"No," said Angie. "But they'd all seen one or more goblins moving past their places. In fact, we've got more coming."
Jim blessed the moment he had thought to announce that the Prince would be their war captain, with him just carrying out the Prince's orders. An implied lie in a good cause. They would never argue with the Prince—nor was the Prince likely to tolerate argument if they did. Jim need not either.
"All right, then. I'll ask Secoh first, Hob, since he probably has less to tell. Secoh, what's your patrol doing now?"
"Watching, m'lord. Malencontri, of course, is under watch from dawn to next dawn. The other members are sweeping Somerset all the time, to find out what's going on. M'lord, if you don't mind, when fighting starts could our patrol members be part of it—"
"You don't mean to say their mothers would let those sixty-year-old youngsters actually fight?"
"Oh, no, m'lord!" Secoh looked uncomfortable. "They wouldn't stand it for a breath's moment! But I mean, if they could all be busy carrying orders swiftly—we're much faster above the ground than hobs, you know—"
"If the smoke is covering a distance, it goes faster and faster until no one could keep up!" said Hob.
"Hob!" said Jim.
"Sorry, m'lord."
"Well, message carrying, or dropping supplies to our fighters, perhaps, Secoh. We'll see."
"Thank you, m'lord."
"That's it as far as what you have to tell me, then?"
"Yes, m'lord. Except that our young dragons are fearless—"
"That's what I'm afraid of," said Jim. He had himself experienced, when in his dragon body, the sudden explosion of excitement and rage that would carry any dragon into combat regardless of any other rule or reasoning. Once it had earned him a knight's lance clear through the body of Gorbash, the dragon he had found himself in on arriving in this world.
"Now that's the last I want to hear from either of you," he said, "until I ask you a direct question. Hob, I'm now speaking to you. What are your hobs busy at, besides bringing in armored men and their mounts and what Angie's been telling me about some of them trying to help the sick ones and do other things here at Malencontri?"
"Oh, m'lord, hobs like helping at anything! It makes them feel good. As for what else—we go close above the goblins around us here, especially at night, because since they won't touch fire, it's too dark for them to see us, and so we can even overhear what they're planning to do. That mean lady who's always with the loud man—"
That would be Agatha Falon, Jim knew. Little Robert's rapacious, older half-sister, and the "loud man" had always been Hob's name for the Earl of Cumberland.
"Cumberland himself hasn't shown up?" he asked.
"No, m'lord. And they don't seem to know about him. But some of the things the mean lady suggests may have come from him like the scaling ladders. They'd never have known of those on their own."
"The hobs really have been a help around the place," said Angie. "Did I tell you each sick one here has his or her own bedside hob to bring anything wanted right away? They even offered to take the invalids for rides on the smoke to cheer them up. A few of the men did take them up on it—more out of bravado than anything else, I think. But they went, and they came back all excited and all pumped up. They loved having gone and talked about it so much some of other sick men and women tried it, too. I think maybe it helped their chances of getting better. And you know, as I told you, Jim, some hobs are off trying to get opium and pipes for all those suffering so much."
"Thank you, m'lady. Can I tell the hobs doing it that you said it helped them get better?"
"Yes."
"They'll be so proud and happy!"
"Right," said Jim. "Hob, you yourself better stay close to me here to tell me whatever your people learn of the goblins' plans. That's all for you, then, now. No, wait, how can they get pipes and opium? Carolinus had to get me mine from someone he knew on the other side of the world."
"I know, m'lord. But some hobs live with families whose grandfathers or even farther back had gone on Crusade, and picked up using opium that way. Some of those families have people still using the pipes—secretly, of course—because they've a special chain of friends reaching down and east from across the world, so they can get opium yet…"
"I see," said Jim. "Not an important question, actually, but things are happening so fast here, I thought I'd ask while I had it in mind. Well, now, that deals with the hobs for the moment. Now—the matters that concern Sir Brian and Master Archer Dafydd."
It was only as the last of these words escaped from his mouth that he looked at the two he had just mentioned and saw Brian looking definitely and sternly displeased.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jim had not known Brian for some years now without learning to interpret Brian's very rare but unmistakable annoyed-to-angry expression.
"I'm sorry, Sir Brian," he said, "perhaps we should've had our separate talks privily, but I thought it important that all of us here should know what the rest of us knew, since all are to be in command positions."
"Not at all, James," said Brian. "But you know, if talk is not privy, then why not hold it openly…" there was a small pause in this speech as his eye roamed over Hob and Secoh "… if privy, I might ask why we do not include Sir Harimore?"
"Sir Harimore," said Jim, earnestly and as appealingly as he could, "has no special, already-existing command of his own. Later on, perhaps it'll be different. For now, I was just thinking of him being under your command, with the other knights among our neighbors, and those of the Earl of Somerset—if we get them—also under yours."
"It would pain me," Brian looked grimly at Jim, "to tell Sir Harimore so. I regard him as my equal."
"Then maybe," said Jim, "I should be the one to put that suggestion to him?"
"No, James," said Brian, unfolding his arms, his voice and expression softening. "It will come best from me. He is a gentleman I respect, though no close friend."
"Well, thanks, Brian. I'd actually rather not, myself. He knows how little I actually understand of arms."
Both Brian and Dafydd tactfully ignored those last words.
"Very good," said Brian. "Now, then, may I ask why Prince Edward is not among us, since he is to be our war captain?"
"He holds rank and duty above us all. In fact, you and I and Master Archer Hywel have a special and privy responsibility to him, which I must explain to you only among ourselves—perhaps if you and he will linger after our other friends here have left…"
Hob and Secoh, for a Natural and a dragon, were remarkably quick to pick up Jim's hint. In fact, both had looked very alarmed just now (Secoh's alarm visible only to Jim's dragon-wise eyes) at what seemed to be the beginning of a quarrel between Jim and Brian. Such a thing had never been known before.
Hob was first to speak, but Secoh was not far behind him.
"If m'lords will excuse me…" said Hob.
"Those young dragons," growled Secoh. "Likely to get up to anything if I don't watch them all the time. If m'lords will forgive me, I should leave now, too."
Hastily he poured the last of his bucket of wine down his throat and rose from his squatting position.
"Go with God," said Brian genially, perhaps, Jim thought, somewhat regretting now his earlier sternness. The Natural and the dragon both hesitated for a second—and then, apparently deciding there had been no harm in what Brian had said—left. Hob disappeared up the fireplace chimney, Secoh out the door. He could be heard a moment later swearing at the narrowness of the staircase to the surface as he squeezed his way up to the tower roof.
"Good creatures," said Brian, looking at the door where they had seen the last of Secoh. He went on more briskly. "Now, James, what's this about young Edward and us—and what about the King, though if he desires to be in the fight, Lord forbid, at his age and in his… state."
"I only mentioned the King as someone who might advise, Brian," said Jim. "As for the Prince, I had a little talk with him—no point
in going into details, in a nutshell, I pointed out to him that while it was not only good but necessary for him to be war captain here and now, that his previous experience at command involved men like Chandos at his elbow, and that the same sort of service from us would be needed here. In short it was agreed that he would command essentially in name only—you will not mention that agreement to him at any time, of course. It might pain him to have it known—in name he would command, but he understands we three would actually run things."
"Ah," said Brian.
"I am relieved to hear it," said Dafydd. "I believe he knows little of archers, let alone the art of bow-use itself."
"I'd guess not," said Jim. "While we're on that subject, Dafydd, how many archers have we?"
"Not counting my dear wife and myself, seven living, but four of those sick of plague, three fit to fight—all good Welsh bowmen, however, the ones you got not long since from the border areas."
"Three!" burst out Brian, completely ignoring the reference to the homeland of the archers.
"It does you credit, Brian," said Dafydd, "to recognize the value, as few English knights do, of trained archers in a situation such as this. But as I was intending to say, since it seems dragons can carry the weight of an armed man, and two hobs do the same, surely one dragon could carry me and some hobs swiftly to archers I know of at various distances, who might wish to be part of our battle since they might have lost comrades to the plague fostered by these goblins while serving in the English east. One or even two hobs could carry each archer back here while the dragon and I went on."
"Good," said Jim. "But I think just a couple of hobs for you, too, would be better. The smoke keeps gaining speed the farther it goes. The dragon, particularly a young one, would tire."
"Very good." Dafydd was on his feet. "I will leave at once, since time is short."
"Hob!" called Jim, directing his voice at the fireplace. Hob popped out in seconds. "Master Archer Dafydd needs a number of hobs—he'll explain."
"Yes, m'lord. If you'll approach the fireplace, m'lord Dafydd…"
"I am no lord, Hob, as I've explained to you before—"
Dafydd, who had been approaching the fireplace as he spoke, was whisked up the chimney while Hob was still inviting him, and for the first time in his experience, Jim glimpsed a look of startlement on the archer's face.
"Now," Jim said, turning to Brian, "about the handling of the neighbors and the footmen—"
"If you don't mind," said Angie, "I think I'll leave the two of you to it. I'm not really needed here now, and I am needed in a dozen places about the castle, starting with the Nursing Room."
"Let me know if the hobs really got opium pipes after all—" Jim called after her, as the door to the Solar shut behind her. He turned back to Brian, who was pouring himself some more wine and judiciously adding three drops of water to it. "Oh, by the way, Brian, how is Geronde? I've hardly seen her since I became ill."
"She avoided the plague, thank God," said Brian, drinking. "You know, James, she may be quite right about my getting used to mixing water with my wine. This isn't half bad. No, she wanted to help in the Nursing Room—that was before we started spilling over with hobs. I told her not to. She argued, of course, but gave in finally—for a change. But she's used to being busy, and this business of standing around waiting so long has worn her down. Wish I could do something for her."
"You two didn't get married while I was ill, then?"
"James, how in the names of the patience of all the saints put together could we be married with all this going on?"
"I thought maybe, after Carolinus brought us all back here and while I was still out with the plague—"
"—And the neighbors all struck by the plague, too, and not able to get here, and this army of goblins surrounding your castle, James?"
"No," said Jim. "Of course. I understand. She must be very disappointed after this long, long list of delays. Is she very unhappy about it?"
"When Geronde gets unhappy, she gets angry—very angry—and runs around wanting to work her head off. Also she worries about everything unimportant. For one thing, she asked me yesterday if I thought the people at our wedding—whenever we have the good luck to have it—are not going to be watching the scar put upon her by that damnable Sir Hugh de Bois—how does a bastard like that go on living—even among such hedge-sweepings as we found him with in Lyonesse? Next time I get to be the one to fight him."
"There was no choice. I had to be the one, that time," said Jim mildly. "And you remember that was some time back."
"Oh, I know, I know. Just blowing off my ancient anger about that, James, but all the same—" There was a nasty cracking sound and the King's special glass drinking vessel, left behind when the King volunteered to give up Jim and Angie's special room for the now-new three-room suite one floor down, was crushed in Brian's fist.
"Now what, damn it all!" barked Brian, thoroughly out of temper.
"Nothing. Are you cut?" Jim got hastily to his feet.
"No, no—scratched a bit. Pay me no heed!" said Brian testily, bleeding from half a dozen cuts on his hand. "Just if you have a tablecloth or something to wrap—" Jim had just discreetly healed the small wounds. "Ah, well. Thank you, James—unnecessary, though."
"Pour another glass," said Jim diplomatically, cleaning up the table and floor. "Now, back to making a fighting force of the neighbors."
"Oh, they'll do all right, if I can get them to charge in line and keep their lance-tips down. Otherwise, what can you expect? The squires know nothing of fighting, and what little their elders knew was an occasional bicker years ago—most of which they've forgotten. But they'll all fight hard. Somerset men always do, once they get into it. Luckily, they all know me and are not like to argue with what I tell them."
"And the footmen?" asked Jim. "I mean the spearmen on foot, which was how we were going to use my serfs and tenants."
"I do not know," said Brian. "Will they advance in a body when ordered to do so?"
"What?" said Jim, spilling his wine. "Why not?"
"How indeed, James, should I know? They are your people. Common folk, of course, but usually common folk are not without courage. I can hardly think of a reason why they might hold back, but I have an uneasy feeling. Of course, the like of all such as the goblins are known to all common folk as having fearsome magic of their own—and that thought can be daunting to many. But I should think for men who know the ground here and are doubtless poachers to a man, at the pinch they should be able—"
"We'll have to hope so.—Oh, Hob!" Hob had just reappeared, alone. "About the serfs and tenants still at home—"
"Yes, m'lord?" said Hob. "Master Archer and I were talking about them. We'll need them. Tiverton hob is on his way with thirty other hobs, to bring in those tenants and serfs still hanging back. A ride on the smoke should make them think of the magic on our side."
"Good. Never mind that, for now, then," Jim said. "But why haven't they left before this, I wonder?"
"They fear the goblins' evil magics too much to leave."
"But don't the people know how dangerous it is for them, sitting in their mud-and-branch huts? The goblins could break through and eat them any time. Hob, didn't you give me the idea goblins eat anything—even each other?"
"Oh, no, forgive me, m'lord. The tenants and all just think of the goblins as having terrible magic no one's ever heard of, but they know there's only one thing that can foil it. They all painted crosses on their doors."
"And they think that's keeping them safe?"
"Why, of course it is, m'lord."
"Damned strange if it didn't!" said Brian. Jim gave up pursuing the matter of cross protection.
He mentally chewed his fingernails. There ought to be a way to use his magick to gather them all here, if the hob pickup didn't work.
He thought, but his mind came up with nothing, and a quick mental scan of the enormous volume of the Encyclopedic Necromantic, which Carolinus had made him swallo
w some years ago, did not help.
He chewed his lips—literally this time.
"Er—Carolinus?" he called diffidently. "I hate to bother you—"
"What for?" demanded Carolinus, suddenly sitting in a chair opposite. "I've only got a few more nymphs and crickets to see, who've been waiting all that time I was away."
"My outside people are afraid to leave their homes, and we need the men for foot soldiers and spearmen—along with what castle staff's up to it. For me to transport myself to each tenant or serf one by one would be very expensive of magick and right now I haven't got the time. Hob's trying to get them carried in by other hobs—but will they let themselves be taken? I can't seem to think of an alternate way. If just this one time you could tell me how—"
"I never tell. You have to find your own way to do things like this, you know that," said Carolinus. "I suppose you could trust the hobs to bring them in. Luckily, you've got hobs beyond counting—almost. All of England's best of hobdom—almost. But it'd take time to have them do it, and they'd have to come down on the ground where the goblins can get at them… All right, this once I'll do it for you—there, it's done. Serfs and tenants are now overflowing your courtyard, which was full to start with, and let this be a lesson to you."
"I don't know how to thank you, Mage. It was just that time's so tight and we'll need all the magick we can get—"
"You can't thank me. I must say this is a sorry performance in an apprentice about to be proposed for membership in the Collegiate of Magickians."
"I know—"
"Mage," said Brian unexpectedly. "Always wanted to ask you this. If painted crosses will keep goblins out of huts, why don't we paint one on the castle's great doors, and sit here until the goblins perish in the winter rains and snows?"
Chapter Thirty-Four
Carolinus stared at Brian.
"There is a small Magickianlike bump in you, Brian," he said. "But I would hate to be the one to have you for my apprentice."
"I am a gentleman of arms," said Brian, a little stiffly. "I have no desire to be a Magickian. If you will forgive me, Mage, you still have not answered my question."