Suddenly she halted. For a moment she could only stare. Then one hand stole to the crucifix on her breast. “Mary, have pity.” Her maids, well-trained, slipped back out of earshot.
Sir Owain Montbelle hobbled from the glade. He was in his gayest garb, nothing but a sword to remind her of war. The crutch on which he leaned hardly interfered with his gracefulness as he swept off his plumed bonnet in a bow.
“Ah,” he cried, “this instant the place has become Arcady, and old Hob the swineherd whom I just met is heathen Apollo, harping a hymn to the great witch Venus.
“What’s this?” Catherine’s eyes were blue dismay. “Has the fleet returned?”
“Nay.” Sir Owain shrugged. “Blame my own awkwardness yestre’en. I was frolicking about, playing ball, when I stumbled. My ankle twisted, and remains so weak and tender that I’d be useless in battle. Perforce I deputed my command to young Hugh Thorne and flitted hither in an aircraft. Now I must wait till I am healed, then borrow a ship and a Jair pilot to rejoin my comrades.”
Catherine tried desperately to speak sober words. “In . … in his language lessons … Branithar has mentioned that the star folk have s-s-strange chirurgic arts.” She flushed like fire. “Their lenses can look even inside a living body … and they inject simples which heal the worst wound in days.”
“I thought of that,” said Sir Owain. “For of course I would not be a laggard in war. But then I remembered my lord’s strict orders, that our entire hope depends for the nonce on convincing these demon races we are as learned as they.”
She clasped the crucifix still tighter.
“So I dared not ask help of their physicians,” he continued. “I told them instead that I remain behind to attend certain matters of moment, and carry this crutch as a penance for sin. When nature has healed me, I will depart. Though in truth, ’twill be like tearing out my own heart, to be from you.”
“Does Sir Roger know?’
He nodded. They passed hastily to something else. That nod was a black lie. Sir Roger did not know. None of his men dared tell him. I might have ventured it, for he would not strike a man of the cloth, but I was also ignorant. Since the baron avoided Sir Owain’s company these days, and had enough else to occupy his mind, he never thought of it. I suppose in his inmost soul he did not want to think of it.
Whether Sir Owain really hurt his ankle, I dare not say. But it would be a strange coincidence. However, I doubt if he had planned his final treason in detail. Most likely his wish was to continue certain talks with Branithar and see what developed.
He leaned close to Catherine. His laughter rang out. “Until I go,” he said, “I feel free to bless the accident.”
She looked away, and trembled. “Why?”
“I think you know.” He took her hand.
She withdrew it. “I beg you, remember my husband is at war.”
“Misdoubt me not!” he exclaimed. “I would sooner lie dead than be dishonored in your eyes.”
“I could never … misdoubt … so courteous a knight.”
’Is that all I am? Courteous only? Amusing? A jester for your weary moments? Well-a-day, better Catherine’s fool than Venus’ lover. So let me then entertain you.” And he lifted his clear voice in a roundel to her praise.
“No—” She moved from him, like a doe edging clear of the hunter. “I am … I gave pledges—”
“In the courts of Love,” he said, “there is only one pledge, Love itself.” The sunlight burnished his hair.
“I have two children to think of,” she begged.
He grew somber. “Indeed, my lady. I’ve often dandied Robert and little Matilda on my knee. I hope I may do it again, while God allows.”
She faced him afresh, almost crouching. “What do you mean?”
“Oh — Nay.” He looked into the murmurous woods, whose leaves were of no shape or color ever seen on Earth. “I would not voice disloyalty.”
“But the children!” This time it was she who seized his hand. “In Christ’s holy name, Owain, if you know aught, speak!”
He kept his face turned from her. He had a fine profile. “I am not privy to any secrets, Catherine,” he said. “Belike you can judge the question better than I. For you know the baron best.”
“Does anyone know him?” she asked in bitterness. He said, very low, “It seems to me that his dreams grow with each new turn of fate. At first he was content to fly to France and join the King. Then he would liberate the Holy Land. Brought here by evil fortune, he responded nobly: none can deny that. But having gained a respite. has he sought Terra again? No, he took this whole world. Now he is off to conquer suns. Where will it end?”
“Where—” She could not continue. Nor could she pull her gaze from Sir Owain.
The knight said, “God puts bounds to all things. Unlimited ambition is the egg of Satan, from which only woe can hatch. Does it not seem to you, my lady, when you lie sleepless at night, that we will overreach ourselves and be ruined?”
After a long while he added: “Wherefore I say, Christ and His Mother help all the little children.”
“What can we do?” she cried in her anguish. “We’ve lost our way to Earth!”
“It might be found again,” he said.
“In a hundred years of search?”
He watched her in silence for a while before he answered:
“I would not raise false hopes in so sweet a bosom. But from time to time I’ve conversed a little with Branithar. Our knowledge of each other’s tongues is but scant, and certes he does not trust any human overmuch. Yet … a few things he has said… make me think that perhaps the road home might be found.”
“What?” Both her frantic hands seized him. “How? Where? Owain, are you gone mad?”
“No.” he said with studied roughness. “But let us suppose this be true, than Branithar can guide us despite all. He’ll not do so without a price, I suppose. Do you think Sir Roger would renounce his crusade and go quietly back to England?”
“He— why—”
“Has he not said again and yet again: while the Wersgor power remains, England lies m mortal danger? Would not the rediscovery of Terra only lead him to redouble his efforts? Nay, what use is it to learn our way back? The war would still continue, until it ended in our destruction.”
She shuddered and crossed herself.
“Since I am here,” Sir Owain finished, “I may as well try to learn if the homeward route can indeed be found. Perhaps you can think of some means to use that knowledge, ere it is too late.”
He bade her a courtly good day, which she did not hear, and limped on into the forest.
Chapter XVIII
Many long Tharixanian days passed: weeks of Earth time. Having taken the first planet he aimed at, Sir Roger went on to the next. Here, while his allies distracted the enemy gunners, he stormed the main castle afoot, using foliage to conceal his approach. This was the place where Red John Hameward actually did rescue a captive princess. True, she had green hair and feathery antennae, nor was there any possibility of issue between her species and our own. But the humanlikeness, and exceeding gratitude, of the Vashtunari — who had just been in process of being conquered — did much to cheer lonely Englishmen. Whether or not the prohibitions of Leviticus are applicable is still being hotly debated.
The Wersgorix counterattacked from space, basing their fleet in a ring of planetoids. Sir Roger had taken an opportunity while en route to turn off the artificial weight aboard ship and let his men practice movement under such conditions. So now, armored against vacuum, our bowmen made that famous raid called the Battle of the Meteors. Cloth-yard shafts pierced many a Wersgor spacesuit without fire-flash or magnetic force-pulse to give away a man’s position. With their base thus depleted of manpower, the enemy withdrew from the entire system. Admiral Beljad had grabbed off three other suns while they were occupied with this one, so their new retreat was a long one.