The Dragon, the Earl, and

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "I would judge now would be a good time for Mnrogar to ride out," he said. "Waiting is a good thing, but we don't want to overdo it."

  Matters were set in hand accordingly. Jim and Brian watched through the slit in the tent side, while Mnrogar and his opponent waited for the trumpet that would set them in motion against other.

  "Who is this now?" asked Jim, trying to peer at the coat of arms on the pennant that the cold breeze was rippling almost directly away from him.

  "Sir Reginald Burgh," said Brian. "He is a Northumbrian knight, like Giles, though from the other end of the Border— what is this? Look, James! Did you notice that when his charger moved its rump to give us a little more of a side view, Sir Reginald's corselet showed itself half-unlaced on one side, at least. How could a mistake like that happen? I wonder if—"

  A trumpet sounded from the stands. Sir Reginald's horse was instantly in motion; and a second later Mnrogar burst into view from right next to the tent. They came at each other at what seemed to be tremendous speeds.

  "Hah!" shouted Brian suddenly. "Here's craft! I thought so! Watch his shield, James—"

  That was all Brian had time to say before the two horsemen crashed together; but Jim did not need to be told any more. He saw.

  Sir Reginald at the last moment had crouched down in his saddle—this was why his corselet had been half-untied to allow him to crouch even the small amount he did. He had also then tilted his shield sharply backward, so that Mnrogar's point would bounce off it. It was perhaps a not very honorable, but a perfectly legal trick in jousting to loosen corselet strings and tilt a shield. In any case, in jousts it very seldom mattered how the winner won, as long as he did win—unless the manner of his winning reflected a lack of honor upon either his audience or some important person in it.

  It was a highly effective device; and certainly would have worked if Mnrogar himself had known anything about jousting. But, as luck would have it, Mnrogar's lance was once more very badly aimed, and it struck far lower on Sir Reginald's shield than it should have, with a result that he was pushed out of his saddle sideways. His fall was therefore not as spectacular as the falls of the first two knights had been. But it was a fall nonetheless. Mnrogar rode back past him to the tent with the same unmoved indifference.

  The fourth knight to oppose Mnrogar came after only a reasonable pause following Sir Reginald Burgh. He was Sir Thomas Hampter, a tower of a man, who looked welded in his saddle.

  The encounter between him and Mnrogar this time was apparently faultless on both sides. Even Mnrogar got his spear point in the area of the center of Sir Thomas's shield, and Sir Thomas was even more accurate. But Mnrogar was apparently unmoved by his opponent's weapon, while Sir Thomas, though he stayed in the saddle, leaned over to one side; and seemed unable to direct his horse back to the tent, until attendants came running to take its reins near the bit and lead it back, with him still leaning from the saddle, but supported by a footman on that side.

  "And now," said Brian, turning away from the slit in the tent as Sir Thomas vanished into the other tent at the far end of the list, "for Sir Harimore."

  Mnrogar was also just at this moment being led into his tent, still in the saddle. He dismounted, took off his helm and squatted again. There was no change as far as could be seen in him.

  The boar-horse was another matter. In spite of the magic by which Carolinus had restrained it and made it teachable, it was beginning to show a very strong desire to break loose of all restraints and do something destructive. It stood, after it was brought all the way in; but it pawed the ground—the one natural boar-movement that, superficially, it had in common with the natural movements of the horse—and it made curious sounds from time to time, which were evidently an attempt to snuffle boar-style, with the result emerging as something like the snort a horse might make.

  "Will he stay obedient to Mnrogar, James?" asked Brian, looking at the animal. "If there was one other knight with whom it would be not well to have him lose his head, it would be Sir Harimore."

  "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Brian," said Jim. "I don't know what Carolinus did to him, or how Carolinus did it. I'm only sure it's something that's beyond my ability; and that means that I'd better not try to monkey with the commands that control him. Why don't we just let him stand? He may calm down." Brian looked bemused by the Americanism Jim had unthinkingly used, but he said nothing further.

  They sat down at the table which Angie had returned to.

  "What do you expect from Sir Harimore?" Jim asked Brian.

  "I can make no guess, James," said Brian. "I know no more in this instance than if I was about to ride against him myself. We will simply have to wait and see."

  They did wait, and it was not an abnormally long wait, but it was not a short wait either. Looking out through the tent-flap in front, Jim got the idea that the people in the stands were either becoming deeply annoyed over the fact that four of their warriors had gone down before Mnrogar's lance, or else impatient to see the final bout; particularly since it was with Sir Harimore, whose reputation was known to all.

  But the time passed, and eventually the trumpet rang out from the other tent. Brian did not dally then. He got Mnrogar on the boar-horse, which might have calmed down somewhat, but still looked as if it might start foaming at the mouth and running wild at any moment. But the iron hand of Mnrogar was on its reins; and the horse walked out of the tent into the lists and stood while Mnrogar was handed his spear, without giving any unusual trouble.

  This time the wait to hear the trumpet blast that would signal the beginning of the actual engagement was as hard on the nerves of those in Mnrogar's tent as it apparently was in the stands themselves. At the other end of the list, already holding his lance, was Sir Harimore, looking very motionless and capable in his saddle.

  The trumpet finally spoke. The horses leaped forward and rushed down their separate sides of the barrier at each other. Sir Harimore looked as he did at all times and in all activities, as if he was perfection itself and completely in charge of the situation. He sat his horse with ease and authority, his lance balanced loosely in his grasp until the last moment, when he clamped his grip tight on it and pressed it hard against his armored side with his elbow. The sound of their meeting was if anything louder than the sound of the previous meetings Mnrogar had been involved in were concerned.

  Both spears flew into splinters. Mnrogar was carried on by the boar-horse, seemingly unmoved. But Sir Harimore also was carried on by his, looking equally untouched.

  They returned to their respective tents.

  "Oh, pretty. Very pretty—I knew it!" exclaimed Brian, as soon as Mnrogar was inside. "Or rather, I should have known it. Of course, Harimore would want to ride two courses to make the most of the meeting. Also of course, as it must happen in these matters, Mnrogar handled his lance the best he has today. Now Harimore has him coming into a second meeting; and with our luck, the troll will miss horse and rider completely."

  "Well, maybe not," said Jim. "Look on the bright side of things, Brian."

  "Hah!" said Brian. "Bright side!"

  "At any rate," said Jim, "the boar-horse looks like he'll be all right. Maybe he's getting used to these runs down the list against horses and riders he doesn't know."

  "It may be," said Brian, "for all that his training was only against dummies and the creature conjured by the Mage."

  "Well, tell me," said Jim, "is he at the top of his form today? Doing as well or better than he's done before? Or is he worse?"

  "Yes to any and all of those questions, James," said Brian glumly. "There was never any predicting him. He would carry his spear almost in Christian fashion for as many as three or four runs in a row, and then miss his foe entirely."

  "But he must have improved as he went along, didn't he?" Jim insisted.

  "Oh, he got better," said Brian. "But only up to a point. Look at him now—"

  Jim looked. Mnrogar was squatting on the floor with his helm off, as usual, an
d looking at nothing in particular.

  "—He has no feeling for the jousting!"

  "Yes," growled Mnrogar unexpectedly from the floor.

  Both Jim and Brian stared at him. Mnrogar's face was no longer absent. A savage look had come over his unlovely features.

  "That other with the stick said something to me as he passed," said Mnrogar.

  "Said? What?" demanded Jim.

  "I don't know," snarled Mnrogar, his voice a little louder in the tent. "I couldn't quite hear. Why should he say anything? He is on my land. And he says things to me!"

  "Oh, that's just one of Harimore's little tricks," said Brian. "The other rider isn't supposed to make out what Harimore says when he does that. So the other man imagines something—and he usually imagines the worst possible thing that Harimore could say. That gets him angry; and an angry jouster is not a wise jouster."

  "Well, it seems to have worked with Mnrogar," said Jim.

  "True," said Brian, suddenly thoughtful, looking down at the troll. "He only said it to make you angry, troll."

  "I am angry!" said Mnrogar.

  "Well, don't be, Mnrogar," said Jim hastily. "He just made a noise to anger you, so you'd make mistakes and he could win over you. You don't want him to do that, do you?"

  "Win? No one can win over me!" growled Mnrogar.

  "But he may if he gets you angry enough so that you can't concentrate on your jousting," said Jim.

  "Jousting!" Evidently a troll's mouth, jaw and tongue were not built to allow spitting; but it certainly sounded very much as if Mnrogar would have spat the word out if he could. "I will smash him and eat his bones!"

  "No you won't, troll!" snapped Brian. "You'll ride the best ride you can and use your lance the best you can; and that's all you'll do! Now just think on that, keep thinking on that until you are a-horse and going down the list!"

  Mnrogar snarled wordlessly, looking past both Jim and Brian off in the direction of the other tent, as if he could see through the cloth side of this one to it.

  Chapter 38

  The trumpet sang at the far end of the list. Mnrogar put on his helm and climbed on the back of the boar-horse without needing to be prompted. They were led out together from the tent, and a moment later Jim and Brian were in position, looking through the slit in the side of the tent, Jim stretching his as much as he could to get a look at Mnrogar and his steed.

  "I just hope the boar-horse doesn't break loose and do something wrong," he said.

  "Oh, it's not the horse that gives me concern," said Brian. "It's the troll."

  "Mnrogar?" said Jim, taking his eyes off the list for a moment to glance at Brian. "But you know his limitations. He shouldn't behave any worse than usual, at any rate. On the other hand, the boar-horse is excited and looking for a fight—"

  "So is the troll," said Brian. "And he wasn't before. It's that which is not good."

  Jim would have said something more; but at that moment the trumpet sang and Mnrogar and Sir Harimore hurled themselves at each other.

  Both were traveling faster than they had in the previous bout; and they came together with what was, even to Jim's untrained ear, a sound more loud and angry than any he had heard this day. The lances flew to pieces, and Sir Harimore was forced backward at an angle in his saddle, but not in any sense loosened from it. Mnrogar also seemed to be pushed back by the impact, though much less than Sir Harimore.

  "Now, that was anything but pretty," said Brian with satisfaction. "But what's to do now? There were only supposed to be five encounters, and the rule has always been two rides to an engagement. Aha—I half expected it!"

  Sir Harimore had called out to the footmen around his tent, and one of them was picking up a new lance while Harimore rode back for it. Mnrogar was already on his way back, at better than his usual speed, and the boar-horse was now clearly excited.

  "What is it? What's going to happen?" said Jim.

  "Sir Harimore is offering to encounter again immediately!" said Brian. "See, he takes a fresh lance and holds it up over his head. We must get a new lance to the troll, right away."

  But Mnrogar was already back and reaching for the new lance that Angie was passing to him. It was only then that Jim realized that Angie had not come back into the tent. Brian's voice, of course, had carried clearly to both Angie and Mnrogar; but it was almost as if it had not been necessary. Angie was handing up the new lance and Mnrogar was taking it. He turned his horse around.

  "The Earl's trumpeter must sound from the stand to give them permission, first—" began Brian, but broke off. Mnrogar had yanked the boar-horse's head around, so that the animal had turned with him. He put his lance in position. At the far end Sir Harimore was doing the same thing; and while the trumpet did indeed sound from the stand to give them permission, both horsed figures were already in motion by the time it echoed over the lists.

  "Now," said Brian tensely, "is the time to watch Harimore, James. He will have some trick in mind, now that he has his opponent afire. Yes—look! He has realized he cannot force Mnrogar out of his saddle, but if he damages one of his legs, the troll may fall, from his plainly seen lack of skill in the saddle. There—"

  Brian had no time to finish. Sir Harimore's lance did indeed dip toward the lower part of Mnrogar's shield, which was something that could happen as much by accident as on purpose; but Jim saw that in this case it pointed very close indeed to Mnrogar's left thigh. But that was all they had time to see, before the two reached each other.

  Sir Harimore's lance point struck and the lance broke. Roaring inside his helm—Jim could hear Mnrogar from here—the troll's point struck directly at Sir Harimore's shield, hit it, and the lance snapped—only a little in front of the handguard by which he held it. Furiously, Mnrogar rode literally into the barrier, reaching out over it and straight-arming the broken butt of his lance and his closed fist against Sir Harimore's upper body.

  Sir Harimore went out of his saddle to the ground.

  But the boar-horse had now been led to shake off all control in an explosion of bottled rage and desire to be at war himself. The only thing he saw to fight was Sir Harimore's horse on the other side of the barrier. Instinctively, he tried to slash his way through the barrier with his nonexistent tusks, but only smashed his nose against it.

  He screamed as only horses can scream, and his boar instincts lost out to the horse instincts. He raised himself on his hind hooves and attacked the barrier itself with his front hooves. The barrier disintegrated.

  "Brian, help me!" cried Jim, running out of the tent and starting to go as fast as he could down the list to where the boar-horse was running wild. He heard the thud of Brian's feet behind.

  But they were forestalled. Mnrogar himself, not thoroughly appeased with having knocked Sir Harimore off his horse, was now quite ready to fight his own mount. He was yanking the boar-horse's head around, and the beast, balanced on two legs, literally was forced to dance backward from the barrier and very nearly go over backward.

  But it recovered its balance in time and got down on four legs, and stood there shaking and snorting as Jim and Brian approached. Mnrogar, however, was not content with having it on the ground, and he kicked it immediately into a gallop back down toward his tent. Jim and Brian had to throw themselves in two different directions to keep from being ridden down.

  Meanwhile, a little ways up the list, Sir Harimore's attendants had picked him up and were carrying him back to the tent.

  "Is Sir Harimore hurt?" Brian called to them.

  Sir Harimore said something that neither Brian nor Jim could catch; and one of the attendants called back to Brian.

  "My Lord says he is only winded, Sir!"

  "Good," said Brian to Jim as they turned and began to walk, panting themselves. Once back, they found Angie trying to calm down the boar-horse, which was already somewhat subdued, but still had Mnrogar—though with his helm off—in his saddle and refusing to get down.

  "Lance!" he was almost shouting. "Give me lance!
"

  "What is this nonsense, troll?" said Brian, stepping to the head of the boar-horse and confronting the furious troll above him. "You've already unhorsed your opponent. You get no more lances."

  "Then I'll tear him with my hands!" roared Mnrogar.

  The situation in the tent was becoming dangerous; and Angie was there with them. Jim suddenly decided that whether it would mix properly with Carolinus's magic on the troll and the boar-horse or not, he would have to do something to stop the situation from getting out of hand.

  "Still!" he ordered, jabbing a pointed finger at Mnrogar and with a clear picture in his mind of the troll frozen in position.

  And Mnrogar suddenly was.

  Without his agitation, the boar-horse now began to quiet down, too.

  "I hope I didn't overdo it," muttered Jim. "But now what? And where's Angie?"

  "She went off around the back of the tents, m'Lord," said Ned Dunster, who was himself now back inside with them.

  "What for?"

  "I don't know, m'Lord."

  "Whew! Whew!" said Brian, stepping back from Mnrogar, turning to the table and pouring himself half a cup of wine. He took a swallow from it with a great air of relief.

  "Why, since you asked, James," he said, as if there had been no interruption in the conversation between Jim and himself at all, "Mnrogar has swept the field. He has unhorsed all who rode against him. Now, out of sheer courtesy, the Earl should invite him to ride up across the lists to the stand, so that the Earl can acknowledge his victory. We should hear a couple of trumpet notes at any minute now."

  "Well, that'll be fine," said Jim. "Mnrogar—unstill. Now listen, when you get to the stands, that's going to be your chance to smell out this other troll among the guests."

  "Yes!" snarled Mnrogar. "That other—almost I'd forgot!"

  Without another word, and before they could stop him, he had pulled the head of the boar-horse around to face the flap in the tent, ridden it out and started down around the lists toward the far end of the stands. Jim and Brian burst out of the tent behind him, only in time to see him well on his way, kicking the sides of his mount futilely with his armored, heelless shoes—Brian had refused to trust him with spurs—and the boar-horse, now taking refuge in the stubbornness that was the other side of its wild character, was refusing to travel at any speed faster than a walk.