“At dawn it will, when her human soul awakens,” said the priest. “Then she will indeed need comforting.”
“Well,” said Holger, “nothing too serious ever happened. Her father can pay compensation to the people who suffered loss and the parents whose kids were injured. Start her off for Vienne as soon as possible. I daresay a hundred miles would be quite far enough for safety. No one in the Empire has to know.”
Raoul, with a black eye, threw himself at Sir Yve’s feet while Odo, with a bloody nose, fumbled to release the knight and his son. “Master, forgive us,” the peasant begged.
Yve made a weary smile. “I fear ’tis I must ask your forgiveness. And yours above all, Sir ’Olger.”
Raimberge lifted her wet face. “Take me off,” she stammered. “I, I, I feel the darkness returning. Lock me away till dawn. “She held out her arms for the ropes taken off her father. “Tomorrow, Sir Knight, I can truly thank you… who saved my soul from hell.”
Frodoart embraced Holger’s knees. “The Defender is come,” he said.
“Oh, Lord!” protested the Dane. “Please, lay off that nonsense. I mean, I hate emotional scenes and I only came here to bum a meal. But could I have some wine first?”
15
BESIDES THE NEED for haste, to get expert advice before Morgan le Fay thought up a new devilment, Holger felt embarrassed in Lourville. Yve’s family were grateful and so forth, but they didn’t need further intrusions on their privacy at such a difficult time. The commoners were rather overwhelming; he couldn’t venture out of the house without being mobbed by his admirers. Lady Blancheflor asked that he lay hands on her, and within hours she was on her feet. She’d been due to recover anyway, her influenza past the crisis, but Holger could foresee every case of measles and rheumatism for ten miles around being brought to him.
So, what with one thing and another, he only stayed one day, and made an early start on the next. Sir Yve insisted on presenting Alianora with a horse, and this was welcome. Some money would have been even more welcome, but of course no belted knight could bring up so crass a subject.
The next several days were pleasant. They drifted through hills and valleys and forests, sheltering when it rained, pausing at lakes to fish and swim. Now and then they glimpsed the white shape of a woods-fay, or a griffin hot and golden against the sun; but the Middle Worlders let them alone.
To be sure, Alianora, though a fine and lovely girl, had some drawbacks as a traveling companion. The self-cleaning, self-renewing properties of her swan tunic disconcerted Holger: too much like an actual skin growing on her. Then she peeled it innocently off at the first swimming hole and disconcerted him a good deal more. Her forest friends showed up from time to time, and a squirrel with an offering of fruits was okay; but when a lion stalked into camp and laid a fresh-killed deer at her feet, Holger’s nerves didn’t untwist for half an hour afterward. Worse was the moral necessity of giving her a full and fair account of himself, his origin and intentions. Not that she wasn’t quick to understand—but—
The real trouble was her own attitude toward him. Damn it, he did not want to compromise himself with her. A romp in the hay with someone like Meriven or Morgan was one thing. Alianora was something else. An affair with her wouldn’t be good for either party, when he meant to leave this world the first chance he got. But she made it hard for him to remain a gentleman. She was so shyly and pathetically hoping for an affair.
One evening he drew Hugi aside. He’d just spent an hour kissing Alianora goodnight, and had needed all his willpower—or won’t power—to stop at that and pack her off to sleep. “Look,” he said, “you know what’s going on with me and her.”
“Aye, so I do,” grinned the dwarf. “And a guid thing ’tis. She’s dwelt too long wi’ no near friends save beasties and the wee folk.”