“After what’s happened here? Of course.” Dirk smiled. “But let’s not forget that none of it would have happened if Magda hadn’t been so merciful as well as being so excellent a leader.”
“Yes. That’s the main reason.” Gar nodded. “She’s a very intelligent woman, and it won’t take her very long at all to realize that the only way the free towns will stand together is if she manipulates them into it. That kind of intriguing can have only one of two ends.”
“Assassination,” Dirk said grimly, “and you can damn well bet that isn’t going to happen. Oh, they’ll try, all right, but they won’t succeed.”
“I suggest you do all you can to strengthen ties with the Fair Folk to help ensure that,” Gar said. “And the other end?”
“She becomes leader of the free-town party.” Gar nodded. “That will happen.”
“Which means that, like it or not, I now have a vested interest in developing enough of a government to give this land a fair chance of peace,” Dirk said, with a sardonic smile.
“Oh, come now,” Gar protested. “That was your aim all along. Magda only gave you a personal reason for it.”
“It was your aim, too,” Dirk accused. Gar raised a hand. “Guilty.”
“Well, everybody who’s been making a living from war won’t like it,” Dirk grumbled, “which means that for the first generation or so, we’re going to be supporting one hell of a police force.”
“And that means the taxes will still be heavy,” Gar agreed, “but at least the peasants won’t see their crops destroyed by armies chasing across their fields every other year.”
“And in ten years or so, we ought to be able to get that massive police force out to protect the villagers against banditry and rape,” Dirk agreed, “if for no other reason than to give them something to do.”
Gar smiled, eyes glowing, pleased. “You have the nucleus of a government now, with the Hollow Hills leading the free towns in developing a parliament. If you take care to include the bosses on the pretext of resolving disputes with the free towns, you’ll have an opposition party, but not an enemy, and the majority of the people will always vote with you.”
“Yes, if we make the signing of a Declaration of Rights the price of membership in that parliament, and insist on free and mandatory elementary schooling for everyone.” Dirk smiled. “You’ve taught me well, Gar. If you educate the people and guarantee their rights, some form of democracy will follow sooner or later.”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Gar said with a sardonic smile. “I do wish I could have developed more variety.”
“Variety? The people we’ve helped have developed forms of democracy no one else ever heard of! Oh, I think you’re doing just fine for variety.”
“Yes, but only in democracies. I can’t help thinking some people are better off with monarchies or dictatorships.”
“Only when they haven’t learned enough to be able to rule themselves.” Dirk reached up and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Trust me, old son. You’re giving them what they want, what people will always want—the only possible compromise between anarchy and tyranny.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Gar sighed, “and I suppose I can always console myself with the thought that they always get what they deserve.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Dirk said darkly, “or that even if it was, we should let them have it.”
“Who are we to say otherwise?” Gar demanded. “People who want to be free,” Dirk answered. “People who want our rights guaranteed.”
Gar couldn’t get used to a wedding without a church, but since the planet didn’t really have religion, they had to manage with the castle itself. As many of the townsfolk and yeomen as could, crowded in to watch their castellan marry. Music came from every side, musicians throughout the crowd playing the same tune on fiddles, bagpipes, hautboys, gambas, all manner of instruments. It set Gar’s teeth on edge, but the locals seemed to enjoy it.
From the shelter of the barracks, Dirk said, “I’m not too sure about this.”
“You will be in half an hour.” Gar flicked an imaginary speck of lint off Dirk’s doublet and adjusted his cloak for maximum effect. “I have it on good authority that grooms always get cold feet.”
“I’m sure being married will be great. It’s just the wedding I can’t stand!”
“All of Quilichen must see that their castellan is well and truly married,” Gar told him severely. “You’ve faced battles—you can face a bride, a sage, and a crowd! Come on, let’s go.”
Trumpets burst forth in fanfare as the two men stepped out of the barracks—almost enough to make Dirk go right back in. But the honor guard of archers closed about him, and there wasn’t much he could do except march in their midst to the sage who stood in the center of the courtyard, his humble peasant tunic and leggins made festive for the occasion by the chains of flowers the village maidens had festooned all over him.
The honor guard halted near the sage, and Gar nudged Dirk’s elbow to make him go on three paces more, to stand before the old man.
“Thank Heaven I’ve got you with me,” Dirk muttered to Gar.
“We’ve been companions in danger for eight years now,” Gar reminded him.
Then the trumpets blared again, and all the instruments burst forth in a tune that Dirk was amazed to realize was the age-old wedding march from Earth! He turned to the castle portal—and his jaw dropped as he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Magda was resplendent in golden embroidery and lace, her veil thrown back so that he could see her face, more lovely than it had ever been. Three children carried her train of cloth-of-gold, and two more sprinkled flower petals in her path.
She came up to Dirk and flashed him a smile that told him her full intent. He couldn’t smile back—he was too thoroughly paralyzed. Together they turned to face the sage …
And Dirk was jolted back to reality. The sage, severe at first, asked them each a set of searing questions about living together and making their lives one, but still respecting each other’s identities. It would have thrown them both for a loop, if he hadn’t challenged them with worse when they’d come to him to ask to be married. Then the sage told them both, loudly and clearly enough for the crowd to hear, that they must never make the mistake of thinking that they could become one person, for they were really two independent people, and must always respect that independence in one another—but that they could form a solid relationship in which each would help fulfill the other’s needs, and receive as well as give.
It was intended as a reminder to the crowd that marriage wasn’t for everybody, and Dirk took it in good part. Then, and only then, did the sage turn to the couple and ask Magda, “Do you take this man for your husband?” And in spite of everything she had just heard, Magda said “Yes!” loudly and clearly, then turned to Dirk, her gaze challenging, but also burning with ardor. Dirk stared back, more lost than ever in those beautiful, deep eyes …
“He asked you if you take Magda as your wife,” Gar muttered.
“Oh, you bet I do,” Dirk said, softly but with great intensity. Then Gar’s elbow jolted into his ribs, and he came out of his trance long enough to call out, “Yes!”
“Then I pronounce you husband and wife!” the sage declared. He said something after that, too, but Dirk couldn’t hear what it was, because the people were cheering too loudly.
The celebrating went on all afternoon, with Magda and Dirk growing quite weary from going to as many people as they could, yeomen and merchants and craftsmen and mothers and maidens and bachelors and … well, virtually everybody, accepting their good wishes and thanking them. Finally, as the sun was setting, they managed to sneak out the main gate with Gar, leaving the sage to keep an eye on things for an hour. They stepped into the town’s single coach to ride out to the top of the ridge overlooking the town. There they stepped down, and Gar told the coachman, “Drive the horses down into the fields, and come back in fifteen minutes.”