The Oathbound Wizard-Wiz Rhyme-2 (58 page)

"Why do you stand ashamed! You have done naught to regret!" The ghost looked up, tears streaming from his eyes, and Sir Guy, that repository of all the lore of this alternate Europe, said softly, "He has--though he has now, at long last, set it aright. For look you, Tomas IV was a kind king, a just king, a good king--but the legend speaks of him as unbearably clumsy. He was ever stumbling, spilling, lurching about--"

"Still kind of clumsy, about his materializations." Matt frowned. "Though lately he does seem to be getting them right, his timing could be better..."

"Regrettably," the Black Knight said, "his clumsiness extended to matters military, and therefore did he not trust in his own instincts. He took for a counselor the infamous Gordogrosso, who advised him to be less harsh in his soldiers' training, and to keep fewer men under arms. King Tomas hearkened to these false words, and when his army was weakened, the sorcerer brought in his own hellish troops to seize power. He cut off King Tomas' head and threw his body into the dungeons, that his humiliation might be complete--for the good king did not live long enough to be shut living in a cell."

"And he blamed himself for Ibile's fall to the powers of Evil, so he's been hanging around ever since, looking for a chance to kick out the sorcerer!" Matt cried.

The poor ghost nodded, then looked up, brightening.

"And we gave him that chance." Sir Guy clapped Matt on the shoulder. "Now he can he in peace."

But, "No," Friar Tuck said, "not till he has had Christian burial."

"Why, that shall he have!" Prince Rinaldo cried. "It shall be my first act as king, the building of his tomb, and his poor remains shall have a solemn burial with the honors due a hero! You shall be free, Majesty, free to find your way to Heaven!"

The ghost turned a radiant smile upon his descendant.

Leave it to Fates

The choir broke into song, and the Dies Irae rang through the lofty dome of the huge cathedral. The crowd standing before the altar separated as people stood back to make room, opening an aisle from the altar to the doors, and the Archbishop followed the pallbearers down the length of the nave with an altar boy swinging a censer before and two more carrying candles behind. Matt glanced to each side as he carried his corner of the coffin, impressed all over again by the number of faces lining each side of the long center aisle. He had really been startled, two days ago, when so many had trooped into the huge church and begun scouring the dirt and graffiti from its pillars. Then he had looked again and realized that most of them were poor; dirt poor. Many were beggars; many more bore the marks of the king's justice: a missing finger or ear, or even a limb. For two hundred years, so many people had kept their faith in God! Even though they were crushed into the dirt for it. But there were more substantial citizens there, too, the burghers and master craftsmen, who had given aid and shelter to their less fortunate fellow parishioners; for all, all, had been driven to worship in seclusion and keep their faith secret for so many, many years.

But now the cathedral was clean again, and whitewashed, with new linens on the altar and a new carpet before it. A crucifix stood over the sanctuary again, albeit it was made of wood, and had been quickly carved; and priests followed the Archbishop down the aisle.

It was flabbergasting, how many priests had risked slow death by torture to keep ministering to their flocks, well hidden--but Friar Tuck had found out a dozen of them within twenty-four hours, and others had stepped forward. It was even more astounding that young men had chosen to become priests under such circumstances--though Alisande had told him that Merovence had sent its share of missionaries to the benighted land. Incredible, that men who could have dwelt securely and in comfort at home should be willing to condemn themselves to a life of fear and misery, should risk death and torture, all because they had felt a call from God!

Of course, Matt had done that, too--but he hadn't been watching his language.

They marched in solemn procession down the full length of the nave, then back up a side aisle to one of the many chapels that opened off the passageway behind the altar--a chapel that bore the catafalques of dead kings and queens. One of these low tombs was open.

As the priests intoned the De Profundis, the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the empty tomb, then stood back as the masons spread mortar and hefted the huge stone cover back into place. The Archbishop said a final blessing, and the procession returned to the main altar, where the prelate blessed the congregation and sent them forth. Then he left the altar, and Matt and the other pallbearers--Sir Guy, Prince Rinaldo, Robin Hood, and three of the knights who had stood by Sir Guy--filed down the aisle to a chamber near the door. There, though, they doffed their black cloaks and robes and put on clothes resplendent with scarlet and gold. Then Matt and Sir Guy turned to help Prince Rinaldo with his coronation robes.

He seemed somber, nervous. "I am not worthy of this honor, Lord Wizard."

"You are," Sir Guy said, with such total certainty that the prince looked up at him, astonished. "You have proved your worth in adversity, in suffering, in loyalty to a cause that seemed lost, and in striving when all seemed hopeless. You have been tried in the flames and found worthy."

Prince Rinaldo looked directly into his eyes and nodded slowly. "I thank you, my friend. I shall do all that I may, not to disappoint you."

" 'Tis not myself to whom you must answer," the Black Knight said, "but to God, and your people."

Not quite true, Matt knew--but Prince Rinaldo didn't. He didn't know that Sir Guy was the descendant and legitimate heir of Hardishane, the emperor who had brought all of Europe into his empire five hundred years before. If any living man knew who had the right to rule and who didn't, it was Sir Guy de Toutarien--for he had the right, but chose not to assert it. Instead, he had spent his life laboring unseen and unknown, to prevent the dominion of evil that would require his ancestor to wake and reestablish the Empire. The choir's massed voice rang out again, but this time in a joyful hymn.

"Your people call," Sir Guy said.

Prince Rinaldo swallowed heavily and turned to the door.

Down the aisle they marched, with Sir Guy bearing the scepter and Matt carrying the true crown--found buried in the deepest dungeon and restored to its rightful place. Before them walked Alisande, garbed in gold and purple, her cloak bordered with ermine, every inch a queen.

The throne stood on the altar now, with the Archbishop behind it. Prince Rinaldo stepped up to it, but turned to his people, not yet sitting. Alisande turned to face the crowd. "It is not the custom for one monarch to present another to his people," she cried, "but all King Tomas' noblemen are dead, and their descendants only newly come from obscurity to their estates. One alone of the old houses has remained in his demesne. Milord!" The Don de la Luce, blinking and round-shouldered, stepped up to the altar and stood blinking at the huge crowd before him, bemused.

"You have abided in faith, though you suffered in loneliness," Alisande cried. "To you belongs the honor."

But the old don shook his head and held out his hand. Yverne stepped up and took it; then both turned to Alisande, with a curtsy and a bow, and stepped aside.

She looked from the one to the other, then back at the people. "They will have me speak for them. Look, then, upon the faithful lords who are left to you!

Lords, look upon your people! O faithful of Ibile, who have kept troth with your God and your royal line through centuries of adversity, look now upon your king!"

She turned, one hand outspread, and the choir burst into song. Rinaldo sat then, ramrod straight, hands gripping the throne, eyes on his people--as the Archbishop took the crown from Matt and lowered it onto the prince's head.

Then Yverne turned and knelt before the throne, took Rinaldo's hand, and swore fealty to him, acknowledging him as her suzerain.

The celebration was still going on, and the new king had to wave to the cheering throngs that lined the way as he rode with Sir Guy and Yverne to the great gates that guarded the town. At his signal, the porters opened the huge leaves. Then the king, who had been Fadecourt, took the maiden's hand. "I had liefer you stayed to rule with me, a queen of Ibile."

"I thank your Majesty." Yverne lowered her eyes. "I will ever be your true vassal and will come if you have need of me--but my destiny lies elsewhere."

"I had feared as much." King Rinaldo turned to clap Sir Guy on the shoulder.

"I need not bid you ward her well--she could have no more stalwart a guardian. But I can bid you find a priest together, ere you have journeyed too far along your road." For a moment, Fadecourt's insouciance lit his eyes again. "Or I'll pry you out of your armor with my own hands!"

"I warrant your Majesty." Sir Guy inclined his head gravely.

"Farewell, comrade-at-arms!" Rinaldo clasped him by the shoulders. "I will miss your wise council, your good cheer!" He turned to Yverne. "Farewell, milady! Whom I shall never leave off missing."

"I pray," she said softly, "that there shall come a one who shall make you forget me."

He only gazed at her, as if to say it was impossible; but all he said aloud was, "Farewell, good friends both!"

Alisande nodded to her heralds, and the trumpets pealed. Sir Guy and Yverne rode forth beyond the gate, turned back to wave once, then rode away side by side.

Now Rinaldo turned to the two huge monsters who stood flanking the gate.

"You need not go, lordly ones! Ever will there be welcome for you, in Orlequedrille!"

"I thank your Majesty," Stegoman rumbled, "but we must needs see the knight and his lady safely to the mountains, that none of the Free Folk seek to harm them as they pass through--and I must needs take this orphan back to his long home, that his people may honor him as ever they should have done."

"Orphan!" Narlh said indignantly. "So what are you, my papa?" And your mother, too, if ever thou hast need of our care," Stegoman returned, "though I would liefer be your brother."

"Yeah, I'd love it." But Narlh's eye glinted. "Gonna find someone to be my godfather?"

"I do not doubt that my sire will delight at the honor. You shall be acclaimed as the dragon you are, and all shall hail your name, for my kin have gone before us to the land of the Free Folk, to spread word of your glory." Matt wondered about sibling rivalry.

Stegoman's jaw lolled open in a grin. "Come, good-sib! The road is long, and already the knight and lady have the long start! Majesty, farewell! And Majesty of Merovence--again, till I see thee once more, God be with thee!" Then, wonder of wonders, both monsters managed something resembling a bow. They rose, turned, and went off after the couple on horseback, as the trumpets rang out once again. Alisande signaled, and the huge portals closed. King Rinaldo turned back, blinking only twice, and saw Robin Hood and his band standing before him. "Will you, too, leave me?"

"Aye, when we weary of peace and soft living." Robin smiled. "Yet we will accept your hospitality some little while longer, till we see you secure with a loyal band of knights and men about you, and lords to keep your countryside secure."

Rinaldo clasped the outlaw on the shoulder. "Why, then, I shall have to see to the fomenting of rebellions! Maid, I thank you for your good intercession."

"Pooh, Majesty," Marian answered. "He would have thought of it himself, in time."

Rinaldo turned to Alisande. "You, though, I cannot importune. Your kingdom cannot endure too long without you."

"Even so," she agreed. "Another day, and I, too, must leave you."

"Ibile shall ever be friend to Merovence, while I live!" Rinaldo swore. "I cannot repay what you have done for me!"

"There shall come a chance," she said evenly. "For the nonce, you might speak to your comrade of the duties he owes his sovereign."

"Duties!" Matt squawked. "When have I ever been less than totally faithful to you? When?"

She favored him with her best glare. "Why, when you went dancing off to Ibile and left me to mourn!"

Matt's defenses melted. "Well. I'm glad to know you weren't celebrating."

"Celebrating! My love and my life! How could I ever be aught but grim, when you are not by me!"

Matt bowed his head, then looked up with a forced and weary smile. "It's not that I don't believe you..."

Alisande's face hardened. "A queen cannot lie!"

"Not about public matters, no..."

"Majesty," Prince Rinaldo said softly.

She froze, then turned to him slowly. "Aye, Majesty?"

"If you love him," one of her few peers in the whole world said, "why do you not marry him?"

She stared at him so long that Matt was afraid the silence would crack. But she finally answered, low-voiced, "You know well, sovereign Majesty, that we of royal blood may not marry as we choose. I cannot wed a man who was not born a lord."

"Not so," the king contradicted, with Fadecourt's old glint in his eye.

"Your duty as queen is to marry so as to strengthen your kingdom--and to give your heirs noble blood, that will make them worthy monarchs." She stared at him, paling--but she nodded slowly. "Even so. Thus much do we learn at our sires' knees."

"And Lord Matthew's magic strengthens Merovence," Rinaldo said. "Indeed, who should know that better than I, who was a gnarled cyclops, a creature of contempt, but who am now made a king, through his wizardry and your force of arms? And how should Merovence fare without his enchantments?" Alisande seemed suddenly unsure; she glanced at Matt out of the corner of her eye.

"To wed him would be a diplomatic victory unparalleled," the king murmured,

"for it would bind him to the service of Merovence for all his life." Alisande bit her lip, suddenly vulnerable, suddenly very much a woman.

"There is merit in what you say. But all of tradition, the weight of common law--"

Rinaldo saw her uncertainty. "Good friar!" he called. Friar Tuck looked up, surprised. "Aye, Majesty?"