"One would think they had never seen a human being eat or drink before," muttered Yolanda in Franconian.
"A traveler must needs get used to this sort of thing," replied Eudoric. He gave his order to the taverner for bread, cheese, and perry. As they waited, Yolanda said:
"Dear Eudoric, I truly grieve that I have so often yerked at you without just cause. My rank, alas, has shielded me from the need to govern my temper."
"It's never too late to learn," said Eudoric noncommittally.
While Yolanda and Forthred were occupied with their repast, Eudoric looked the nearest oldster in the eye and said in Armorian: "God den, goodman. How goes it with you?"
The man started, then pulled himself together. "Well enough, save for the rheumatics. And ye, sir?"
Eudoric had to strain his attention to follow the local dialect. "Well enough. And your companions?"
"Well enough," said one of the other old men, "save for a shortness of the breath."
"Well enough." said the remaining oldster, "but for a dimness of the eyes."
"Ah, well," said Eudoric, "when I reach your age, I shall doubtless suffer the same ills and more. Couldst tell me what lies yonder?" He pointed eastwards.
The old men exchanged glances, and he to whom Eudoric had first spoken said: "Well, now, there's one more village, clept Gaura. Beyond that, nought but forest. They do say that, an ye push on through the woods, yell come to the border of Franconia; but none I ken hath ever ventured thither."
"There are no roads thereabouts?"
"Nay, nary a road. None goes that way save perchance smugglers, to catch whom our King's soldiers patrol the border. An ye'd enter Franconia, ye maun turn back and travel many leagues to northward, where there's a proper road—or at least so 'tis said. I've not been thither to see. What would ye with roads to Franconia?"
"We are on a wedding journey," said Eudoric, "enjoying the countryside." He suppressed a smile as he caught a murderous glance from Yolanda.
"Oh, ah!" said the oldster. "Strength to thy yard!"
When Eudoric had paid and he and Yolanda were mounting, Forthred hastened out of the tavern to join them. As soon as they were out of hearing of the tavern, Forthred said: "Sir Eudoric!"
"Aye?"
"As I came out from the jakes, I heard those three old fellows talking. Ere they marked my presence, I heard one say: ... smugglers without a doubt. If they force their way east from Gaura, they'll come upon the orthodox ogre."
"The what?"
"The orthodox ogre, sir! I heard them plainly."
"Art sure you mistook not the Armorian words? Neither of us is at home in that speech."
"Nay, sir; a man in the servants' quarters at the palace was a pious knave, who sought to save my soul from damnation by converting me to Bishop Grippo's Triune Creed. So I know the Armorian word for 'orthodox' when I hear it."
"What then?"
"Nought; they fell silent when they saw me, albeit laughing and chuckling as at some fine joke."
"Armorians," said Yolanda, "would deem it a rare jest for us to be eaten by this ogre."
"My dear," said Eudoric, "couldn't you conjure up a bigger demon, to overawe the ogre? Perchance one of those marids whereof you told me?"
"The spell works not, so far from the Saracenic lands. I have marid servants in my palace; but when I sought to evoke more in Armoria, none responded to my call."
"Have you any other magic against ogres?"
"One spell for routing a foe; but I've never essayed it. The result might be worse for us than for the foe."
"Well then, what is your idea?"
"We must retrace our way to the main road and enter Franconia at the regular crossing, as the old man urged."
"And be seized at the border by Gwennon's men-at-arms? Art daft, woman?"
"Nay, Shorty; you are now the besotted one. If I call out my name and rank when we reach the border port, the Franconians on the other side will rush across to rescue me."
Eudoric hated being called "Shorty," but he was sure that if he made an issue of this sobriquet, Yolanda would only use it all the more whenever she was displeased. He feared that, despite her pleas of wifely devotion, she would be angry over something most of the time. Mastering his irritation, he took refuge in logic:
"Imprimis, the Armorians might seize us ere we came within calling distance of the border post. Secundus, even if we drew nigh the post, your people might not understand that a Franconian princess was beset. Tertius, they might be under strict orders not to violate the border. Quartus, your royal family is far from popular with the lower orders, wherefore the soldiers might decide to let you stew in your own juice. Quintus, if they were partisans of the Duke of Dorelia—"
"Oh, you vile tradesman, calculating odds instead of rushing in to succor the right! Where is your knightly courage?"
Eudoric gave a mirthless smile. "My mammet, if you know your own history, 'twas but a decade ago that your gallant Franconian knights, serving in the Carinthian army, lost the day for their side and their lives as well, at Polovotsograd. They made one of those gallant, headlong charges, against orders, into the midst of the Pantorozians."
"At least they died with their honor bright! As for you, you're not even the other kind of swordsman. You've pranged me but twice since we left Ysness. My third husband, with his nose forever in ancient books, was no Huano of Tarraconia; but he could still futter thrice to your once!"
"Your third—" Eudoric stopped with his mouth agape.
"Aye, my third husband, the scholar Sugerius. What about him?"
Eudoric took time before answering, being somewhat shaken by this revelation. "I realized on our wedding night that the Armorians had stretched the truth in calling you a 'maiden'; but I knew not what a monstrous taradiddle it was."
"Well? And what of that? 'Twas all perfectly legal. 'Tis not my fault that I am thrice widowed."
"You told me you were single," said Eudoric, "when I asked you as we sat awaiting the monster."
"So I was then. I said not that I had always been so."
Eudoric rode for a time in silence, then asked: "Tell me of my predecessors. What befell them? Didst turn them into frogs?"
"Nay. Art sure you wish to hear this painful history? I would not wound your feelings beyond necessity, for despite all you are dear to me."
"I'm sure, Yolanda," he said. "I believe in scouting territory ere I invade it."
"Well, my first mate was chosen for me, as is usual with the children of royalty. He was Gontran of Tolosa, a duke's son and a famous warrior. But he proved a stupid, drunken brute, who laid vile hands upon me in anger."
"What happened to him?"
Yolanda shrugged. "He disappeared one day. 'Twas thought that, like many another dissatisfied husband, he'd run off, changed his name, and taken up a new life elsewhere."
"But then, how could you—"
"Oh, I see what meanst. As I once told you, there's no divorce in Franconia; only annulment, to be had by lavishly bribing the priests of the Triunitarian hierarchy. But if a spouse vanish and nought is heard of him, or her, for a year, he may be declared legally dead. This has the same effect as an annulment; and thus it was with Gontran."
"What if he reappear?"
"Legally, that has no effect. But I dread the thought; for Gontran was a rancorous, vengeful man, who never forgave what he deemed a slight or let bygones be bygones. Hatreds and grudges so filled his mind as to render him impervious to reason. I hope you'd be prepared to confront him, should he—ah— manifest himself in the flesh."
Eudoric sighed. "I can only do my best. How about Husband Number Two?"
"He was a poet from your Empire, Landwin of Kromnitch."
"Forsooth? Methinks I knew that fantastico a few years agone. A tall, thin, fair-haired wight?"
"Aye. He had some vague claim to noble descent, which I credited not; but he sang such sweet songs and made such tender love that, being young and foolish, I overlooked the vileness of's blood, I persuaded Clothar to knight him for his verses. Still and all, to marry off a royal to such an one did bend the framework of our social order until it creaked."