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FIFTEEN

The cutter was on the beach, right at the mouth of my little ravine, with the ramp out, waiting for us. Boy, you can't imagine how great it was to go aboard her! I didn't feel a bit tired, either! Dirty, wet, and all messed up, but not tired. Mom gave me a big hug, while dad stood behind her, nearly grinning his face in two. Then he shifted us down the beach a way and parked in the ravine I'd found the first day. I spent the next couple of hours telling them what happened to me and finding out what had been going on with them.

And eating, of course. Mom had arranged with Arno, a couple of times, to bring local foods when he came to report. So I had sliced pig meat and eggs, and coarse toasted bread from one of the local grains, with the local version of butter. Frankly, I can't tell the local eggs from what we have on Evdash, and the butter isn't much different, or the bread, as far as that's concerned. But pig meat is something special. It's kind of like kliss, but even more flavorful.

Anyway, what had delayed their finding me was some Norman knights out hunting. Bubba had been halfway to the cutter when their dogs had spotted him and cut him off. They'd chased him all over the countryside and nearly caught him. The hunting dogs operated like a team with their knights, and they knew the country thoroughly. While they were on his trail, he'd had to pretty much forget about the cutter. It took all his attention to escape alive. Several times he'd been very close to getting killed by the dogs or by arrows.

Finally though, when they saw the storm rolling in, the knights had blown their hunting horns, calling in their dogs, and headed for home. It had hailed there, too, and Bubba had taken shelter beneath the uptilted roots of a partially fallen tree that was hung up in a larger one. It had been well along toward dawn when he finally got to the cutter's hiding place, and by then, dad had shifted to the meeting place not far from Roland's castle.

So poor Bubba, tired and footsore, had made the five-mile run there, arriving just as the cutter was disappearing into the clouds again. Dawn was starting to break, and no one had come out to meet them. That meant another five miles back to the little meadow again for Bubba. He'd walked most of the way; he hadn't had much run left in him.

It sounded to me as if his previous twenty hours had been at least as wild and dangerous as mine had been, and a lot more strenuous.

When at last Bubba dragged himself up the ramp, he told mom and dad what had been going on with me. He also said he'd never been so tired before in his whole life. He'd never even imagined being so tired.

Now, though, we had to get back on the track and make some progress on Project Deneen. And dad agreed with me: What we needed to do next was go back and make a deal with Roland. He might be a criminal mentally, but we didn't really see any other choice. And it seemed as if right then was the time to do it. We needed to make contact again before Arno left Roland's castle, if he hadn't already. And while the cloud layer wasn't thick any longer, at least it hadn't started to break up.

So dad lifted again to two miles, which was up in the clouds, and returned to the coordinates of Roland's castle. Then he set slowly down right in the bailey, right in front of the entrance of the manorhouse. Someone must have seen us early and started yelling, because as we lowered, people were running every which way, headed for the nearest or strongest cover. And let me tell you, no one came out, but no one! Not even a hound! The only things moving around were some ducks, geese, and pigs, and even they stayed well away. It was as if the whole place had a guilty conscience and was afraid of us.

Also, they were probably remembering what had happened to the gate, which hadn't been replaced yet, and they'd probably all heard about the dead river pirates.

We didn't do a thing, just waited for them to make the first move. After about five minutes, Father Drogo came out. He walked to about fifteen feet from us, made the sign of the cross, and stopped. I spoke to him with the loud-hailer, the volume turned down low. It seemed to me that just now the most effective approach was to be aloof. They'd probably have more respect for me unseen within the persteel sides of the cutter than as an unarmored kid.

"Is the Baron Roland de Falais still interested in the proposal that was made to him yesterday?" I asked.

I couldn't read Father Drogo's expression. All he said was, "I will see." Then he turned and went back in the house, closing the door behind him.

I hoped the priest wasn't mad about yesterday. (Was it only yesterday? So much had happened since then!) He was the most decent person there, as far as I could see. I mean, I liked Arno, but I really couldn't see him taking a serious risk for me without any apparent profit in it for himself, the way Drogo had.

About a minute later, Roland appeared, with Arno on one side of him and Drogo on the other. Through the loud-hailer, I repeated my question: "Is the Baron Roland de Falais still interested in the proposal that was made to him yesterday? If he says no, we shall not offer it to him again. We will invite Sir Arno to come with us, and we will take it elsewhere."

I felt pretty good about that as I said it. It felt like just the right thing to say. And his answer was a start in the right direction. "I will be happy to ally myself with your lordship," he said. "That is, if this knight"—he indicated Arno—"can come to an agreement with me on leadership and the division of spoils."

I raised the volume of the loud-hailer a bit, to stress that I was the boss here now. "Leadership is for me to assume or assign as I see fit," I replied calmly. "And almost a fortnight ago I chose Sir Arno to gather and lead the Norman force. As for the spoils, I have no interest in that. You do not need an agreement between you yet concerning spoils. I doubt you would keep such an agreement anyway, considering the treachery you undertook yesterday. Divide the spoils when you have them in hand.

"Meanwhile, I am impatient. Make up your mind whether you will be a great lord who commands great armies or a petty lord weeping in his beer over the opportunity he let slip away! Swear fealty to me now, until the enemy warship is ours and my sister is back in my hands, or we will leave."

When I'd finished, I could hardly believe it had been me talking! Larn kel Deroop Rostik, age sixteen, of Carlinton Middle School! I was so taken with my own clever eloquence that I almost missed Roland's answer.

"Very well, my lord," he said. "I do so swear, on the name of our Blessed Savior, in the witness of this priest and this knight."

I remembered then one of the things Brother Oliver had told me: If a knight swears an oath on the Savior or his Blessed Mother, or even on a saint, he will almost certainly keep it, although he may twist it nearly beyond recognition. I felt as if we had an agreement now that could work, but I'd still have to watch out for him.

And it occurred to me that I'd had no such oath from Arno! We'd just sort of gone along on a gentlemen's agreement! But I wouldn't ask for an oath from him in front of Roland. That would have to wait until we were alone. Otherwise, the baron would think I was stupid for not getting one sooner.

What we did next was agree where Arno and Roland would go next in recruiting. I explicitly put Arno in charge of that, too. Roland obviously wasn't too happy about it, but he didn't argue. I suspected that, if and when they had a corvette in their hands, one of them would give the other the ax, or maybe a dagger under the ribs.

But meanwhile, it actually looked as if they'd both pull more or less together up to that point.

 

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