He went on, telling them of the Green-Clad One’s seductive invitation, of their ride on the back of a boar to the Hall of the Mountain King with its elves and monsters, of their attempt to hold Peer there, and of his escape. When he finished, the audience let out a collective sigh. “What then?” the boy cried, his eyes huge. “Oh, that is a tale for another time,” Matt said carelessly.
The audience complained, disappointed-but one man called out, “Have you news of Merovence?”
“News for news,” Matt answered. ‘Tell me what moves in Latruria, and I’ll tell you what transpires in Merovence! How fares your king?“
“Boncorro is well, praise Hea-” The man caught himself and glanced around, desperate to be sure no royal spy had heard him. “-praise him! Rumor has it that he sent his men to chastise a knight who still demands that his serfs give him three parts in four of their crop!”
“He has hanged a squire for raping a peasant’s daughter!” a young woman said, eyes alight with triumph. “He has wounded our business,” one man complained, “by cutting the taxes on brandy and wool and brocades that come from Merovence and Allustria, aye, even those that come through the country of the Switzers!”
Matt frowned. “How does that hurt your business?”
“Why, I now must charge less for the goods I bring in!” the man said indignantly, and the audience laughed. Matt finally got the joke-the man was a smuggler, and the legitimate merchants could now undersell him. “News for news!” the first man cried again. “How fares your queen?”
“She is well, she is wed!” Matt cried. “That is old news,” a woman scoffed. “Has she birthed a babe yet?”
“No, sad to say,” Matt said, with genuine regret, “though we keep hoping.”
“More than a year wed, and still no sign of a child?” the woman said indignantly. “What ails her husband?”
Matt stared, caught speechless. “He cannot be much of a man,” another woman opined, “if he cannot get her with child.”
“Scarcely a man at all!” the first woman sniffed. “He is a wizard-not even a sorcerer!”
“A wizard, but not a miracle worker!” Matt protested. “Husbands are only the delivery boys-babies come from Heaven!”
The whole crowd fell silent, aghast. “Do not say that word!” a granny cried. “Are you a fool?”
“No, I’m from Merovence.”
They stared at him in shock for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Very good, very good!” a portly man chuckled, wiping his eyes. “But what of the crops? We have heard rumors of drought!”
“All false, thank-” Matt caught himself in time, deciding not to offend their sensibilities. “-praises be. The rain falls like a blessing, and the sun beams down.”
The crowd began to mutter again, apprehensive, glancing over their shoulders. Matt wondered if, seven years ago, mention of “Heaven” or “blessing” really had been enough to bring a vengeful sorcerer. If not, King Maledicto had brainwashed them into dreading even the words of goodness. Matt grasped for a change of topic. “The queen has made a treaty with the Free Folk, with the dragons! They shall no longer steal sheep and cattle, and the queen shall arrest the hatchling hunters who seek to steal dragons’ blood to sell to sorcerers!” Stegoman had pushed for that one. Again the crowd muttered, but wide-eyed this time-amazed that Matt could speak against sorcerers and not get burned up about it. Still, they edged away from him. “News for news!” But Matt was beginning to wonder if there were a single topic that wouldn’t edge into a taboo area, such as sorcery or Heaven. Maybe not, in this world. “But first, let me tell you of Peer Gynt and Solveg!”
The crowd murmured appreciation and came crowding back in, eager for more stories of licentious women. Well, they were in for a disappointment this time. “Solveg was a church-bred woman, a Lass who carried a prayer book about her wherever she went.”
The crowd edged away again, murmuring with apprehension. “But she was beautiful!” Matt cried. “Demure, sweet, modest-and beautiful!”
“Not with a figure like that of the Green-Clad one?” asked a teenaged boy, disappointed. “Who could know? Her clothing was so loose that none could see! But it was beautifully embroidered, and her skirts swung with the lilt of a May tune as she walked. The aroma of roses seemed to follow her, and so did Peer Gynt’s heart.”
The boys began to look bored, but the women pressed close, held by the promise of a good love story. Matt told them of Peer Gynt’s boastful courtship and of Solveg’s interest, though she saw through him in an instant Still, she found something to love in him anyway-but Peer went off in a huff, offended by her truthfulness. Then he encountered the darkness cast by the Great Boyg, becoming trapped and unable to fight his way free, as the monster called up harpies to feed on him-but Solveg came, singing hymns, and banished them all by her simple goodness. The men and boys were riveted by the tale, and the women sighed with happiness-then instantly looked apprehensive again. Apparently this was something really new for them-a story in which virtue triumphed, and they rather liked the novelty. They just weren’t sure it was safe, that was all. Matt and Pascal camped by the roadside that night, Pascal counting the day’s take by the light of the fire. “A silver penny!” he cried, holding up the trophy. “They must truly have liked your tale of Peer Gynt, my friend.”
“And want to give me good reason to come back and tell them Act Two,” Matt agreed. Pascal looked up, frowning. “ ‘Act Two’?”
“The second half of the story,” Matt said quickly. “If it is half so amusing as the first, you will make your fortune with it! We have a month’s living in this hat!”
“Latruria is having a boom,” Matt said. “They have become prosperous, if that is what you mean-but we knew that in Merovence. I fear that you have not learned much new here, Sir Matthew.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Matt gazed at the pot that was stewing vegetables and beef jerky. “We’ve found out that King Boncorro really is trying to make life better for the common folk, but apparently isn’t doing it because he wants to do good.”
Pascal frowned. “Who told you that?”
“All of them-from their fright, every time I mentioned Heaven or a blessing, or Solveg’s church, prayer book, and hymns. They’re still scared of evil sorcerers punishing people for even talking about Goodness-which means King Boncorro certainly hasn’t taken a stand against the forces of Evil, and may not even have a quarrel with them.”
“Why, then, would he be doing what is good for the commoners?” Pascal asked, suddenly intent-after all, these were his kind of people. “Pure selfishness-or, if not pure, then at least basic.” Matt reached out to stir the stew. “He has some personal motive, some hope of gain. It might even be that he’s enlightened enough to realize that if the people prosper, the king gets richer.”
“Why, what an odd notion!”
“It is, around here,” Matt agreed, “so I don’t really expect that’s King Boncorro’s reason. I wonder what is, though.”
“Perhaps you shall find out at the next village.”
“Maybe,” Matt agreed. “One way or another, at least we should make another haul of coppers. Stew smells about ready, Pascal. Did you say you had a bowl in your pack?”
“The aroma is tempting,” a deeper voice answered, “but I prefer my food raw. In fact, I prefer it moving.”
“I already paid the farmer a quarter mile back.” Matt didn’t even look up. “Go have a cow, Manny.”