The High Crusade by Poul Anderson

Author:Poul Anderson [Anderson, Poul]
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Science fiction, General, Fiction, Fiction - General
ISBN: 9780425062777
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1982-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XJV

Sir Owain landed like some hero of a chanson come to earth. His exploits had not required much effort of him. While buzzing around in the middle of the Wersgor air fleet, he had even heated water over a brazier and shaved. Lithely now he walked, head erect, mailcoat shining, red cloak aflutter in the wind. Sir Roger met him near the knightly tents, battered, filthy, reeking, clotted with blood. His voice was hoarse from shouting. “My compliments, Sir Owain, on a most gallant action.”

The younger man swept him a bow-and changed it most subtly to Lady Catherine’s, as she emerged from our cheering throng. “I could have done no less,” murmured Sir Owain, ‘with a bowstring about my heart.”

The color mounted to her face. Sir Roger’s eyes flickered from one to another. Indeed, they made a fair couple. I saw his hands clench on the haft of his nicked and blunted sword.

“Go to your tent, madame,” he told his wife.

“There is still work to do among the wounded, sire,” she answered.

“You’ll work for anyone but your own husband and children, eh?” Sir Roger made an effort to sneer, but his lip was puffy where a pellet had glanced off the visor of his helmet. “Go to your tent, I say.”

Sir Owain looked shocked. “Those are not words to address a gentlewoman with, sire,” he protested.

“One of your plinking roundels were better?” grunted Sir Roger. “Or a whisper, to arrange an assignation?”

Lady Catherine grew quite pale. She took a long breath before words came. Silence fell upon those persons who stood within earshot. “I call God to witness that I am maligned,” she said. Her gown streamed with the haste of her stride. As she vanished into her pavilion, I heard the first sob.

Sir Owain stared at the baron with a kind of horror. “Have you lost your senses?” he breathed at last.

Sir Roger hunched thick shoulders, as if to raise a burden. ‘Not yet. Let my captains of battle meet with me when they’ve washed and supped. But it might be wisest, Sir Owain, if you would take charge of the camp guard.”

The knight bowed again. It was not an insulting gesture, but it reminded us all how Sir Roger ha transgressed good manners. He departed and took up his duties briskly. A watch was soon set. Thereafter Sir Owain took Branithar on a walk around the blasted Wersgor camp, to examine that equipment which had been far enough away to remain usable, The blueface had-even during the past few busy days-picked up more English. He talked, lamely but with great earnestness, and Sir Owain listened. I glimpsed this in the last dim twilight, as I hurried to the conference, but could not hear what was being said.

A fire burned high, and torches were stuck in the ground. The English chieftains sat around the trestle table with alien constellations winking to life overhead. I heard night sough in the forest. All the men were deathly tired, they slumped on the benches, but their eyes never left the baron.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.