Jim had noticed that. He himself was staring at Brian. Why hadn't it occurred to him to think about protecting Malencontri with a painted cross?
The answer came quickly enough out of the sort of instinct he seemed to be developing these days where magick was concerned. Something in him was sure it wouldn't work for the castle, but he did not have the slightest understanding why it shouldn't. It was lucky Brian hadn't asked him that instead of Carolinus. Why had he waited?
The reason for that came quickly enough to his mind, too. He knew why Brian had chosen Carolinus to ask. The knight had reacted against Carolinus' sharp criticism of his close friend. He had retaliated by asking Carolinus what might possibly be a stickler of a question—even an embarrassing one, if Carolinus did not know—and, after all, Carolinus did not know everything. It was a bold challenge to one of this world's best—if not the best of all—Magickians…
Brian was the soul of courtoise, but he was utterly without fear or hesitation. Jim held his breath waiting to see what Carolinus' answer would be now.
"Brian," said Carolinus, "let's see if I can explain this in ordinary terms. Suppose you are sent under a flag of truce as an envoy with a message to a powerful enemy in position directly across from you. Before you go, you will of course leave behind all your weapons—am I right?"
"You are, Mage."
"Very well. You go forth then with your message and return unharmed, because the flag you carry protects you from any assault. Is that not so?"
"It is."
"Now, think of Malencontri as you trying to carry a message to the enemy under such a flag. But then let's suppose that halfway to them you drop it. Would the enemy consider that you started out with it and still respect you as protected by it?"
"No, Mage," said Brian, sounding genuinely puzzled. "They'd fear my dropping it might be a trick on my part, so my side could attack while we're talking."
"All right, then. Now think of magick. We humans and also the Naturals—every kind that's been discovered so far—are vulnerable to magick. That's because we—and they—use magick ourselves, to our own benefit, we humans knowing what we do, and the Naturals using it instinctively when they need it. But animals, trees, weather, disease and a host of other things are untouchable by the magick of either humans or Naturals. They are all innocent of magick. Therefore for them, magick does not exist, and those who use it cannot use it against them—but they have to believe it doesn't exist. That's what we humans call Faith. Now do you see what I'm aiming at?"
"No—yes, Mage," said Brian. "You're saying a cross on a door keeps away goblins from those inside—but only as long as one there is not a Magickian."
"A user of magicks would be a better description," said Carolinus.
"But Malencontri is not—a castle cannot be a user of magick."
"James is, and since he owns it and it's his home, a cross won't bar its door to the goblins, even if he were temporarily absent. Both we here now and the goblins use magick. There can be no flag of truce between us. We can use magick to watch each other—just as the troll can use his magick light on us and we can use magick on him—if," Carolinus said with a somewhat baleful side glance at Jim, "we know how to do so. You understand now, Brian?"
"Yes, Mage."
"Think of it then in these terms, and hold it in your memory so. We use magick. Those who do not are the innocents. They do not use it, and therefore it cannot touch them. But we have traded our innocence for power, and now that power can be used against us."
With that Carolinus disappeared. His last words stayed in Jim's mind as if printed there. He had no doubt that Brian, with the usual necessity-trained medieval memory, would be holding them even more securely.
"Well, James," Brian said. "I swear there were more words used there to explain a simple thing than I've heard since my grandfather died. Nonetheless, I think I am the wiser for it, as I have been for some things my grandfather said. Do you agree with the Mage?"
"Certainly," said Jim. "He knows much more than I do. I'm glad it was him you asked instead of me. I couldn't have answered you so well."
"Say you so?" Brian looked at him curiously, as if astounded to find there was anything about magick Jim did not know. "Merely it occurred to me when he was here. At any rate, now we have those to work with who may turn into some sort of footmen—to get back to our planning… Shall you go down with me to look them over?"
"I'd like to," Jim said, "but come to think of it, I should have looked up the Prince before this and told him what we've decided so far, so he doesn't feel completely managed by you, Dafydd and me. How we'll feed and keep all these extra people is going to be a problem for Angie and the staff, though. I'd better see them, too."
"Very well," said Brian. "I'll tell you what I think of your field-and-forest people after I've looked them over." Abandoning his new half-full glass of wine, he went out the door. Jim thought of Angie and magickally moved himself to her.
He found himself standing beside her on the dais that had held his bed when he had been a patient in the Nursing Room. She was apparently in argument with May Heather, who was clearly in one of her stubborn moods.
"—but the hobs are quite right!" Angie was saying to May. "They can't catch the plague from the sick ones, but you can—it's a miracle you haven't before this—Oh, Jim! I should be used to you appearing without warning like this, but I never do.—May, Mistress Plyseth needs you back in the Serving Room! Her arthritis is really bothering her."
"If God chose for her to have 'ritis, m'lady, she just has to live with it, like we all have to do with things. Someone's needed in charge here. I say no word against hobs. They are all good-hearted little lads, but someone must be in charge, or something could go terrible wrong!"
Time was too tight to waste on this kind of argument. Jim broke in.
"Never mind that now," he said. "We're going to be getting all our outside people into the castle—the men we're going to use as foot soldiers against the goblins. They'll all need to be fed and found a place to sleep."
"The courtyard!" said Angie. "It was overflowing with horses and people before, but I don't know where else we can put so many. How many are there now?"
"You'd know better than I do," said Jim. "You keep the books of the field-and-forest workers—and then there're their families. Two hundred, maybe?"
"Two hundred!" cried May. "How can we care for them, too—and the moat already choked with chewed bones and sh—all, m'lord? We're in order to eat the last of the castle's food by mid-next month. What will we do for the coming winter after that?"
"I don't know yet," said Jim. "Anyway, the goblin trouble has to be settled one way or another long before then. But right now, those who come in will need to be cared for. May, this is an order. You're needed to see them fed and bedded—some way—leave the Nursing Room to the hobs. I've got all sorts of things to do—see the Prince first, and smooth any ruffled feathers—and you've got your own hands full. But you can at least just check on how these latest arrivals are cared for so you can let me know!"
"I'll do that," said Angie decisively.
"No, no, m'lady! I'll do that a'course. I can do that. Beg pardon m'lord."
"Well," said Jim—embarrassed at his lost temper, but forbidden by custom from showing that. "I've got to go then. Goodbye." He was no Carolinus to appear and vanish without any hello or farewell, he told himself. He moved without thinking magickally to wherever the Prince might be.
Unfortunately, he realized a second later, he theoretically should have moved himself to just outside the door of any room the Prince was in, so he could then scratch on it in polite fashion and wait to be told to come in.
It turned out, however, that the Prince was in his own room, with Joan. Perfectly decorous, though, the two of them, completely dressed and sitting in a couple of the small stiff-backed chairs talking to each other.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, my lady," Jim said hastily. "I meant to land outside your door. But we're al
l so busy getting ready to face the goblins I forgot to ask for entrance, first."
The two looked at him with only mild surprise. He had forgotten how little people of this period were upset by the sudden appearance of visitors, when they were engaged in any of the ordinary activities of life—including those that in Jim's modern day would be considered very private indeed. Besides, he was their host, and as owner of the castle was entitled to walk into any room in it, whenever he felt like it.
"May I be of use?" Joan asked now, swiftly getting up.
"Absolutely, if you would. Angie was on the ground floor a second ago. You can probably find her there. Ask the servants to help you locate her."
Joan went swiftly out of the room.
"Wine, James?" said the Prince in a somewhat dispirited tone, waving a hand at the chair Joan had just vacated.
"Thank you, Your Grace," said Jim. He did not want wine, but it was the polite accompaniment of talk. He seated himself. "I came to report to you how preparations for an assault on the goblins are progressing."
Already pouring wine, the Prince hesitated—but only for a second. His face immediately showed signs of cheering up.
"That is good news!"
"I beg your forgiveness for not coming sooner—"
"Nay, nay," said the Prince, waving his own wineglass back and forth in a negative manner. "I admit I was not best pleased after our last talk, in which you told me, in no flowery fashion, that I would, in effect, do only what you advised me to do—I would be war captain in name only. But I have since had several long talks with my Lady Joan, and am of more sensible mind now. Finally."
"I did not mean—"
"Of course you did. You meant to bring me to my senses, and as I may have mentioned, Joan has said similar things to me in the past. Who indeed am I to command three paladins, great warriors like yourself, Sir Brian and that noble Day—Daf—"
"Dafydd," said Jim gently. This was one more case of the Prince changing utterly and suddenly from what he had seemed to be before, revealing himself, at least in part, as a totally different and much more likable person—possibly one of the reasons Joan loved him.
"Also, by the way," Jim added, "it may well be, as you come to know Dafydd better, you may find him worthy of the sort of respect I spoke of. But he wishes that knowledge about him to remain unknown to man and woman alike. Brian and I are the only ones who know this. I have never spoken of it otherwise to anyone but you."
"Nor will I," said the Prince energetically. "My word on it—my word as a knight, which is more than the word of a Prince. You and he may rest easy. He is ruler of some foreign land, I presume?"
"Forgive me," said Jim. "I'm not free to say more."
"Of course—of course," said the Prince firmly, but starting to look melancholy again. "For a moment I thought you were accepting me with Brian and—but you are quite right, absolutely right to speak me as you just have. I will be glad to be named war captain, but fully willing to be guided by those who really know. As I said, Joan—but she was completely right, too. I am not the best of companions most of the time, but I promise you, as I promised her, that from this day forward, I will grow as a man and a knight, who, secure in his proficiency of arms, shows always courtoise to all others as well."
"That's said as a knight who is a Prince would say!" said Jim, more deeply touched than he had ever expected to be by this younger man. Edward was a strange mixture of autocrat and high ideals, with an even stranger—for a man of his period—conscience thrown in.
"I thank you for saying so, James. Will you tell me as soon as plans are made in the future, then?"
"My word on that," said Jim. "But would you not rather be one of us as we sit down to the planning of battle with the goblins?"
"Hah!" said the Prince, his eyes all but blazing now.
"I will get word to you when. We will almost surely meet in the Solar. You must not be surprised, though, if some others are brought in briefly by my magick."
"Surprised I may be, James, but object I will not."
"Good," said Jim. "Then, if you will forgive me, I must be about other necessary matters."
"Do not feel you must stand on manners with me, James, I beg you. You know your needs far better than I. Farewell until our next meeting."
"Farewell," said Jim, and shifted himself to the Solar.
Angie was already back there, he discovered, working at her desk.
"I thought you'd still be busy downstairs," he said to her. "You aren't doing castle accounts at a time like this, surely? Did Joan find you?"
"Yes—there was nothing more for her to help with, though, by that time. On the accounts, no. Just trying to check out with my own figures May's statement we had less than a month and a half of food to last until the first of the spring forest-gatherings. Where've you been?"
"Seeing the Prince. You know, I think he can be included in our battle-planning sessions, with Brian and Dafydd and whoever. I'm still surprised you got back up here so fast. I thought you'd be running around with May, getting the cottagers settled."
"Oh, May can more than take care of herself. It's funny. She's still technically just Plyseth's apprentice, but the other castle staff all take orders from her. Of course, I don't think she'd wait two seconds before taking a swing at the biggest man-at-arms we've got, if he argued with a command of hers. She's a tough little devil. You and I'll have to watch out. She's likely to be ordering us around next."
"No fear," said Jim. "You're the image of what she wants to be. She worships you and thinks she could never be half the lady you are."
"Well, I hope so," said Angie. "And I hope it lasts—for everybody's sake. Did you see Carolinus? He popped in here, but said he wanted to talk to you face-to-face, then popped right out again. He said he'd be back—"
"And he is," said the snappish voice of Carolinus, appearing before them. "There you are, James! Are you aware magick leaves a trail when you transport yourself with it? I've been chasing you all over Malencontri."
"Sorry," said Jim. "I didn't realize. But I've been wanting to see you myself—"
"Of course you have. Unfortunately, it's bad news I have to tell you. I spoke to our Somerset Earl about sending knights and men-at-arms to help you here—"
"You don't mean he said no?" exploded Jim. "This is his shire! Malencontri may be in direct fief to the King, but most of our neighbors are in fief to him. It's his shire. He has a duty to defend it—and the King himself is in danger here in this castle!"
"If you will let me finish!" said Carolinus.
"Go ahead," said Jim, calming down but still fuming inside.
"I saw him two days past about help for you. He's an old friend. I believe him. He says, speaking for himself only, he'd give his right arm to be in this, and believed the same could be said for his knights and fighting men—"
"Then—" began Jim.
"But he also had to take time to measure the temper of his common people. It seems by a fortunate chance the plague has missed his estates and castle entirely. His people think they've been specially chosen by God to survive, and that it would be flying in His face to send anyone He has so saved to where they might die—and, he said, they may well be right. Certainly they are grateful to be spared, and the wrath of God is not lightly to be risked."
"—With that, he crossed himself," added Carolinus.
Jim opened his mouth and then closed it again. He could not think of what to say.
"In any case," said Carolinus, "he's sorry. But you know how those things are. A lord or even an Earl can have his own way almost all the time—but when his people all get an idea into their heads, there's nothing to be done about it. You must have run into situations like that."
Jim had. He cooled down all the way, and found himself left with a hollow feeling inside.
"I was counting on those armed horsemen of his, most of them veterans, to turn our mob of neighbors into an orderly force."
"Well, there it is," said Carolinus,
in a much kinder voice than usual. "No point in fussing over it—spilled milk, and all that. I'm still with you, and I've spoken to the Collegiate. There were a few objections, but I dealt with them. Each member will contribute as necessary to save the King—but only for that purpose. I can give you all the magickal help you need."
"Thank heaven for that!" said Jim.
"Kineteté will be happy to give a hand, too."
"Even better!" said Jim, cheering up. "Probably the sooner we get our war council together, the better. Meanwhile, the hobs should be bringing in more archers for Dafydd."
"Good," said Carolinus. "I'll go tell Kin how things sit, now."
He disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Five
"They'll be coming along any minute now," said Angie. It was about ten A.M. of the next day—a bright morning. "By the way, have you looked outside yet, this morning?"
"No," answered Jim.
"I thought not. I was waiting for some reaction from you. Take a look."
Jim got up from his chair, went to the nearest window and looked at as much of the castle as he could see through it—mainly rooftops of lower buildings and the courtyard.
"What are the hobs all doing sitting on the roofs?" he asked. "Did someone chase them up there?"
"Look again. Those aren't the hobs we had already. As many others again as we had yesterday came in during the night. They're perching everywhere there's space and they won't be in people's ways."
"Hell's bells!" said Jim deeply.
"Why any kind of bells at all?"
"Because," he said, almost grinding his teeth, "between you and me I don't know what we're going to do with them. It'd be slaughter for any we just send out against the enemy."
"How do you know? They've got goblin instincts, presumably. Maybe they'd be more effective than you think."
"Hah!" said Jim bitterly.
"Do you want me to stick around here?" Angie asked, skillfully changing the subject.
"I'm afraid not, Angie," he said. "This is still the Middle Ages—even if it's the High Middle Ages. Joan of Arc is still more than a century away. Women not expected at command discussions."