The Pixilated Peeress (4 page)

--

             
When Thorolf returned, Vulfilac was ladling stew into bowls while his son carved a loaf of black bread into slices. Yvette waited, c
lad as the complete goodwife, with a flounced petticoat showing below her skirt. Be
low the petticoat were red wool stockings and stout leather sollerets. On her head was a barillet, a miniature turban held in place by a wimple beneath her chin. Handing T
h
orolf his cloak and shirt, she spoke:

             
"Friends, the stars do shine and I do starve. Let the feast begin!"

-

             
The repast was nearly done when Yvette held up the coronet. "Goodman Vulfilac, canst find me an old cloth wherein to wrap this thing? It were folly to flaunt it in town."

             
"Aye," said the smith. "Son, attend to the matter." Waving his spoon, he continued
the talk of his trade: "As I was saying, it takes a sharp judgment to tell the heat of iron by its color. Ye start hammering when it glows a buttercup yellow and keep on till it cools to dark red. If ye smite it thereafter, 'tis labor wasted. But if ye he
a
t it up to white, so that it shoots out sparkles, then ye've overheated the piece and spoilt it. It were good for nought but scrap, to be melted up again
...
" The smith turned toward the door. "What's that?"

             
Outside, horsemen were dismounting. "Gondomar'
s men!" Yvette exclaimed. "What shall I do?"

             
"Out the scullery door, quick!" snapped Thorolf. "Hide in the woods. Hold the forge door with me, Vul
filac."

             
"Show her the way, lad!" said Vulfilac. The boy gathered up the bundle he had made of the coronet
. He and the Countess fled hand in hand. The shouts and hammering grew more insistent as Thorolf picked up his sword and followed Vulfilac into the smithy, where the smith chose four heavy hammers off the wall.

             
They reached the open door to be confronted
by five men; behind them a sixth held their horses. Four of the five grasped swords, while the fifth cradled a cocked crossbow. The leader was a heavy-set man wearing a white surcoat over his leather, metal-studded cuirass. On the chest of this garment w
a
s broidered an emblem, but the man wore his surcoat inside out so that the patch was hidden.

             
"Where is the Countess Yvette?" barked this man.

             
"We know nought of that lady," said Thorolf.

             
"Liar! We tracked her to the pool on the Rissel whereat ye fish
ed, and anon a peasant saw her riding pillion behind you. Say where she be and we'll not harm you twain."

             
"I cannot tell you what I do not know," retorted Thorolf. "So be off with you!"

             
Vulfilac added: " 'Tis an unseemly time to be pounding an honest workman's door
—
"

             
"Take them!" said the leader, pointing with his sword.

             
The four swordsmen advanced in a semicircle; but as they closed in to pass beneath the lintel, they crowded one ano
ther. Vulfilac hurled one of his hammers. With a crunch, it struck the nearest raider in the face and threw him prone and still, his face a mask of blood.

             
Swords clanged and grated. Thorolf found himself hotly engaged with two of the swordsmen, one of th
em the leader, while the remaining swordsman danced about just beyond reach of the smith's hammers. Vul
filac made another throw, but the swordsman ducked.

             
"Get away and give me a clear shot!" cried the crossbowman in the rear.

             
Another thrown hammer ca
ught Vulfilac's opponent in the belly and sent him reeling, doubled over and retching. One of Thorolf's two looked around for his comrade. Thorolf, till then compelled to remain on the defensive, took advantage of the pause to skewer him of the surcoat wi
t
h a coupe; his blade punched through the leather corselet into the flesh beneath. The man folded up with a groan. The other swordsman found both the sergeant and the smith advancing upon him.

             
He ran back, while the crossbowman leveled his weapon. Without
armor, Thorolf felt naked. At that range, the bolt would tear through his guts like a skewer through butter. Beside him, Vulfilac wound up to throw his last hammer.

             
The crossbowman backed away, swinging his weapon so that it bore first upon one antagoni
st and then the other. At that moment a small figure appeared in the dusk behind the arbalester. The newcomer picked up one of the thrown hammers, lofted it high, and smote the crossbowman's head from behind. The arbalester collapsed.

             
The raider who had
been struck in the belly scuttled painfully to the horses. The unwounded swordsman and the groom who had held the animals boosted him into the saddle. Leading three riderless animals, the survi
vors cantered off. Holding the hammer she had wielded,
Yvette
came forward into the light from the smithy with the smith's son.

             
"Countess!" chided Thorolf. "I told you to hide in the woods!"

             
"One of my blood," she replied with dignity, "skulks not in hiding whilst her defenders risk their lives for her."

             
"A goo
d thing she disobeyed you, Thorolf," growled the smith as he collected his hammers. "Without her aid, one or t'other of us would have gat a bolt in's bris
ket."

             
Thorolf was kneeling to examine the bodies. He rose, saying, "This one, too, seems safely dea
d. Let's pile the carrion out back and cover them. The constables will take them in charge after I report to them on the morrow. That was a mighty blow for one so delicate, Countess."

             
"The strength of desperation, I ween," said Yvette. Pointing to the co
rpse in the surcoat, she added: "I know that knave: a captain of Gondomar's guard. If you turn back his coat, you will see the red boar of Landai. His survivors will flee back to the Duke, who will set another party on my trail. Ere they return, you must
d
iscover me a wizard who can change my appearance, so I cannot be readily tracked. Couldst lead me to the one in Zurshnitt, whereof you told me, this very night?"

             
"Nay, my lady," said the soldier. "It's above an ho
ur hence to town. All doors are already latched and barred. We must tarry here till dawn on a patch of floor with, perchance, a mattress and a coverlet from our friend."

             
"Better yet," said Vulfilac. "Your Ladyship shall have my bed!"

             
"A generous offer,
" she said, patting a yawn. "I am fordone. May I see this bed?"

             
"Up this ladder, madam."

             
Yvette, carrying her coronet, and Thorolf climbed
into the loft, the smith following with a candle. Yvette said: "A vasty bed, Goodman Vulfilac."

             
"My wife's and
mine. Now I sleep with the lad; but he shall make do elsewhere, as shall I."

             
"So huge a bed with but one small occupant were wasteful and ridiculous. One of you shall take the other half."

             
Thorolf and Vulfilac exchanged glances. Thorolf said: "It would
grieve me to oust a friend from's bed. I'll take the floor."

             
"Nay!" boomed the smith. "As host I have the final say, and I assign myself to the floor."

             
They argued until Yvette said: "A pox upon your courtesies! I've camped in the field with my soldie
rs, so bed sharing is nought new to me. My judgment is that you shall flip a coin."

             
The coin gave Thorolf the bed. Yvette stripped off her garments and pulled the coronet firmly down on her head.

             
Vulfilac, blushing above his beard, looked away. Thorolf
exclaimed: "Countess! That's how I first met you. Do you sleep with that thing on?"

             
"Certes, as do many nobles and royals, to be sure their baubles be not stolen whilst they snore."

             
"Is it not uncomfortable?"

             
"One gets used to it, as you are accu
stomed to strut
ting about with a sword banging your shins
...
Tho
rolf! You shall not get into my bed with those dirty clothes! Strip down like a man of sense!"

             
"You mean
—
ah
—
"

             
"Nay, silly, I make no lewd advances; my person is off-limits to commoners.
Lend me that great knife of yours!"

             
"Not to stab me asleep, I hope?
"

             
"
Nay; but if I feel something poking me in the mid
section, I shall know what to do. Good night!"

-

             
Tired
though he was, Thorolf found sleep hard to co
me by. It seemed to him that he was just dropping off when he was aware of light and motion. He found Yvette already dressed, winding cloths around the coronet. He said: "Sleep well, Countess?"

             
"Not so well as sometimes, with you tossing and turning all
night."

             
The soldier reddened. "Your pardon. I fear the con
tiguity of one so fair
...
"

             
"No need to apologize; at least it proves you no ef
feminate. Vulfilac yonder snores like a sawmill. Do not folk of his class rise early?"

             
Thorolf smiled. "Not wh
en they've spent half the night rescuing penniless damsels from their pursuers!"

-

             
Breakfasted and mounted again, Thorolf turned his horse toward Zurshnitt. Clad in the smith's wife's feast-day finery, Yvette sat pillion behind him on the mare. On h
er head she wore her coronet so wrapped in cloth as to seem a turban. Out of sight of the smithy, Thorolf said:

             
"We must needs deposit that golden hoop safely and descend upon Doctor Bardi. But first I have my duties
—
"

             
"Not so, Sergeant! The care of me
and my small treasure should come first."

             
"Sorry, my dear, but I cannot
—
"

             
"And what preempts my orders, sirrah?"

             
"First I must needs report to barracks and get leave for the day. Then I must visit the Constabulary about last night's fracas and the c
orpses we left at the smithy."