The Incorporated Knight

VII – Svor The Stroller

Half an hour later, Eudoric in turn bowed himself out of Brulard's chamber of office. The minister said: "Come back hither at the time erst appointed, Sir Eudoric—two days hence—and ye shall have your coin."

"Good-night and good luck, Sir Eudovix!" said King Clothar heartily, awakening from his torpor. The King had yawned through the lengthy bargaining between Eudoric and Brulard and almost fallen asleep, but he roused himself to bid a gracious farewell.

A guard escorted Eudoric through the halls and out the gates of the palace. At the exit Eudoric, suddenly conscious of the fact that his sword was back in the rented room with Forthred, asked: "Wilt guide me home? I fear getting lost in this warren of alleys. I can pay." He did not voice his real concern— the fear of being, in his unarmed state, set upon by footpads.

"Nay; duty forbids," said the soldier. "It's easy enough. Three streets that way, left one, right one, half a block and there ye be. The Three True Gods give you good night!" The guardsman vanished.

Eudoric started upon his route with an uneasy feeling of being watched. A crescent moon was setting, leaving the streets in Acheronian darkness. We do things better in the Empire, thought Eudoric. Emperor Thorar had decreed street lighting at night in Sogambrium, and King Valdhelm had followed suit in Kromnitch. To be sure, the lighting was from cressets affixed to the walls of buildings at the principal crossings, and the municipal servants supposed to replenish the firewood often neglected to keep the fires alight; but even this feeble ruby flicker was better than a moonless night's funereal gloom.

As his eyes adjusted, Eudoric became aware of motion ahead in the otherwise deserted street. He was following someone or something at the very limit of vision. Since the figure got no closer, Eudoric inferred that at least the person did not mean to pause to waylay him. Still, he would have been happier with his sword, or even with his dagger or a stout walking stick.

The unknown one ahead, Eudoric thought, must be at the crossing where Eudoric had been told to turn left. Suddenly there were more shadowy figures in motion. Someone shouted a phrase in an unfamiliar tongue.

Eudoric lengthened his stride and soon perceived that one shadow, he thought the person whom he had been following, was ringed by three additional shadows. As Eudoric approached, he perceived that the three newcomers were armed with one sword and two daggers, while the wayfarer kept his attackers at bay by whirling a curious weapon. This consisted of two batons or short clubs connected by a length of chain. The defender held one of these billets of wood and whirled the other in loops and figure-eights. As Eudoric neared, the swinging club hit one attacker with a hollow sound and sent him staggering back howling. Again the defender shouted the unknown phrase.

Unarmed as he was, Eudoric had a fleeting urge to slip into his alley and let the incident take care of itself. But the whim was gone in a flash. While he might not take to heart all the arrogant Franconian code of knighthood, such flight, he felt, would be unworthy of his knightly station.

Coming up behind the swordsman, Eudoric threw himself at the fellow's legs and clutched them tightly. He had once seen this form of attack employed by a group of pilgrims from Celtica, who played a game with a leather-covered bladder, which they threw, kicked, carried about the field, and wrested from one another.

The swordsman had scarcely turned his head when Eudoric hurled him prone. Bounding to his feet, Eudoric stamped with all his force on the man's sword hand. Snatching up the weapon, he sent a quick thrust into the fallen one's body and faced the remaining attackers. These twain backed away, took to their heels, and vanished into the darkness, while the man whom Eudoric had sworded heaved himself slowly to his feet and staggered off, holding his side and groaning.

"Should have kill him," said the small man whom Eudoric had rescued. Eudoric recognized the singsong accent as that of the Serican sage, Doctor Tsudai.

"To slay a wounded man is hardly—well ..."

Tsudai shook his head. "Ye Westerners are all sentimentalists at heart. Ye understand not. If he recover and learn who stuck him, he'll seek to waylay you for vengeance. Furthermore, had we his corse, we might find upon it evidence of him who set whose bravos upon this person."

"Who might hire these cullions?"

"This one makes no accusation without evidence. Still, it is known that the Duke of Dorelia bears this insect no love, for having exposed his plot to murder King Clothar."

"And I've been hired to pass through the Duchy of Dorelia!" said Eudoric with a grunt. "By the Divine Pair, let's hope none of those fellows saw me well enough to know me again."

The Serican spread his hands. "Ye are young knight from the Empire, who would extend coach line hither, so-not-so?"

"Aye, sir. May I lead you to my room, to rest and refresh yourself?"

"Nay, thank you. From Secretary's chamber, this despicable one returned to own cabinet, gathered belongings, and set out for his humble home. In the excitement of attack, this stupid one called for help in his own language."

"If you are a wizard, why not summon your demon and set him upon those knaves?"

"Tried but forgot it was the demon's day of recreation. Penalty of age is forgetfulness. Wouldst come to my slatternly dwelling? Shall feel more at ease with a swordsman by side. Then, belike, ye might deign to meet repulsive wife and degenerate children."

"I shall be honored," said Eudoric, suppressing a smile at the Serican's extravagant self-deprecation.

Tsudai's wife proved not at all repulsive, and the children seemed remarkably bright, clean, and well-behaved. Eudoric tried to pump Tsudai about Princess Yolanda. But the seer said he had settled in Letitia only after the King's sister had departed. Further questions about Yolanda, Tsudai turned aside with elaborate politeness. He brought the conversation around to Serican business practices, a topic that his guest found completely absorbing.

"For a private enterprise like yours," said Tsudai, "we have a device called hong. Suppose three men wish to start a business, but each one has different sum to invest. So they print, let us say, twelve certificates, each for ownership of one-twelfth of the hong. Say, one buy five shares, one four, one three. When business make profit, the profit is shared in proportion to holdings, and votes by shareholders for mandarins of company are likewise weighted."

Eudoric listened keenly. "What if the company go bankrupt?"

"Then the owners of shares may lose their shares, given to creditors; but are not otherwise liable. Makes sale of shares much easier."

"In other words, such a company acts as a human being, with the same powers, restrictions, and liabilities?"

"Yea; one may call it an artificial person."

"I see possibilities," said Eudoric, "but our laws would need revision. Now, Doctor, canst forecast my future?"

"Only in most general way, honorable sir. This disgusting worm can read something of character in my crystal and draw inferences. For ensample, if ye be an inveterate gambler, ye will surely end in want; if ye be a constant quarreler, chances are overpowering that ye will die by violence. But precisely when and how, I know not.

"When this one looked through crystal, he saw that ye had set out from home in hope of wiving, your previous courtships having gone awry. I marked how your interest quickened at talk of the King's sister."

"What think you of my chances—not perforce with the King's sister, but with womankind in general? How happy shall I be if I ever do find a mate?"

"As to that, ye shall probably attain your goal, albeit with toils and troubles. At least, when ye do wive, she may be sure of your fidelity."

"How know you that?" asked Eudoric.

Tsudai chuckled. "Because ye lack the charm and surface gallantries that oft beguile women, wherefore they'll give you scant encouragement to stray. Few lusty young men would count this quality a virtue; but it will natheless save a mort of grief. Your chosen one may find you less enchanting company than a hero of romance; but she can ever rely upon you. And that, with advancing years, becomes the thickest strand in marital tie." He rose. "Sir Eudoric, this creature owes you his worthless life. When in dire strait, be free to seek my ineffectual aid."

Tsudai sent Eudoric off with two bottles of Franconia's finest vintage wrapped in his cloak. Slightly the worse for wine, Eudoric weaved his way back to his room. He tried to compensate for his tipsiness by gripping the robber's sword and darting suspicious glances into every dark recess. But nothing happened.

While traversing the lands of the Duke of Dorelia, Eudoric tried to be quietly inconspicuous and to move in the casual, leisurely manner of one to whom the journey was a timeworn tale. He expected at every step to be stopped by the men of the Duke, eager to lay their hands on a hireling of the Duke's inimical suzerain, King Clothar. Eudoric rehearsed the speeches that he would make to convince his captors that he was nothing more than a stagecoach owner looking for means of expansion. He ruthlessly practised Forthred in local manners and customs, so that the apprentice should not draw unwanted attention by flagrantly foreign behavior.

As things turned out, Eudoric's careful precautions proved superfluous. Nobody questioned them. Indeed, nobody showed any interest in a pair of quiet, orderly, taciturn travelers.

At the Armorian border, a customs inspector went through Eudoric's baggage until he came to the remaining bottle of golden Franconian wine, the gift of Tsudai the Serican. Eudoric had saved this bottle so that he and Forthred could celebrate reaching Armoria. The inspector blew a whistle, and two mailed customs men-at-arms bustled up. The inspector cried in Armorian:

"Arrest these men! They seek to smuggle a forbidden fluid into the land!"

"Eh?" said Eudoric. "Oh, you mean that bottle of wine." He spoke Helladic, which the inspector understood. "I had forgotten your law—"

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse!" barked the inspector. "Take them to prison—"

"Now see here!" blustered Eudoric. "I am no mere vagabond, but a leiger from His Majesty the King of Franconia to His Majesty the King of Armoria—"

"Ha! A likely story! Where is your escort? Where are your credentials? Your letters under the royal seal?"

"I was sent forth with only the passport you hold, lest the Duke of Dorelia get wind of the plan. 'Tis said that the Duke fears that my mission might lead to renascent amity betwixt the two monarchs, thus depriving him of a diplomatic advantage."

The inspector shook his head. "I have nought to do with matters of statecraft. Take them away, men, whilst I seek counsel."

Eudoric and Forthred found themselves in a verminous cell in a nearby building, lit only by overcast daylight through a small, high, barred window. While Eudoric examined the door, the walls, and the window for weak spots, Forthred said in the gloom:

"Sir Eudoric, I never thought you such a glib liar. My master warned me that ye were a man of tough standards, exact and demanding, but nought of this singular endowment."

"There's no spur to invention that vies with necessity," grunted Eudoric. "And keep your voice down."

"Suppose these Armorians demand to know what sort of mission we be on? What'll ye answer?"

"I'm thinking up a story."

The next day the travelers, scratching flea bites, were brought back to the customs post. With the inspector was a gray-bearded man wearing a scarlet gown and the tall black hat of a justice of the peace. The graybeard asked Eudoric:

"Now then, sir, what is this secret mission ye claim to serve?"

"King Clothar wishes to end this footling dispute over wine and perry. He has sent me to negotiate a treaty of mutual approval of your two kingdoms' respective beverages. I brought that bottle as a nominal gift to His Majesty King Gwennon, to—all—soften his ire."

"What terms are ye authorized to offer?"

Eudoric smiled. "My lord, as a man of the bench, learned in the law, you would not truly expect me to reveal my terms in advance of negotiation. Let us say that I hope to get an agreement that shall leave both monarchs equally pleased—or equally displeased, as the case may be."

The justice frowned. "Meseems King Clothar sent his sister on a similar mission within the past twelvemonth. If she could not achieve that aim, wherefore thinks he that an unknown foreigner could succeed?"

Thinking fast, Eudoric said: "On the contrary, my lord, it was altogether a logical decision."

"How so? From far-flying rumor, that royal noodle-head hath never a thought in his sconce beyond trouncing a courtier at some silly game or flittering a willing wench."

"Well then, let us say that it was logical of King Clothar's minister, Master Brulard. The King's sister would surely incite suspicion on the part of the Armorians, being both intimate kin to Clothar and active, I am told, in the occult arts. She must have attempted some magical sleight, if it be true that she be immured."

"Hmm." The justice paused to study his collocutor. "I heard that she had been accused of witchery and named as the monster's bride. Proceed, Sir Eudoric."

"So it seemed to Minister Brulard that a stranger like me, having no ties in either land, would command more confidence as a fair-minded intermediary to arbitrate this dispute."

The justice chewed a wandering whisker, then said: "Sir Eudoric, meseems ye be either an excellent choice for arbitrator, or the most plausible liar that hath come this way during my term of office. My judgment is that ye be sent on to Ysness, but with an escort, to make sure that ye be he who ye say ye be. If it transpire that ye be not ..." The justice drew an ominous finger across his throat.

"My lord," said Eudoric, "what is this about the Princess Yolanda's being given to a monster?"

"Ah, that is on account of the curse of Svor the Stroller."

"Who? What curse?"

"Know ye not? The tale is old and well-worn in Armoria. Svor the Stroller was a mountebank from a land even farther away than yours—a country hight Pathenia."

"I have been there," said Eudoric.

"Have ye indeed? Is it true that Pathenians devour their own firstborn?"

"Not that I ever heard; meseems they rear their families in much the same way as other folk. But tell me more about this curse."

"This Svor had a traveling show, with a few performers and some foreign wonders for yokels to gape at. One of these was his monster, a kind of sea dragon, the which he kept in a tank of water and dragged with him about the land. This monster was but a child of its race, not much longer than a man, and the tank confined it straitly. Svor averred he had raised it from an egg and fed it only meagerly, lest it grow too large to be contained.

"He had trained the beast to perform certain tricks, giving commands in Pathenian and rewarding it with little fishes. With him it was as tame as a dog. When he called: 'Here, Dru—Druzhok!' (at least, that is what I think he named the creature) it would rear up out of its tank to be stroked and to nuzzle its master. Never have I beheld a cleverer beast; it seemed to understand every word that Svor spake.

"Somehow, Svor fell afoul of the King's jester, Master Corentin, who, far from being a fool, hath magical powers of s own. One day they met on the beach at Ysness, and the quarrel brake out openly. Both cast spells; but Corentin's proved the stronger, causing Svor to burn alive where he stood.

"Ere he died, Svor shrieked a curse upon the land: that his monster should escape to the sea, wax immense, and yearly return to ravage the shores of Armoria, unless it were given a maiden each year to devour.

"When the King's men rushed to Svor's caravan to see how the monster betid, they found that Druzhok indeed had crawled out of its tank, departed its wagon, waddled down to the shore, and swum away. The rest of the mountebank's company, who seemed to be harmless folk, were let go with a warning.

"For six years, no ills from the curse materialized. Then the monster, grown to the size of one of the smaller whales, appeared along the coast, destroying fishing craft and snatching unwary bathers. King Gwennon commanded that the justices name the female criminal then in custody as the one most richly deserving of death, and they brought forth a woman who'd poisoned her children and man. So she was duly chained to a rock on the shore near Ysness.

"The monster tore her loose from her chains, engulfed her, and vanished. Next year it appeared again, but this time the victim, another murdering woman, already cowered in place. So the creature enjoyed its repast and departed without effecting further harm.

"And so things have gone ever since. Princess Yolanda will be the seventh victim—or belike the eighth. As ye see, the monster seemingly cares but little for the personal conduct of its victims, so long as they be tasty."

Eudoric frowned in thought. "When is the next such sacrifice?"

The justice paused to think. "In ten or twelve days, meseems. If your escort hasten, ye should arrive in the capital in time this fete to witness. It were well to reach the place early, because enterprising fellows set up benches along the shore and let sitting space to spectators."

"An arresting spectacle, no doubt," said Eudoric dryly. "Has none essayed to slay the monster?"

"Aye; the King hath offered a recompense for such a hero. When the third maiden was to be devoured, one bold knight, Sir Tugen, climbed out upon the rock with sword in hand. But the monster knocked him into the deep with a flip of's flipper.

"It would doubtless have devoured Sir Tugen as well as the woman, but that he was wearing armor. Having attempted a bite or two, it left the man and took the victim, chained as before. That served the knight but ill, for he was drowned by the weight of his plate. After the monster departed, the armored corse was fished from the sea, bearing dents from Druzhok's teeth. Why, Sir Eudoric, didst think of attempting that feat yourself?"

"Having only now heard of this singular rite," said Eudoric cautiously, "I am not prepared to answer. How soon can we start for Ysness?"

The green and rolling countryside of Armoria jounced past as Eudoric, Forthred, and their escort jogged steadily westward. Now and then the open landscape was broken by a patch of forest or by a hill that rose in a hump above the plain. Atop of many such hills, Eudoric noted graying prominences that seemed from afar to be a regular shape. Blurred by the hazy Armorian air, these protuberances appeared to be made of huge slabs of stone leaning against one another. Eudoric asked Sreng, the officer of the squad, about these eminences.

"Tombs of our ancient kings," replied Sreng shortly. He rode a little in advance of Eudoric, with Eudoric's reins in his fist.

When they skirted another megalithic tomb more closely, Eudoric said: "Those look like mighty stones for men to have hauled up such a slope."

Sreng retorted: "Know, O foreigner, that our wizards could magic yon stones into their present place, were they an hundred times as massy."

"Wizards!" snorted Kibhauc, Sreng's lieutenant. "More like 'twas the magic of chieftains' whips, laid across the backs of tribesmen whilst they hauled the stones with leathern ropes."

"Oh, shut thy gob!" said Sreng. "Ye be ever carping and doubting. 'Twere not beyond belief that ye doubt the blessed gods themselves and have gone over to that accursed Triunitarian cult that's spread by missioners from Franconia, so as to weaken our national unity and bring us under Letitia's dominion."

"Find me a wizard who can by magic loft any weight above ten pounds, and I shall be happy to believe. What think ye, Sir Eudoric?"

Eudoric smiled faintly. "My friends, I have traveled through divers lands; and I have found it prudent never to dispute the beliefs of the dwellers therein. How far from Ysness are we?"

"A few hours should see us thither," said Sreng, "if this weather hold, which looks unlikely."

A lowering sky grew darker; thunder rumbled from the black-bottomed clouds. Eudoric said: "There's the largest of your royal tombs so far. Could we not seek to shelter ourselves within?"

Sreng gasped. "Invade King Balan's tomb? Ye must be moonstricken! No man who enters one of these tombs comes out alive."

"What befalls him?"

"How should I know, since none hath returned to tell the tale? Nay, we'll make do with such shelter as yon copse provides."

Sreng led the group into the designated woodland. They were still rigging a lean-to of branches with cloaks and blankets spread out upon them when the rain began. A steady downpour kept them huddled beneath this imperfect shelter for the rest of that day and half the next. They munched black bread, cheese, dried beef, and onions; dozed; cast knucklebones; boasted of heroic feats of carousing and fornication; and listened to Eudoric's tales of travel, while Eudoric practiced his rudimentary Armorian.