“Mayhap thou hast the right of it,” Gwen said, with a pensive frown. “I thank thee—and farewell.”
“God be with thee, goodman.” Rod tugged at his forelock again.
“God be,” the man returned, and took up the handles of his cart again.
As the peasant and his family slogged away toward the South, Geoffrey spun toward his father and fairly exploded in a hissing whisper. “So easily, Papa! Is all the work of so many guards and sentries brought low so easily, by naught but gossip?”
“Indeed it is,” Rod answered sourly. “Remember that when you command. The fence isn’t made, that can stop a rumor.”
Geoffrey threw up his hands in exasperation. “Then why mount a watch at all?”
“Proof.” Rod grimaced. “If none of the lords have proof, they won’t go to the expense of sending an army northward. After all, what did the King himself do, when he heard the unconfirmed word? Sent us!”
“All this, to hold back proof?”
Rod nodded. “Without that, anybody who wants to believe the news is false, can.”
“Until the sorcerer and his minions overrun them,” the boy said darkly.
“Yes,” Rod agreed, with a bleak smile. “That is the idea, isn’t it?”
“Papa,” said Cordelia, “I begin to fear.”
“Good.” Rod nodded. “Good.”
Half an hour later, they saw a small coach in the distance, hurtling toward them. As it came closer, they saw that the horses were foaming and weary. But the woman who sat on the coachman’s box flogged them on, with fearful glances over her shoulder at the troop of men-at-arms who galloped after her on small, tough Northern ponies, and the armored knight who thundered at their head on a huge, dark war-horse that would have made two of the ponies.
“What churlishness is this,” Gwen cried, “that armed men pursue a woman shorn of defense?”
“Don’t blame ‘em too hard,” Rod snapped. “I don’t think they’re terribly much aware of what they’re doing.”
“Thou must needs aid her, my lord!”
“Yes,” Rod agreed. “It isn’t too hard to tell who the bad guys are, is it? Especially since we’ve seen their livery before. Ambush stations, kids.”
“Magnus and Gregory, guard the left,” Gwen instructed. “Cordelia and Geoffrey, do thou ward the right. Flit toward them, as far as thou canst.” She turned to Rod. “How wouldst thou have them fell their foes, husband?”
“One by one. Unhorse them.” Rod felt a warm glow at her support.
Delia caught up her broomstick with a shout of glee.
“How shall we fell them, Mama?” Geoffrey grinned. “Throw rocks at them?”
Gwen nodded. “Aye—but take thou also thy belts of rope, and discover how thou mayst make use of them.”
They all quickly untied the lengths of hemp that were lashed about their waists. “Mama,” said Magnus, “I think that I could make the nails to disappear from the horses’ shoes.”
Rod nodded slow approval. “I pity the poor horses—but they shouldn’t be damaged. They will stop, though.”
“Naught of these will avail against the knight,” Gregory pointed out.
Rod gave him a wolfish grin. “He’s mine.”
“Begone from sight now, quickly!” Gwen clapped her hands.
The children dodged off the roadside into the underbrush, and disappeared.
Gwen hopped down from Fess’s back, and caught her broomstick from its sling alongside the saddle. “Wilt thou need thine horse, my lord?”
“Fraid so, dear. Can you manage without him?”
“Why, certes.” She dimpled, and dropped him a quick curtsy. “Godspeed, husband.” Then she turned away to dive into the underbrush after her children.
Rod sighed, jamming a foot into the stirrup. “Quite a woman I’ve got there, Fess.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you truly appreciate her, Rod.”
“Oh, I think I do.” Rod swung up into the saddle and pulled on the reins. “We’d better imitate them. Off the road, Steel Stallion.”
Fess trotted off the shoulder and down into the underbrush. “What did you have in mind for the knight, Rod?”
“About 120 volts. Got a spare battery?”
Fess’s answer was lost in the racket, as the coach thundered by them.
Rod looked up at the mounted squad. “A hundred yards and closing. Got some cable?”
“Forward port compartment, Rod.” A small door sprang open under Fess’s withers.
Rod reached in and pulled out a length of wire. He drew out his dagger and stripped the insulation off in a few quick strokes. “Where do I plug it in?”
The horsehead turned back to look at him. “Simply place it in my mouth, Rod. I will route current to it. But are you certain this is ethical?”
“Is the sword he’s carrying?” Rod shrugged. “A weapon is a weapon, Fess. And this one won’t do him any permanent damage—I hope. Okay, now!”
They darted up out of the roadside as the squad pounded up. Rod swerved in alongside the knight. The helmet visor turned toward him, but the knight raised neither sword nor shield, no doubt flabbergasted at seeing a tinker riding up alongside him on a horse that would’ve done credit to a lord. Besides, what need was there to defend against a piece of rope?
Rod jabbed the end of the wire at him, and a fat blue spark snapped across the gap; then the wire was in contact with the armor, and the knight threw up his arms, stiffened.
Rod lashed out a kick, and the knight crashed off his horse into the dust of the road.
Someone gave a shout of horror, behind him. Rod whirled Fess around, then darted off to the side of the road before the sergeant could get his thoughts together enough to start a try for retribution.
Along the side of the road, three soldiers lay sprawled, one every hundred feet or so. Another four lined the verge on the far side. Some of the horses were grazing, very contentedly, next to their fallen masters. A few of the others, obviously more intelligent, were galloping away into the distance.
As Rod watched, a small figure exploded into existence right in front of one of the remaining riders. Startled, the horseman flinched back, and his mount reared, whinnying. Geoffrey lashed out a kick to the man’s shoulder, and the soldier overbalanced, tipped, and fell. The child slapped the horse’s rump, and the beast turned to gallop away with a whinny.
On the other side of the road, a length of rope shot flying through the air like a winged serpent, and wrapped itself around another soldier’s neck. He grabbed at it with both hands, then suddenly jolted backward, and slammed down onto the road, still struggling with the coil. With a gun-crack, Magnus appeared beside him, stick in hand. He swung downward, and the soldier went limp. The rope uncoiled and flew off to look for a new victim. Pocket thunder made a boomlet, and Magnus disappeared.
Rod winced. “Bloodthirsty brood I’ve got, here.”
“They are only doing as you told them, Rod—and taught them.”
“Maybe I’d better revise the curriculum.”
“Do not be overly hasty,” the robot murmured. “That soldier still breathes.”
“I hope it’s widespread. Well, back to work.” Rod turned the horse back onto the road—and saw all the soldiers lying in the dust, unconscious. Already, Gwen knelt by the nearest, gazing intently at his face. Cordelia arrowed in to land beside her, and the boys began to appear, like serial thunder.
“They work fast, too,” Rod muttered. He trotted up beside the family grouping, and leaned down to touch Magnus on the shoulder. The boy’s head snapped up in surprise. He saw his father, and relaxed, with a sigh of relief.
“You did wonderfully.” Rod beamed with pride. “All of you. But keep an eye on the soldiers, son. A few of them might come to while you’re still trying to overhaul their minds.”
Magnus nodded, glowing with his father’s praise. “I will ward them well, Papa.”
“Stout fellow. I should be back before they wake up—but, just in case.” He straightened up, turning Fess southward.
“Wither goest thou, Papa?”
“To tell that lady she can stop panicking.” Rod kicked his heels against Fess’s sides. “Follow that coach.”