"Enough to rule my marids."
"How would you say, in Saracenic—"
A scream from Yolanda interrupted. "Here it comes!"
A few wave crests away, a length of slick, slate-gray hide reflected the wan sun as it broke the glittering surface. Eudoric scrambled up; but the wet leather heel of one boot skidded off the damp stone of the ledge. Unbalanced, Eudoric frantically reached for something to grasp. He snatched at Yolanda, but she flinched back in panic.
Off he went with a splash, and the water closed over his head. A powerful downward stroke of his arms brought his head out of water. When his vision cleared, he perceived a smaller ledge below the narrow surface on which he had sat.
As, coughing, he pulled his arms and shoulders out of the sea, he saw his spear float away on a receding wave. It stood upright in the water, butt end upward and bobbing gently with the rhythm of the waves. Already the weapon was out of reach, although Eudoric could still have swum for it. But the monster's head arose from the sea almost with arm's length.
The fathom-long cranium tapered to a blunt muzzle. A blowhole atop its head sent out a puff of vapor. Although the flippers were still beneath the surface, the head was supported by a neck as thick as itself; the creature looked quite large enough to swallow Eudoric whole. Black corneas in white eyeballs regarded him dispassionately. Then the monster's gaze shifted back and forth between Eudoric and Yolanda, as if it were undecided which to seize.
If Eudoric let go the little ledge, he would go under again. What with the weight of sword, scabbard, and boots, he could not expect to float.
"Clumsy oaf!" screamed Yolanda.
At another time, Eudoric would have had biting words about such abuse from a woman for whom he was risking his life. Now other matters preempted his attention. The wedge-shaped jaws gaped, revealing scores of ivory-white fangs edging a crimson maw. The animal stank of fish.
"Druzhok!" shouted Eudoric.
The beast jerked back its head and slowly closed its empty jaws, while Eudoric desperately tried to remember what he could of the Pathenian language. "Vniz!" he shouted, hoping that this was the word for "down." "Druzhok! Down! Go back! Go away!"
Druzhok backed off a few feet. It remained attentively poised, as if awaiting the next command.
"Druzhok!" cried Eudoric. "Good monster! Nice monster! Go far away! Go way off thither!" He pointed westward. "Come not back, ever! Stay away from Armoria!"
Although the reptilian face was essentially expressionless, Eudoric thought he saw a brief look of hurt in the creature's eyes before the fang-provided head disappeared. He caught glimpses of slate-gray hide breaking the surface and vanishing, farther away each time. Then Druzhok was gone, save for a distant puff of vapor from its blowhole.
X – A Contested Consummation
King Gwennon's henchmen hauled a sodden Eudoric and Yolanda to the top of the Rock. Now that he had a chance to scrutinize Yolanda while they stood on the same level, Eudoric realized that she overtopped him by a good span. With her shift still clinging damply to her, she reminded him of one of those pagan goddesses worshiped in the old Napolitanian Empire before the triumph of more sophisticated theologies. To marry a six-foot beauty, of high rank and magical powers, were almost as formidable an enterprise as wedding a female deity.
The soldiers escorted the couple back to shore, where the King, the jester, the apprentice Forthred, and a gaggle of other persons waited. Two among these stood out. One wore the purple robe and mitre of a priest of the Triunitarian religion, which prevailed in Franconia. The other had thrown a cloak of wolf skin over his white linen robe, and from his head arose a furry headdress bearing the antlers of a hart.
King Gwennon seized Eudoric and kissed him on both cheeks. Eudoric found the King's breath so alcoholic that anyone near him would in time get tipsy on it. Corentin pounded his back, crying:
"In the name of the Old Gods, what did ye, Sir Eudoric? We could not see clearly, because of the bulge of the Rock. We did see the monster break the surface and open its maw to seize one of you; next, it was fleeing away as if pursued by all the fiends of the Triunitarian Hell. Did ye deal the creature a mortal hurt?"
"I merely commanded it to depart," said Eudoric, "and it went."
"By Kernun's horns! We shall enlist you as commander of the beasts, to order the wolves and bears of Armoria to leave our livestock unharmed. Now there shall be a feast, to celebrate your nuptials with the princess! Meanwhile ye shall receive words of praise from the leading men and women of our fogbound land. This is Lord Gorbuduc, chief of the Veneti ..."
Eudoric soon lost track of names and faces. When the jester paused for breath, the new hero asked: "Tell me, pray: How does one wed in Armoria?"
"Amongst us it is a civil ceremony, albeit folk may hie themselves to a priest of the Old Gods, like Father Mamert here—" (he indicated the man in the horned hat) "—for a blessing. The couple exchange vows before any qualified person, such as His Majesty, or me, or any chief, magistrate, or priest. The couple then execute their duties before witnesses."
"That were no marriage amongst us Franconians," said Yolanda. "A princess of the blood cannot enter into mere concubinage. Have you no priests of the True Faith?"
"Setting aside questions of whose faith be true," said Corentin, "there stands your man: Bishop Grippo." Corentin indicated the mitre-crowned cleric.
"I insist that he perform the ceremony," said Yolanda.
"To make all secure, ye twain shall carry out the service in both forms; our Armorian way first—"
"We shall not!" exclaimed Yolanda. "The Triunitarian form must precede that of your primitive paganism."
The jester sighed. "Such a hubbub over mere mummery! How about you, Sir Eudoric? To what faith adhere ye in the Empire?"
"We Locanians subscribe to the cult of the Divine Pair—"
"That vile heresy!" growled the bishop. "As bad as the detestable monotheism of the Pathenians, which is but one step from atheism. Meseems the stake and faggot—"
"That will do, Your Holiness so-called!" barked the jester. "Ye are suffered to move amongst us to preach your creed, but not to contemn or molest the beliefs of others."
"Which will lead you all to eternal torment," grumbled the bishop, "from which horrid fate it is my duty to seek to save you."
"As I was saying," continued Eudoric, "I concern myself not with such matters. If you learned theologians differ so about the nature of the divine, who am I, a mere layman, to choose sides? So any ceremony will suffice me."
Yolanda spoke: "I, at least, insist that the bishop's ritual precede the heathen one. Since I hold the highest rank here, save for His Majesty, my wish shall prevail!"
The jester shrugged. Eudoric murmured: "As you wish, my dear."
"Then let us to it," said Corentin. "The feast were not ready till sundown. Join hands, ye twain!"
Eudoric gave a hearty sneeze. Yolanda said: "I freeze in this wisp of damp gauze. I demand to be properly clad!"
"Time enough for that after the bishop hath twaddled his trumpery. He hath his vespers to perform. Go on, join hands! Anon, Father Mamert shall be your attestant."
The bishop, with a sour look at the jester, took a stately stance before Eudoric and Yolanda and rattled through his marriage service, ending: "I now declare that ye be husband and wife be patient with each other's faults may the Three True Gods guide you if they do ye will not submit to that heathen rite they plan for you." Bishop Grippo turned and strode briskly away.
"Lady Grania!" called the jester. "Lead Princess Yolanda forth and clothe her as befits a noble bride."
Eudoric sneezed again. King Gwennon said: "Sir Eudoric, ye should also get yourself into dry footgear. We have already warned you against the wetting of your feet!"