"Only that long? But, anyway, I'm just as happy not to be here. Still a thousand things to do. I just thought you might want me for some reason."
"Not this time. This time you're officially desired not to attend—not that I would presume to dictate to my Chatelaine."
"My lord, you know your lightest wish is my command."
"Hmph!" said Jim.
"Who'll be here?"
"Brian, Dafydd, the Prince—"
"You're going to risk having the Prince sitting in on this? He'll want to take charge and mess up everything else," said Angie.
"Maybe. I hope not. But he has to be brought into things anyway, and if he really understands his role in them, the sooner the better. I had a talk with him—"
"M'lord!" It was a shout from beyond the door—the voice of the man-at-arms on duty there. "A wolf to see you!"
Jim and Angie stared at one another. Only one wolf could be at their door here in the castle, and he hated to come inside any man-made structure.
"Aargh?" called Jim.
"Who else?" growled a harsh voice, easily penetrating the door. "There's no other wolves in the territory I keep. Are you going to let me in, or don't you have any more use for this sword-bearing human beside me here?"
"Open the door!" shouted Jim.
It opened and Aargh stalked in—impressive as usual, ears and tail up, the size of a small pony and looking even bigger as he started to fur out for winter.
"What're you doing here?" asked Angie. "You don't like the indoors."
"What sensible creature would? Someone has to keep an eye out for you. Those young dragons Secoh's got flying around have been told by their mothers not to get within treetop distance when goblins are below them. They're no use. The goblins spent the night building long ladders again—but this time wide enough to take two goblins abreast and twice as stout—also more of them, so they'll touch each other all around the wall. They'll start another try to use them at twilight, planning to get even one or two goblins in over the wall at any cost. If they do, they'll let others over, and next thing you'll have ten goblins for every human you've got in this stone trap."
"How did you find this out?" asked Jim.
"I visited them early, just before dawn, to pick one up for a bite to eat, and found the half-made ladders lying flat on the ground in the middle of them, with goblins standing over them to hide them from the young dragons. I'd had a full night—needed a little something before taking a nap."
"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Angie stared at him.
"There was the eating, my nap, then I had to think about coming in here," said Aargh, but his voice was less harsh. For some reason, Jim had noticed, wolves all seemed to have more of a spot of affection for women than they ever showed most men. "I thought of leaving a message, but none of your humans on the gate could probably get it to you straight—and when I try to talk to them, they all panic. Now I've told you, and I'm on my way out of here!"
He turned. "Open up!" he snarled at the door.
"Thanks, Aargh," said Jim, and shouted at the door himself. "Open up!"
"Thanks is one of your human words—" Aargh growled, but the door was now opening and he left without finishing his sentence.
He was barely gone before the voice of the guard was heard again through the now reclosed door, proudly rolling out a litany of names.
"His Grace the Prince of Wales, Sir Brian and Dafydd ap Hywel are here, m'lord."
"Well, let them in!" called Angie, always quicker off the mark than Jim. She reached the door just as it opened, and the visitors began to come in.
"Good morn, Your Grace, gentlemen," she said, walking past them in the opposite direction. "An honor to have you here, but I'm just on my way out."
Then she was gone, they were in, and the door closed with barely a sound.
There was the usual business of greetings, seatings and wine-pourings. "Well, gentlemen," Jim began, "you come in good time. I've just had some important information. Our gathering to plan has now become a more urgent matter of discussing how to deal with the enemy immediately."
He passed on the message that Aargh had just given him.
"You mean that great beast we passed in the corridor coming here?" said the Prince. "What a trophy!"
"He is a friend of mine," said Jim frostily.
"A friend to us all, Your Grace!" said Brian, with an even greater level of coldness in his voice, "and fought with us at the affair of the Loathly Tower."
"Indeed," said Dafydd.
"Oh, that wolf!" said the Prince. "I mind me now, in fact, that he and I had at least one talk together. Of course. How could I forget such a magnificent specimen?"
"Perfectly natural, under the circumstances, Your Grace," said Jim, who had only just remembered that fact himself.
"Well, well," said the Prince, "yet one should never forget his friends, even if they are mere animals. But—back to the matters at hand."
"As far as another attack goes," said Brian, "the goblins will be aware that the heart of our command is here in the tower, and so while they will certainly essay the curtain wall, the stronger effort is likely to come here—to take or kill those of us who lead the defense quickly and first. But we may better defend another attack here. This time we can certainly fill the towertop to overflowing with good men and stout spears. Some oil near to boiling would not go amiss."
"We have yet only a few archers, but they could help, provided we do not have to hoard our arrows, however," said Dafydd. "Shooting down from above is an advantage—if we are well supplied with arrows?"
"We have some hundreds in the storeroom," Jim told him.
"And, as I was about to say, there may be one or two men among the cottagers just brought in who can pull a warbow, if you have these in spare, also," went on Dafydd, in his unvaryingly unruffled tone.
"I'm sure we have warbows in store, and I must have thirty or more foresters," said Jim. "The bow is an old companion to all of them."
"Yes, but how many might truthfully be called archers?" said Dafydd. "And how many can pull a warbow more than twice or thrice, let alone for some hours, without being shoulderlame for the day? A fighting archer has built his strength with the bow from early childhood. Occasional shots at specific targets may be well within the doing by your foresters. But how many of them can fire steadily in massed volleys at an onrushing enemy? An occasional deer is a large target for a true archer. Still, this ladder-climbing will make killing goblins easier than a duckpond-shoot. I will have to look your foresters over again."
"Good—" Jim was beginning, but the Prince broke in eagerly.
"Far better to make a sally—armored knights all, as many as we may have—win to these heavy ladders and burn them as they lie!"
"Forgive me for not mentioning it sooner," Jim said, "but I was just told by Carolinus that the Earl of Somerset can't send any men—nor come himself, though he said he'd cut off his arm to be here with us. The plague has spared his castle entirely, and his common people believe this is only by the grace of God. They feel lives have been spared by Divine Will, and it would be flying in the face of the Lord to send those so saved to die elsewhere."
The announcement produced long faces on both Brian and the Prince. The two crossed themselves.
"If it is the will of God, we must do without them. Let me see, there are my father's five knights, and ourselves, of course…"
"We mustn't forget my neighbor knights, now here in the castle," said Jim.
"Say you so!" cried the Prince. "How many?"
"I don't know. Around twenty, maybe," said Jim. "Those who escaped the plague so far. I haven't had time to count them yet."
Jim was about to go on, but Brian got words out before him.
"Had we a full army with many knights behind us, as was your case in the chevauche that led to Poitiers, it might be both fast and wise to make such a lightning stroke as you suggest, Your Grace," he said. "I would enjoy it, of all things. But of kn
ights and squires here now, wearing heavy armor, we have but this handful. To risk them on the attempt you mention, when more ladders can be built by our numerous enemy, would be like buying a jack of wine which is swiftly drunk, leaving us dry, with no hope of more."
Jim managed to get his words in then, mentally crossing his fingers for not mentioning the magick bargained from Carolinus.
"I might mention also, Your Grace, that the small spears of the goblins are pointed with a special magic metal known as Great Silver. These points can and will find the joints and other weak points in the heaviest armor, and the magic poison on the goblin spears is extremely painful."
"Hah!" said the Prince. "True knights laugh at pinpricks."
"I assure Your Grace no knight will laugh at being struck by the goblin spear-magic. I have seen, and even felt its effect, myself, when I and some of my armsmen joined to escort the Bishop of Bath and Wells safely back to the seat of his see, at Wells."
Jim gave a brief but graphic description of the reaction of those who had been pierced by the spears.
"If not removed by equal magic," said Jim, "the poison of those spears will kill. Luckily I was there and able to deny it in their wounds, so they all, including the good Bishop himself, survived."
"I see I was wrong," said the Prince, with one of his sudden and unexpected dives into honesty and humbleness. "I withdraw my suggestion, which clearly betrayed my lack of proper knowledge."
This unexpected admission threw everybody else there into a moment of unusual silence.
"It is only by sheer chance that I know it myself, Your Grace," said Jim finally. "The suggestion, otherwise, had much merit. I doubt if there is another knight or man in England, outside of those here, who also have the knowledge."
He had exaggerated more than a little by saying that what the Prince had put forth had merit. But that could do no harm. Jim hurried on to other points.
"The real question, gentlemen, is not how we may defeat an enemy who outnumbers us almost beyond conceiving but how we can make them go away for good with what small strength we have here. As I mentioned but a moment ago, the Earl of Somerset is unable to send us aid, and so our numbers are smaller than we had hoped."
"Somerset!" For a moment a frown clouded the face of the Prince.
Suddenly anxious to keep the Earl out of royal trouble, which could later cause him to become an enemy of Malencontri, Jim frantically began to cast about in his mind for something to say in the Earl's defense.
Before he could speak, the Prince's frown cleared.
"I confess I expected better of him. For he has always been cited to me as a courageous gentleman of much grace and merit, who had done noteworthy acts at the Battle of Sluys. Still, when the life of a King is at stake… but you spoke on his reasons before, I remember. Doubtless his reasons for not coming will prove well."
"In fact, Your Grace," said Jim, "it is beyond his control. For his people, miraculously spared the plague, believe this a special grace of God, against which it would be impious to send those so spared to die elsewhere."
"It would be ill indeed to flout a gift that our Lord has given," the Prince said. "I repent me of my words, and I confess I have no movements to offer beyond my ill-thought one of the sally."
"I believe, Your Grace," said Dafydd quietly, and with such courtly smoothness that the Prince looked at him closely, "that with some archers and enough stout spearmen, we need not concern ourselves with a second attempt at escalade by the goblins. Though, this time—and I do not wish to appear to disagree with what Sir Brian said about a tower attack—my thought is that they will probably crowd the curtain walls more than the tower, which will call for as many hands there as are able to defend."
"Right," said Jim, slipping into American dialect for a second time. "It's still a question of how to drive them off. I'll ask you all, does anyone have a plan by which we could go out to meet them directly with what force we have—and get rid of them?"
"I do not—nor do I think it wise at the moment," said Brian. "Though, if we have no other choice, we must simply meet the matter manfully."
"I do not see it yet, either," said the Prince. "Though I would much desire to do it."
"I have some little experience of armed warfare," said Dafydd in his quiet voice. "But on the basis of what I see, I would say we have no hope of doing so. Is there no way magick can even the odds, James?"
"Maybe—but if so, I haven't found it yet," said Jim. "I suggest we talk to someone who knows the goblins well—my hobgoblin here at Malencontri, since like all hobs, he is of the same breed as the goblins. I've got some questions for him, and I'd hope the rest of you will ask whatever comes to your minds. No one objects to my calling him?"
No one objected.
"Hob!" called Jim, in the direction of the chimney. There was a slightly longer pause than usual, in which the Prince nearly spoke, but changed his mind. Hob dropped out of the chimney and walked cheerfully unheeding through the flames of the fireplace, to bow to them all. This he did superbly, in the best courtier's style—his supple body built for bowing.
"You wanted me, m'lord?"
"That's why I called," said Jim. "We wanted to ask—by the way, how many hobs have we in Malencontri now?"
"I am not sure, m'lord. Over two tens of hundreds?"
"Two thousand!?" exploded Jim. "Angie—I mean my lady—said half of them came in last night?"
"Oh, no—begging your pardon, m'lord—they've been coming in steadily since the beginning. But there really were a lot came last night—that's true. More will be coming."
"There's no room here now!" said Jim. He had completely forgotten his three fellow humans for the moment, and they, on their part, seemed so stunned by the thought of two thousand hobs, when in the normal household a single one was rarely glimpsed, that they said nothing.
"There's no room for them now!" Jim repeated. "Can't you tell them we've got all the hobs we can use? Can't you stop them coming?"
"I'm afraid not, m'lord. The word's out."
Jim struggled against saying, But we don't want them! and got himself under control without speaking aloud.
"Well," he managed finally, "we brought you here to ask you some questions about goblins, and maybe with two thousand like you outside and more coming, you'd better stay in case we have more questions later. To begin with, how would we best scare the goblins into going home?"
"By killing them all?" said Hob hopefully.
"I don't think we've got enough strength for that," said Jim. "There're too many of them. How likely are goblins to risk the cost of all-out attack with everyone they've got?"
"Very likely, m'lord. As likely as we hobs would be."
The Prince stared, but said nothing.
"Well," said Jim, "we'd hope to somehow make it so hard for them they'd want to leave. Is there anyone else who could help us? I know the young dragons would be forbidden to get mixed up in anything where they might get hurt."
"That's right, m'lord. They're all very unhappy they can't fight the goblins, too. They keep telling us so."
"You've been talking to them?"
"They fly over and talk to us if they see one of us in the smoke up in the air. I mean they fly over us and call us to come higher, because they're not allowed as close to the ground as we travel. So we go up and comfort them, as a hob should."
"They listen to you?" Jim's mind fastened on that bit of information, storing it away, though he had no idea at the moment of how it could be useful. "And they are comforted, then?"
"Oh, yes, m'lord. They know we're much older and wiser than they are, so they believe what we tell them."
Now Edward stared at Hob as if he had never seen him until this moment.
"How old are young dragons?" he asked, after a few seconds.
"Sixty to eighty of our years," said Jim.
"How old is Hob here, then?"
Hob looked uncomfortable.
"That's a question about a privy matter I've
never asked him," said Jim. "Courtoisie, you know."
"Courtoisie? To a hobgoblin?"
"Yes," said Jim, allowing some of the frostiness he had used in talking of Aargh as a friend, "and to dragons as well, Your Grace. Also to any animal or Natural who deserves it. All these know Magickians as friends, and this is one reason for it. We learn more from them and they from us, that way!"
"Ah…" said the Prince, sinking back into his chair, nodding slightly, but still looking baffled. "I should not ask, either, then?"
"No," said Jim.
"But he looks so—never mind," said the Prince, back to staring at Hob.
"Have you heard anything else that might help us from the young dragons, then?" Jim asked Hob.
"Just that the dragon fathers are starting to talk about wanting to help you fight the goblins. The mothers don't like the idea, m'lord, but Secoh's been talking so much about how he's going to fight them with us that it's starting to get them angry. They know Secoh fought with you at the Loathly Tower, so they respect him for that. But they don't like staying home if he's going to be boasting about being a goblin-slayer, while all the rest of them just sat there in the eyrie until it was all over."
"I thought the mature dragons had been taking and eating goblins."
"They have, m'lord—that's why what Secoh's saying is making them so angry. They know they could fight goblins as well as he could." Hob's voice became diffident. "I think, m'lord, if you went to them and asked them nicely to help, that'd be all the excuse they need for the mother dragons."
"Hah!" said Brian. "Three or four dozen dragons could be a help!"
"One or two dozen at the most, Brian," said Jim, turning away from Hob. "There're still a lot of father dragons that won't come, because the mother dragons of their young ones will fight too hard to keep them home, or they're too old, or some other reason. The eyrie doesn't have that many dragons in it."
"Possibly," said Dafydd, "they could be useful without actually fighting, James. If you can keep Secoh out of danger, too, there would be no trouble after."