"How fared the pair of you in wedlock?" Eudoric asked. He was a little surprised to find that his emotion on learning of Yolanda's much-married past was less jealousy than a consuming curiosity.
"I could not complain of his lectual performance," said Yolanda. "For all his meager frame, he had lust enough for three. The trouble was, he wouldn't confine his interest to his wedded wife, but must need fatter the scullery maids behind the door to the buttery. So we quarreled, and he disappeared as did the other."
"And Number Three?"
"That was Sugerius, Count of Perigez. An imperceiverant bookworm, who cared nought for the usual amusements of the nobility: hunting, drinking, gambling, fighting, and fornication. He neglected me for his musty tomes and moldy manuscripts until he drove me to seek consolation in other beds. When Sugerius found out, he had the insolence to strike me—me, a royal princess!"
"And then he disappeared," said Eudoric, suppressing the skepticism from his voice. This tale of the three absconding husbands had to Eudoric an odor of fish. He wondered what had truly befallen them. Had they been dropped through a trapdoor into a cellar or a well containing something man-eating? Had they been bricked up alive in the walls of her palace? He asked: "Were there others betwixt Sugerius and me?"
"Nay; you're Number Four, and I hope you will outlast your predecessors. It were worth your while to try, since you will have my royal brother as your patron.
"I am sorry to have betimes been bad-tempered; but I have suffered great vicissitudes of late. Nor are you an ever-present ray of sunshine. Still, you are a man of many virtues, whom I am sure I shall truly love."
"Thankee," said Eudoric dryly. He wondered whether even the enormous advantages of being a client of the King were worth the risk of being dropped into a monster-haunted pit. "Let me tell you a little secret. A man's ability as a swordsman of the other kind, to borrow your words, hinges much upon his health of body and peace of mind. If you'd fain cause his—ah—resolution to droop, you have but oft to berate him in harsh and wounding terms. If you're fain to have him serve you with vigor, flatter and praise him; make him think himself worthier than in his heart he knows himself to be.
"Meanwhile, we shall go on to Gaura and thence through the forest to the border."
"What of this orthodox ogre?" asked Yolanda.
Eudoric shrugged. "If it exist, we shall cope with it as best we can. From what I know of peasant legends, it's but a tissue of dreams and moonshine. Trot!"
XIV – The Orthodox Ogre
"Forthred!" called Eudoric. "Mark!"
For half a day they had plodded through the forest east of Gaura. Since it was an ancient forest, where no timber had been felled for many decades, there was little underbrush. The only obstacles were an occasional stream, or a ledge, or a giant tree trunk athwart their path. The leaves had just begun to turn to yellow and bronze. From time to time they fell, rocking and spinning earthward in the cool, calm, autumnal air.
At Eudoric's command, Forthred, far in the lead, thrust a yard-long stake or wand into the ground. Yolanda, leading her horse, followed at a distance. Behind her came Eudoric, leading the remaining animals with one hand and grasping a bundle of wands in the other. When he reached the aftermost stake, he halted and, squatting, sighted over this stake and the next one. "A little to my right!" he called, waving. "Yolanda, step aside that I may see."
When Forthred had moved his stake to right and left until all three stakes were in a straight line, Eudoric called: "Good!" and pulled up the stake before him. Forthred inserted his stake upright in the soft soil and called:
"That's my last marker, sir!"
"Yolanda!" said Eudoric. "Hold the animals, pray."
Hastening forward, he thrust the reins into her hands and continued on to where Forthred stood. He handed the apprentice the bundle of wands he bore and went back to where Yolanda waited. By this simple form of surveying he hoped to keep the party traveling in a fairly straight line. Otherwise under the canopy of leaves, especially on overcast days, they could easily lose track of direction and wander in circles until they dropped.
They resumed their deliberate march, halting at intervals to plant and pull up stakes. Presently Forthred cried out shrilly: "Master! Sir Eudoric! Come speedily!"
Eudoric again handed the reins to Yolanda and ran forward. He found his squire staring fearfully at a singular being. This was a man-shaped creature half again as tall as a man, with a thick, warty hide. Webbed fingers and toes ended in claws. A pair of horns surmounted pointed ears. From beneath its blob of a nose, like a grotesque mustache, sprang a pair of yard-long, tapering, serpentine tendrils, which twitched and writhed. Smaller tendrils depended from its chin and rose from its scalp. The club it carried was nearly a fathom long—as long as Eudoric was tall.
"God den," said Eudoric. "Are you the orthodox ogre whereof we have heard peculiar tales?"
"We do not call ourselves 'ogres,' " rumbled the giant in a guttural accent. "It is a name ye little folk have given us, meant in no flattering spirit. As for my orthodoxy, we shall soon see about that, when it is decided whether ye three shall be eaten or not. Think not to flee, for I can outdistance you as a hare outruns a tortoise."
Eudoric made sure his sword was loose in its scabbard, although he did not highly rate his chances in combat with the ogre. The creature's pachydermous hide furnished armor of a sort, and its size and reach would enable it to squash Eudoric like a bug before he could get close enough to inflict a mortal thrust.
"Really?" said Eudoric, assuming a composure that he did not feel. "Then how would you prefer to be addressed, sir?"
"Our name for our own kind," said the ogre, "is Ghkhlmpf." At least, it sounded like that to Eudoric.
"I fear I could never master the ogerish tongue," said Eudoric. "But what's this about your orthodoxy?"
"Know, little stranger, that until a few years ago, in my ignorance I devoured all who came my way, regardless of sect. But now that Bishop Grippo hath converted me to the Triune Faith, I give those whom I stop a chance to earn their lives by questioning them about the tenets of the True Faith. An they give truthful answers, they are suffered to proceed. My first question—"
"Your pardon, Sir Ogre," said Eudoric, "but I must have a word with my servant." In Locanian he said to Forthred: "Go back—walk, do not run—to see what Yolanda is doing. If the ogre attack me, I'll try to hold it in play long enough for you two to mount and gallop away." He turned back to the ogre. "And now, sir, what are these questions?"
"First," said the ogre, "ye shall recite the sixteen essential points of the Triune doctrine, as formulated by the Supreme Archimandrite, Alexanax the Third."
Eudoric tightened his grip on his sword. With a forced smile, he said: "I fear you have the advantage of me. Though not a religious man, I was reared in the Empire, where the official creed is that of the Divine pair—"
"Ho!" roared the ogre. "Bishop Grippo especially impressed upon me the need for utterly extirpating that vile heresy!" He hefted his club and took a step forward, each mustache-tendril writhing like an angleworm on the hook.
"On the other hand," continued Eudoric as if unperturbed, "my recent bride, the Princess Yolanda of Franconia, could probably answer your questions better—"
"I care nought for your bride!" growled the ogre. "When I have finished with you, she shall have her chance to escape mine inquisition. Die, pygmy!"