Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

Chapter 6

The demon knights were returning. They were singing,

Fair is foul and bread is dead

Put pease pudding in his head

And stuff his gut with fine persimmons

Till he looks like Jack Fitzsimmons.

No one had ever explained the meaning of this verse. It was very old, from a time when men found obscurity a com­forting way of life.

The demon knights sprawled about the campground then, grunting, stretching, chuttering, yawning. With an occasional belch and considerable scratching, they settled themselves quickly.

Charming turned to the cloak. It wasn't there again. Then he caught sight of the tag, a small square of cloth with phos­phorescent writing on it. It said, DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG UNDER PENALTY OF DIVINE PUNISHMENT. PLEASE READ IN­STRUCTIONS ON OTHER SIDE. Charming tried to read the in­structions on the other side but they were not illuminated.

He arranged the cloak around himself as well as he could and started walking softly among the sprawled ranks of war­riors.

A slight inconsistency in the height of the ground caused him to stumble and brush against one of the figures.

" 'Ere there!" An unsteady hand reached out and seized him. "Boys, ye ken what I've found?"

"Why you got your fist half-clenched like 'at, Angus?" the others cried.

"Because within it, my friends, I've got holt of an invisible spy."

"I'm not a spy!" Charming cried.

"But you are invisible, won't try to deny that, will you?"

Charming broke free and ran. The knights got up and chased after, awakening others with their loud hoots.

From behind him came their cries. These were answered by shouts from ahead. At first Charming thought it was an echo. But then the fact that the cries from before him were becoming louder tipped him off to the real situation. There were demon knights ahead as well as behind. They must have moved quickly to cut him off. He saw that he was going to have to pass through their ranks.

Pausing to re-drape the cloak of invisibility, he was fas­cinated to see his hand disappear as soon as the cloth was passed over it. Charming could look through the cloak and through his hand that it covered and see the ground beneath it.

Of course, the part of his hand that was not covered remained as visible as always. More visible, in fact, since the existence of an arm in which the hand terminated blood­lessly and at a slant did nothing to make it more imper­ceptible.

Quickly, he draped himself as best he was able and set off running again. He plunged into a broad grassy field. Horsemen appeared by moonlight on the edge of the meadow. Then one of them pointed and waved, saying, "There, where the grass is parted, that's where he must have gone!" Immediately a squad­ron went out in pursuit.

Charming dodged back into the woods, and there, finding a shallow cave, concealed himself long enough to tear out the cloak's lining. As he had hoped, this material, thin though it was, had the same qualities as the cloak itself. And so Charming could devise a mask for himself, a full-length wraparound mask, and thus even his head was concealed.

He could do nothing about the movements of his passage, however. Every footfall was marked by a bruising of leaves and bending of small boughs and grasses. At least hiding his head was rendering the finding of him more difficult.

He hurried, even knowing that he was kicking up a con­siderable trail. It occurred to him that he might do better if he could get himself to move slowly and carefully, thus eluding his pursuers while he was among them. That was how a fairy­tale prince might act, he thought, but that was not the way he was at all. He was running, his long legs exulting in stretching and striding, hurrying away from danger. Viewing himself from the viewpoint of his legs, he was a soaring creature proceeding by leaps and bounds. But the fact was the horses of his pursuers were moving faster. They were coming up on either side of him, the riders only slightly impeded by the necessity of having to sight his movement through the bending branches that marked his passage.

They closed in, their steel lance points winking at him. He could see a clearing ahead, but doubted that he could make it. It was all the more tantalizing because it contained a long lime­stone shelf. The stone would neither retain his footprints nor reveal his passage. It was going to be close.

One of the knights took aim with his lance and came charging.

It was only at this moment of extremity that his salvation came. He did not know whether it was natural, or induced somehow by Azzie. Where before the air had been still, now a wind rose up. Not just a little wind, but a full-blown gale, bearing drops of icy water and a scattering of hail.

On all sides, the foliage blew into wild disarray, making his movements undetectable.

The leading knight missed him by five feet. The second wasn't even close. The knights spread apart, trying to contain him within their circle. But Charming easily slipped between them and hurried down to the limestone shelf. This he was able to traverse without leaving a trace. When he stopped, the wind had died again, and there were no sounds of pursuit. He realized he had eluded the demons.