Chapter 5 – Knights of the Andelin #3
“What are you—” Ophele began, and then squealed in surprise as Sir Davi suddenly flung his heavy cloak over her, snatched her up, and started running.
There was a cacophony of honking and hissing and things thumping against her from the other side of the cloak, but Sir Davi was laughing so hard she couldn’t even be afraid.
Through a small gap at the bottom of the cloak, she saw feathers, eyes, and the road passing underfoot surprisingly fast; Sir Davi was a tall man, and even with her over one shoulder, he was loping up the hill like a wolf.
“All right, my lady,” he said after a few moments, setting her down carefully and pulling the cloak off her. “Not hurt anywhere? Good. I think we’ve survived.”
“We have,” she said dubiously. Over his shoulder, Sir Leonin was still fighting his way through a storm of angry geese, his sword arcing grimly through the air as they flew at his head and pecked at his legs. Feathers and blood were flying everywhere.
“Maybe you ought not watch,” said Sir Davi tactfully.
Small feathers were drifting from Sir Leonin’s hair when he finally emerged and there was a purpling welt on his cheek, to say nothing of the injuries probably concealed by his clothing.
Ophele bit her lips as he approached. That might have been her, if they hadn’t reacted so quickly.
He had faced the wrath of the geese for her.
“Thank you,” she said, trying with all her might to face him with respect. “Th-that…looks like it hurt.”
Behind her, Sir Davi exploded into laughter, and she couldn’t help it. Sir Leonin glared at both of them as Ophele sagged down onto the road and howled, covering her mouth with both hands and shaking her head at him helplessly as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I’m…so sorry,” she gasped, laughing wildly. “I really am…so grateful…”
“By the stars, who would have guessed we would be tested so soon?” Sir Davi had to brace himself with his sword to stay upright. “My lady, it is our honor to have faced these foes on your behalf—”
“We are going to be late,” Sir Leonin said stiffly. Ophele made a monumental effort to pull herself together. “My lady, are you quite sure you are unharmed? His Grace will not be pleased if there is so much as a scratch.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” she assured him, and couldn’t help looking back at the milling geese. Their beady black eyes gleamed with malevolence. “Thank you, again. ”
“P’raps His Grace will give us honors for it.” Davi swung his sheathed sword over one shoulder and moved to Ophele’s other side. “Defense of the lady duchess. They can call you the Goose Knight.”
“I will know who to blame if they do,” Sir Leonin said frostily, and Ophele had to chew the inside of her cheek as Sir Davi shot her a naughty look, hurrying toward the town square.
* * *
The guardsman came just after nightfall.
“My lord!” The pounding on the cottage door almost made Ophele drop the teakettle. “My lord, please, they’re back!”
Remin and Ophele had just been settling into their usual evening of tea, research, and correspondence, and Remin stood up from the table and went to the door at once.
“Who?”
“All of them, my lord.” The guard must have run all the way from the gatehouse; his bow was half courtesy, and half an attempt to catch his breath.
“Sir Huber, Sir Ortaire, Squire Rollon, and the squires and builders, and a few other folk, all at the gate. Sir Jinmin is rounding up some more guards so we can open the gate, if it pleases you.”
All of the people that had gone to Ferrede. Ophele set the kettle down and reached automatically for Remin’s hand, even as he reached for her. This meant Ferrede must be all right, didn’t it? If Squire Rollon had come back?
“I want to go,” she breathed, as Remin’s hand squeezed hers almost painfully. He never said it, but she knew it had worried him terribly to send them, especially as the days went by and they had no word. “It will be safe, with all your soldiers to guard the gate, won’t it?”
“We’ll come,” Remin told the guard. “Go and tell Jinmin we’ll be there directly.”
“My lord. My lady.” The guard added a quick bow for Ophele and then sprinted back up the road.
“You want me to go, really?” Ophele asked, casting about for her boots. It seemed like her duty to go and welcome the men back, and she wouldn’t let fear of the devils keep her from doing it. She was the Duchess of Andelin. Remin’s duchess should not be afraid .
“I may send you back.” Remin warned, stomping into his own boots. “If I tell you to go back, you are to run straight here. No arguing, no hesitating, as fast as you can go.”
“I will,” she promised immediately.
“If you disobey me once, I will never let you do something like this again,” he said, pulling his breastplate off its stand and meeting her eyes levelly. “It is that important, little owl.”
That sobered her. Ophele brought him his gauntlets and helped him put them on.
He meant that if he was in danger, he expected her to leave him behind.
And though part of her instinctively rejected this command, Ophele was too sensible to disobey.
Realistically, all she could do in such a situation was distract him, and maybe even get him hurt.
She was not a fighter. She was one that could only listen for the bells.
“I will run if you tell me,” she promised, her hand lingering on his arm. “But…will it be so dangerous?”
“I don’t think so, or I wouldn’t let you come in the first place.
” They had a routine now to putting on his armor, briskly managing the clasps and laces and toggles, Ophele hurrying back and forth from the stand with the pieces as Remin strapped them on.
“And I do think it will do everyone good to see you there. You’re not afraid? It’s all right if you are.”
“No,” she said stoutly. Honestly, she didn’t know if she was or not, but she wanted to try. “You’ll be there. And devils are just like wolves. Ugly wolves.”
“That’s right,” Remin said approvingly, and took her hand. “Keep up.”
He meant it. They went up the street at a run with Yvain and Dol racing behind them, and quick on her feet though she was, Ophele could barely keep pace with him, even in armor.
It was a little more than a mile from their home to the gate, and it felt as if her feet barely touched the ground as they joined the flood of people streaming up the road.
“Wait here,” Remin said, boosting her onto the high front stoop of a workshop near the stables, safely out of the tide of hurrying men. “If you hear me signal, go home at once. Yvain, Dol, I am trusting you to keep her safe.”
“We will, m’lord,” said Dol. Both guards had already drawn their swords, naked steel at the ready .
“It shouldn’t be necessary,” Remin said again, reassuring, and lifted a hand. “Gen! If you please.”
“Be careful, Your Grace,” Ophele said quickly, and his gloved fingers squeezed hers before he left.
It was very exciting. Ophele offered a smile to Genon as the herbman climbed onto the workshop stoop beside her, dressed in rugged leather armor that left him mobile enough to use the medical tools in the pack on his back.
She had complete faith that Remin would never endanger her, so she only watched breathlessly as Remin spoke to Sir Jinmin before the gates, the two men towering head and shoulders over everyone else.
“All right, m’lady?” Genon asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, craning her neck. “Will we actually see a devil, do you think?”
“I certainly hope not,” he said, with his grimacing smile. “The faster they get out there, the less likely it is.”
Ophele was surprised to realize she was disappointed by this. She had been quietly campaigning to be allowed to see the few corpses of the devils collected every morning, either stranglers that had come over the palisade or ghouls too stupid to get out of the sunlight, but so far Remin had refused.
There was no doubt that devils were nearby.
She had never heard them so close before, snarling and slavering, howling wolves both northeast and northwest. From her work, she knew that the devils were attracted to men and men’s things: lights, buildings, livestock, as if they could smell the domestication on a cow.
Maybe they even hated man-things. She was half-convinced they weren’t from this world at all, being so entirely outside the natural order.
They had never been observed to eat or drink, and so far as anyone knew, they did not even breed like normal beasts.
There were no juveniles, and there were no anatomical differences to indicate male or female.
It meant they would certainly seek out the caravan as a man-thing, and beside the great beacon of Tresingale, they would shortly be swarming it.
“Shields!” Remin’s bellow carried all the way back to her, and all the men ranged outward from the gate lifted them, readying themselves.
They were arrayed in multiple lines, circling outward from the gate, a deep defensive perimeter wherein a devil that smashed through one line of defenders would fall straight onto the spears of the next.
Clapping their helmets onto their heads, Remin and Sir Jinmin pushed open the gates.
She couldn’t see. Ophele clutched her skirt in her fingertips, straining on tiptoe as the ring of torchlight widened onto the darkness beyond the gates, the silhouettes of armored men moving rapidly out on either side of their commanders.
Abandoning propriety, she scrambled up onto a nearby hogshead barrel.
When Genon’s hand caught her arm, she thought he was going to make her get down, but he was only bracing her.
“Can you see the caravan, m’lady?”
“Yes. It’s coming up the hill, that must be Sir Huber with the horses,” she said. Her heart went out to the terrified draft animals, helpless in their harnesses as the sounds of the devils rose around them. That wolf howl sounded so very close.
“Any damage to the caravan?” The surgeon sounded relieved.