But it was climbing to its feet, and trotting away across the meadow—with his little girl on its back! “Cor-deeel-iaaaa!”

She heard him; she waved—and turned the bull somehow, set it trotting back towards him! Rod breathed a sigh of relief, then stiffened again. This was only an improvement, not a solution—she was still on its back!

He pulled away, backing up toward his family, until his left hand brushed Gwen’s arm. The boy’s could teleport out, if they had to, and there was a nice-sized boulder right next to Gwen—small enough for her to “throw” by telekinesis, but large enough to knock the bull cold. He saw her glance flick over to it, and knew she was thinking along the same line.

But about twenty feet away, the bull started getting skittish. It slowed, and slewed around sideways, prancing to a stop, then pawing the turf.

“Oh, come, sweet cow, come!” Cordelia pleaded. “Thou ‘rt so lovely, I wish to show thee to my family! Please do come!”

“Now, now, dear don’t push him—uh, it. We can come over—can’t we, dear?” And Rod stepped forward.

The bull stepped back.

Rod halted. “I… don’t think he likes me…”

“Mayhap he is wise enough not to trust males,” Gwen suggested. “I shall try.” And she took a step forward.

The bull stepped back again.

“Try it without the boys.” Rod caught Geoff’s and Magnus’s hands, and Gwen stepped forward again.

The bull held its place—warily, but holding.

Gwen took another step, then another, and another.

Great. Just great. Now Rod had both his womenfolk at peril!

Then the boys shouted with delight, and both little hands wrenched out of his. “Hey!” Rod made a frantic grab—but he landed on his face, as two small booms told him they’d teleported. He scrambled back to his feet, just in time to see them reappear at the far end of the meadow, way over against the trees on the other side, along with…

That was the attraction—another little boy!

But what a boy—or at least, what an outfit! His doublet was dark green, with a golden surcoat; its sleeves belled out to brush the ground. His hose were buff, and fitted like second skins—and was that the glimmer of gold in his hair? Not a coronet, surely!

Whatever he was, he was moving very slowly toward a shaggy-looking horse that seemed to be waiting for him, head up and turned toward him, ears pricked forward. But it was bare-backed.

Wild?

Magnus whooped a greeting, and the boy looked up. The horse tossed its head angrily, and sidled closer. Magnus ran toward the new boy, with Geoff hurrying after.

Rod squeezed his eyes shut, gave his head a quick shake in disbelief, and looked again. It was! The horse’s body had grown longer—say, long enough for a couple of more riders!

Rod decided he didn’t like its looks. He lit out running, sword in hand.

The boys had gotten past the opening wariness, and were shaking hands. Now the new boy was pointing to the horse—and Magnus was nodding eagerly—and the horse was kneeling down!

Then Gwen cried out in fright, and Rod whirled. She was running after him, waving frantically at the boys. Behind her, Cordelia was shrieking and kicking her heels against the bull’s sides. It rumbled, and lumbered into motion.

The boys screamed behind him—high, hoarse, with raw, absolute terror! Rod spun about again, running. The horse was running flat-out toward the lake, and the boys were yanking and tugging, trying to pull themselves loose from its back.

Rod swerved, and fear shot a last ounce of adrenalin into his veins. He tore through the grass, shouting.

The horse hit the water with a huge splash; fountains of foam shot high. When they cleared, its back was bare; it reared up, wheeling about and plunging down at three small heads in the water, mouth gaping wide—and Rod saw carnivore’s teeth!

He bellowed rage, and leaped.

Spray gushed about him as he hit, directly under the horse. It surged down, jaws gaping wide; he leaned to the side and slashed, back-handed, straight into its jaws. It screamed, rearing back, and lashed out at him with razor-edged hooves. Fire raked his side; then a thundering bellow shook the earth, and a juggernaut knocked him back, floundering. Water closed over his face; daylight glimmered through water. He fought his way back, broke surface, and stood—to see the horse twenty feet farther from shore, scrambling back upright, wheeling about in time to catch the bull’s second charge.

The great dun beast slammed into the chestnut stallion. It folded over the bull, gleaming hooves slashing, needle-teeth ripping. The bull bellowed in anger and pain, and dove down. Blood sheened the water as both animals went under.

Rod didn’t stay to wait for the curtain call. He floundered over to his boys, shot a hand down under water to grapple Geoff’s collar and yanked him back above the surface, spluttering and wailing.

“Papa!” Magnus yelled. “Elidor! He can’t swim!”

Rod wallowed over to the sinking princeling, bellowing, “Get to shore!” Water whooshed in as Magnus disappeared, shooting Elidor briefly to the surface. Rod caught him under the arms in a cross-body carry and backed toward shore, towing both boys. He stumbled and fell as he hit shallow water, scrambled back up, and hauled the two boys out onto the grass. And he kept hauling, yanking them up, one under each arm, and ran. He stopped when he fell, but Gwen was there by that time, with Magnus beside her, to catch Geoff in her arms. “Oh, my boy, my foolish lad! We near to lost thee!”

Rod followed suit, yanking Magnus to him, hugging him tight to reassure himself the boy was still there. “Oh, thank Heaven, thank Heaven! Oh, you fool, you little fool, to go near a strange animal like that! Thank the Lord you’re alive!”

A high, piercing scream shattered the air.

They whirled, staring.

For a moment, the horse and bull shot out of the water, the horse leaping high to slash down at the bull with its teeth, catching it where neck joined shoulders. But the bull twisted, catching the horse’s hind leg in its own jaws. Even a hundred feet away, they could hear the crunch. The horse screamed, and the bull bellowed, rearing up to drive down with its forelegs, slamming its opponent back under the water with the full force of its weight. It sank, too, but the water churned like a maelstrom, and the blood kept spreading.

Gwen shuddered and turned the children’s heads away. “ ‘Tis a horrid sight, and one that only thy father need watch, that he may warn us to flee if need be.” Then she noticed the blood dripping from Rod’s doublet. “Milord! Thou’rt wounded!”

“Huh?” Rod looked down. “Oh, yeah! Now I remember. Unnnngh! Say, that’s beginning to hurt!”

“Indeed it should,” Gwen said grimly, unlacing his doublet. “Cordelia, seek out St. John’s Wort and red verbena! Boys, seek four-leafed clovers! Quickly, now!”

The children scampered to search. Elidor stood, blinking in confusion.

“Four-leafed clovers, lad,” Gwen urged. “Surely thou mayst seek them, no matter how little herb-lore thou knowest! Quickly, now!”

Elidor stared at her indignantly; then fright came into his eyes, and he ran to join Magnus and Geoff.

“Strange one, that,” Rod said, frowning. “Ow! Yes, dear, the skin’s broken.”

“ ‘Tis not pretty,” Gwen said, tight-lipped. She tore a strip from the hem of her skirt.

“Here, Mommy!” Cordelia was back, leaves in hand.

“Good child,” Gwen approved. A flat rock lifted itself, a few feet away, and sailed over to land at her feet. She plucked Rod’s dagger and dropped to her knees, pounding the herbs with the hilt.

“Here, Mama!” Magnus ran up, two four-leafed clovers in hand, with the other boys right behind him.

“Any will aid. I thank thee, lads.” Gwen added them to the porridge, then gave Rod’s ribs a swipe with his doublet and plastered the herbs on the wound.