“Their army-still encamped?” Ganelon wondered.
“Or that of their conqueror.”
He shook his bead and loosened his blade in its scabbard.
Toward twilight, I left the trail to follow a sound of running water to its source. It was a clear, clean stream that had made its way down from the mountains and still bore something of their chill within it. I bathed there, trimming my new bearding and cleaning the dust of travel from my garments as well. As we were nearing this end of our journeying, it was my wish to arrive with what small splendor I could muster. Appreciating this, Ganelon even splashed water over his face and blew his nose loudly.
Standing on the bank, blinking my rinsed eyes at the heavens, I saw the moon resolve itself sharp and clear, the fuzziness fading from its edges. This was the first time it had happened. My breathing jerked to a halt and I kept staring. Then I scanned the sky for early stars, traced the edges of clouds, the distant mountains, the farthest trees. I looked back at the moon, and it still held clear and steady. My eyesight was normal once again.
Ganelon drew back at the sound of my laughter, and he never inquired as to its cause.
Suppressing an impulse to sing, I remounted and headed back toward the trail once again. The shadows deepened as we rode, and clusters of stars bloomed among the branches overhead. I inhaled a big piece of the night, held it a moment, released it. I was myself once again and the feeling was good.
Ganelon drew up beside me and said in a low voice, “There will doubtless be sentries.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then hadn't we better leave the trail?”
“No. I would rather not seem furtive. It matters not to me whether we arrive with an escort. We are simply two travelers.”
“They may require the reason for our travels.”
“Then let us be mercenaries who have heard of strife in the realm and come seeking employment”
“Yes. We look the part. Let us hope they pause long enough to notice.”
“If they cannot see us that well, then we are poor targets.”
“True, but I am not fully comforted by the thought.”
I listened to the sounds of the horses' hoofs on the trail. The way was not straight. It twisted, curved, and wandered for a time, then took an upward turn. As we mounted the rise it followed, the trees thinned even more.
We came to the top of a hill then, and into a fairly open area. Advancing, we achieved a sudden view that covered several miles. We drew rein at an abrupt drop that curved its way into a gradual slope after ten or fifteen precipitous meters, sweeping downward to a large plain perhaps a mile distant, then continuing on through a hilly, sporadically wooded area. The plain was dotted with campfires and there were a few tents toward the center of things. A large number of horses grazed near by, and I guessed there were several hundred men sitting beside the fires or moving about the compound. Ganelon sighed.
“At least they seem to be normal men,” he said.
“Yes.”
“...And if they are normal military men, we are probably being watched right now. This is too good a vantage to leave unposted.”
“Yes.”
There came a noise from behind us. We began to turn, just as a near by voice said, “Don't move!” I continued to turn my head, and I saw four men. Two of them held crossbows trained on us and the other two had blades in their hands. One of these advanced two paces.
“Dismount!” he ordered. “On this side! Slowly!” We climbed down from our mounts and faced him, keeping our hands away from our weapons. “Who are you? Where are you from?” he asked.
“We are mercenaries,” I replied, “from Lorraine. We heard there was fighting here, and we are seeking employment. We were headed for that camp below. It is yours, I hope?”
“...And if I said no, that we are a patrol for a force about to invade that camp?”
I shrugged. “In that case, is your side interested in hiring a couple of men?”
He spat. “The Protector has no need for your sort,” he said. Then, “From what direction do you ride?”
“East,” I said.
“Did you meet with any difficulty recently?”
“No,” I said. “Should we have?”
“Hard to say,” he decided. “Remove your weapons. I'm going to send you down to the camp. They will want to question you about anything you may have seen in the east-anything unusual.”
“We've seen nothing unusual,” I said.
“Whatever, they will probably feed you. Though I doubt you will be hired. You have come a bit late for the fighting. Remove your weapons now.”
He called two more men from within the trees while we unbuckled our sword belts. He instructed them to escort us below, on foot. We were to lead our horses. The men took our weapons, and as we turned to go our interrogator cried out, “Wait!” I turned back toward him.
“You. What is your name?” he asked me.
“Corey"l said.
“Stand still.”
He approached, drawing very near. He stared at me for perhaps ten seconds.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
Instead of replying, he fumbled with a pouch at his belt. He withdrew a handful of coins and held them close to his eyes.
“Damn! It's too dark,” he said, “and we can't make a light.”
“For what?” I said.
“Oh, it is not of any great importance,” he told me. “You struck me as familiar, though, and I was trying to think why. You look like the head stamped on some of our old coins. A few of them are still about.
“Doesn't he?” he addressed the nearest bowman.
The man lowered his crossbow and advanced. He squinted at me from a few paces' distance.
“Yes,” he said then, “he does.”
“What was it-the one we're thinking of?”
“One of those old men. Before my time. I don't remember.”
“Me neither. Well...” He shrugged. “No importance. Go ahead, Corey. Answer their questions honestly and you'll not be harmed.”
I turned away and left him there in the moonlight, gazing after me and scratching the top of his head.
The men who guarded us were not the talkative sort. Which was just as well.
All the way down the hill I wondered about the boy's story and the resolution of the conflict he had described, for I had achieved the physical analogue of the world of my desire and would now have to operate within the prevailing situations.
The camp had the pleasant smell of man and beast, wood smoke, roasting meat, leather and oil, all intermingled in the firelight where men talked, honed weapons, repaired gear, ate, gamed, slept, drank, and watched us as we led our mounts through their midst, escorted in the direction of a nearly central trio of tattered tents. A sphere of silence expanded about us as we went.
We were halted before the second-largest tent and one of our guards spoke with a man who was pacing the area. The man shook his head several times and gestured in the direction of the largest tent. The exchange lasted for several minutes, then our guard returned and spoke with the other guard who waited at our left. Finally, our man nodded and approached me while the other summoned a man from the nearest campfire.
“The officers are all at a meeting in the Protector's tent,” he said. “We are going to hobble your horses and put them to graze. Unstrap your things and set them here. You will have to wait to see the captain.” I nodded, and we set about unstowing our belongings and rubbing the horses down. I patted Star on the neck and watched a small man with a limp lead him and Ganelon's mount Firedrake off toward the other horses. We sat on our packs then and waited. One of the guards brought us some hot tea and accepted a pipeful of my tobacco. They moved then to a spot somewhat to our rear.