The Duke noticed, and frowned.
“Then thou must presently free the unhappy remainder,” Gwen said quickly.
“Ah, but ‘tis not easily done, fair lady.” The Duke waved a forefinger sadly. “Knowest thou that vasty range of mountains, in the northeast?”
“Nay; we came by magic.” Gwen smiled sweetly. “We know only the meadow where thou didst find us, and the stretch of riverbank that curls on northward to the spot where we appeared.”
Northward? Rod could’ve sworn they’d hiked northward—which meant their entry-point lay southward!
“So newly-come as that!” The Duke was too surprised. Who was pumping whom, here? “Yet let me assure thee, the mountains lie there, in the northeast, blocking off a poor eighth-part of this land; and ‘tis there Lord Kern hath fled, to try to build a robber-force to steal the King away. I cannot go against him through those mountains, for he’s blocked the only pass that’s large enough for armies, with foul sorcery.”
“Yet he is thereby blocked himself!” Gwen crowed, delighted.
The Duke looked surprised, but he hid it quickly. “Ye-e-e-s, there is that, sweet lady—for if he lifts his sorcery, my armies would be upon him in a moment!”
The courtier across the table was having trouble swallowing again.
“Yet there is coastline near him,” the Duke went on, “and he hath attempted to land a force within our safe domain.”
“Thou hast repulsed him, then?”
“I have.” The Duke preened a little. “My ships are of the best, most especially when I command ‘em.”
The courtier grabbed for his wine-cup.
“Thus have matters stood for three long years.” The Duke spread his hands. “He cannot come out, nor can I go in, to free those miserable wretches who live beneath his yoke. Yet time will ripen my good designs, and rot his fell ones; my armies daily increase, as do my ships; and, when the time hath come, I’ll strike at him by sea and grind him to the dust! Then will this land be whole again, to deliver up to Elidor when he doth come of age.”
The boy-King looked frightened at that last remark. Gwen caught his eyes briefly, then looked back at the Duke. “Simply planned, but nobly, Milord. And thou art wise to bide thy time; disaster visits he who strikes before the iron’s hot!”
“Well said, well said.” The Duke sat back, nodding, pleased. “Thou art most rare of ladies. I am not accustomed to such intelligence in one so beautiful.”
Rod felt his hackles rising; but Gwen’s foot touched his under the table, and he forced a smile. “And we are fortunate to have so wise and prudent a host—and one who sets so goodly a table, as well!”
The Duke waved carelessly. “My table’s yours, whenever thou dost wish it. Yet dost thou wish to dine at my most noble banquet?”
Rod stared, caught short.
“Come, sir.” Gwen smiled roguishly. “Wouldst thou have us think thou hast not laid forth thy finest for the rescuers of thy King?”
“Assuredly, I have,” the Duke said heartily. “Yet I spoke not of game and pasties, but of battle.”
“Oh.” Rod nodded slowly. “You speak of this gallant expedition to free the northeast corner of Tir Chlis.”
“Aye, indeed.” The Duke’s eyelids drooped, and tension seemed to emanate from him, as from a lion who sees the antelope step near. “As I have told thee, in that broil I’ll face magics as well as spears. ‘Twould soothe me, then, to have stout warlocks by my side. How say you, Lord Gallowglass? Wilt thou dine at my table, and aid King Elidor?”
“That’s… a most attractive offer.” Rod found Gwen’s eyes. “To tell you the truth, nothing of the sort had occurred to me. We had been planning to get back home as fast as we could.”
“ ‘Tis a long and weary journey, I doubt not,” Gwen pointed out. “And, to tell the truth, we know not even where our homeland lies, nor how far it is.”
“We could use a rest,” Rod agreed, “and some time to find out where we are.” He glanced back at the Duke, and saw Elidor staring at him, suddenly tense.
But Magnus was sitting next to Rod, looking absolutely chirpy. Elidor noticed him, and relaxed a little.
“It is a very attractive offer,” Rod said to the Duke. “But you’ll understand, Milord, that w… I must consider it fully. I’ll give you my answer over breakfast.”
“I shall await it eagerly,” the Duke said, smiling. “Yet we have lingered long at table, and the hour doth grow late. No doubt thou’rt wearied.”
“Kind of,” Rod admitted. “A soft bed would feel good.”
“Then let us have no more of talk.” The Duke clapped his hands, and a functionary in a glittering tunic stepped forward. “Show these good people to their chambers!” The Duke stood. “Myself am minded also of my rest; the day has been demanding. Elidor—Majesty! Wilt thou come with me?”
Elidor rose slowly, still wary—and almost, Rod would have said, hopefully.
His uncle seized his shoulder; Elidor winced, and bit back a cry. “To bed, to bed!” the Duke sang jovially. “Good night to all!”
CHAPTER TEN
Amphibians?” Father Al stared at the screen of the electron-telescope, unbelieving.
“I’ve noticed a couple of true lizards, but they’re small.” Brother Chard shook his head. “I’m sorry, Father. We’ve been around this planet four times in four separate orbits, and that’s the highest form of life on any of the continents.”
“So there’s only that one large island with humans; the rest of the planet is carboniferous.” Father Al shook his head. “Well, if we needed anything to assure us that we’re dealing with a colony instead of native sentients, we’ve found it. Could you call up the recordings of that island, Brother Chard?”
The monk pushed buttons, and a large island appeared in the main viewscreen, a huge, uncut emerald floating in a blue sea. “Close in on that one large town, if you please,” Father Al murmured. A tiny hole in the greenery, a little north and west of the center of the island, began to grow; the shorelines disappeared beyond the edges of the screen. The dot swelled into an irregular, circular clearing, and other dots began to appear around it.
“Really the only settlement large enough to be called a town,” Father Al mused.
The roofs filled the screen now, with the spire of a church and the turrets of a castle reaching up toward them, from the crest of a hill off to the eastern edge of the town.
“It’s medieval architecture, Father—early Tudor, I’d guess.”
“Yes, but the castle’s got to be Thirteenth Century; I’d swear it was almost a reproduction of Château Gaillard. And the church is late Gothic; Fourteenth Century at the earliest.”
“Church! It’s a cathedral! Why does it look so familiar?”
“Possibly because you’ve seen pictures of the cathedral of Chartes. The original colonists don’t seem to have been terribly original; do they?”
Brother Chard frowned. “But if they were going to copy famous buildings from Terra, why didn’t they make them all from the same period?”
Father Al shrugged. “Why should they? Each century had its own beauties. No doubt some liked the Fifteenth Century, some the Fourteenth, some the Thirteenth… If we kept looking, Brother, I’m sure we’d find something Romanesque.”
Brother Chard peered at the screen as the camera zoomed in to fill it with an overhead view of a single street. “Apparently they applied the same principle to their clothing; there’s a bell-sleeved tunic next to a doublet!”
“And there’s a doublet with bell-sleeves.” Father Al shook his head. “I can almost hear their ancestors saying, ‘It’s my world, and I’ll do what I want with it!’ ”
Brother Chard turned to him with a sympathetic smile. “You’re going to have a bit of a problem with transportation, aren’t you?”