Daughter of Regals (26 page)

I bore my burden direct
to the Red Horse, where many of the men in the village were gathered, as was
their custom in the evening. Giving no heed to their surprise, I thrust open
the door, bore Crest into the aleroom, and dropped him there on a table among
the tankards. He groaned in his slumber; but to him, also, I gave no heed.

“Hear me well,” I said
to the silence about me. “I am Mardik the blacksmith, and if Creet cannot stand
against me then no man in this village can hope otherwise. Now I say this: the
Lady in White is mine. From this moment forth, no other man will follow her. If
your sons see her, lock them in their rooms and stand guard at the door. If
your brothers behold her, bind them hand and foot. If your friends are taken
with the sight of her, restrain them with shackles of iron. And if you wish to
go to her—why, then, tell your wives or your maidens or your mothers to club
you senseless. For the Lady in White kills whom she does not keep. And I will
be no more gentle to those who dare cross my way. The Lady in White is mine!”

Still there was silence
for a moment in the aleroom. Then Pandeler the weaver rose to his feet and met
my gaze with his grief for Paoul his son. “Will you kill her, then, Mardik the
blacksmith?” he said.

“Pandeler,” I said, “I
will do with her whatever seems good to me.”

I would have gone on to
say that whatever I did no more young men of the village would lose their
lives; but before I could speak, another man came forward to face me, and I saw
that he was Gruel the mad priest. His habit was all of black, and his long gray
beard trembled with passion, and his boney hands clung to the silver crucifix
which hung about his neck. “She is the bride of Satan!” he said, fixing me with
his wild eye. “Your soul will roast in Hell!”

“God’s blood!” I roared
in answer. “Then it will be my soul that roasts, and not the souls of innocent
calves who cannot so much as say aye or nay to their own mothers!” Then I left
the aleroom and flung shut the door of the Red Horse so that the boards
cracked.

Returning homeward, I
found our hut all in darkness; and for a moment there was a fear in me that
Festil had gone again into the Deep Forest. But then I recalled that Festil my
brother had no need of light. I entered the hut and found him in his bed, awake
in the night. When I opened his door, he said, “Mardik,” knowing me without
doubt, for in the darkness he was no more blind than I.

“Festil,” I said. “Again
I failed.”

“It was very fearsome,”
he said; and in his voice I heard two things that surprised me—sorrow and a
wish to console me. “Do not reproach yourself.”

“Festil,” I said again.
My own voice was stern, There was a great need in me for the knowledge he could
give. “What is that creature?”

“A test, my brother,” he
said softly. “Only a test.”

“A test,” I echoed. Then
I said, “A test you did not fail.”

After a moment, he
breathed, “Aye.” And again there was sorrow in his voice—sorrow for me.

“How?” I demanded. My
need for knowledge was great.

“I—” he began, then fell
silent. But I waited grimly for him; and after a time he brought himself to
speak. “I knelt before the creature,” he said, and he was whispering, “and I
said, ‘Work your will, demon. I do not fear you, for I love your Lady, and you
cannot harm my heart.’ And then the creature was gone, and I remained.” But
then of a sudden his voice became stronger, and he cried out, “Mardik, you must
not ask these things! It is wrong of me to speak of them. It is not a kindness
to you—or to the Lady. You must meet each test in your own way, else all that
you endure will have no purpose.”

“Do not fear, Festil my
brother,” I said. “I will meet that creature in my own way, be it beast or
demon.” That was a promise I made to myself and to the fear which the creature
had given me. “Yet I must ask you to tell me of the other tests.”

“I must not!” he
protested.

“Yet I must ask,” I said
again. “Festil, young men are slain in that cottage, and it needs but little to
make even old men follow the Lady to their graves. I cannot prevent their
deaths if I cannot gain my way to speak with her.”

“Is that your reason?”
he asked; and now the sorrow was thick and heavy in his voice. “Is that why you
will return to her?”

Then I answered openly
because I could not lie to that sound in my brother’s voice. “For that reason,
and for the reason of your blindness. But if I lacked such reasons, yet I would
go, for I desire the Lady in White with a desire that consumes me.”

Still he was silent; but
I knew now that he would tell me all he could without false kindness. And at
last he said softly, “There is a woman. You must find some answer to her need.
And then there is a door.” Beyond that he could not speak.

But it sufficed for me.
The thing I feared was a multitude of those screaming creatures; but now I
knew there was but one. Therefore I was confident. Surely I could satisfy one
woman. And as to the door—why, one door did not daunt me. I thanked Festil for
his help and left him there in the darkness and spent the night planning for
the day to come.

And in the dawn I left
to carry out my will. I took a satchel of food with me, for I did not mean to
return to the village until I had won or lost, and if I failed a test I would
perforce remain in the dell until the next day to try again. Bearing the
satchel on my shoulder, I went to Leadenfoot and lead him from the stables to
my smithy, where I harnessed him to my wagon. Then into the wagon I placed all
that I might need—hammers, an anvil, nails, chisels, rope, a small forge of my
own making, an urn of banked coals for fire, a saddle and bridle for
Leadenfoot, awls, a saw, shears, tongs, an axe, wood and charcoal— everything
that need or whim suggested to me. And to all this I added a pitchfork—a stout
implement with tempered tines which I had made especial for a doughty farmer who
broke other pitchforks the way some men break axehafts. Then I was ready. I
climbed up to the wagonbench, took the reins, released the brake, and went out
through the village toward the old road and the Deep Forest.

I did not depart
unnoticed, though the hour was yet early. My wagon does not roll quietly—it is
well known that wheelwrights and blacksmiths do not tend their wagons as well
as other men—and the squeal of the single-trees told all within earshot of my
passing. Families came from their huts to see me go. But they did not speak,
and I did not speak, and soon I was beyond them among the verges of the woods.

The Deep Forest was dim
in the early light, and the noise of my wagon roused huge flocks of birds that
cried out in anger at my intrusion. But I was content with their outrage. They
were creatures of this dense and brooding wood; but I was not. I was Mardik the
blacksmith, and I was on my way to teach the Lady in White the meaning of my
desire. If the ravens of doom had come to bark about my ears, I would not have
been dismayed.

Also I was patient. My
wagon was slow, and Leaden-foot had no love for this work; but the pace did not
dishearten me. There was a long day before me, and I did not doubt that the
Lady would be waiting.

And yet in all my
preparation and all my confidence, there was one thought that disquieted me.
Festil my brother had gone to the dell and the cottage armed with naught but
one white rose—and yet he had contrived to surpass me in the testing. “Aye, and
for reward he lost his sight,” I answered my doubt. It was not my intent to
become another blind man.

Thus it was that I came
forewarned and forearmed to the branching of the old road late in the sunlight
of morning and took it to the grassy and beflowered dell that cupped the
witch-work cottage of the Lady in White.

There I tethered
Leadenfoot, allowing him to crop the grass as he chose, and set about readying
myself to approach the red door. From my satchel I removed the food, storing
it under the wagonbench. Then into the satchel I placed all the tools and
implements that were most like to be of use—rope, hammer, chisels, awls, nails,
saw, shears, tongs. With that load heavy on my shoulder, I took the pitchfork
in my right hand, hefted it a time or twain to be certain of its balance. I did
not delay; I am not a man who hesitates. I addressed that safe-seeming red door
and knocked at it with the haft of the pitchfork.

For the third time, it
opened inward to my knock. And for the third time, I saw no one within, heard
no one approach or depart.

I entered warily, alert
for the creature of flame and fury. But all within that strange door was as I
had seen it twice before. The stone hall stretched before me like the forecourt
of an immense keep, far dwarfing the cottage that seemed to contain it. The
huge logs in the great hearth burned brightly, and the sunlight slanted through
the high windows. The pennons of the dead hung from the walls— but if they hung
in derision of foolhardiness or in tribute to valor I did not know. And there
in the center of the floor stood the small gilt-work table with the silver
tray.

I strode warily through
echoes to the table; and when I gained it I saw on the tray the knife that I
had made— my gift. Mayhap the Lady in White had declined to accept it. Or
mayhap it had been left there as a sign that the way beyond the table was open
for me. This I did not know also. But I did not delay to make the trial. I
settled the satchel upon my shoulder, clenched the haft of the pitchfork, and
stepped around the table.

So I learned that my
gift had not been refused, for I did not find myself without the cottage with
the door locked against me. At once, my warmness grew keener. I walked on
toward the arched entryway at the far end of the hall, but I walked slowly. I
believe I did not breathe, so strong was my caution and my waiting.

And then it came again,
the scream that rent the air and echoed in the dim hall and chilled my blood in
the warmest places of my heart. A cold wind blew, and the air became full of
shadows. And the creature that made the screaming came down the wide stairs
from the upper levels with its broadsword upraised and its eyes aflame ‘with
murder.

I dropped my satchel,
turned to face the demon.

Again it filled me with
fear, and again it would have not shamed me to say that I had been unmanned.
But I had found the thing of iron within me now, and I was prepared.

As the creature ran
screaming across the floor toward my throat, I swung with all my strength,
hurling the pitchfork like a handful of spears.

The tines bit the chest
of the creature and sank deep. Such was the force of my throw that the creature
was stricken backward, despite its speed. Its broadsword fell in a clatter
against the stone, and the creature itself lay writhing for a moment on the
floor, plucking weakly at the metal in its chest. Then on an instant it seemed
to me that the creature was not a demon at all, but rather a woman in a white
robe. And then the creature was gone, vanished utterly, taking broadsword and
pitchfork with it. I was left alone in the great hall, with the logs that no
man could lift ablaze in the hearth.

“God’s blood!” muttered
I to myself. But swiftly I shook off the wonder. I had not come so far to be unmanned
by wonder. I lifted my satchel and walked away toward the arched entryway; and
my stride was the stride of Mardik the blacksmith, strong and sure.

But beyond that arch
matters were not so certain. The entryway led to halls and chambers of great
complication, and there were many passages and doors that I might choose. All
were various, some spare and others sumptuous, and all had the appearance of
habitation, as if the lordly people of this castle had left it only briefly and
would return; but all were made of gray stone and told me nothing of the Lady
in White. For a time,, I wandered hither and thither, making no progress. When
I came upon one of the high windows, I could see by the sun that midday was passing.

Then in vexation I
stopped where I was and gave thought to my situation. I was in need of
direction. But in this amazed place, east and west, inward and outward had no
meaning. Therefore I must either climb or descend. And because that fell
creature with the broadsword had come from the upper levels. I chose to go
downward. Then at last I was able to advance, for there were many stairways,
and many of them went down into the depths of this prodigious keep.

So I descended, stair
beyond stair; and the air became dark about me. Torches burned in sconces in
the walls to light the passages—burned and did not appear to be consumed—but
they were few and the halls were many. Therefore I took one of the torches, a
brand the length of my arm, and bore it with me; and so I was able to continue
my descent.

Then of a sudden I came
upon a chamber bright-lit and spacious, its walls behung with rich tapestries
depicting I knew not what heraldic or sorcerous legends. And there in the
center stood a low couch. And there on the couch lay a woman in black.

She turned her head
toward me as I entered; but at first my eyes were unaccustomed to the
brightness, and I could not see her well. “Ah, man!” she hailed me, and her
voice was the voice of a woman in need. “Rescuer! I beg of you—redeem me from
my distress!”

“What is your need,
woman?” said I, seeking to clear my sight. But I knew already the name of her
need. I had heard that need often before in the voices of women, and I saw no
harm in it. I was prepared to answer it, for the sake of the Lady in White and
her testing.

“Ah, man!” she said to
me in pleading. “I am loveless and alone. Life is a long misery, and there is no
joy for me, for I am scorned and reviled everywhere. Help me, o man! for surely
I can endure no more.”

That had an unsavory
sound to it; but still I was undaunted. I moved closer to her, blinking
against the brightness.