For some reason, this lighthearted bit of philosophy was comforting to Jim. But it did not lift from him that shadow sensed by Dafydd's sensitiveness to things beyond the normal. Something was still wrong. He was forgetting something.
In his own mind he examined the situation for the several hundredth time. Theoretically, things could not be better. He had succeeded in following Carolinus's directions. England and France were restive now beneath a truce that neither one of them was really happy with, but which neither could think of any good reason to break.
King Jean had been released from his capture back to his proper position on the throne of France as a quiet codicil to the truce. Jim himself had recovered his passport.
It had been brought to him by a positively beaming Secoh, who had descended from among the horde of dragons circling above the battlefield—and who had come very close to having not merely one, but a number of arrows, through him from the three archers Dafydd had recruited.
It had only been Jim's voice and Dafydd's speaking out just in time, that kept Secoh from becoming very dead indeed, as he planed in for a landing. As a matter of fact, he would have been no more safe on the ground than in the air. Every armed man there—which meant all of them—was ready to repel his attack by attacking him first. In this latter case, it was Jim and Brian's interposition that saved Secoh's life.
With Edward's threat, the battle was ended without either side winning; and Jim had the passport back inside him. He had had a little trouble remembering exactly what the procedure was for shrinking it down so that he could swallow it again; but he had recaptured the proper spell words at last, and since gotten over the extreme feeling of fullness that having it inside him had once more produced. He looked forward to returning it to the Cliffside Dragons; and never having to do with anything like it again.
He still felt an uneasiness that he could not pin down, a premonition of danger. But he could think of no corridor from which the danger could come at him. Even if it did, he was extremely well backed up by the men-at-arms and archers that rode behind him. Brian was right. It was best to simply wait for trouble to show itself, before becoming overly concerned with it.
Brian was in the midst of asking a question of Dafydd, who rode on Jim's other side, so that he was effectively talking across Jim as the three rode forward.
"Something I'd been meaning to ask," Brian was saying to the archer. "I by no means account myself good-looking. Nor, with all truth can I say whether another man is good-looking or not to female eyes, though insofar as ladies and even ordinary women are concerned I am no bad judge of looks, I flatter myself. But it was my own Lady that pointed out to me that you, Dafydd, are considered to have an appearance highly attractive to practically any woman. It wondered me at the time, and since, that when Melusine was pouncing upon people on whom to visit her fancy after being deprived of Jim and King Jean; that she did not light upon you, who was with us at the time, since you are accounted so desirable by the gentle sex."
"I do not think it of great likeliness," answered Dafydd, "though, in truth I have been myself told that I have some small attraction for some women. Yet I would not for the world that even the least thing be said of me that might creep, as slander does, back to the ears of my golden bird, about an interest supposedly between me and some other lady. Therefore, once I recognized Melusine's tendency to respond to men, I plucked up again a bit of twig with some leaves upon it and stuck it in my cap. Whether that made me invisible or not, I do not know, but certainly her eyes did not light upon me, nor her effect—"
He broke off speaking with unexpected suddenness, and spurred forward, reining in his horse almost immediately about five yards ahead of them.
"Hold!" he cried, holding up a hand in the air.
This command, from one who ordinarily never commanded, produced a sudden halting of the column. As Jim and Brian watched, Dafydd leaned far down from his saddle to pluck from among a bunch of weeds by the wayside what proved to be an arrow.
Once upright in his saddle, he sat staring at it and examining it.
Jim and Brian rode forward together to him.
"What ails you?" demanded Brian. "It is only an arrow, such as may have been lost by any bowman out hunting game."
Dafydd turned a face on him that was so grim, that Brian stiffened in his saddle.
"It is a shaft of my golden bird's!" said Dafydd, "and it can only be here as a message that she is in difficulties, and we should be warned!"
"Why, how do you read all that from a simple arrow?" asked Brian.
"Do I not know my golden bird's shafts as well as I know my own?" Dafydd snapped at him. "More than that, it would not be here except to send me a message. That message concerns us all, but requires the proper eyes to read it."
"Lord knows," said Brian, "I have no eye for reading arrow shafts. Read us this message then, if it has things we should hear."
"I fear me it does," said Dafydd. "Look you, to begin with we are right now at the farthest Danielle might be able to send a shaft from high in Malencontri's tower. It was also at about the farthest turn of the road that can be seen from such a high point, through the trees. If you will look about us here, you will notice there are no tall trees close to our road. She knows the road well, therefore she knew this spot along it. She has aimed the arrow with all her strength in this direction."
"And you're sure of this?" asked Jim. "How can you tell that it isn't a shaft that she may have lost even some weeks ago, when out hunting?"
"Look you," said Dafydd still grimly, turning his eyes on Jim, "it was almost straight up and down in the earth, therefore it had been shot high in the air to get the greatest possible distance. The shaft has not been subject to weather for more than a day or two at most—I could tell if it had. Further, if it were needed, my golden bird does not lose her arrows. Like all good users of the bow, when she aims at a target, she also looks beyond it to someplace where it may lodge, so that she can find it again, if she should miss her mark—and well you know she does not often miss her mark. In fact, I can never remember of her missing; though it is true she has not shot at such distance and such marks as I myself have shot."
"All right. I see what you mean," said Jim. "The arrow was shot high—but how do you know from the castle?"
"Why else would Danielle shoot an arrow at random into the air?" said Dafydd. "No, no, to think of her shooting without a purpose is to think wildly. If she did not shoot without purpose, then the only likely place from which such an arrow should come would be from the castle. Also, the only reason for it being shot at all, would be for us to find it on our way to the castle. Clearly, it is a message and a warning."
"But you might just as easily have missed it as we rode by," said Brian. "For myself, I vow I did not even see it until you had pulled it clear of the grass and weeds."
"I not see it, a shaft from the bow of the one I love?" Dafydd answered him. "Would you fail to see a torn piece of cloth from a dress that you knew well your Lady often wore, caught on a bramble bush in the forest?"
"Well, no," said Brian, "but is there not a difference—"
"There is no difference. I will not say it again," said Dafydd. "In fact, enough of this talk about how and why the shaft got here, take my word that it was shot of purpose to warn us, and that it carries a message. It is that message that is important"
"What read you in it then?" asked Brian.
"That she—and therefore probably all others in the castle—are prisoners there, now," said Dafydd. "It would have been shot either at early dawn or late twilight—which would account for her missing the path itself. Otherwise we would have found it squarely in our way. She is held, they are all held, by those who are enemies of ours. This shaft was to warn us against riding unprepared into an ambush that they had set up for us."
"But we have no enemies," said Brian. "Aside from the raiding band we drove off before leaving for France, all our neighbors are good friends. Nor is it likely that sea-
raiders would come this far inland again, so soon."
"Think again," said Dafydd, studying the arrow, and not bothering to lift his head to answer the knight. "They are held prisoner by those who are marked in black—marked four times in black."
"How read you that?" asked Brian.
"Four of the feather spines have been touched with ink, deep in, close to the wood of the shaft itself, so that the marking will not be obvious. Who do we know who marks himself and those with him four times in black?"
"Malvinne," said Jim.
He had said the word aloud, but it was obvious that the association had been made as quickly by Brian, and had already been in Dafydd's mind.
"But I can't believe it," Jim went on, half to himself. "Malvinne here?—And enough ahead of us to take my castle, and lay an ambush in for us?"
"You are a fool if you make that a question, James," said a harsh voice; and suddenly Aragh was beside them.
They looked down from their saddles at him.
"Aragh," said Jim, "how long have you been here? Is Dafydd right about all this?"
"He could not be more right," retorted Aragh, "and if you did not expect something like this, James, I have even less respect for your wits. Malvinne may be, as you told us, the day after we left the battlefield, now without magic. But didn't you notice that he left before anyone else—that he was gone before the day was out, and a full night and half a day before we ourselves left that field?"
"That's true," said Jim glumly. "You're right Aragh. I should've been thinking."
"It would become you, James," said Aragh. "I highly recommend it. Clearly he rode as fast and as hard as he could toward the coast, somehow gathering up money and men of his own on the way; so that he could take ship long before us. So he could be here in plenty of time to reach Malencontri, take it from the small handful that now holds it—if he did not trick himself into possession of it—and has since been waiting for us. He will also have had someone waiting in Hastings and all the other of the Cinque Ports, with orders to ride to him with all haste if you are seen disembarking on English soil. So warned, it'd be a small thing to figure the time it would take you to get here; and start setting up a daily ambush well before the expected time of your arrival. You did not think of any of this?"
"No. I'm ashamed of myself, but I didn't," said Jim, caught between chagrin and fury. "I only felt danger looming, from some quarter or another."
"Of what nature and how many men of what sorts and weapons are involved in this that Malvinne has laid for us at Malencontri?" asked Brian, practically.
"It was known that you had to come by this path, if you came suspecting nothing," answered Aragh. "There are eighty men with horses behind the castle, in two groups, out of sight and waiting for you. But they are not like your men-at-arms, light-armed and light-weaponed. All are heavily armed and armored, ready to sally around each end of the castle at you once you've cleared the trees and are in the open. These wait only a signal from the castle. As soon as anyone on the battlements up there sees you coming, he'll pass words to those below and behind the castle, who are there now, already dressed and armed. Then each group will mount and charge together at you, around the castle ends."
"How many bowmen, either long, cross, or both?" demanded Dafydd.
"I counted eighteen," answered Aragh. "Say twenty to twenty-five for a good guess."
Dafydd slowly scrubbed the heel of his left hand across his eyes and forehead. When he took his hand down, his eyes were closed. He opened them again and turned back to face the men behind him, raising his voice.
"Who knows every place within twenty miles of here?"
Several voices answered; but only one man pushed himself forward. He was a man-at-arms, showing untidy tufts of gray hair from under the front edge of his helmet, and a touch of gray stubble upon his chin and cheeks.
"I grew up here," he said to Dafydd, when he reached the tall Welshman.
"A guide is needed," said Dafydd. He turned in the other direction, saw Wat of Easdale, Clym Tyler, and Will o'the Howe standing together not too far from him. He beckoned Wat forward. "How many archers have we now?"
"Six," answered Wat. There was no expression on his face. "Counting yourself."
"And there are twenty to twenty-five in the castle—how many of them longbowmen, and how many of the crossbow, I don't know," Dafydd said. "This man-at-arms here with me—what is your name?"
"Rob Aleward," answered the man-at-arms.
"Rob Aleward will be your guide, Wat," said Dafydd. "I want you to scour the vicinity, going first to those places that are closest, and bring back every man who ever pulled a longbow. It matters not what skill they claim to have, or have not. They are to come and they are to shoot for Lord James. They should come willingly, but if not they are to come anyway. I can trust you to do this?"
"You can trust me," said Wat. He turned to Aleward. "Lead me to the nearest place where there is a bowman."
They went off together.
Dafydd turned back to face Jim and Brian.
"That's the most I can do, look you," he said. "Gladly would I storm the castle single-handed, if it would do any good; but it would not. The rest is up to you, Sir Brian and my Lord."
Dafydd's return to the use of their titles emphasized the seriousness of the moment. It was not an hour for friendship, courtesy, or anything at all but who could lead best in what situation. Jim felt it as much as Dafydd obviously did. He turned to Brian.
"Brian," he said, "you've more experience with something like this than I'll probably ever have. What do you suggest?"
Chapter Forty-Two
Brian scowled in deep thought.
"The one thing we don't want to do," he said, "is ride on out there and let them catch us like a fish snapping up at a fly. They have the better of us in numbers. By rights we should be ambushing them, not the other way around, to make things even. That, James—"
He looked at Jim.
"Is the answer, if you wish one," he said. "Ambush them. But damme, if I know how to go about it. James, you'll have to exercise your wits on the means."
Brian was right enough, Jim thought. This was not a military situation that offered its own, immediately obvious answer. It was unfair of him to shove it all off on Brian, and expect the other to provide him with a neat little package of what to do.
"Well, let's see," he said. "There's eighty men out there behind the castle, sitting and no doubt lying about all day long, waiting for word that will put them on horseback and send them charging around the castle at us…"
He was thinking out loud, but it was the only thing that occurred to him to do at the moment.
"Come to think of it, they can't stay there all night," he went on. "They must go out in the morning and come in at evening. Now, when are they most vulnerable? Early in the morning, when they've just woken up and are coming out? Or at the end of the day, after they've gotten thoroughly worn out and bored and hot from sitting around in their armor all day waiting for something that hasn't happened?"
"End of the day, I should think," said Brian. "A man may be a bit stiff and cold in the morning; but he warms up quickly enough when action starts. On the other hand, later in the day—after a meal, say—they'll be tired out from doing nothing. Most likely, they'll be at small odds, one with the other over small disagreements. A dozen different little things will have put them out of the mood to go instantly and eagerly into battle together. Add to that a sudden reverse of some kind, which disheartens them and also scrambles their wits, so that things seem to have gone much awry; and we might well have a group in some confusion, and that much more likely to be overridden and conquered."
"You know," said Jim, "you're right, Brian. You've put your finger on it. What's most needed will be something happening that's the last thing they expect. We need to attack them; not them us. And we ought to not only do it at a time when they least expect, but contrive something that will really throw them into disorder."
&nb
sp; He thought of the cleared area behind his own castle. Like the cleared area before, it had been essentially a matter of taking out the trees down to a few stump-ends, at most, and letting the grass and normal ground cover grow back now that it was out of the shade. This time of year, the grass would be going dormant again, and the ground would be hard. Good conditions—aside from those few stumps—for a cavalry charge at a stationary enemy. His mind began to work, as if it had newly woken up.
"There's another angle to this," he said, thinking aloud once more. "Why is Malvinne doing this?"
"Revenge," grunted Brian, "on you, James. What other reason could he have?"
"That's reason enough, I suppose," said Jim. "I've cost him everything he had; and had a hand in upsetting his best-laid plan as well as forcing him to disappoint the Dark Powers. But it seems to me that someone like Malvinne would go for more than just revenge. He'd try to get his revenge, yes; but also with it some advantage that would help him climb back to the power and position he had originally."
"Of course," said Brian, "if he captured you alive, he could take you back to France, either to hold for ransom, or even to be tried for some crime under French law. Something that would lose you all that you had gained in the eyes of French and English alike by ending the battle on a truce. Perhaps he hopes to reconcile himself with King Jean."
"Yes," said Jim thoughtfully, "this arrangement has to be set up to take me, and perhaps you and Dafydd as well, prisoners—rather than kill us. Even my charges against him at the Accounting Office will look weaker, if they come from someone being held prisoner by the very one he charged."
"They'd not find against you, surely?" said Dafydd, who had been standing by throughout this. "Since they will make their decision upon the facts of the matter, not upon how things look."
"I wouldn't think so," said Jim. "But now that the subject's come up it's something I'd like to ask Carolinus about—if he were here. However, you were saying something about these knights, or whatever they are, of Malvinne's being thrown into confusion by something unexpected. They're dressed and armed to fight from horseback; and undoubtedly will have their horses with them. Granted, they're more heavily armed and protected than our men. But what if they had to fight on foot, and our men-at-arms still had their horses, and light lances? Could something be done by our men against theirs then, do you think?"