Glory Road by Robert A. Heinlein

I mulled it over. “Then why are you here, Rufo?”

“Milord?”

“You can cut the ‘sirs’ down to one an hour. Why are you here? If your estimate is correct, your one sword and one bow can’t affect the outcome. She gave you a fair chance to chicken out. So what is it? Pride? Or are you in love with her?”

“Oh, my God, no!”

Again I saw Rufo really shocked. “Excuse me,” he went on. “You caught me with my guard down.” He thought about it. “Two reasons, I suppose. The first is that if Jock allows us to parley–well. She is quite a talker. In the second place”–he glanced at me–“I’m superstitious, I admit it. You’re a man with luck. I’ve seen it. So I want to be close to you even when reason tells me to run. You could fall in a cesspool and–”

“Nonsense. You should hear my hard-luck story.”

“Maybe in the past. But I’m betting the dice as they roll.” He shut up.

A bit later I said, “You stay here.” I speeded up and joined Star. “Here are the plans,” I told her. “When we get there, you stay out on the road with Rufo. I’m going in alone.”

She gasped. “Oh, milord! No!”

“Yes.”

“But–”

“Star, do you want me back? As your champion?”

“With all my heart!”

“All right. Then do it my way.”

She waited before answering. “Oscar–”

“Yes, Star.”

“I will do as you say. But will you let me explain before you decide what you will say?”

“Go on.”

“In this world, the place for a lady to ride is by her champion. And that is where I would want to be, my Hero, when in peril. Especially when in peril. But I’m not pleading for sentiment, nor for empty form. Knowing what I now know I can prophesy with certainty that, if you go in first, you will die at once, and I will die–and Rufo–as soon as they can chase us down. That will be quickly, our mounts are tired. On the other hand, if I go in alone–”

“No.”

“Please, milord. I was not proposing, it. If I were to go in alone, I would be almost as likely to die at once as you would be. Or perhaps, instead of feeding me to the pigs, be would simply have me feed the pigs and be a plaything of the pig boys–a fate merciful rather than cold justice in view of my utter degradation in returning without you. But the Doral is fond of me and I think he might let me live . . . as a pig girl and no better than pigs. This I would risk if necessary and wait my chance to escape, for I cannot afford pride; I have no pride, only necessity.” Her voice was husky with tears.

“Star, Star!”

“My darling!”

“Huh? You said–”

“May I say it? We may not have much time. My Hero . . . my darling.” She reached out blindly, I took her hand; she leaned toward me and pressed it to her breast.

Then she straightened up but kept my hand. “I’m all right now. I am a woman when I least expect it. No, my darling Hero, there is only one way for us to go in and that is side by side, proudly. It is not only safest, it is the only way I would wish it–could I afford pride. I can afford anything else. I could buy you the Eiffel Tower for a trinket, and replace it when you broke it. But not pride.”

“Why is it safest?”

“Because he may–I say ‘may’–let us parley. If I can get in ten words, he’ll grant a hundred. Then a thousand. I may be able to heal his hurt.”

“All right. But–Star, what did I do to hurt him? I didn’t! I went to a lot of trouble not to hurt him.”

She was silent a while, then–“You are an American.”

“What’s that got to do with it? Jock doesn’t know it.”

“It has, perhaps, everything to do with it. No, America is at most a name to the Doral for, although he has studied the Universes, he has never traveled. But–You will not be angry with me again?”

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