Three hearts and three lions

18

FOR TWO NIGHTS they stayed with peasants. Holger, who was not quick enough in the tongue to invent plausible details on the spot, must say as little as possible lest he betray himself to Carahue. The Saracen made conversation enough for both, sprightly, gallant, and aimed increasingly at the girl. This drove Holger still deeper into glum silence. He tried to push down his jealousy—what claim did he have on her?—but it bounced right back.

The third day they left roads and fields and houses behind them. That night they stayed in the hut of a shepherd, who told some grisly tales about savage raiders, worse ones about the trolls who sometimes ventured this far toward the valley. His was the last human habitation on their route, except for the cannibal villages.

Again they climbed mountains, steeper and higher than those to the east. Alianora said they were in the foothills of the titanic Jötun range. “And beyond is nobbut cold and dark and ice, lit by northern lights, for ’tis the home o’ the giants.”

Their goal was not quite that far, on a plateau short of the ultimate heights. But it was at least a week’s journey, through a land harsh enough.

They rode between glacier-scarred boulders and wind-gnawed crags, up and up the long slopes, over razorback ridges and through ravines so narrow they were almost lightless. The woods thinned out into rare clumps of twisted scrub oak; grass grew sparse and stiff ; the air was chilly by day and cold by night, with clouds scudding over the pale sun and the bitterly brilliant stars. Often they had to ford streams that torrented from the peaks. It was all their animals could do not to be yanked away to drowning. Hugi, whose short legs hardly came below the packs on which he rode, was the only one who didn’t get drenched. He would shout jovial remarks like “Ship ahoy!” and “Stow the mizzenmast!” which got little appreciation. Carahue snuffed and sneezed and swore imaginatively at the weather (he denied that this land had climate), but he stuck with the others.

“When I get home,” he said, “I shall lie under orange blossoms in the sun. Slave girls will play me music and drop grapes in my mouth. To keep fit, I shall take exercises: twice daily will I twiddle my fingers. After a few months I will weary of this and set forth on a new knightly quest: let us say, as far as the nearest coffee shop.”

“Coffee,” sighed Holger. He was even running low on Unrich’s tobacco, or whatever the stuff was.

Alianora turned swan from time to time and flew ahead to check their course. When she was gone from view, the fourth day in the wilderness, Carahue regarded Holger with unaccustomed sobriety. “Despite her taste in clothes,” he said, “that is a girl whose like is rarely found.”

“I know,” nodded Holger.

“Forgive my impudence in asking, but God did give me eyes to see with. She’s not your leman, is she?”

“No.”

“The more fool you.”

Holger couldn’t quite resent that. It was probably correct.

“’Tis wha’ I ha’ been telling him and telling him and telling him,” rumbled Hugi. “Yon knichts be an eldritch breed. They’ll cross the world to rescue a maiden, and then dinna know aught to do wi’ her but take her home and mayhap beg a bit o’ hair ribbon to wear on their sleeve. ’Tis a wonder their sort ha’ no died oot erenoo.”

Alianora came back toward dusk. “I’ve seen the kirk from afar,” she reported. “I saw also, closer to us, two strongholds o’ the wild men, wi’ skulls on poles all around, and the folk in a bustle as if readying for war.”

“They are.” Holger nodded.

Alianora frowned. “I’ve scouted a way for us through one pass, up onto the wold. No settlements lie near, belike because a troll dwells in some cave thereabouts. Yet the widely ranging huntsmen may spy us e’en so, and bring a party to capture us for our flesh.”

“Ha, a sad end to a valiant knight, barbecued in his own armor,” said Carahue. He grinned. “Though methinks Sir Rupert and Hugi and I would prove tough steaks, nothing like your tender pretty limbs.”

Alianora smiled in a confused way and blushed. Carahue took her hand. “Come worst to worst,” he said gravely, “you must fly and not heed us. The world can well spare our sort, but would become dreary indeed without you to light it.”

She shook her head, tongue-tied, and did not quickly withdraw her hand. This boy, thought Holger, is an operator. He couldn’t find any words of his own, and couldn’t stand to listen. So he rode ahead, his mood thickening by the hour. Carahue was not poaching, he told himself; but himself paid scant attention. Didn’t the guy have any sense of decency or whatever? Didn’t Alianora have any sense, question mark? . Well, how could she? She’d never been exposed to this sort of thing before. She’d take the most worn-out flatteries for wit and honest sentiments. Blast his soul, Carahue had no right to shoot a sitting swan like that. Besides, on a trip as dangerous and important as this, no one had a right to—to—Oh, damn it all, anyway!

At evening they found themselves in a slight dip. Ahead bulked the slopes they must climb tomorrow, rock piled on rock till a distant ridge stood back and saw-toothed against the sky. But in this dale a cataract foamed over a slate-blue cliff, into a lake tinged red with sundown. Closer at hand, the shore was low and still. A flock of wild ducks clattered off as the humans neared, to settle near the opposite bank, a mile away. The hush returned.

“I hoped we could reach this loch,” said Alianora. “If we leave some fishlines out o’ernicht, we can make a better breakfast than salt pork and hardtack.”

Hugi shook his big shaggy head. “I know na, lassie. This whole land smells evil, but here’s a stench I ne’er met.”

Holger inhaled a breeze tinged with damp green odors. “Seems okay to me,” he said. “Anyway, we can’t get around the lake before nightfall.”

“We could go back uphill and camp above,” said Carahue.

“Retrace our steps two miles?” Holger sneered. “Do so if you wish, sir. But I’m not afraid to sleep here.”

The Saracen flushed and bit back an angry retort. Alianora hurried to break the silence by exclaiming, “See, yon’s a good dry spot.”

Moss squelched underfoot, soaked as a sponge. But a great rock heaved above, the slant side spotted by lichen, the flat top covered with soil that bore short thick grass. A dead shrub near the middle offered ready-made fuel. Alianora spread her arms and said, “Why, ’tis as if prepared for us.”

“Aye, so ’tis,” grumbled Hugi. No one heeded. He must chop wood with a hatchet from the pack mule, while the men established a protective circle and took care of the animals. The sun slipped down under western heights but that half of the sky remained crimson, as if a fire had been lit by giants.

Alianora jumped up from the blaze she herself had kindled. “Whilst a good bed o’ coals gets started,” she said, “I’ll go set our hooks.”

“No, remain here, I beg you,” said Carahue. He sat cross-legged, his handsome dark visage turned merrily up to her. Somehow, through their hard traveling, he had kept his picturesque clothes nearly immaculate.

“But would ye no like a mess o’ fresh fish?”

“Aye, certes. However, ’tis worthless compared to one hour more, of this too short life, in the presence of utter beauty.”

The girl turned her head. Holger saw how the blush stained her face and bosom. Still more acutely was he aware of her young curves. within the swan tunic, of great gray eyes and soft lips and fluttering hands. “Nay,” she whispered. “I dinna know what ye means, Sir Carahue.”

“Sit down, and I shall do my poor best to explain.” He patted the turf beside him.

“Why... why—” She threw Holger a blurred look. He snapped his teeth together and turned his back. From the edge of an eye he saw her join the other man. The Saracen murmured:

“Oh,” stammered Alianora, “I, I, I canna think what to say.”

“You need not say, fairest of damsels,” he answered. “Only be.”

“I’ll set the lines,” Holger barked. He snatched them up and scrambled down off the rock. His neck ached with the effort of not looking back.

By the time he was out of sight among the reeds, his shoes and hose were wet. A fat lot she’d care if he caught pneumonia. Now cut that self-pity out! If Alianora tumbled for such a slicker, Holger had none but himself to blame. He’d been given first refusal, hadn’t he? Only, under the circumstances he’d had to refuse. What a lousy trick to play on a man.

He slashed at the plants with his knife. Except for the dagger belt, he was unarmed, having doffed his heavy mail on making camp. So had Carahue; but Holger lacked the Saracen’s gift of elegance, he was muddy and sweaty and rumpled. He didn’t even wear his own face any more. No wonder Alianora—Well, what did she matter to him? He ought to be glad if she found someone who’d take her off his hands. Goddam bulrushes!

He emerged on the water’s edge. Very still it lay under the black cliffs, the purple eastern sky where a moon and one star hung, the sullen red to the west. The surface was touched by that sunset light as if with blood, but in so thin a shimmer that he could sense the darkness below. The reeds shivered and rustled; Holger’s footsteps plashed startlingly loud. Frogs leaped from an old log that had drifted into the bank. He spread his lines out on this and started to bait the hooks with meat scraps.

The cold enveloped him, ate inward and made him shake. His fingers were clumsy, he must squint through the failing light to see a hook. And I could be on Avalon this minute, he thought. Or even, by hell, under Elf Hill with Meriven. Doesn’t that hillbilly swan wench know what she’s doing to me, parading around half naked? Satan take all women, anyway. They’ve got exactly one purpose in the world. Judas, but Meriven sure served that purpose.

His hand slipped. The hook went into his finger. He pulled it out with a blasphemous oath, drew his steel dagger and stabbed the log because he must stab something.

Laughter rang like the cataract. He flung his head around and glimpsed the white shape risen behind him. Then his wrists were pinned at his back. An arm clamped about his neck. He felt himself heaved backward and down. The lake closed over him.