Her Majesty's Wizard

CHAPTER 19

The last few hours of night had been ones of fevered activity. The surviving Moncaireans had busied themselves in shriving the repentant enemy. Men had begun building a crude platform on the field and setting up the captured tent of Astaulf for the new queen. She had retired into it with Sir Guy and a few others, promising to give judgment in the morning.

Matt had not been among her councilors. She seemed to avoid him. But he had found work enough to fill his time, returning the Greeks to whatever time and place had been their origin and fulfilling his promise to the ogres.

Now the false dawn lighted an orderly field. The severely wounded, bandaged as well as they might be by the nuns, lay in rows at the side. Some still moaned, but most lay quiet in enchanted sleep that Matt had administered.

Beyond them, in every direction, were mounds of freshly turned earth, some marked with rough, improvised crosses, some not marked at all.

Those with lesser wounds or none knelt in ordered lanes, filling the center of the valley, their heads bowed over clasped hands. The defeated were in the middle, under the watchful eyes of soldiers. That was a mere precaution; their elbows were immobilized by loops of rope that passed behind their backs, and their wrists were bound before them. Their feet were hobbled.

Astaulf and his barons knelt in chains; they seemed to listen most devoutly of all to the abbot of the Moncaireans, who stood on the crude platform before a rough field altar, his stole about his neck. As he finished the cleansing and veiling of the chalice, the monks and nuns chanted the Requiem. The high funeral mass, begun by moonlight, was ending by early dawn.

Matt knelt behind the barons, ready with his sword and spells for the slightest misstep and glad he wasn't needed.

During Communion, the priests had distributed the Eucharist impartially to victor and vanquished alike. At peace with God, Astaulf and his barons knelt, seeming not to care what happened to their bodies. The depth of faith that could grant such tranquility had hit Matt more and more heavily as the Mass progressed, until he knelt now in awe of the meaning of the ancient ritual. He was realizing anew the significance and depth of the symbols, realizing that in this world, each symbolic movement and Scriptural reference was not an empty repetition of a memorized formula, but part of the most powerful spell of all, affecting lives past and present, and changing the world about them at the same time that it held all constant.

The abbot turned to the armies, spreading his hands. "Ite, Missa est." Go, you are sent forth; go, the Mass is ended.

With the rest of the impromptu congregation, Matt replied,

"Deo gratias."

The abbot bowed his head, folding his hands, and turned to take up the veiled chalice and the altar stone. He went down the steps slowly while the choir sang a dirge. Two soldiers mounted the platform and folded the camp altar, then took it down and away.

Suddenly the choir voices broke into the triumphant notes of the Gloria. As the hymn reached its peak, Alisande mounted the stairs, regal in a purple robe contrived from Astaulf's apparel,, her golden hair graced with the crown. She stepped to the center of the platform. The choir soared into a fervent Alleluia. Their voices rang through the valley, then stilled.

The men below seemed frozen, motionless and silent.

From below came the prompting voice of Sir Guy. "Judgment!" he cried. "Let there be judgment upon the foul traitors - Astaulf and his barons!"

A dark, rumbling mutter filled the valley. Alisande held up her hands, and the rumbling died.

"We may not judge them here," she cried. "Justice must be calm and well considered, not merely of the moment's whim. We shall have these barons and their suzerain Astaulf to our capital in chains. There, in Bordestang, they will await the verdict of their peers and our sentence."

No one seemed to breathe. They stared in amazement. Matt nodded slowly. There was a lot to be said for due process as a check on tyranny. It looked as if Alisande's reign might be off to a good start.

"But the soldiers." Alisande's voice softened. "They who had no choice in service, who fought in fear of their commanders, or of vengeance being wreaked upon their wives and children - these can have small blame. Let them return to their families and their homes, to forswear the sword and spear and take the plow again."

This time the cheering nearly split the mountains. Loyal soldiers joined with the captured in the fervor of their applause. It seemed that Alisande would be not only a good ruler, Matt thought; she would also be a popular one.

When the chaos had quieted a little, Sir Guy called out, "And what of the sorcerers, your Majesty? The lesser sorcerers whom Malingo forged into an evil corps?"

"They are for burning, if any man can find them." Her voice crackled over the valley. She turned slowly, her face stony again as her eyes found Matt's. "Hunting them should be the task of our rightful Lord Wizard."

Then Alisande turned back as the nuns and two Moncaireans came up, bearing improvised stretchers, cloaked and shrouded, to lay before the Queen.

"What of these?" the abbot called. "What of Father Brunel, our fellow priest?"

"And this, my hopeful daughter?" the abbess stepped up beside Sayeesa's pallet.

"Take them home to the Houses of your Orders," Alisande commanded. "Let shrines be raised over their bodies, for they died as martyrs upon the field. Their souls, I doubt not, bask now in the bliss of Heaven."

There was silence as the abbot bowed in thanks, then led to a waiting horse, where the pallet bearing the remains of Father Brunel was quickly tied. He mounted and turned to the knights remaining to him, swinging his arm overhead and bawling, "Ride!"

The Moncaireans moved out behind him, following the bier in solemn procession, chanting a dirge.

"Come, daughters!" the abbess cried, hoisting herself up sidesaddle. "Let us bear her home. Our sorrow is our own!"

The small group of nuns mounted and turned their horses to follow her, raising their own lament as they bore Sayeesa's remains before them, slung between two horses with empty saddles.

They rode out of the valley in two solemn trains, side by side, bearing the repentant witch and the remorseful werewolf, who had fallen into the pits of desire and climbed back to glory. The procession disappeared around the eastern peak, and the soldiers turned to one another, murmuring.

Alisande called out, silencing them. "Go now to your lords! Set free your brothers who were forced to this fight, that they may return to their homes,! Then follow your suzerains, with the blessing of the Queen upon you!"

A cheer bellowed out as she stepped from the platform. It slackened and turned into excited conversation as the whole field became milling chaos.

Matt elbowed his way through the press. Soldiers saw who he was and hastened out of the Lord Wizard's path. But even so, by the time he made it to the front, Alisande was almost to her tent, accompanied by some of the barons. She glanced back and saw him, but her face showed no welcome.

"Well, Sir Matthew, you are nearly home!" Sir Guy clapped him on his shoulder with a familiar, carefree grin. It reminded Matt of his former suspicion - and the new ones, which now seemed to have a better basis.

"Yeah." He put an arm around the Black Knight, leading him away toward Stegoman, who seemed to have found an isolated spot. The dragon was the biggest thing on the field, now that Colmain had gone off with the dwarves and the ogres. "All right," he said, determined to resolve the enigma of Sir Guy. "Just who are you, anyway, Sir All or Nothing?"

The knight smiled more broadly. "Why ask you that, and wherefore this epithet by which you call me?"

"It's what your name becomes in a language I know. Toutarien-toute ou rien. French, the language of chivalry-and I notice most nobles here have names not unlike that language. Don't give me the simple knight routine after I've seen Colmain recognize you and Saint Moncaire heed your call."

Sir Guy no longer smiled. "But who then should I be, Sir Matthew, other than the knight I seem?"

"I seem to recall a tale told by a certain Black Knight," Matt told him. "When Hardishane's line seemed to be ended, Colmain found a child of the Emperor's daughter's line to rule. But there were rumors of a child of the male lire who was never found. True rumors, Sir Guy?"

Sir Guy studied Matt for a moment, then shrugged. "Aye, you would see what others never have and remember a thing I should never have mentioned. But swear to me, on your honor as a knight, never to speak of this matter to other ears!"

"On my honor as a knight, I swear," Matt promised.

Sir Guy nodded slowly. "There was such a child, hidden so well that Colmain never found him. He lived his whole life-and that line is long-lived -- in secret, as did his descendants. I am the latest of that line."

"But that would make you the rightful ruler, not Alisande," Matt said.

"Forbid such fate! I am rightful Emperor - but cannot claim my heritage till all these Western Lands be sunk again into Evil. Then will the only remedy be Empire, and mine heirs may again take up the scepter. Only then. While Good still reigns in Merovence, 'tis still the time of kings, not Emperors. And may that time not come whilest I still live!"

Matt was convinced he had heard the truth. "So you're not quite the carefree vagabond you seem to be. You've devoted your life to holding off the time when an Emperor will be needed again. You don't want power."

"Not at the cost of Evil gaining all these lands. I'll fight while breath is in my body to delay that day, as did my father and his father!"

"Yeah." Matt pondered it, trying to fit all the facts against this new knowledge. "Then I suppose it was you who drafted me?"

"Drafted? Ah-not so. I did but go to the Emperor's cave to wake Saint Moncaire and warn him that peril was come upon us. He knew, of course, but did need a mortal's asking to work upon it. 'Twas he who thought to seek a wizard from another sphere, one with knowledge unknown to this land, to give him power against Malingo. He wrote verse upon a scrap of parchment and cast it forth, saying the man who found it and labored enough to comprehend it must be, perforce, the wizard who could save this land."

It was neat, Matt had to admit - a spell with an automatic filter to select only the right man.

"And now, rejoice!" Sir Guy gave him a ringing clap on the shoulder. "Your task is done! I am certain the good saint will send you home!"

Matt stared at him.

Sir Guy frowned. "Come, now! 'Tis what you've wished since first you came here, is it not?"

"Yeah," Matt said slowly. "Yeah, I said that, didn't I? Home." He could picture his run-down, disordered apartment with its student-cheap decor, his friends drinking beer from cans or sitting around the table at the coffee shop ...

Somehow, it all seemed remote, unreal, like something he'd read about in a book. His eyes strayed to the tent where Alisande had gone. Then he sighed. At least, his leaving this world would relieve her of strain and remove the seemingly hopeless problem the Reverend Mother had spotted. "Yeah. I guess I want to go home." He shook himself and looked back at Sir Guy. "So you had nothing to do with getting me here. But weren't you really managing the whole expedition?"

Sir Guy shook his head. "I sought to find the princess and wizard as soon as they were free, then saw that I became one of their party..."

"Conned me into drafting you," Matt interpreted. "I suppose you only did that out of curiosity?"

"Nay, 'twas to insure her safety and yours. But 'twas her kingdom, and she knew what needs must be, better than I"

Matt wasn't too sure about how much she knew, but he realized that Sir Guy had a nice respect for a jurisdictional claim. "You just came along for the ride, eh?"

"I lent a sword when needed," Sir Guy said judiciously. "And I had you knighted. I thought it best, for it gave you martial skills which were badly needed."

It made sense; in this world, conferring the title of knight would probably also confer martial skills.

"And now that the war's over and Alisande made queen, where are you going to wander-accidentally, of course?"

Sir Guy smiled. "Where situations seem amusing. Ibile, now I have heard a baron there seeks to gather knights to rebel against the sorcerer-king. A just and godly man, I hear. Mayhap I'll ride there. Though, in truth, I shall miss having a wizard at hand to make all easier."

"Yeah." Then a breath of inspiration touched Matt's mind. "Maybe I can give some help there. Max!"

"Aye, Wizard?" The humming dot was back with him.

"Max, how'd you like to go along and serve Sir Guy from now on?"

"To serve a ruler who fights not to rule?" The hum took on a note of amusement. "It has perversity. Yet 'tis not possible. He knows not the inner nature of things to give me proper orders."

And teaching modern physics to Sir Guy was more than Matt cared to think about. But there had to be another way. "You could tell him what orders to give, couldn't you?"

This time the hum had the quality of a delighted chuckle. "The very spirit of perversity! To give the orders which I then am bound to obey. Aye, Wizard, I'll do it!"

The dot of fire snapped to the knight and vanished into a chink in his armor.

"So you'll be on your way," Matt said to Sir Guy, "and Stegoman will be going back to his own people. I guess fate is busting up that old gang of ours."

"Nay," the dragon's voice rumbled down above his head. "'Tis not my plan, Wizard. For I've been away too long and have dealt too much with men. I've thought upon it, but I'd not take lightly again to the ways of my folk. Henceforth are my ways the ways of thy people."

"Then come with me!" Sir Guy cried. "In Ibile, you and I could prove ourselves formidable indeed together!"

"Aye." Stegoman nodded his great head.- "But I must not."

"Must not?" Matt frowned up at the dragon. "Why?"

"Because I have sworn fealty to thee, Lord Wizard. Where thou goest, so go I; and where thou stayest, stay I"

"Ah, but you cannot go with him now," Sir Guy said. "For he will be going to his home, across a void which none but he may cross. He returns to that time and place from which he came. And you and I remain."

"Is this true, Wizard?" the dragon demanded.

Matt was saved from answering by the appearance of a young soldier before him: "The queen would speak with you, Lord Wizard." His tone hinted at fear of addressing one so powerful.

So she had finished all other business and finally deigned to remember him! Matt nodded and strode across to the tent.

He found her alone, seated before a rough desk. Her head snapped up as he entered; then she rose wearily to her feet.

"You wanted me, your Majesty?" he asked.

Her head dipped in a slight nod. "To render our thanks to you, Lord Wizard. We are deeply grateful for your part in our inevitable victory." Her voice held all the gratitude of a man. paying off a collection agent, and her face was a mask.

"Your victory didn't seem so blamed inevitable when I asked you about it," Matt reminded her. He was tired of the deep-freeze treatment. Maybe it was time he got out of this whole business. "Or does your infallibility work only by hindsight?"

Answering anger sprang into her eyes, but she held her voice level. "And would you have fought so well had you known we must win? Nay, I'd not weaken my forces by announcing victory before it was achieved."

She had a point, he had to admit reluctantly to himself. And this wasn't getting either of them anywhere. He'd made his decision. Now he might as well get it over with. "I'm leaving, your Majesty. I'm going to return to my own world."

She nodded, stone-faced. "Aye. As I knew you meant when you would not swear to remain, but did choose instead to attend only to my wound. Why, go then, sirrah! I'd not have a reluctant champion!"

She turned away. But now that he had been dismissed, Matt found himself unwilling to leave without some explanation.

"It's the obvious solution to the problem the abbess pointed out," he told her, "one she couldn't see. Emotions can't be banished - however much you may delude yourself - but I can be, even if I have to do it myself. Simple, isn't it?"

"There was another choice," she reminded him.

"To get married, or some such? Fat chance! You've made it plain enough that there's no hope of that."

"You did never ask me! Or do you also profess infallibility, to know the course of events before they come?"

He took a step toward her, then forced himself to relax. What did it matter if she had to have the last word? "All right," he said.

"If it will make you feel better to make it plain that you reject me, consider yourself asked."

She swung about to face him, and her smile would have curdled the milk of a unicorn. "Most nobly and courteously asked, Sir Knight!" Her short laugh was like a saw on thin metal. "But such asking, so I had believed, must come from the heart!"

He stared at her, anger and desire boiling together in him until they fused into one. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "All right, damn it! If you've got to draw every bit of satisfaction from seeing me make a fool of myself, have it your way! Contrary though you choose to be, I love you! Now will you marry me?"

Then she was in his arms, drawing him closer and turning her face up to meet his lips.

Stegoman found them a few minutes later, but he had sense enough not to interrupt. There was a broad smile on his face as he lumbered away to report to Sir Guy that Sir Matthew, Lord Wizard, would obviously not be leaving them.

The End