She wavered in her resolve, wept, stormed, yelled at him to depart her presence. Once a vessel arrived with orders for so-and-so many people to come settle on yet another captured planet. Aboard it was a letter which Sir Roger had sent his wife. He dictated this to me, for his spelling was not always under control, and I took it on myself to polish his phrases a little, so that through their stiffness might come some hint of a humble and enduring love. Catherine at once wrote a reply, admitting her actions and imploring forgiveness. But Sir Owain anticipated this, got the letter ere the ship departed again, burned it, and persuaded her to abide by their scheme. It was, he swore, the best for all concerned, even for her lord.
Finally she gave her dwindled village some excuse about joining her husband. She embarked with the children and two maid-servants. Sir Owain had learned enough space arts to send the ship to some known, clear destination — a mere matter of pressing the correct buttons — so he could also join them openly. The night before, he had smuggled the Wersgorix aboard: Branithar, the physician, the pilot, the navigator, and a couple of soldiers trained to use those bombards projecting out of the hull.
Those were useless within the ship, where Owain and Catherine bore the only guns. Extra hand weapons were stowed in the clothes chest in her bedchamber, and one maid was always stationed there. The girls were so terrified of the bluefaces that had any attempted to come take a gun, the screaming would have brought Sir Owain in haste.
Nonetheless, knight and lady must watch their associates like wolves. For the obvious thing for Branithar to do was steer to Wersgorixan itself, where he could inform the emperor of Terra’s location. With all England a hostage, Sir Roger must submit. Even the knowledge that we were not from a great space-traveling civilization, but simple minded innocent Christian folk, mere lambs led to this slaughter, would have so heartened the Wersgorix and demoralized our allies, that Branithar must on no account be allowed to communicate the secret.
Not until Sir Owain’s plans had reached fruition. Perhaps never. I am sure Branithar himself foresaw a certain awkwardness at the moment when he had deposited his human comrade on English soil. No doubt he made his own devious plans against it. But for the present, their interests ran in the same channel.
These considerations alone will disprove certain sniggering canards about Lady Catherine. She and Sir Owain dared never be at ease simultaneously. They must stand watch on watch, gun at hip, the entire voyage, lest their crew overwhelm them. It was the most effective chaperonage in history. Not that she would have misbehaved in any event. Confused and frightened she might become, but she was never faithless.
Sir Owain felt reasonably confident that Branithar’s data were honest. But he insisted on proof. The boat flew for some ten days, to the indicated region of space. Another couple of weeks were spent casting about, examining various hopeful stars. I shall not try to chronicle what the humans felt, as constellations gradually became familiar again; nor that single aerial glimpse which their bargain with distrustful Branithar vouchsafed them, when Dover castle fluttered its pennons above white cliffs. I do not believe they ever spoke about it.
Their ship screamed from atmosphere and lined out again for the hostile stars.
Chapter XX
Sir Roger had established himself on the planet we named New Avalon. Our folk needed a rest, and he needed time to settle many questions of securing that vast kingdom which had already fallen to him. He was furthermore in secret negotiation with the Wersgor governor of an entire star cluster. This person seemed willing to yield up all he controlled, could we give him suitable bribes and guarantees. The haggling went slowly, but Sir Roger felt confident of its outcome.
“They know so little about the detection and use of traitors out here,” he remarked to me, “that I can buy this fellow for less than an Italian city. Our allies never attempted this, for they imagined that the Wersgor nation must be as solid as their own. Yet isn’t it logic, that so great a sprawl of estates, separated by days and weeks of travel, must in many ways resemble a European country? Though even more corruptible—”
“Since they lack the true Faith,” I said.
“Hm, well, yes, no doubt. Though I’ve never found Christians who refused a bribe on religious grounds. I was thinking that the Wersgor type of government commands no fealty.”
At any rate, we had a little while of peace, camped in a dale beneath dizzyingly tall cliffs. A waterfall rushed arrow-straight into a lake more clear than glass, ringed with trees. Even our sprawling, brawling English camp could not hurt so much beauty.
I had settled down outside my own little tent, at ease in a rustic chair. My hard studies laid aside for a moment, I indulged myself with a book from home, a relaxing chronicle of the miracles of St. Cosmas. As if from far off, I heard the crackle of fire-gun practice, the zap of archery, the cheerful clatter of quarterstaff play. I was almost asleep, when feet thudded to a halt beside me.
Startled, I blinked upward at the terrified face of a baronial esquire. “Brother Parvus!” he said. “In God’s name, come at once!”
“Ugh, uh, whoof?” I said in my drowsiness.
“Exactly,” he groaned.
I gathered my cassock and trotted at his heels. Sunlight and blossoming bowers and birdsong overhead were suddenly remote. I knew only the leap of my heart and the realization of how few and weak and far from home we were. “What’s awry?”
“I know not,” said the esquire. “A message came on the far-speaker, relayed from space by one of our patrol ships. Sir Owain Montbelle desired private talk with my lord. I know not what was spoken on the narrow beam. But Sir Roger came staggering out like a blind man and roared for you. Oh, Brother Parvus, it was horrible to see!”
I thought that I should pray for us all, doomed if the baron’s strength and cunning could no longer uphold us. But I was at once too full of pity for him alone. He had borne too much, too long, with never a soul to share the burden. All brave saints, I thought, stand by him now.
Red John Hameward mounted guard outside the portable Jair shelter. He had spied his master’s strickenness, and dashed thither from the target range. With strung bow, he bellowed at the crowd that miffed and muttered: “Get you back! Back to your places! Cod’s death, I’ll put this arrow through the first by your — lady sod to pester my lord, and break the by — our lady neck o’ the next! Go, I say!”
I brushed the giant aside and entered. It was hot within the shelter. Sunlight filtered through its translucency had a thick color. Mostly it was furnished with homely things. leather, tapestry, armor. But one shelf held instruments of alien manufacture, and a large farspeaker set was placed on the floor.
Sir Roger slumped in a chair before this, chin on breast, his big hands hanging limp. I stole up behind him and laid my own hand on his shoulder. “What is the matter, sire?” I asked, as softly as might be.
He hardly moved. “Go away,” he said.
“You called for me.”
“I knew not what I was doing. This is between myself and — Go away.”
His voice was flat, but it took my whole small stock of courage to walk around in front of him and say, “I presume your receiver inscribed the message as usual?”
“Aye. No doubt. I’d best wipe out that record.”
His gray gaze lifted toward me. I remembered a wolf I had once seen trapped, when the townsfolk closed in to make an end of it. “I don’t want to harm you, Brother Parvus,” he said.