“I need no guardian!” the dragon exclaimed indignantly. “Surely not!” Sir Guy sounded just as indignant as Stegoman. “But we would be poor friends indeed if we accepted your labor on our behalf, then went off to leave you! Nay, friend, I will stay with you.”
“Well, so long as you know it is not necessary,” Stegoman grumped. “What of the horses, Sir Guy?”
“I doubt not they have gone back to the Vatican, and the pope will keep them for us, as Matthew asked in his note…”
Their voices dwindled under the susurrus of the leaves as Matt pushed his way into the grove with Arouetto and Saul. “They should be in this direction.”
“Should be? They are!” Saul halted, pointing ahead. “Listen!”
Matt stopped and heard a high, clear tenor voice with the rippling of a lute beneath it. He couldn’t make out the words, but somehow the tone of it left no doubt that the young man was singing the praises of his lady.
“What have we got here, a bunch of college students?” Saul demanded.
“Not a college, perhaps, for they are not even clergy, let alone cardinals,” Arouetto said, eyes glowing, “but certainly students. I recognize the earnestness of debate without rancor, with singing in the midst of it-though I’ve never seen such outside the walls of a seminary, and never with lasses among them.” He turned to Matt. “You did well to send your young friends here.”
Matt shook his head. “Pure blind chance… Wait a minute! Maybe not! I was trying to cut through the inertia of Latruria, so I sang the first Latin song that came to mind!”
“Gaudeamus Igitur?” Saul looked up, startled. “The very first college drinking song?”
“ ‘Let us therefore rejoice,’ ” Arouetto translated. “I should like to hear the rest of that, Lord Wizard.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you will!”
“If that’s the case,” Saul said, “I’m not surprised they’re still up. Midnight’s a little early for a bunch of students to be going to bed.”
“Yes, I remember.” Arouetto’s smile fairly glowed in the dark. “Still, they look to be farmers. Even with the boundless energy of youth, I would have thought they would have lapsed into the sleep of exhaustion ere now.”
“I’ll bet they only farm from sunup until mid-morning,” Matt said, “then sleep till mid-afternoon, and farm until dark.”
“That is but half a day!”
“No, it’s probably eight hours. They just sleep during the heat of the day, that’s all.”
“Assuming that they sleep,” Saul said. “Lacking evidence to the contrary…” Matt sighed. Arouetto pushed forward. “Let us go nearer! I would hear their song!”
They started forward again, but something huge and furry stepped out to block their path, and a deep voice rumbled, “Well met, Wizard!”
Saul fell back with a curse, and Arouetto with a gasp-but Matt grinned. “Manny! How did you find me?”
“I did not,” the manticore told him, “and since I could not, I found Pascal instead. But he has no money, and has put off the problem by promising the farmers all about that you will pay for my meat when you come.”
“Talk about faith! But yeah, I broke out of prison, and I’ll give him a few ducats to settle up. Anybody trying to pick on him?”
“No, worse luck,” Manny sighed, “for I would not have felt bound by my promise to you if there had been an assassin to munch. His life seems to be tranquil enough when you are not about, Wizard.”
“He’s not the first one to feel that way,” Matt said. “Well, let us have a chat with him, Manny. Stay low.”
“As you wish, Wizard,” Finally, the huge double grin flashed. “It is good to see you again.”
“Hey, you, too.” Matt raised a hand to pat the tawny wall. “Go hide now, okay?”
“Go well.” Manny disappeared into the darkness and shrubbery. There were a few moments of silence. Then Arouetto asked, in a trembling voice, “Was that a manticore?”
“Sure was,” Matt confirmed. “Knew I couldn’t fool you.”
“Man, you have some of the oddest friends!” Saul expostulated. “You should know, Saul. Well, let’s meet my latest acquaintances and find out what their song is.”
“Their” turned out to be right, because half a dozen voices joined in on the chorus. As they came out of the trees, the words of the last verse became clear. Sure enough, it was promising everlasting love and joy, if only the damsel would come away with the singer-and there he was, seated at a table in the open air, lit by a few candles inside cut-off bottles and gazing into the eyes of his beloved: Pascal; and the woman who was staring back at him adoringly was Flaminia. Matt stopped still in astonishment. “Which is your young friend, Lord Wizard?” Arouetto asked. “The one who was singing,” Matt said. “I didn’t know he could.”
Arouetto turned and looked, then smiled. “Love can lift a man to accomplish miracles, Lord Wizard.”
“Miracles is right! As far as I knew, he was tone-deaf!”
“Guess you didn’t know him as well as you thought,” Saul said. “No, I guess not. And he let me carry the whole burden of the minstrel routine!” Matt strode ahead, caught between relief to see his two young friends so happy and well, and anger at Pascal for holding out on him. Pascal kissed Flaminia, and the other youngsters cheered. The lovers didn’t even notice-they took their time and were just breaking off when one of the other young men noticed Matt. The youth looked up, alert and ready to defend, but open and provisionally affable. “Good evening, friend. Why have you come?”
Pascal looked up, then leaped to his feet. “Friend Matthew!” He jumped up to clasp Matt by the shoulders. “I rejoice to see you well! I will own that I had some concern for you, alone there in the town.”
“And I was a little worried about you” Matt said, clapping him on the shoulder, “but I see you came out okay. How’d you connect with these people?”
“Why, I found myself in the middle of their fields, and they were kind enough to take us in.”
“Small enough kindness, when we needed extra hands,” a towheaded young man said, and the redheaded young woman next to him added, “For one with a voice like that, we can easily find room!”
“I thank you, friends,” Pascal said, “but I hope that I do my share in the fields, too.”
“Oh, without question!” said a burly young man whose blond hair contrasted oddly with his deep suntan, “and you have a bond with the land. Indeed, you seem to know as much about the raising of a crop as I do.”
“Thank you, Escribo.” Pascal smiled. “I am a squire’s son, after all, and have known this work all my life.”
Matt noticed that he didn’t say he had actually done the work. “Your crops seem to be doing well, though.”
“They do.” Escribo nodded. “And with luck, we will reap well for our first harvest.”
“First?” Matt looked around. ‘This is your first year, then?“
“It is,” Escribo said. “The king lowered the taxes, and my father used the money to buy land from those who wished to work in Venarra. For five years he has bought more land and given employment to the landless youth of the district-but this spring they all chose to go into Venarra for work. My father nearly despaired, for he could never have worked so much land by himself-so I left my work at the inn in Venarra and came back to help him. But even together, we could see we would never be able to till so many acres-so I called in my friends, who had spent many hours in the inn but never had more than a few days’ work at a time, and they came out to help us.”
“We are city-bred, though,” said another of the girls, “and know nothing of the land.”