“What of yourself, Sir Corey?” he inquired.
“I’ve already eaten, while you were asleep.” I looked about me, significantly. He smiled.
“. . . And you knocked off all six of them by yourself?” I said. He nodded.
“Good show. What am I going to do with you now?”
He tried to see my face, failed. “I do not understand,” he said.
“Where are you headed?”
“I have friends,” he said, “some five leagues to the north. I was going in that direction when this thing happened. And I doubt very much that any man, or the Devil himself, could bear me on his back for one league. ’An I could stand, Sir Corey, you’d a better idea as to my size.”
I rose, drew my blade, and felled a sapling—about two inches in diameter—with one cut. Then I stripped it and hacked it to the proper length.
I did it again, and with the belts and cloaks of dead men I rigged a stretcher.
He watched until I was finished, then commented:
“You swing a deadly blade. Sir Corey—and a silver one, it would seem . . .”
“Are you up to some traveling?” I asked him. Five leagues is roughly fifteen miles.
“What of the dead?” he inquired.
“You want to maybe give them a decent Christian burial?” I said. “Screw them! Nature takes care of its own. Let’s get out of here. They stink already.”
“I’d like at least to see them covered over. They fought well.”
I sighed.
“All right, if it will help yon to sleep nights. I haven’t a spade, so I’ll build them a cairn. It’s going to be a common burial, though.”
“Good enough,” he said.
I laid the six bodies out, side by side. I heard him mumbling something, which I guessed to be a prayer for the dead.
I ringed them around with stones. There were plenty of stones in the vicinity, so I worked quickly, choosing the largest so that things would go faster.
That is where I made a mistake. One of them must have weighed around four hundred pounds, and I did not roll it. I hefted it and set it in place.
I heard a sharp intake of breath from his direction, and I realized that he had noted this. I cursed then:
“Damn near ruptured myself on that one!” I said, and I selected smaller stones after that.
When I had finished, I said, “All right. Are you ready to move?”
“Yes.”
I raised him in my arms and set him on the stretcher. He clenched his teeth as I did so.
“Where do we go?” I asked.
He gestured.
“Head back to the trail. Follow it to the left until it forks. Then go right at that place. How do you propose to . . . ?”
I scooped the stretcher up in my arms, holding him as you would a baby, cradle and all. Then I turned and walked back to the trail, carrying him.
“Corey?” he said.
“Yes?”
“You are one of the strongest men I have ever met—and it seems I should know you.”
I did not answer him immediately. Then I said, “I try to keep in good condition. Clean living and all.”
“. . . And your voice sounds rather familiar.”
He was staring upward, still trying to see my face. I decided to get off the subject fast.
“Who are these friends of yours I am taking you to?”
“We are headed for the Keep of Ganelon.”
“That ratfink!” I said, almost dropping him.
“While I do not understand the word you have used, I take it to be a term of opprobrium,” he said, “from the tone of your voice. If such is the case, I must be his defender in—”
“Hold on,” I said. “I’ve a feeling we’re talking about two different guys with the same name. Sorry.” Through the stretcher, I felt a certain tension go out of him.
“That is doubtless the case,” he said.
So I carried him until we reached the trail, and there I turned to the left.
He dropped off to sleep again, and I made better time after that, taking the fork he had told me about and sprinting while he snored. I began wondering about the six fellows who had tried to do him in and almost succeeded. I hoped that they did not have any friends beating about the bushes.