The Secular Wizard - Wis in Rhyme - 4 (21 page)

and mounted, and her troops broke into another shout. She waved to them, acknowledging their tribute, and called out, "Men, the Lord Wizard may be in peril, for he rides south to learn what mischief brews in the kingdom of Latruria! We ride to be near if he learns tales of woe! It may be war, or it may be peace-but we dare not wait for the Latrurians to decide!"

Another mighty shout went up-then a grizzled sergeant began the surging chant of a war song. The queen smiled and joined in. But as the last chord sounded, the Lady Constance came riding up on a palfrey, herself clad in light mail, with a surcoat emblazoned with the arms of her family. Queen Alisande stared, astounded.

"Mi-lady! What means this?"

"If you are determined to ride when you should not, Majesty, then I must ride with you," Lady Constance informed her. "Do not try to dissuade me! I shall ride with you, whether you will or no-for you must have at least one lady with you, to care for you at such a time!" Alisande nearly ordered her back into the castle, but she froze with the words of command on her tongue, remembering that receiving loyalty had its prices, and accepting service when it is offered was one of those. She intended to be a leader, not a tyrant, and if she inspired her people to work for her, she had to accept their devotion. So she swallowed the words and let the smile that was straining inside her grow out. "You should not endanger yourself, milady, nor expose yourself to such rigors."

"If you will, Majesty, I will!"

"And right glad I shall be of your company," Alisande said, her eyes shining. "Come, let us ride!"

So she rode out to battle with Lady Constance beside her; she rode out wearing a gown, which she had never done before, with only a light coat of mail over it, and only her battle coronet atop her golden hair. There was a habergeon of heavy ring mail tied behind her saddle, though, with her helmet atop it. She rode sidesaddle, which she had never done before-but she did ride, head hfted high and proud, blond hair blowing like a banner, and her knights and footmen shouted with joy at the sight, then broke into an old marching song as they followed her.

Out beneath the portcullis they rode, over the drawbridge and down the winding road to the plain, the troops marching behind them. Off they went, with the soldiers chanting a marching song, out across the valley floor-but an hour later, as they came up to the crest of the hills that surrounded the plain, she saw a lone rider in full plate armor silhouetted against the sky, sitting his charger and waiting for them. Her

heart quickened with hope, and as they came up level with him, the face became clear, but the armor stayed black, and she saw that it was indeed he! "Sir Guy de Toutarien! You are well met indeed!" "As are you, Majesty." Sir Guy inclined his head as a courtesy between equals, not any token of subjection.

"But why have you not come to visit your spouse?"

"We have said our good-byes already." Sir Guy fell in beside her, and the army shouted with joy. Sir Guy turned to grin and wave, acknowledging their acclaim, then turned back and went on. "I would not trouble her heart again when I must be gone in an hour's time. What of your spouse, your Majesty?"

"Why else would I ride south?" Alisande said with irony. Then her face creased with anxiety. "But tell me, Sir Guy-the messenger brought some talk of the Witch Doctor, Saul . . ." Sir Guy contrived a look of sympathy. "I found him, Majesty, and spoke with him. The Lady Angelique is well, and they have indeed married, but there is as yet no sign of children."

Well, Alisande thought, at least she wasn't coming in last.

"That is good news, Sir Guy-but will he come to aid us in search of Lord Matthew?

Sir Guy sighed. "Alas, I fear he will not. He persists in his claim that he is not overly fond of other folk-" "Which the Lady Angelique stands to deny, if not to ameliorate," Alisande said crisply.

"What does he, that he will not come?" "What he terms 'research,'

though why he should search again where he has presumably already searched, I cannot tell."

"Indeed! And what is it he searches for?

"Ah! That, at least, I can say," Sir Guy replied. "He still pursues his old goal."

"What! Still seeking a magic that may work without drawing on either Good or Evil, God or Satan?"

"As earnestly as ever," Sir Guy said, rather embarrassed for his friend. "He is absorbed in his studies and says that he does not wish to interrupt them unless 'tis a matter of dire emergency."

"Why, this case is just such an emergency!"

"Matthew is not yet in peril of his life, Majesty." Sir Guy drew something out of his armor, dangling at the end of a chain. It was a ball about an inch across, perforated with tiny holes.

"However, the wizard Saul gave me this talisman." Ahsande frowned, peering closely at the bauble. "It is singularly un-remarkable, though its silver polish is pretty enough. What use is it?"

"It is a talisman he has made, that we may call upon him if Matthew is truly imperiled."

Alisande eyed the little ball warily. "How will it do that?

Surely it

cannot ring-it is a dumb bell!"

"Aye, but if we say the right words, it shall become most truly out-spoken," Sir Guy told her. "If we speak the phrase, it will make its mate, which Saul wears on his belt, to ring-or, at least, to give off a beeping sound. Then, promises Saul, he will talk with us, and if Matthew is sufficiently imperiled, he will come with all the speed a wizard may summon."

"Fair enough," said Alisande. "What is this magical phrase?"

"It is a set of numbers." Sir Guy frowned; obviously it made no sense to him, either. "Nine one one." "What mystical significance "Nine, one, and one?" Alisande stared.

has that?"

The hall was bright with the sunset, but there were four-branched candelabra waiting to be lit, all down the center of the long table. The dozen members of the family swirled about the room, chatting with one another, as Squire Giuseppe led Matthew and Pascal in.

"Sons

and daughters! Cousins! Hearken!"

Everyone stilled, turning to them expectantly, all gazes probing Matt and Pascal. Matt suspected they had been the hottest item of conversation in the house all afternoon. one young lady managed to step in front of the two men who had threatened to obscure her view-a blond vision in silk and taffeta, with a long braid curling down over one creamy shoulder, huge blue eyes seeking out Pascal. He saw her and went stiff as a hound on point.

Matt took a closer look-this must be Panegyra. In beauty, at least, she certainly seemed worth all the fuss. He reserved judgment on her personality.

When the introductions were done and they were sitting at the table, Pascal muttered, "I must be alone with her!"

"Easy, boy, easy," Matt muttered out of the corner of his mouth, managing to smile about at his table companions. "Push it too fast, and you may get us kicked out of here. Take your time, fit in, and wait for your chance."

"There is no time!" Pascal whispered. "For all we know, she may be married within the week. Can you not contrive a chance?"

"That doesn't strike me as very likely," Matt said to his neighbor on the other side.

"Not likely to have an alliance between Merovence and Latruria?" The lady stared at him. "But why not?"

"It's a question of trust," Matt explained. "When you've been enemies for so long, a few years isn't exactly time enough to start believing your neighbor has nothing but good intentions."

"Will you not answer?" Pascal hissed.

"Hm?" Matt looked up as if the young man had said something surprising, then whispered, "Calm down and be polite, or you'll be out of here before dessert!"

Surely you can at least hold the company's interest while I step aside with her!"

"Oh, all right," Matt grumbled, "but if You try to elope, don't expect me to hold the ladder."

"Ladder?" His neighbor on the other side stared.

"A ladder of diplomacy." Matt turned back to her. "Each rung is another advancement in trust, then in treaties-cultural exchanges, trade agreements, and so forth. When you get to the top, you can develop a full-scale alliance."

erhaps even a dynastic marriage?" His middle-aged neighbor dimpled prettily.

Matt forced a laugh. "Yes, but that might have to wait until King Boncorro has married, and both royal couples have children.', /'Surely Queen Alisande can rid herself of this lowborn trickster she has wed." Matt just stared for a second.

"At least last till dessert," Pascal muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Matt forced another laugh. "No, I don't think there's much chance of that. She seems thoroughly enamored of him. "Besotted, the woman sniffed.

Matt decided he was going to have to watch his step-very carefully. When the last course had been devoured, the squire leaned back in his chair and said, "Minstrel Matthew! Will you not give us a song?" "Why, I'd be glad to, Matt said slowly, "but perhaps a little dancing first might settle the stomach."

Whatever the squire thought of this bit of lunacy was drowned out by the joyful shriek from the younger generation.

They were on their feet and clearing the tables back on the instant.

"Not so fast, not so fast!" the woman next to Matt protested.

"At least let me stand up and step back first.// "Oh, all right, but hurry!" the young man near her growled.

"The dishes!" the squire's wife cried. "Have a care for the ... oh! The last accompanied by the sound of crockery breaking.

"If you must clear the tables, take the dishes out first!" the squire

bellowed.

"Well, if we must, we must," one of the girls snapped, "though there are servants for that sort of thing."

"Then give them time to do their tasks!"

"No, we would rather do it ourselves," another girl said. Matt stepped back, dazed. "Sorry," he said to the squire.

"Didn't know I was going to stir up such a hornet's nest."

"You did not, I suppose," the man grumped. "They are always like

this nowadays."

The tables cleared away, the young folk assembled in the center of the floor, one calling, "Give us a reel!"

"Nay, a jig!" cried another.

"A hornpipe!" cried a third.

"A hornpipe is only for sailors, lout!" snapped a gir .

"And jigs are only for peasants," he retorted, "though what difference it could make to one so clumsy as yourself, I could never-"

"Speak not so to her!" Another young man stepped in front of the girl.

"People, people!" Matt held up his hands placatingly. "How about I just play it, and you figure out what it is?"

The suggestion met with unanimous protest, but it was too late-Matt had already started playing. "Hail to the Chief" sounded a little odd when played on a lute, but nobody knew the lyrics, so they couldn't very well protest about the sentiments.

They did gripe about the rhythm, loudly and vociferously, but when Matt kept on playing in spite of the griping, they simmered down and started dancing to it. At a guess, Matt decided, it was a reel-some kind of line dance, anyway. He plucked the final chord, and instantly a boy was calling, "Too sedate! More spirit, minstrel!"

"Why?" Matt returned. "is the castle haunted?" Wrong line-everybody immediately glanced over their shoulders.

"Of course it is," the squire said, scowling, "and our ghosts are not the sort of which we wish to be reminded.

Play something jolly, minstrel, or I'll see you given the haunted chamber this night!" Matt wondered if the spectral company could be any more disagreeable than the live, but he said, "As you will, your Honor," and began to play a tune that had recently been popular in Bordestang-ever since Matt paid a minstrel to start singing it around the streets.

The young people looked up, startled, then began to nod in time smiles growing, and turned to one another to begin a dance that Matt decided was well on its way to developing into a minuet. As they finished, one girl cried out, "How pretty! Are there words to it?

"Yes, and they're even out of copyright," Matt answered, then rode over the confused looks as he began one of Shakespeare's hits: "Tell me, where is fancy bred?

Or in the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

Reply, reply!

It is engendered in the eye, With gazing bought, and sighing fed. Let us all sing Fancy's knell!

I'll begin it-'Ding, dong, bell!'

"Sing it with me!" he cried, then repeated the line. A slight murmur answered him, and he called out, "I can't hear you!" then played it again, with a little more verve from his impromptu chorus, but not enough, so he called out, "What did you say?"

"Ding, dong, bell!" everybody called back, looking angry. Sheesh, Matt thought, what a bunch of sourpusses!

One fat and surly squire in a rich but gravy-spotted brocade surcoat under a velvet robe, scowled and said, "Have you nothing more fitting?

"Squire Naughtworthy is to marry my daughter," Matt's host explained

. "Surely he would not wish to hear of the death of true love. Marry his daughter? Matt took a closer look at Squire Naughtwor-thy. He was graying-fifty, at least, with little piggy eyes, a blotch of nose, and a ruff of beard. The mere thought of an old satyr like that with pretty young Panegyra made Matt's blood run cold-but he noticed that Pascal was drawing the young lady aside for some private conversation, so he went on to the next verse. The audience sang the chorus line with a bit more verve this time, and Matt, emboldened, switched over to the version from The Tempest:

"Full fathom five thy father lies.

Of coral all his bones are made.

Those are pearls that were his eyes.

Nothing of him that doth fade, But all doth suffer a sea-change And everybody

"Ding, dong, bell!"

Everybody, that is, except Squire Naughtworthy, who turned pur-pie and bellowed, "Would you rush us to our graves? " The whole room fell silent, the whole family staring at him, taken

aback.