Escort her now, for she is weakened."

  Matt stepped over beside the ex-witch, offering his arm. She glanced up at him, then away, and lifted her head, straightening her shouders. She looked so pale and shaken that Matt could have sworn she was ready to drop; but she made it out the church door and into the sunlight without taking his arm. Matt shook his head in wonder; he turned to thank the old priest...

  And saw the interior of the church devastated, with charred and fallen roof beams slanting down to the floor, thrusting into a heap of ash and rubble.

  He stared a moment, transfixed; then he let out a shout, and Sir Guy and Alisande were at his side. "What is it, what? What have you seen?"

  Matt pointed, backing away from the church. The knight and princess looked in through the church door. Alisande went white as a coronation robe. Sir Guy stepped forward, setting one steel foot inside. The floor groaned and cracked beneath his weight, and he stepped back quickly, looking at either side; wide-eyed and pale. Neither said a word; they just went straight to their horses.

  "Hey!" Matt called out. "Hold on!" He ran after them and caught hold of Sir Guy's bridle as the knight mounted his horse. "Come on! What's going on? Who was that man?"

  "I think you'd best not ask." Sir Guy pulled on the reins, turning his horse's head to the west. "I shall not, for my part. But I think, friend Matthew, that we have a friend where we do need one most."

  He turned away without a further word, riding slowly down the village street toward the west. Alisande and Sayeesa fell in behind him.

  "Mount, Lord Wizard," Stegoman rumbled at his elbow. "Do you not wish to stay near your companions?"

  "Huh ... ? Oh, yeah!" Matt turned, setting a foot on Stegoman's knee, swinging the other up to the shoulder, then over between two great fins.

  "Why dost thou seem so confounded?" the dragon rumbled as he waddled off after the horses. "Why question what has happened? Accept and be thankful."

  "No," Matt said slowly, "I'm not built that way. I have to have an answer." He passed a feverish tongue over suddenly dry lips. "But I think I'm going to have to be content with the part of an answer I've got."

  "What answer is that?"

  "Somebody down here," Matt said, "likes us."

  CHAPTER 9

  The sun was sliding down the sky toward evening when they spotted the mob.

  It was quite a distance away across the open plain, but Matt could make out flashes of green and yellow skirts on one of the women in the vanguard. "Uh, hold on, Stegoman. Your Highness! Sir Guy!"

  "What troubles you?" Alisande demanded, reining in and turning around in her saddle.

  "Uh, about those people approaching us..."

  "Good peasant folk, no doubt. What of them?"

  "With all respect, Highness," Sir Guy murmured, "no matter what the folk, we should approach with caution."

  "Yeah," Matt agreed, "especially since I think I recognize one of the outfits I magicked onto one of the refugees from Sayeesa's joy-house."

  Sayeesa blanched, and Alisande's face turned grave.

  Slowly, she turned back in her saddle, facing the oncoming crowd. "If that be so, let us await them here."

  "What! Uh ... if you don't mind a civilian's opinion, your Highness, it might behoove us more to find the quickest hole to bolt into."

  "There's sense in his saying," Sir Guy said judiciously.

  "But more in mine." Alisande sat stiff-backed and somehow gave the impression she'd just put down roots. "These are my people, sirs; I know them. They will not harm their princess."

  It must be nice, Matt decided, to have such unswerving certainty. "Uh, let's try it the other way, your Highness. Let's say trouble starts-not that it will, you understand, but just in case it does-Sir Guy's got armor and a sword, not to mention a horse: and I'm riding a dragon and just happen to have a pretty mean blade myself."

  "You have the blade," Alisande agreed, "but do you ken its use?"

  "Well, my swordsmanship's not up to your kind of cuts, I'll admit. Still, I do have a sword-and the heaviest weapon they're liable to have is a scythe. Have you considered what kind of damage they might suffer?"

  "None." Alisande sat back in her saddle, relaxed and certain; "Fear not, Lord Wizard; 'twill not come to blows."

  Sir Guy looked relieved, and Matt's heart sank. That Divine Right clause again!

  Then he remembered it was apt to prove true, and sat back himself. Maybe the princess did know what she was doing. After all, this wasn't exactly a personal matter.

  But he kept his hand near his sword hilt, just in case.

  The peasants came close enough to see armor and stopped; startled; they hadn't expected the nobility to be out joyriding Then the girl in the yellow petticoat and green gown saw Sayeesa.

  The ex-witch met her eyes, and fear was written on her face.

  Hate curdled the peasant girl's face, and her forefinger jabbed out. "'Tis she, the witch who stole us all!"

  The peasants stared; then a clamor of shouting broke out as they charged the companions. "'Tis she, the witch who corrupted my son!" "The sorceress who beguiled our children!" "Slay her!" "Slay her!" "Slay!"

  They surged forward, a shouting bedlam, quilled with clubs and pitchforks, men and women shrieking for blood.

  "Hold!" Alisande barked, like the best of drill sergeants; and the mob ground to a halt, poleaxed by the unexpected.

  "I am she who freed your children," Alisande said severely "and I tell you now: Hold your peace!"

  "You did not save my child!" one woman wailed. "They brought him home, a corpse!"

  And the clamor started again, not shouts, but scattered cries of outrage. It didn't seem inclined to boost any higher, though; Alisande sat her horse, staring coldly at them.

  "They see me shorn of my power and come for vengeance." The fear was gone from Sayeesa's face, washed under by a look of resignation, almost determination. "And I cannot gainsay them; for I have taken youth after youth and drained them all." She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, dear Lord! If only..."

  "Let us speak, instead, of how we'll meet this coil," Alisande said drily, "for I have no wish to harm them. They are good and worthy peasants, I doubt not, and their grievance is just. How shall we deal with them, Sir Guy?"

  "Do you not see?" Sayeesa's head came up, wide-eyed in astonishment. "Surrender me to them! Let none more suffer for my sins!"

  "Are you out of your mind?" Matt rounded on her. "They'll tear you to pieces! Sorry, lady-you don't buy free that easy. You've got some work left in this world, or the good Father wouldn't have put you in my charge."

  "Charge?"
Alisande swung about. "What geas is this?"

  "Just a little matter of an oath," Matt explained. "The friar attached a rider to my penance, you see-I have to make sure Sayeesa gets safely to wherever he's sent her."

  "And where is that?" There was a dangerous undertone to Alisande's voice.

  Sayeesa turned to the princess. "I go to. the convent of Saint Cynestria, there to spend my days in prayer and fasting."

  Alisande's eyes held an approving glint. "Cynestria-the cloistered home of women who have sinned greatly, but now repent. You shall have high company there, wench."

  Sayeesa nodded bitterly. "Aye, duchesses and ladies of high rank. Yet are there not many, too, of peasant blood? Is this not just?"

  "Fitting, at least." Alisande turned back to look out over the mutinous, muttering peasants. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, 'tis just, and may have some purpose in it, as Lord Matthew thinks." Her mouth tightened in chagrin. "I cannot deny it. You must needs journey there, Sayeesa. And we must see you come there safely."

  Matt heaved a sigh of relief. "So what do we do, Highness? Lug out the swords? Tell Stegoman to whip up a bit of napalm?"

  "I do not fear peasants, Lord Matthew. I protect them."

  "Lady," cried a youth, "surely that is the dragon that aided in defeating the witch, and as surely you are the noble lady who commanded us to return to our homes. How, then, can you stand between us and the sorceress?"

  "And why should I give her to you?" the princess countered.

  "Why?" A portly man elbowed his way through the crowd to stand before Alisande's horse. "Why, because four of the children of this village went to the witch-and only three came home alive this day! She merits burning, Lady-'tis the punishment for witchcraft!"

  "What punishment is her desert, God shall give," Alisande said sternly, "for she has repented and confessed her sins, and the priest has granted her absolution."

  An outraged clamor broke, but Alisande glared stonily at the crowd, and they subsided to an ugly muttering.

  "Absolution!" the spokesman squawled. "For a witch? For one who has sinned as deeply and widely as she?"

  "Even so." The crack of the princess's voice cut off the muttering. "If there is a sin so great it cannot be forgiven, I know not of it. Is this not even as our Savior said?"

  The spokesman hunched up his shoulders, glowering. "What penance could the priest require that could balance so many sins?"

  "She goes to the convent of St. Cynestria, there to spend her life in prayer."

  The mutter started up again, but now it had overtones of surprise and consternation.

  "If this be so," the spokesman said slowly, "we have small claim upon her, for she is God's."

  "If it be so," a crone shrilled.

  "You doubt me?" Alisande asked it with the full weight of regal hauteur.

  The crone blanched and ducked back into the crowd; but some body in the back yelled, "The church!" Other voices took it up: "The church, the church!"

  "Aye!" the spokesman cried. "If she is shriven, as you say, let her step within our church and take the Sacrament-for if she is' a witch unshriven, she'll not be able to bear a holy place!"

  "I tell you, she is shriven!" Alisande's anger kindled. "Who are you to doubt me!"

  The spokesman shrank back from the lash of her voice, but answered stubbornly, "I do not doubt you, Lady-but even one of noble rank may be deceived."

  Alisande started to answer, then caught herself, and glowered down at him in fury.

  But Sir Guy was nodding, almost in approval. "A point well taken, goodman. Yet we have seen her shriven."

  The peasant shook his head stubbornly. "It is even as I said, Sir Knight: noblemen may be deceived. There are mirages, weirds, glamours, and other foul dreams."

  "True, true." Sir Guy chewed at his moustache, then cocked an eyebrow at Alisande.

  Her lips tightened.

  "Oh, come on!" Matt snapped. "Are we going to sit here all day, debating the nature of reality? They've cited a fair test, and I don't see any harm in it. I could do with Communion myself!"

  The crowd gave a shout of triumph, and suddenly people were running, leaping in from every side, to surround Sayeesa's horse and drag her down. Matt saw a tatter of gray cloth go flying, and bellowed, grabbing at his sword. But a steel hand clamped down on his wrist, and he looked up to see Sir Guy shaking his head. Behind him, Alisande cried out, outraged, "Now I command you, hold!"

  All movement gelled. Then heads lifted, startled, staring at the princess in disbelief. She glared back, eyes half hooded, grimly; and slowly the people began to step back, muttering angrily.

  "Stand away and let the witch come forward!" Alisande demanded; reluctantly, the central knot of men parted. Sayeesa stepped forward, pulling the tattered robe about her, trying to hold the rips closed. She was pale and shaken, but the determined resignation was still there. She glared up at Alisande, and her voice was low; but clear. "Let them take me, let them rend me as they wish! I will not deny them, though I die; for it is just."

  "I shall say what is and is not just and when you'll die or live!" the princess answered.

  Matt looked at Alisande with a new respect. Here, royalty was more than just a word.

  Alisande raised her head, gazing at the crowd thoughtfully. "There is some sense in this test of theirs, and 'twill not delay us long." She looked down at Sayeesa. "How say you, wench? Will you go to church?"

  "Aye, and gladly! I have a lifetime's praying to begin and am eager for the Eucharist!"

  The crowd stared, totally shocked. Then the outraged murmuring began.

  "Be still!" Alisande barked over the rumbling. "'Tis even as you demanded! We shall go to the church!"

  Sir Guy grinned and held a hand down to Sayeesa. She caught his arm and swung up on her own saddle. They turned to follow, Alisande. The villagers crowded forward around Sayeesa's horse.

  "Uh, Stegoman..."

  "Aye, Wizard?"

  "Not that I'm expecting anything, mind you -- but maybe we oughta kinda ride close to Sayeesa, just in case."

  "Fairly said." The dragon waddled up next to, the peasants around the ex-witch.

  One of the women spoke to her neighbor, not too far from' Stegoman's side. "Do you not wonder that the priest failed to come, Joanna?"

  "Aye," Joanna answered, "and more 'so since such a mission as this would be strengthened by a man o' the cloth. Why did he not come?"

  "Oh, a deal of nonsense about leaving such affairs to the shire reeve and his men," the first said, with disgust. " `Mere peasants should not take justice in their hands, quotha. As if there were doubt of her guilt!"

  "Aye. He hides his true reason," Joanna said darkly. "Think, gossip-he left us for a week in fair May. Might he not ha'..." she glanced up and saw Matt was listening. "Hist!"

  The first woman also looked up and saw Matt watching. She turned away, glaring at the ground in front of her.

  It was only a couple of miles to the village, which was the usual ramshackle affair, a single street of thatched huts with a larger daub and wattle but at the end-but this but had a steeple. As the crowd marched up to the church steps, the big double doors slammed open before them, and a tonsured priest in a cassock stood on the threshold, fists on his hips. His hair was black and hadn't seen a comb for a day or two. His face was jowly, needing a shave, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was broad, muscular, and a little paunchy. He glared down at the crowd.

  Finally, the spokesman stepped forward, clearing his throat.

  The priest didn't give him a chance. "What means this, Arvide? How come you to march on my church in this fashion, like an outlaw band? You'll not pass this door till there's reverence in your hearts!"

  "Reverence!" Arvide sneered. "Should you speak of reverence? You, who cannot bear the sound of the morning Mass bell, for that last night's wine still thuds in your head. You, with your whoring and brawling..."

  "Mayhap," the priest growled, "but I've never come in to say Mass till I was so
ber and remorseful."

  "Aye," jeered a voice from the back, "and how many mornings have we not had Mass?"

  A chorus of catcalls supported him; but the priest stood, glaring them down, and they quieted. Then he called out, "Aye, there you have it! If I can't be reverent, I'll not come to the church, and I'll ask no less of you than I ask of myself!" His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "And is there a man of you thinks he can march in here past me?"

  A sheepish mutter ran through the crowd. The men shifted from foot to foot, but no one stepped forward.

  "That's not what we've come for, Father!" Arvide protested.

  The priest fought against a sneer. "What, then?"

  "The witch!" Arvide shouted, and the whole crowd yammered behind him. The priest kept his scowl, but his eyes widened, and there was apprehension in his voice. "A witch? Among my flock?"

  "Only as a wolf is brought in by the hunters, Father," Arvide said, preening himself. "Look upon her!"

  The crowd parted, revealing Sayeesa.

  The priest was braced for it, but his face showed a sudden softening-of recognition.

  It passed quickly, but Sayeesa's eyes were wide, almost appalled. Then she seemed to relax; suddenly, without a line of her face changing, her eyes seemed to glow with an invitation. Matt found he was suddenly very conscious of the body hinted at by the drape of the rough homespun robe.

  Then her shoulders straightened, her jaw tightened, and the aura of allure faded.

  No one else seemed to have noticed, for Arvide was trumpeting triumph. "'Tis the vile witch Sayeesa, haled down from her throne of foul power, chastened and humble before you!"

  The priest's eyes were riveted to Sayeesa. He muttered something under his breath, too softly to hear; but it might have been, "May the Lord forgive me."

  He twisted his head, coming to himself with a start, and looked up at Arvide. "So. This is the witch?"

  "She is, and I think that you know it," Arivde said somberly, eyes fixed on the priest. "Look to your soul, Father Brunel."