Nobody could hear him, of course, but he went on singing doggedly away. It did cross his mind that a religious song might attract some very unwelcome attention in a country like this, but though the particular song on his lips might have been a spiritual, it didn’t actually mention the Deity or the Savior, or any other specifically religious words. Maybe it was those very associations that gave it the power to cut through the magical inertia of Latruria, for it did seem to be working-the duelists in front of him slowed, the anger fading, uncertainty replacing it until, finally, the jealous lover hurled down his knife with a snarl-right between the rival’s toes-then turned on his heel and stalked off.
The onlookers crowded back out of his way, wary of his thunderous face. The rival watched him go, frowning, then sheathed his knife and turned away. The girl who had been the cause of it all ran to touch him on the arm, but he shook her off with a snarl and strode away into the crowd. Neither felt proud of himself, that was obvious. The girl glared after the rival in indignation, then pivoted to glare after the jealous lover in fury, then finally tossed her head, a dangerous light in her eyes, and stepped up to a good-looking youth who had been watching. “Would you forsake a damsel so easily as that, handsome lad?‘
The boy answered with a slow grin. “Nay, surely not! Not one so fair as yourself! Come, shall we dance?”
“Pay the piper first,” the girl said-and sure enough, now that the excitement was over, an older man was unlimbering a small set of bagpipes.
Matt felt a bit indignant about the competition, but he couldn’t really claim that the man was horning in on a songster’s territory. The young fellow paid him, and the piper coaxed his instrument into a wheeze. Matt winced. No, he certainly didn’t have to worry about competition. The bag inflated, the pipes droned, and the chanter began a merry melody. The boy and girl began to dance. Others joined them, and soon a score of couples were prancing merrily over the turf while the sounds of the other two fights ceased.
Matt glanced at the two areas uneasily, but all four men were still on their feet, though glaring blackly at one another, so Matt decided to take a little credit for it. Not aloud, of course-especially with that piper going. He was into full swing now, and if he wasn’t very good, he was certainly loud. Well, as long as the young folk were dancing, they couldn’t very well be fornicating-although, looking at some of their movements, Matt wasn’t all that sure. The postures and undulations became steadily more suggestive, and Matt turned away, suddenly realizing how very much he was missing Alisande. As long as he’d been staying busy, he hadn’t thought of her more than once every couple of hours, and that in a rather platonic way-but work had suddenly begun to remind him that he was male, and therefore to remind him of his chosen.
What was it doing to Pascal? There he went, flying by in a stamping, hip-thrusting dance, movements that Matt was quite sure he had never known until now-but he was a fast learner, and the girl who was teaching him was very dedicated. Not very pretty, but dedicated-and with a figure well calculated to cheer a disappointed lover. Then they were gone, faces flushed with the dancing, but also with drinking. Matt looked about him and saw that they weren’t the only ones.
Only an hour after sunset, and most of the young folk were staggering-and at least half of their elders, too, the ones who were still standing. Of the forms on the ground, some were madly coupling; the ones who weren’t, were passed out cold, reeking of ale. Most of the bushes were shaking their leaves and rustling, but the ones that weren’t emitted the sounds of abused stomachs rebelling.
Come to think of it, the innkeepers may have been giving the ale away for free, but they weren’t exactly shabbily dressed. Matt tried to picture each of the three he’d seen, noticed that they were all wearing unpatched clothes of good cloth and that their wives wore jewelry. That might have come from selling food and renting rooms, but he had a notion a lot of it came from selling beer, too. By local standards, they were wealthy-but if they could afford to give the stuff away to buy off potential troublemakers, it wasn’t because they charged high prices. In fact, the first innkeeper’s prices weren’t bad at all. If he’d been doing well, it was only because his countrymen drank a great deal of beer.
Everything considered, Matt decided, it was lucky that medieval Europe hadn’t had access to much in the way of narcotics. Pascal went whirling by in the round of dancing again, laughing too hard and eyeing his partner with desperate purpose. He had definitely thrown himself into it with a certain wildness, with the air of a man who is anxious to forget. “Dance with me, handsome minstrel!”
Matt turned in surprise. The woman was about thirty, still attractive, and her figure was generous. “Why thank you.” Matt forced a smile. “But if the minstrel dances, who will play the music?”
“Why, the piper.” She swayed closer, fluttering her eyelashes. Matt thought he must be a fool or a testosterone deprivation case, to feel only the slightest stirring of response. “The piper will tire.”
“But will the pipe?” she asked, and stretched up to plant her lips on his in a firm, demanding kiss. Her tongue teased his lips, and he was shocked to feel them part-by reflex? But her body was pressing against his, he could feel each curve all too warmly, and he realized it had been far too long since he had spent an evening alone with Alisande… The thought of his wife cooled his heating ardor, and he broke the kiss, gasping. “I… thank you, damsel, but-”
She broke into a peal of laughter. “Damsel? Why, thank you, gallant sir, but ‘tis ten years and more since I was wed!”
Matt knew better than to ask if she was a widow. He was dimly aware that the crowd had mostly swirled away, that they were standing at the fringes now. “It has only been a year for me, plus a few months. No, my wife and I are still very new to the business, and still very excited about it.”
“Give it a few years,” the veteran advised. “You will find it boring enough-and find that a kiss and caress on the side will rouse you to greater heights with your wife.” She demonstrated with another kiss. This time Matt was warned, and he kept his lips firmly closed-until he felt a hand smoothing over his buttock and sliding around toward the front. He gasped out of sheer surprise, and that maddening tongue deepened the kiss. She felt his response and moved back with a low, throaty chuckle. “So then, you are not so faithful as all that, are you? Come, sweet chuck!” And she kissed him again. This was definitely too much. Never mind that a healthy body will respond to any touch-Matt didn’t want to respond, damn it! He took the lady by the waist and pushed her firmly away-but she clung, her mouth a veritable suction cup… Pain rocketed through his head, a rocket that must have been heading for the stars, because they were there suddenly, and the world was tilting, more and more, until it jarred up behind him.