Ivanhoe Gambit

6

It was quiet and peaceful in Sherwood Forest. Finn and Bobby had walked all morning and now, at midday, they had stopped to rest by the side of the road, really little more than a narrow dirt path running through the forest, wide enough to permit two horses to travel closely side by side. They were not on horseback, however. They traveled on foot, at a leisurely pace. For a long time, both men had walked in silence, mulling over recent developments, especially what had happened in Lucas Priest's pavilion. The atmosphere in Sherwood Forest was conducive to quiet contemplation. All morning, they had not run into any other travelers. It was a bucolic scene, with the silence broken only by birdsong and the occasional hectic rustling of some small animal hurtling through the brush, frightened by their presence. The tree boughs made a canopy above them, through which shafts of sunlight streamed down to dapple the ground with light and shadow.

Finn had shot a rabbit and dressed it. They had cooked it on a spit and washed it down with cheap wine that tasted far better than it was supposed to. In another time and in another place, it would have seemed a very primitive and unsatisfactory repast, but in Sherwood Forest, it made for a veritable feast.

Finn leaned back against a large oak tree and lighted a cigarette. It was strictly against regulations, but neither of them cared. There was no one there to see them, so they passed the precious cigarette back and forth between them, hiding it with their hands just in case, staying very near the fire so that the smoke would not seem too noticeable to a prying eye. Finn had managed to smuggle several of the cigarettes from their island training base and he planned to ration them out carefully. They smoked in silence, neither man speaking until they were through. Then Finn field stripped the butt, shredding it and dropping what was left into the fire, which had almost burned out. That done, he leaned back against the tree trunk once again and shut his eyes.

"Finn?" said Bobby.

"Mmmm?"

"Suppose Hooker figures it out?"

Finn sighed, "It's possible, of course, but I don't think he will."

"Don't underestimate him just because he's still pretty green," said Bobby.

"No, that wasn't what I meant. This is going to sound pretty goddamn cold, but I don't think he'll knock it because, quite simply, he wants to live. When you're already predisposed toward one condition, your mind will tend to avoid considering any possible alternatives."

"I suppose you're probably right," said Bobby. "He seized on that bit of double-talk you fed him and hung onto it for all he was worth. He kept telling me how careful he was going to be, how he was going to refine paranoia to an art. He tried to make light of it, but he's pretty scared."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I honestly don't know. I've been trying to put myself in his place and I just can't do it. I get sick just thinking about it."

"That's good," said Finn. "Keep thinking about it. It'll help you deal with Goldblum when the time comes."

"Yeah. I don't even know the man and I already hate him more than I've ever hated anyone in my entire life."

Finn nodded.

"But then I find myself thinking, perhaps he's really not to blame. What he's done is not the act of a rational man. He's sick, Finn. He's insane."

"Don't leave any room inside yourself for pity," Finn said. "Within the framework of their own insanity, people like that can be very rational, indeed. He's smarter than you are. Otherwise he'd never have made it as a referee. Don't ever make the mistake of underestimating your enemy or feeling sorry for him. That's giving your enemy an advantage over you and Goldblum already has us pretty well outgunned."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Wish to hell we could get our hands on a chronoplate," said Finn. "Let me know if you see any lying around."

"Lousy army," Bobby said.

"It's a living."

Bobby was silent for a moment. "It's more than that for you," he said after a moment. "It's a way of life, isn't it? I can't conceive of myself finishing up my tour of duty and then re-upping. To me, that's crazy."

"I guess maybe it is," said Finn.

"How old are you, Finn?"

"A hundred and six."

Bobby snorted. "I'm only sixty. And Hooker, Christ, nineteen years old! To have to go that young… I wish to God there was some other way."

"So do I," said Finn.

"Why do we do it?"

"I can't come up with any answer better than Lord Tennyson's," said Finn.

"I don't mean that," said Bobby. "I don't mean why do we do it, I mean why continue with these crazy time wars? Considering the risks involved, I just can't understand why they continue. Why can't we just stop it before something really nasty happens?"

"It may already have happened," said Finn. "That's why we're here. As far as stopping it goes, figure out when the arms race started, whenever in hell that was, and ask yourself why they didn't stop it then. Somebody would have had to stop it first. Your trouble is that you're thinking like a rational human being, not like a politician. Go back as far as you like, to the Belter Wars, the nuclear arms race, the first atomic bomb… Okay, we've got the technology and we know how dangerous it is and how dangerous it is to escalate. To continue on the same course would be insane. But if we stop, there's no guarantee that they will stop and so the game of leapfrog continues. The trouble is that the people who make those damn decisions are never the ones most qualified to make them. Back when the time wars started, nobody fully understood the risks. You can't change history, right? You can't change the past, it's absolute. Anything you do back in the past will have to be canceled out one way or another by the inertia of time. And that's correct, but it's only partially correct. It's like I told Lucas before about diverting the river. Follow the analogy. You drop a big rock in the river, you're going to create a splash and make some eddies, which will dissipate in the flow eventually. That's why if you kill some poor redcoat at Breed's Hill, you're not taking much of a risk of changing the course of history."

"Unless you went back to the time of the Revolutionary War and snuffed George Washington," said Bobby.

"True," said Finn, "but nobody believed that was possible. They thought something would have happened to prevent it. But then there were anomalies, such as the Bathurst Incident, which Mensinger cited, the case of the British diplomat in Austria whose carriage dropped him off in an open courtyard. He walked around in front of the horses and simply disappeared, never to be heard from again. It didn't change the course of history, perhaps, but how do you ever really know for sure? Mensinger proved that parallel timelines could exist and that a split timeline will eventually rejoin. You take an even bigger boulder, some huge goddamn piece of rock, and drop it in the river and it will split the river, but the water will flow around the boulder and the twin streams will rejoin, forming a single stream once again. It's what happens during that split that scares the shit out of everybody. That's when they started getting really paranoid, but they were just as paranoid that the other side wouldn't stop if they did. So the Referee Corps got more power, they got really strict about soldiers killed in action… You've got to bring back your dead because you never know just what might happen. You've got to send your Search and Retrieve units back to find your MIAs and you worry like hell when they can't. So you're sitting on a powder keg that could blow up beneath you. Does that worry anybody? Some, but not enough. You give 'em that argument and they'll say that that's what people said about nuclear waste and radioactive fallout, they said it about the hydrogen bomb, they said that sparks from the smokestacks of trains would burn down the countryside, they even predicted that the world would end in violence when the crossbow was invented. And we're all still here."

"So what's the answer?" Bobby said.

Finn laughed. "Well, we could always go back and kill the son of a bitch who invented the crossbow."

He yelped suddenly as an arrow embedded itself in the tree trunk against which he leaned. It pierced his left sleeve, grazing his arm and cutting it.

"Stand and deliver!"

Three men appeared, each holding a drawn longbow pointed in their direction. Both men jumped to their feet, Finn first yanking the arrow free and throwing it down upon the ground furiously.

"It's Little John and Robin," one of the men said, lowering his bow. The other two followed suit.

"Damn, Will, you could've killed him!" one of them said.

"Sorry, John," the one named Will said. "I couldn't see that it was you."

Finn glowered at him. "Come here, you…"

Will Scarlet approached hesitantly. "Now don't get mad, John. Could've happened to anyone, y'know."

Delaney struck him squarely on the jaw and Will Scarlet collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The other two began to back away.

"Stand fast!" said Delaney.

They froze.

"Now, you two eagle-eyed marksmen, I want you to cut me a staff, a nice-sized one, and then you truss up sleeping beauty here and hang him from it like a stag. Then you can carry him to camp that way."

Anxious not to provoke him any further, the two merry men hurried to comply with his orders.

"We're going to start whipping these cretins into shape right now," Delaney said. "Their cozy little forest retreat is about to become Finn Delaney's boot camp!"

Discretion seemed the better part of valor. Although he was tempted to reveal himself at Ashby, Lucas chose to postpone the return of Ivanhoe until a more opportune time. What he needed now was Cedric's protection. Ashby would provide a good opportunity to make it up with his "father," but not during the banquet. His arrival at the feast would have caused quite a stir, especially if he attempted to reclaim his fief and announced that Richard had returned to England, as had been his plan. Such an announcement, he had believed, would have thrown John for a loop. He guessed that the prince would have stalled for time. With many people at the banquet still loyal to Richard, the very people John was determined to win over to his side, Lucas thought that John would have made a show of loyalty himself by returning to Ivanhoe his fief and welcoming his brother's return. It would be so much lip service and nothing more. Returning Ivanhoe's possessions would have been a small sacrifice and a wise political decision. Meanwhile, John would doubtless send armed parties abroad in search of Richard, to find him and to do away with him posthaste. If Lucas could get John to do his job for him, so much the better. And certainly, anyone wishing Ivanhoe ill would not act during the banquet, where there would be so many witnesses. By giving up Rowena and begging Cedric's forgiveness, Lucas was certain that he would reestablish Ivanhoe in his father's good graces. It might not make Rowena very happy, but he would be safer leaving Ashby in the company of an armed party of Saxons. At least, that had been the plan. His growing sense of paranoia made him change it.

Finn was most likely correct in his guess that Goldblum had done away with Richard, rather than holding him prisoner somewhere. Holding the real Richard prisoner might have made for a bargaining point with the referees in case Irving failed, but Lucas was convinced that Irving was not even considering the prospect of failure. He was well ahead in the game and his possession of a chronoplate made the prospect of defeating him highly improbable. Unfortunately, that highly improbable prospect was all they had to look forward to. The alternatives were too frightening to consider.

Somehow, he had to discover where Irving was holed up. Either that, or wait until he made his move. So long as he was on his own, he was an open target. He had to change the course of events that had led to Irving's clocking back with Hooker's body. He did not know if that was possible, but he had to try. The danger was in second guessing himself.

He had fully intended to pursue his original plan. What he did not know was if he had already done so by the time that Hooker died. He thought back to Finn's analogy of dropping boulders in the river of time. His brain was in a muddle. Perhaps, by clocking back with Hooker's body, warning them that the boy would die, Irving had dropped a little boulder in the stream, had caused a tiny split in the timeline. Assuming that Goldblum had killed Hooker, at the time that happened — at some point in the not too distant future relative to where Lucas now was-perhaps Lucas had followed through on his original plan and revealed himself as Ivanhoe at John's banquet. Perhaps it was that event which had led to Hooker's death. What was the absolute past in Irving Goldblum's case?

Whatever had occurred up to the point at which Goldblum had killed Hooker was absolute relative to Irving's position in the timeline at that point. He killed Hooker, then clocked back with his body to confront them with it, to flaunt his superiority in the deadly game. Yet, there had to be a scenario in which Irving had not done that, there had to be. He had to kill Hooker before he could clock back with his body. Therefore, there had to exist an absolute past relative to Irving in which Hooker did not see his own corpse, because Irving had to kill him first before he could travel back into the past to confront them with his body. At the point in time at which Hooker had died, there had to exist a past scenario in which the timeline had been different. Irving had now changed that timeline or split it. The danger in second guessing the split, if there was one, lay in the fact that Lucas had no way of knowing what actions he was to take, which actions he had already taken at the point of Hooker's death. Had he, in fact, followed through on his original plan and announced himself at Prince John's banquet, which event subsequently led to Hooker's death-or had he altered his plan, as he was now doing? Which way would play into Irving Goldblum's hands? Or did it even make a difference?

Trying to solve the riddle gave Lucas a tremendous migraine. Maybe Finn was right. Maybe Hooker's fate was sealed, and with his fate, theirs as well. But if he was to accept that, then what hope could they possibly have of coming out of it alive?

Lucas decided and prayed that he had made the right decision. Without a chronoplate, he had no way of knowing. And if he had one, then things would have been even more confusing. Perhaps it was trying to solve such riddles that had led to Goldblum's insanity. For the first time in his life, Lucas was able to appreciate the difficulties involved in being a referee.

The first thing he had done had been to find a safe place to keep his armor while he was at the banquet. After some consideration, he had decided that the safest person to entrust his gear to was Isaac of York, Rebecca's father. He had already established a cursory sort of relationship with Rebecca and he knew that she did not think of him in the same way as she did the other knights. He had reason to believe that he could trust her. Secondly, he felt that he could trust to Isaac's business sense. What he had done was to send Hooker to Isaac and Rebecca, along with his armor, to use as collateral for a loan. He did not need the loan, but it made for an excellent pretext. They would keep his armor safe, obviously ignorant of its true nature and value, knowing that the interest Isaac demanded on the loan would exceed the price of Hooker and the armor if they sold them in the event of his default. After the banquet, he would simply repay the loan plus interest (which money would come from his winnings at the tournament) and reclaim Hooker and his armor. He felt that this would seem more natural than simply paying them outright to keep it safe for him. In that case, they might grow suspicious and wonder about his reasons for doing so and why he had selected them for the task. This way, as a poor knight errant, was a better way and it served to help keep up appearances.

He had purchased a simple suit of clothing that would enable him to pass for a palmer, a wandering monk who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Even though the banquet was being held by John for his knights and nobles, as well as for the wealthy Saxons, he would not be denied admission in this guise. They would allow him in and feed him, no doubt giving him an unobtrusive place in the banquet hall, which suited him just fine. It would enable him to observe the others without being too noticeable himself.

As he had expected, he was admitted to Ashby and brought into the banquet hall. The steward announced him briefly as a palmer just returned from the Holy Land. John made a curt bow of respect, inclining his head very slightly, and motioned for the steward to seat him. They made a small place for him in the corner of the damp hall and brought him food and drink. His arrival did not pass without comment, however. No sooner was he seated than Athelstane was on his feet, proposing a toast.

"My lords and ladies," the corpulent Saxon shouted, making himself heard above the noise, "the arrival of the holy pilgrim serves to remind us of those gallant hearts fighting to free the Holy Land. I propose a toast. To the strong in arms, be their race or language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions of the Cross!"

Bois-Guilbert rose up then, goblet held high. "To the Knights Templars, then," he said, "who are the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre!"

"And to the Knights Hospitalers, as well," said the Norman abbot, Father Aymer. "I have a brother in their order fighting to defend the Cross."

"I impeach not their fame," conceded Bois-Guilbert.

"What, then," said Rowena, noting her father's frowning countenance and smiling slyly, "were there none in the English army whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple and of St. John?"

"Forgive me, my lady," said Bois-Guilbert. "The English monarch did, indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that land."

"Second to none!" roared Athelstane. He turned in Lucas' direction. "Tell us, holy palmer, were there not gallant knights of English blood second to none who ever drew a sword in defense of the Holy Land?"

All eyes were on Lucas and he rose slowly to his feet, thankful for his cowl and the fact that he was in the shadows. Ivanhoe had been away for quite some time, but surely his own father would know him if he had a clear look at his face. Lucas took a deferential pose as he replied, holding his head slightly lowered as if uncomfortable to be made the focus of attention, which he was, acutely.

"I am but a palmer," he said, "and as such, know little of the way of warfare. Yet I did see when King Richard and five of his knights held a tournament after the taking of St. John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. On that day, each knight ran three courses and cast to the ground three antagonists. Seven of these assailants were Knights of the Temple, as Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert can vouchsafe."

It was one of Wilfred's favorite memories. Under questioning, it had been difficult to get the doped up knight to speak of anything else. He had been quite well pleased with himself.

The Templar did not take that well. He scowled and his hands clenched into fists.

"Their names, good palmer!" shouted Athelstane. "Could you tell us the names of these gallant knights?"

"The first in honor, as in arms, was Richard, King of England," Lucas said. "The Earl of Leicester was the second. Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland was the third."

"A Saxon!" hollered Athelstane, joyfully.

"Sir Foulk Doilly was the fourth," said Lucas.

"A Saxon on his mother's side!" yelled Athelstane, to the growing displeasure of the Normans. "And the fifth? Who was the fifth?"

"Sir Edwin Turneham."

"Saxon, by the soul of Hengist!" Athelstane's voice grew even louder, echoing throughout the hall. "The sixth! Who was the sixth?"

"I fear the sixth knight was one of lesser renown," said Lucas, "whose name dwells not in my memory."

"Sir Palmer," Bois-Guilbert said, tensely, "this assumed forgetfulness after so much has been remembered, comes too late to serve your purpose. I will tell you myself who this knight was, whose good fortune and my horse's fault gave him the victory. It was Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe and there was not one of the six who, for his years, had more renown in arms, as Sir Wilfred would himself be first to tell you. Yet I will tell you this, that were Ivanhoe in England, I would soon demonstrate which of us is second to none in arms and valor!"

"Well, then," said John, smirking, "we shall include Sir Wilfred in our toast, whose absence prevents his answering the challenge. Let all fill to the pledge, and especially Cedric of Rotherwood, the worthy father to so gallant a defender of the Cross."

"No, my lord," said Cedric, turning his goblet upside down upon the table and spilling out his wine. "I will not drink to a disobedient youth who despises my commands and relinquishes the manners and the customs of his fathers!"

"What," said John, "can such a gallant knight be an unworthy son?"

"His name shall not pass my lips," said Cedric. "He left my home to mingle with the nobles at your brother's court, where he learned your Norman ways and tricks of horsemanship. He acted contrary to my wishes and commands and in the days of Alfred, such disobedience as his would have been a crime severely punished! Nor is it my least quarrel with my son that he stooped to hold, as feudal vassal, the very lands which his fathers possessed in free and independent right!"

John smiled. "Then it would seem that we would have your sanction, Cedric, if we were to confer this fief upon a person whose dignity would not be diminished by the holding of it. Sir Maurice De Bracy, will you keep the Barony of Ivanhoe, so that Sir Wilfred shall not further incur Cedric's displeasure by being a feudal vassal of the Crown?"

"By God," said De Bracy, "I'll be called a Saxon before Cedric or Wilfred or the best of English blood shall take away from me this gift, Your Highness!"

"Anyone calling you a Saxon, Sir Maurice," said Cedric, "would be doing you an honor as great as it is undeserved."

"No doubt the noble Cedric speaks the truth," said John. "His race may, indeed, claim precedence over us in the length of their pedigrees. The pictish blue with which his fathers painted themselves doubtless imparted the nobility of color to their veins."

"They do go before us in the field," said Father Aymer, "much as deer go before the dogs."

"And we should not forget their singular abstemiousness and temperance," said De Bracy, chuckling at Athelstane, who stood literally quivering with rage.

"Together with the courage and the conduct by which they distinguished themselves at Hastings and elsewhere," said Bois-Guilbert.

"Whatever be the defects of their race, real or imagined," said the heretofore silent de la Croix, "as one who has had occasion to partake of Saxon hospitality, I can at least vouchsafe that I know no Saxon who, in his own hall and while his own wine cup has been passed, has ever treated an unoffending guest to such a display of discourtesy as I have seen here on this night."

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, broken finally by Cedric, who rose to his feet ponderously.

"My thanks, Sir Knight," he said, controlling his voice with difficulty. "At least there is one among you who does not stoop to use a guest in such a wanton fashion. As for the misfortune of our fathers upon the field of Hastings, those may at least be silent who have within the past few hours once again been tumbled from the saddle by a Saxon lance!"

"By my faith, a biting jest!" said John, laughing. "Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage, become shrewd in wit and bold in bearing in these unsettled times! Alas, I fear it may be best if we were to board our galleys and flee for Normandy in the face of such an uprising!"

"What, for fear of Saxons?" said De Bracy. "We need only shake our hunting spears to set these unruly boars to flight."

"A truce with your raillery, my lords," Fitzurse said. "Perhaps Your Highness would do well to assure the noble Cedric that there has been no insult intended by these good-natured jests."

"Insult?" said Prince John. "No, surely the noble Cedric perceives our humor and knows that I would not permit such insults to be offered in my presence. My lords, I fill my cup and drink to Cedric, since he will not abide our pledging his son's health."

"And to Sir Athelstane of Coningsburgh," Fitzurse said.

The guests all echoed the sentiment and drank, though Cedric and Athelstane remained visibly unappeased.

"Now, good Cedric, noble Athelstane," said John, "since we have drunk your health, is there not some Norman whose mention may at least sully your mouth, so that you might wash down with wine all bitterness?"

Cedric sat silent for a long moment, then at last raised his goblet, having made a great show of filling it.

"I have been asked to name a Norman deserving of all our praise and honor," he said. "This is not an easy task, as it requires a slave to sing the praises of his master. The beaten dog is asked to lick the hand that wields the whip. Yet I will name a Norman. I will name the best and noblest of his race. And those who will refuse to pledge his health, I term false and dishonored. I give you Richard the Lionhearted!"

John, who had been smiling, expecting to be named himself in a show of courtesy, now had the smile freeze upon his face. No one touched their goblets until his hand reached for his and he stood, a bit unsteadily, holding his goblet out before him.

"Richard of England," he said tonelessly. Then, after a pause, "Long may he live."

"Richard of England," echoed the other guests, all save De Bracy and Bois-Guilbert, whose goblets remained untouched upon the table.

Cedric set his goblet down, looking long and hard at Bois-Guilbert and De Bracy.

"I thank you, my lords," he said. "And now, having partaken of your hospitality, I think the time has come for us to leave. Come Athelstane, Rowena… Perhaps these Normans will share some of our Saxon hospitality another time. I warrant they'll find our manner not so courtly, but I doubt our courtesies will suffer by comparison, overwhelming though their own courtesy has been."

As they passed by Lucas on their way out, he lowered his head, bowing low to Cedric.

"If you are on the road to Rotherwood, my lord," he said, "perhaps you would not mind if a poor palmer traveled with you. The hour is getting late and I hear these woods are dangerous at night."

"Come and you are welcome, pilgrim," Cedric said. "As welcome as the news you brought us of your journeys and the sights that you have seen. I find myself sore in need of some diversion on this night."

"It came to pass, just as you said it would," said de la Croix. "Maurice De Bracy was granted the Barony of Ivanhoe by Prince John and the Templar swore to meet with Sir Wilfred when and if he should return to England. I sat in wonder, watching as all came to pass as you predicted."

"Did you doubt me?" Irving said.

As they spoke, Andre was removing her armor, changing one suit for another. Irving was dressed in a black cloak, barely visible in the night where they stood among the trees.

"If I did, I shall not doubt you again," said Andre. "Perhaps, when this is over, you will predict my future. Or, better yet, do not. I am not sure I wish to know."

"I can safely predict that your future will be dim if you fail me tonight," said Irving.

"I will not fail if these men know their work." She glanced at the group of men who stood off at a distance, talking quietly among themselves. They were all equipped with daggers and longbows and dressed in suits of lincoln green.

"They are the pick of Sir Guy's men at arms," said Goldblum. "They will not fail you. Now turn around. Let's have a look at you."

Andre complied, standing erect and turning for his inspection. She was dressed in gold and carrying a shield with a flaming sword upon it.

"Excellent," said Irving. "No one will know you from De Bracy. Tonight's escapade will prove more than the local Saxons can bear. When Normans, aided by the outlaws, start attacking them and carrying off their women, they will eagerly rally to my cause when I come to rescue them from such oppression. You know what is to be done. Now mount up and ride. The Saxons have a fair head start."