Camelot in Orbit

by Arthur H. Landis

  I drew a deep breath. “So he’s back.” I smiled to her joyous, piquant face.

  She frowned, reminded no doubt of my previous callous suggestion. She said sternly,

  “Pick a Boo, indeed, you shameful bastard. I told you he’d return.”

  “Frankly, my dear,” I answered softly, “I must confess, I’m furiously jealous….”

  She laughed delightedly, seized my arm and pressed her face against my shoulder.

  A half mile or so further on, we came to a bend in the road. We rounded it to see, in all its garish splendor, the castle of Lors Sernas’ father. It lay across a middling stream, now filled with a cloudburst spate of water. At first glance I saw that though large, it was still but half the size of great Castle Glagmaron. It was also without a moat or bridge. This caused me to wonder if in Om lords actually fought with lords. Considering the Dark One’s tight control, I doubted it. Which meant that those ramparts, battlements, and arrow-slits were really against the people, the peasantry, should they seek in some manner to right a wrong, or to avenge themselves against some heinous act of tyranny, and bedamned to the Dark One’s appointed swords!

  Broad fields surrounded the entire pile of beauteous stone. Beyond the fields were more trees, some of them fruit-bearing. From the small river to the castle’s entrance, all was an untilled greensward encompassing many tens of acres. Jousting runs were there, as well as marked battle squares for melees and the like. Now, in the falling rain, the greater part of all those acres were hidden by a myriad of pitched tents, like so many hundred mushrooms sprung from a sodden field. Their colors reminded me of country fairs and tournaments, such as I’d come to know at Glagmaron in summer. I judged the total of men-at-arms attached to the four hundred lords and barons I knew to be there, at no less than 5,000. The displayed blazonry, banners, pentacles, and standards were such that had the sun been shining I doubt our eyes would have survived it.

  The bridge, I noted, was but loosely guarded at either end. Still, at a good three hundred yards from it, I instinctively slowed our pace.

  And then-and then, I heard a small voice say, “Hold, Collin! Look up and back.” And I did, and saw the faintest of yellow in the eastern sky. The rain had ceased, and suddenly, I grinned, knowing full well that Great Fomalhaut, on orders, would soon break through.

  I put up a hand, yelling, “Hold!” I then said, “Let’s dress ourselves a bit, do what we can to look presentable.” They needed no urging. Fregisian-Alphians have an almost

  “Greek” thing about their persons and attire. Indeed, I’m sure that mirrors were re-invented before the wheel. So we doffed our smelly cloaks, combed our hair briskly, cleaned our boots, touched up our gear, and looked to the adjustment of our silken surcoats with the Seligian blazonry of Til-Cares and Til-Keeves-three golden dolphins against a black wave curl, and a blue ship’s sail with red sword and gauntlet, respectively….

  All in all, we gave such a spit and polish to our appearance that Rawl saw fit to acclaim us as most certainly fit to represent the Selig Isles to Lors Sernas’ doughty father. In the midst of all the preening, I even took time to say jovially, deliberately, to our Omnian (and I’d talked to him at greater length upon the road concerning our project), “Well, sir, will your father now look kindly upon you, if I name you envoy to myself and my companion, Prince Til-Keeves, in this thing of our mutual trade?”

  The act of naming him envoy, of course, was a ploy with predictable results-so joins the warp and woof of spidered machinations.

  He gasped. His eyes flew wide. He gulped, exclaiming aloud, “By Hoom Tet’s scented belly, Prince, he would, indeed. But by all the gods, sir, do you really have permission? For you must know that ‘tis a thing unheard of here.”

  Thinking I’d test him, I frowned, saying sharply, “Well, since you ask, the answer’s ‘no.’

  Nor do I care a fig one way or the other. But have no fear, envoy-to-be. All will go well. You’ll find that profits and gain alone is the end product of what we do…. And young lord,” I whispered owlishly, “fear not the Dark One. We of the North do not. Ours is the power, sir, and ‘tis we who’ll prevail. How else, indeed, do you think that I managed this?” I tossed the talisman gaily into the air….

  His face paled. But in our company, rife as it had been from the first hour with a certain apostasy, a certain disdain for the fears he’d lived with all his life, he too had changed; enough so’s to allow his natural cupidity, plus his hate of the Dark One, to come to the fore. He Cast all doubts to the heavens to mutter fiercely, “If what you say is true, my lord, even a tenth of it, then I’m your man. If not? Then Hoom Tet’s darkest curse upon you.”

  I laughed. “And what might that be?”

  He grinned. “I doubt, sir, that you’d like it.”

  I’d spoken to him with such a cheery voice and with such a projected confidence that he actually had little recourse but to smile and agree. And, too, as stated, the promise of gold, power, and the freedom to use it is both a lever and fulcrum to move all humanoids.

  We had, in the meantime, arrived at the bridge. Recognizing young Sernas, the guards bowed low, made way for us. Four stood at the far end. They were equipped with trumpets and drums; alarums and such against onsets. As we moved out onto the heavy planks, the sun, as I knew it would, burst through to our backs, sent great rays of golden, Pug Boo light, to focus on our persons. I beckoned the trumpeters, tossed them a handful of small gold, and bade them blow!

  And they blew, put their lungs to it so that we needed no Pug Boo amplifier. Indeed, their blasts were such that those in the castle, too, were alerted. I then activized the ion sulphur effect in the iron of our armor so that we, too, glowed, ever so lightly, though clearly visible. And so we crossed the bridge to canter gaily over the great field with its mass of tents and warriors.

  Bright sunlight seems always to have a magical appeal to humanoids; this, whatever and wherever the planet. With a reasonable temperature (between seventy and one hundred degrees Fahrenheit) they emerge like the fabled lemmings to enjoy its warmth and promise.

  No wonder the proliferation of sun gods. It was the single object most likely to receive worship in the first stages of barbarism.

  And so it was in the fields and halls of great Castle Sernas. All were astir with the sun’s appearance. Moreover, before ever we’d ridden through the mass of men-at-arms who’d surrounded us on every side to exclaim at our strange heraldry and colors, the gates, too, had been flung open and a crowd of lords, barons and knights came forth upon the steps to see and greet us.

  We rode three abreast, myself, Murie, and Sernas leading, for after all, it was his father’s castle. Then Rawl, Caroween, and Griswall; after them our three stalwarts. These last grinned widely and waved arrogant hands-as per my instructions-to their counterparts in Hishian armor.

  Then a dozen or so great lords rode forth to take their place with the other nobility before the gates.

  Young Sernas, his spirits ebullient, his loose-lipped, sybarite face all beaming with his newly acclaimed preeminence, cried loudly above the hubbub, “Well now, my Lord Til-Cares, that black-browed center figure is my father. Those lords so thick around him are the most powerful in these parts. That they’ve come out at all is a thing I’ve never seen before.”

  I nodded, though I doubted that all things would be sweetness and light. We halted at some ten paces from Lord Akin Sernas, for that was his full name. Ignoring the rest of us, he rose high in his stirrups and called to his son, yelling, “So you’ve come home, you damned gerd’s whelp! And you dare to do this with the stench of your attack upon our Lord of Haken’s daughter still foul upon your body. Better you died, sir, on that Northern field from which you so miraculously escaped. And who are these strangers?” He stared straight at me and his glare was menacing. “You’ll find no safety in their company, I promise you.” The spittle fair flew from his mouth.

  Our young Omnian, startled, looked apprehensive. I sat my mount, my face expre
ssionless. He then shouted in turn to his father, and in an accusing voice: “These are men from the far-off Selig Isles, sir, here at my suggestion to discuss conditions of trade direct with you and your peers.”

  “At your suggestion? By the gods,” the great Lord of Sernas thundered. He meant to say more but was interrupted by a black-browed lord of evil visage who, also yelling, had wheeled his mount to within a few paces of young Sernas.

  “And by what right,” he shouted, “do these ‘men of Selig’ murder my men upon the highway, fornicator? And look you close, my lord,” he said to Sernas senior, those are my dottles they bestride, my saddles, my blankets! And you, you snot-nosed calf,” he cried again to Lors, “have despoiled my daughter. Which means, sir, that I’ll have your liver!”

  “By the gods!” Young Sernas exploded in turn. “If that’s your game, I’ll have yours first!” Out came his sword, and his shield from off his shoulder. But Griswall drove instantly and skillfully between them, forcing young Sernas back upon our ranks where he sat his mount and looked quite helpless.

  The tableau in which we now found ourselves was in no way to my liking (Hooli had set us up for better). Still, I had no choice but to make the best of it.

  “My Lord of Sernas!” I called out boldly, sternly, nudging my dottle a pace beyond our line. “‘Tis true that we ride mounts taken from the men of your friend Lord Haken-for which we deeply beg his pardon. Moreover, we would make amends for his loss in any way he so desires. I will assure you now, sirs, that it is not the way of Seligians to murder strangers upon the highways. Our mounts were stolen while we slept. Had we the opportunity we would have purchased others with good Seligian gold. But, as we stepped out upon the road to petition whom we could, the Lord of Haken’s men stormed down upon us, swords bared to take our lives. We but defended ourselves, sirs, no more. That his men died and we did not is but the vagary of chance. But,” I continued flatly, “Between us of gentle blood the problem should be minimal. In no way must it interfere with what we have come for-which should be of basic interest to us all.”

  “And that is?”

  “The question of trade-direct, between you and us.”

  All chatter had ceased. The silence lingered while Sernas studied me. He was a big man, heavily muscled. His hair and beard were dark. His eyes and lips were as his-son’s, slack, red, and sensual. The richness of his garments proclaimed his wealth. His eyes then shifted from me to the others of my party, lingered on Caroween and Murie. He finally asked,

  “Who are you really, sir, to come here with this reprobate? For know this, though he calls himself my son, his friendship will grant you no entry to my house. I ask again: Announce yourself as is the custom…”

  I sighed, rose high in my stirrups, the apparent protocol, to say strongly, “I, my lords, am the Prince, Til-Cares, of the Selig Isles. This is my Princess, the Lady Meeres.” I touched Murie’s arm. “With me is the Prince, Til-Keeves, and his Lady Carameer.” I gestured. “The others are our squires and our master swordsman, Og-Grisald. And now that you know us, my lord, allow me to say that in our island-world of sea, wind, and ships, we have a thing called courtesy. Guests are given respect until proven false. None are left to sit their mounts outside our walls or to ply their ships before our harbor moles. As stated for the last time: We will most certainly make amends for the wrong done to the Lord Haken. But there Still remains the other, the business about which we have come.”

  The Lord Haken cried, “What of my daughter, sir?”

  “‘Tis no affair of mine. We but met this young lord on the road.”

  Haken continued-as Lord Sernas’ advocate. “What business,” he asked, “can you possibly have which is not now granted us by the beneficence of our living god?”

  I shrugged. “You refer to your Dark One? Well, know this. I have his agreement to this meeting which, as stated, will be ‘twixt yourselves and me alone.”

  At that they frowned and muttered, while Sernas pulled his beard and bit his lip. The muttering grew. For I’m sure they’d never heard such a proposition in living memory.

  A man stepped forward, the one I’d been waiting for. His garb was the crimson robe, and he was the castle’s priestwizard. His black eyes glittered. “What proof,” he demanded,

  “do you have for this suggestion of yours-which I deem blasphemy?”

  I smiled, brought forth the green and glowing disc. ‘Without a doubt each lord possessed one like it. But that I, an obvious outsider, should have one, too, was to my credit.

  The disc, catching the sun as it did, glowed strongly, and with a Pug Boo’s added glitter. It must have seemed twice as big in their eyes. “The authority,” I defined it flatly, “of your God!”

  Then I turned direct to Sernas. “My lord,” I asked. “What say you? Is there courtesy to your house or is there not? If not, say so-and we’ll be on our way.”

  The Lord of Sernas grinned, then laughed outright, “Through all of that?” He waved a hand toward the five thousand warriors and knights. His laughter was joined by the roaring guffaws of others until, in ever widening circles, it reached the horizon of his tents.

  I looked slowly around, screwed up my eyes as if counting heads. I said solemnly,

  “Well now, ‘tis my thinking that our master-swordsman could do the job. He’s killed three hundred men, you know. And that by accident. But if he did need help, well, what with the rest of us, I doubt me there’d be a problem.”

  At this bit of bravado the laughter mounted along with some applause which grew, too, as my words were passed to those who waited. For above all else, before ever they were warriors of Hish in Om, they had first been Alphians-true warriors who could appreciate a man!

  Lord Akin Sernas rode forward then to take my hand; the others likewise. He shouted so that all could hear. “I welcome you, Prince of Selig. And let us hope, sir, that this business whereof you speak will compensate for the insolence of your words.” Seeing his son beaming at this sudden twist of things, he scowled, said bluntly, “As for you, whelp, you’ll defend yourself, you hear, against my Lord of Haken’s charges.”

  “Why Pod,” young Lors said blithely, “mayhap I’ll marry the bitch and end the problem altogether. After all,” he finished unconcernedly, while licking his red lips, “the girl’s a fat-thighed, Hoom-Tet dream, and that’s a fact.” He seemed not the least bit disconcerted by either Haken’s instant howl of rage or his father’s overt grunt of disgust, but rode with us into the castle courtyard as would a returned conquering hero… . He was a young man, I mused, most difficult to like.

  I wasted no time for there was none to waste. Two ploys had been put into motion.

  The lie that I had authority from the Dark One to do what I wished to do. The act of disassociation wherein I spoke of their god and not of mine. I had no doubt that all in the castle would soon be reminded of what I’d said by the priestwizard himself, which was what I wanted. It could only strengthen my position. For whatever happened in the next few hours, one thing was certain: the priestwizard would commit a cardinal error. Thinking the Dark One all knowing, he would await instructions rather than contact the Dark One directly. The longer he waited, the more the others (and I’d long decided that Omnians obeyed their god through fear only), would rub their hands in glee, gain confidence in the fact that whatever I was up to, I was getting away with it. And victory would be theirs, too, and with no risk at all to themselves.

  Though the risk for me was great, I was staking my all that the Dark One-busy with his gateway-cared not a mouldering fig for the annual nonsense at Castle Sernas. Moreover, unless he had direct knowledge of something awry, there would simply be no reason for him to move. The idea of trouble in Om would never cross his mind. For just as the city’s gatekeepers and his priestwizards of the pyramid had had no reason to think in terms of a meaningful enemy on his own turf, so was he, too, conditioned.

  Precedent, I mused with a certain inner glow, was a most natural adjunct to natural history
. Without it? Well how does one learn without history?

  I sent Griswall and my student warriors to ride through the spread of tents and swarms of swordsmen to do one simple thing-to laugh, to slap myriad backs in friendship, and to share as many drinks, short of drunkenness, as they could. Their purpose? To insure that in the eyes of all who saw then they would seem the happiest, the most confident, and the freest of men; this, thought they quite obviously were not Kaleen possessed and, indeed, showed no evidence of a need of him at all.

  We were given rooms in Lord Akin Sernas’ own quarters. This, since four hundred lords, barons, and the like, with their ladies, had descended upon him for Kaartag, the yearly meeting, so that he had already apportioned the remainder of the castle. Suffice it to say the estate and all its surrounding fields were crowded. Suffice it to say, too, that rooms in Sernas’ quarters were the best. For no lord in all of Om, had he a choice, would give rooms next his privy apartments to priestwizards or Kaleen supporters. So, in that sense, too, we had an extra measure of freedom.

  I’d commissioned my gay young Lors Sernas to gather what drinking companions he could find and to create a claque, as it were, to shout in support of the questions of free trade between the Selig Isles and the Lords of Om, which I would bring to the night’s meeting. With Sernas gone to his duties, I then held the others for a last word-that they must prepare themselves this night to face with me the fury the Dark One would unleash against us. For with any luck, before cock’s crow our “Birnham wood” would have begun its perilous march to Hish’s Dunsinane.”