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itself healing safely; and it was still showing a remarkable ability to mend
fast.
So, they had negotiated the stairs on the way down with no trouble, and Brian
had been welcomed by all including a rather distant and lordly welcome from
Ewen MacDougall.
Whether it was the tone of this welcome, or a natural antipathy of some sort,
MacDougall and Brian seemed to be automatically at swordpoints from the
beginning. MacDougall talked deliberately about court doings and Brian had let
him talk.Until he mentioned tournaments.
At that point, Brian had chimed in with a few reminiscences of his own about
tournaments, mentioning rather casually that he had been fortunate enough to
win this tournament and that tournament; that he had been honored with the
chance once to cross lances with Sir Walter Manny, and on another occasion
with Sir John Chandos. He wound up by asking MacDougall very casually if he
had ever had the fortune to break a lance with those same two well-renowned
gentlemen and soldiers, or others of equal fame.
He had obviously found the chink in MacDougal's social armor. The Scot
Viscount had indeed been engaged in tournaments, though nowhere near as many
as Brian who, in fact, had been eking out the living of his very poor estate
by his winnings in them. The winner of an encounter normally gained the horse,
armor and weapons of his opponent, unless the opponent chose to ransom them
back from him; and this source of income was about all his broken-down Castle
Smythe had to keep it going.
Not merely that; but since MacDougall's tournaments had been all inScotland ,
he could not name knights of such international reputation as Manny and
Chandos, as opponents. As a result, for the first time since he entered Castle
de Mer, he was being made to look less of the completely experienced courtier
than he had been presenting himself.
Brian had kept a perfectly straight face while he was doing all this.
MacDougall had given no sign that he was aware of being belittled. Also, no
one else at the table, even Liseth, seemed to take any particular note of the
fact that MacDougall was being put down by Brian. But everyone was, of course,
aware of what was going on.
The end result, however, from Jim's standpoint, was unfortunate. That type of
exchange between two medieval knights could lead eventually only to armed
conflict between them. Jim hated leaving them behind, with no other company
butLachlan and Herrac's sons.Lachlan seemed as likely to encourage a quarrel
as prevent it; and none of Herrac's sons had the age and authority to prevent
open trouble between two such men of rank and reputation, if matters should
get out of hand between Brian and MacDougall.
Jim worried. Brian was still in no case to get into a fight with another man
who was in good health. Such an encounter could not only mean Brian losing
face, but possibly being badly hurt, if not killed.Even if the encounter was
disguised as a competition. The wound on Brian's side was not yet healed
enough to endure the activities of a body in battle.
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However, there was no help for it. Jim told himself he would simply have to
wait until he got back; and meanwhile there was nothing he could do about it.
However, telling himself this did not make the worry disappear from his mind.
For Dafydd, he thought, undoubtedly it would have. But for Jim, the worry was
there and it stuck.
In fact, it kept him company until they went over a little lip of land
between some of the same sort of sharply vertical cliffs that he and the
others had climbed, following their fight with the Little Men against the
Hollow Men.
Abruptly, then, they found themselves moving down a slope into a very
pleasant little valley that stretched for some distance, widening as it went,
with something at the far end of it that could be buildings, and possibly
tilled land. However, not fifty yards in front of them was one of the
"schiltrons" of the Little Men drawn up in ranks with spears leveled. Jim
could still not help himself thinking of them as phalanxes but he made a
mental note to use the other word, here.
Standing a few paces before the front rank of the schiltron was the Little
Man whose bushy face Jim recognized as being that of Ardac, Son of Lutel. The
same leader he had met at the time of their mutual fight with the Hollow Men.
Ardac kept his eyes on Jim, more or less ignoring the others as Snorrl led
them all up to him.
"Magician," Ardac said, as Jim and the others halted before him, "you are not
unwelcome, you and your friends. But you come here more frequently than we
like strangers to visit our land."
"It's a matter of absolute necessity that brings me," said Jim. "I believe
we've got a chance at a great accomplishment to discuss with you. One you'll
find most welcome, as we find it welcome."
He reined his horse a little to one side so that Ardac had a full view of the
other humans with him.
"Do you know everyone here?" Jim went on. "You remember Dafydd ap Hywel, who
fought with us "
"We remember Dafyddap Hywel for more reasons than that," said Ardac. "But
continue."
"You know Snorrl, of course. You know Liseth; and surely you also know
Herrac Sir Herrac de Mer, father of Liseth de Mer."
"We know them all," said Ardac. His eyes lingered for a second meeting with
Herrac's and then came back to Jim. "We still have not heard why you come into
our land again."
"I've just said," answered Jim. "We've a prospect which I think you'd want to
discuss with us and your other leaders, whoever they may be. May we go to
them, or dismount and wait here for them? Or in some ways set up a meeting
where we can talk and explain what we have in mind?"
"We shall see," said Ardac. He turned around, stepped back and spoke to one
of the soldiers in the front rank. The soldier, still carrying his spear and
shield, left the rank at a run, circling the schiltron and going back, still
running, toward the shapes in the distance that might be houses.
"There will be a wait," said Ardac. "You may dismount and make yourself
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comfortable on the ground here if you wish. We also will wait."
He turned to the ranks behind him and shouted a single word. Jim was not
quite able to make out whether it was the way it was uttered that kept him
from understanding it, or if it was in a language he did not know.
The soldiers of the schiltron laid down their shields and swords and sat down
themselves, cross-legged, still in their ranks. Dafydd and Liseth, Jim noted,
were already dismounting. Herrac and he followed suit. They also sat. Ardac
had already seated himself, only half a dozen feet in front of Jim.
"Word has come to us," Ardac said, "that one of yournumber who fought with us
against the Hollow Men was wounded. How is his health now?"
"He's healing very fast," said Jim. "It was a bothersome rather than a
dangerous wound, after all. Something sharp cut a long slash along his ribs on
one side."
"I am pleased to hear it," said Ardac. "Of our wounded, one died and the rest
are recovering."
"I'm very pleased to hear that, too," said Jim. He was doing his best to
bring a less formal andmore friendly atmosphere into being between him and
this leader of the Little Men. "I was impressed by the way you all fought in
that encounter with the Hollow Men. I think no one else could have done as
well."
There was the beginning of a sound from the throat of Herrac, beside Jim, the
sound cut off before it had more than a chance to get started. Ardac's eyes
swung to the huge knight, and for the first time a faint smile parted his
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