He looked to his right and left at the persons he now mentioned.
"At that point, Sir Brian, the Prince Merlion and the wolf you just saw will come with me back through the ranks of the Hollow Men as best we can fight our way, and through the ranks of the Little Men, if they will part enough to let us by. I charge the rest of you to be on watch for us, so that you too may let us through when we come. I will have my own face back again by that time, but I will still be wearing over my armor a surcoat that belongs to Ewen MacDougall. As you leave, you will find, fastened to a pillar by the door, that surcoat; with his coat of arms upon it and his clan's war cry—'Buaidh no Bas'."
The gaelic words of the war cry, which meant "Victory or death" had been taught Jim by Giles. These Borderers all spoke the universal tongue of this world. But there would be none of them who would not understand and recognize the words Jim had just spoken with passable pronunciation.
He went on.
"I bid you note it; and remember it, so that you may let us by when the time comes. Note—when I say us, I mean all of us, including the wolf. Let no man lift weapon against any of my friends, whether these go on four legs or two. I promise on my honor as a magician that any man who does it will regret it. Again—I say this on my honor as a magician!"
He stopped speaking. The hall was still silent. He had not relieved the tension, as he had originally intended to do—in fact, he may have made it worse. But when the time came he had found words inside him that must be said. The men beside him and before him were men who had probably in their time hunted wolves when they saw them, and tried to kill them. Snorrl, effective as he might be, should not have to run a gauntlet of blood-mad Borderers.
This time, it was the voice of Herrac that broke tension and silence at the same time.
"Very well, gentlemen," the shock of his great voice brought them out of their daze, "we have heard I think from all who have anything particular to tell us. Is there anyone else who wishes to speak on any matter?"
He looked down along the edge of the table to Sir John the Graeme. Sir John shook his head. He moved his gaze back to Ardac.
"We have said what we came to say," said Ardac. "Now, we will take our leave."
He got off his stool, and the other Little Men followed him. As the rest of those in the hall watched in silence, they walked off the platform where the high table was, along the length of the room and out the door.
It was the closing of the door that seemed to finally free everyone left there from the constraint of what they had just witnessed and heard. Talking broke out all over, directed not at the assembly, but at each other or the man beside or across the table from them. Wine cups were filled and the wine in them taken in large swallows.
"In that case," Herrac's voice rolled out again over the conversation, "this meeting is closed. We will hold a head count at the time appointed tomorrow morning, at the place appointed. Those who wish to leave now may leave. Those who wish to stay and speak, either with each other, or with one of us here at the high table, are free to do so."
With that, the outbreak of voices, which had stilled itself momentarily when he began to speak, broke out again, louder than before. Jim sat with Herrac, Dafydd and Brian at the table, waiting to see if anyone wanted to come up from the lower table with a question for him. But no one came. He heard a voice in his ear.
"How did he get in—the wolf?" Brian murmured in his ear.
Jim shook his head.
"You remember Aargh," he answered in the same low tones, "how he could come and go without being seen? It looks like all wolves can do it. Why Snorrl wanted to be heard at this time is plain enough, though. Unless everyone here understood why he was on the ledge with us, they would have felt free to attack him as we came out, even if they left the rest of us alone."
"Even still," Dafydd's murmured voice joined their conversation, "there may be more than one blood-mad enough to take a cut at him with a sword or other weapon. Best that when we leave, he leaves in the midst of us; with you, James, going first, I on your right side and a little behind to protect the wolf and Brian likewise on your left."
"No one seems particularly anxious to come up and talk to us," said Jim.
"It may be the rank that Dafydd now wears," answered Brian in the same low voice, "as well as our reputation, which I do not doubt all know. These are proud men, these Northumbrians. They would not like to be seen by their neighbors as seeming to scrape acquaintance with those of fame or rank. Let us up to my room; send the servants out; and sit there with a pitcher of wine to make our own plans for what we shall be doing on that ledge tomorrow."
"A wise thought," said Dafydd.
"It is," said Jim.
Almost as if they rehearsed it, they stood up together, stepped behind their benches, said good night to Herrac and slipped off down the back part of the platform that held the high table above the others. Then it was through the kitchen and up the stairs to the room which had been Brian and Dafydd's alone; since Jim had required separate quarters for himself.
When they went in, they found that the room had been readied for Brian and Dafydd's going to bed. The cressets were lit, but the room was only moderately smoky; and a pitcher of wine with cups were set on the table. A single servant—their number had been reduced as Brian got more and more healthy—sat on the floor in the corner. He got hastily to his feet as they came in.
"Another pitcher; and then wait outside!" Brian commanded him.
"Yes, Sir Brian—" The man hurried off.
Left alone, the three of them sat down at the table and Brian filled cups from the pitcher. Jim took a reasonable sip, then set his cup down. He had no intention of being the least bit bothered with a hangover from too much wine tomorrow morning, of all mornings.
"What think you, James?" asked Brian, after taking a healthy swallow from his own cup. "How will it go with us tomorrow?"
"I think everything should be pretty straightforward," said Jim. "The three of us, on horseback, and leading a single horse with both chests of gold strapped to it, will show up at the edge of the clearing; and I've no doubt they'll be eager to get out of our way and let us through to the ledge so that the handing out of payments can begin. I've had a look at that ledge close up, and I think we can lead the horses up on to it as well. It's not too wide, but it's easily long enough to leave them at one end, unload the chests—by the way, we must do that ourselves, and not let the Hollow Men help, or we may have one of them trying to get a handful of gold ahead of time."
"That is a danger, to be sure," said Dafydd. "Perhaps if you placed some sort of magic sign upon the chests and told them as we mounted the ledge of some dire thing that would happen to them if they tried to touch it before we had opened the cases ourselves and distributed what was within."
"A good thought, Dafydd," said Brian.
"I'll let the two of you in on a secret," said Jim. "You've both heard me speak to the Accounting Office, haven't you?"
"To be sure we have," said Brian, frowning a little. "How does that affect us now, James?"
"You should know, even if no one else does," Jim said, "that at the present time my supply of magic is almost gone. I will have just enough to change my face to the appearance of Ewen MacDougall's, and hope it lasts as long as it needs to while we're up on the ledge. Also, I need to use some of it, the magic that is, to make Snorrl look twice his size. I think that this will strongly impress the Hollow Men. Don't let it fool the two of you, however. For all his appearance of larger size, Snorrl will be the same wolf, with the same strength and no more."
There was a moment of silence from the other two.
"It is well you told us this now, James," said Dafydd.
"Very well indeed—" began Brian in agreement, and stopped talking abruptly as the door to the room swung open and the servant came in with another full pitcher of wine. Breathing heavily, he placed it on the table.
"I'll be right outside the door, Sir Brian, m'Lord and your Highnes
s," he gasped, with a jerky bow; and slipped out the door again. Brian waited until the door had firmly closed behind the man before he tried to speak again.
"As I was saying, Dafydd is quite right. I'm not sure how I would have reacted myself to a double-sized wolf—though Aargh is close enough to it, damme; and I'm used enough to him. By the way, James, when will he be joining us?"
"I don't have the slightest idea," Jim said. "I don't believe Snorrl has any particular plans for any place himself. He'll choose a place when he gets to the point of needing to choose one; and the first we see of him is when he'll be there. I imagine outside the clearing, before we go in among the Hollow Men. He will want to be with us on the way in, as well as on the way out, for the sheer pleasure of seeing the Hollow Men shrink away from him."
"It is most strange, these men who are ghosts in all but one particular curious fashion," said Dafydd, "that they should be so fearful of a wolf."
"Snorrl said that it was because for some reason they look on him as most humans look on them—as something from beyond the grave or beyond all usual experience."
"Once he's joined us and we've gone in," Jim said, "we leave the horses as I said, and unstrap and carry over the chests ourselves. Then we begin the handing out. Two French gold coins to each Hollow Man."
" 'Fore God!" swore Brian. "These Hollow Men do not come cheap!"
Jim winced a little, himself.
"You're right," he said. "Two full-weight gold franc á chevals, recently minted by King Jean of France to pay for this invasion of his. It shows him on his horse on one side of the coin."
"And the Borderers will end up with it!" said Brian almost wistfully, plainly thinking of what a mere handful of such coins would mean to him and his broken-down Castle Smythe. "Ah well, we have wine and our strength—"
He looked at the other two and smiled.
"And our friends."
Both Jim and Dafydd smiled back.
"Indeed," said Dafydd gently, "and might not that be the most valuable of all?"
There was a moment of silence in the room. Jim found himself taking a somewhat larger swallow from his wine cup than he had intended. He set the cup down.
"At any rate, hopefully long before we have even as much as half the coins passed out," he said, "the Little Men will make their attack. Their first assault should catch the Hollow Men unprepared and drive them inwards, perhaps a third of the way from the edge. After that, the Little Men will probably be hard put to simply hold their ground, until the Borderers can come up and fight their way down the corridors the Little Men open for them. At any rate, as soon as that happens, I suggest we get on our horses and start to fight our way out."
"And the gold?" asked Brian.
"I suggest we don't try to take any of it ourselves," said Jim. "To begin with, it's promised to the Borderers. Secondly, if any of the Hollow Men see us coming off with what they suspect is gold on our persons, they'll make our escape that much more difficult, just to get hold of us and rob us."
"Aye," sighed Brian. "That's true enough. Very well, then. Now, another question, James. Many of the Hollow Men will probably be invisible, except for the clothes they wear, and even these could be exchanged. How are you going to know that you aren't paying one Hollow Man several times, and others none at all—and so leaving you short of gold for the last who honestly are owed it?"
"I'm counting heavily on the Hollow Men to police themselves on that," said Jim. "Every one of them has been given to understand that there's only gold enough to go around to everyone who's there. None of them is going to be happy about the idea of his share being taken by somebody else. Remember Eshan, the leader, and some of their other leaders will be on the ledge with us. They'll also be watching, to make sure that no one gets more than his share—if only because they hope that there'll be some left over, which will come to them as leaders. But in any case I have Snorrl's nose to make sure none of them come twice."
"Still," murmured Dafydd, "there may be ways by which one may collect more than another, though we cannot think of them now."
"I'm just hoping there aren't," said Jim. "After all, our only interest is in getting them in position for the Little Men and the Borderers to deal with them—then to get out as best we can, to safety beyond the fighting lines."
"Ah, yes," said Brian, "but of course that does not mean, James, that we can't turn back once we're outside and reenter the fighting ourselves if sobeit one or more of us wishes to."
"I hope you won't do that, Brian," said Jim. "I know you're remarkably well healed considering the time that's passed since you got wounded. But you'd be very foolish to go into a battle like that, unless you're at the top of your form. Remember in that kind of a mêlée you can find yourself surrounded by four or five at once, and no one else near to help you."
"True," admitted Brian. "Still…"
He said no more; and Jim left it there, simply hoping that his argument had gotten through to the other man. In the end it would depend on whether Brian could hold himself back from the fighting, or not. He was like a football player who sits and twitches on the bench, watching and hoping for an opportunity that will send him in against the opposing team.
The talk had generally run down, and as far as Jim knew they had covered all the information that he had wanted to get to the other two.
"Dafydd had better bring you back up here tomorrow morning, as soon as you're up and dressed," Brian said. "Then we can all three set forth together—it will do no harm if no one else knows the way we take to the gathering place of the Hollow Men. Don't you think so, James?"
"Yes, I think you're right," Jim said.
He pushed his cup away from him, stood up from his bench at the table with the rest of them, and stretched. Unaccountably, he suddenly found himself very weary. Not so much physically tired out or even mentally tired out, but just weary. He found he had a longing to be by himself and think perhaps for a bit about Angie, before he dropped off into sleep in a room by himself.
"I'll say good night, then," he said to the other two.
"Good night, James," they answered him.
He went out the door and barely made out the figure of the servant, seated with his back against the wall in the nearly pitch dark corridor.
The man scrambled to his feet at Jim's appearance.
"Fetch me a torch, will you?" asked Jim. "Come to think of it, it wouldn't do any harm if you also fetched back someone to carry it for me and light me to my own room. There, whoever it is can use the torch to start my cresset in the room, for me."
Chapter Thirty
"A right good sword, a constant mind—"
—Sang Sir Brian Neville-Smythe, as he, Jim and Dafydd rode together through the early morning woods inland of the Castle de Mer, headed for the general area of the gathering place of the Hollow Men.
"A trusty heart and true!
The Loathly Hollow Men shall find
What Neville-Smythe can do!"
Jim had heard the song from him before, with slightly different words, nearly two years ago. But at that time the ones who were going to find out what Neville-Smythe could do had been the dragons of the Mere; and Jim had been in the body of a dragon named Gorbash. He had also been clinging to the top of a not-too-tall tree.
It had been his first encounter with Brian; and it had been only moments after he had heard him singing before Brian was below the tree, looking up through its branches at him, and earnestly requesting him to come down and fight. While Jim was desperately trying to convince Brian that he was not a dragon; but a man who just happened to be in a dragon's body, through no fault of his own.
Sir Brian's singing, therefore, might have been thought to have brought back unhappy memories. But it did not. The whole situation then had been resolved by his being able to convince Brian that he was, indeed, a Christian gentleman, ensorceled into the dragon body.
After which Jim had descended; and—to make a long story short—Brian had ended up as the firs
t of the Companions with whom Jim had managed to rescue Angie, who was now his wife, from the Loathly Tower in the Meres. An evil location where the Dark Powers had then held her as bait to draw Jim into their clutches.
In any case, there was no doubt now that Brian was in a good mood. He was full of cold meat, bread and wine, like Jim and Dafydd, likewise on horseback with him.
This type of food and drink was not exactly the kind of breakfast that Jim would naturally have picked for himself; but it was one that he was becoming used to; and Brian, of course, had been used to since a very early age. At that, they were lucky to have it. The lower orders had to content themselves with whatever kind of porridge could be put together at the end of a long, cold winter.
Spring might be here, but so far the only thing that had been found sprouting locally were the onions that only Sir Brian—only because he had been wounded and abed—had tasted. Jim could hardly get fresh vegetables out of his mind. He had never imagined feeling that way about them.
It apparently was quite otherwise with Brian. His stomach was full, the day promised to be bright and sunny; and there was a fine battle waiting for them all just a little later on.
Sir Herrac had been right when he had said that Brian seemed to have more of a taste for fighting than most people. Where Jim foresaw the coming armed encounter with a natural lack of enthusiasm, thinking of the various types of weapons that might end up pounding on him, armored though he was, Brian never seemed bothered by such worries. Brian's mind seemed always happily filled only with the anticipation of pounding on other people with his own weapons.