Karl Edward Wagner - Sing a Last Song of Valdese

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Sing A Last Song Of Valdese

Karl Edward Wagner

The Girl Beneath the Oak

"Reverence! Hold up a moment!" The burly priest drew rein in a swirl of autumn

leaves. Calloused fingers touched the plain hilt of the sword strapped to his

saddle as his cowled head bent in the direction of her call.

Raven-black hair twining in the autumn wind, the girl stepped out from the

gnarled oaks that shouldered the mountain trail. Bright black eyes smiled up

at him from her wide-browed, strong-boned face. Her mouth was wide as well,

and smiled.

"You ride fast this evening reverence."

"Because the shadows grow deeper, and I have a good way to ride to reach the

inn ahead." His voice was impatient.

"There's an inn not more than a mile from here." She swayed closer, and he saw

how her full figure swelled against her long-skirted dress.

The priest followed her gesture. Just ahead the trail forked, the left winding

alongside the mountain river the right cutting along the base of the ridge.

While the river road bore signs of regular travel, the other trail showed an

aspect of disuse. Toward this the girl was pointing.

"That trail leads toward Rader," he told her, shifting in his saddle. "My

business is in Carrasahl.

"Besides," he added "I was told the inn near the fork of the road had long

been abandoned. Few have cause to travel to Rader since the wool fair was

shifted south to Enseljos."

"The old inn has lately been reopened."

"That may be. But my path lies to Carrasahl."

She pouted. "I was hoping you might carry me with you to the inn yonder."

"Climb up and I'll take you to the inn on the Carrasahl road."

"But my path lies to Rader."

The priest shrugged thick shoulders beneath his cassock. "Then you'd best be

going."

"But reverence," her voice pleaded. "It will be dark long before I reach the

inn, and I'm afraid to walk this trail at night. Won't you take me there on

your horse? It won't take you far from your way, and you can lodge the night

there just as well."

Shadows were lengthening, merging into dusk along the foot of the ridges. The

declining sun shed only a dusty rubrous haze across the hilltops, highlighting

tall hardwoods already fired by autumn's touch. Streaked with mist, the

valleys beyond were swallowed in twilight.

Night was fast overtaking him, the rider saw. He recalled the warnings of

villagers miles behind, who for his blessing had given him food and sour wine.

They had answered his questions concerning the road ahead, then warned him to

keep to the trail if night caught him and on no account make camp by himself.

The priest had not been certain whether they warned him of robbers or some

darker threat.

His horse stamped impatiently.

"I could make it worth your while to ride out of your way."

About to ride off, he glanced back down at her. Her smile was impish. Hidden

by the cowl, his face could not be read.

She touched the ties of her embroidered bodice. "I would see that you had a

most pleasant stay at Vald's Cove Inn, reverence." There was witchery in her

voice. The bodice loosened, parted across her breasts.

"Though I can't see your face, I can see there's a man beneath that priest's

cassock. Would you like to enjoy a mountain flower tonight? You'll remember

her sweetness when you grow old in some musty temple."

Her breasts were firm and well shaped. Against their whiteness the tan flesh

of her nipples matched the color of the swirling oak leaves.

Whatever his interest in her, the priest carried gold beneath his robe. The

girl's eagerness to draw him onto a little-frequented trail aroused deep

suspicion.

"The lure of wanton flesh is nothing to a priest of Thoem," he intoned,

"Then bugger yourself!" she spat, and lunged with a shrill scream for his

horse's face. Sharp claws raked blood across his nose.

Already nervous, the horse screamed and reared. Caught by surprise, the priest

lost his stirrups. Cassock flapping about his limbs, he scrambled for balance,

then was thrown from the terrified mount. He fell heavily, somehow landing

half on his feet, and cursed as his ankle turned under him.

The rearing horse bolted down the trail, took the right fork toward Rader, and

disappeared. With mocking laughter, the girl ran after.

Limping badly, the priest stumbled after her, cursing with blasphemous

invective. But the darkness quickly swallowed the flash of her white legs,

though her laughter taunted him invisibly still.

The Inn by the Side of the Road

The lights of the inn were smoky yellow through the thick, leaded panes. The

night winds caught the smoke and smell of horses, drove it down the road to

Rader, so that the priest came upon the inn all at once.

He noted the many horses tethered in the outlying stables. There were a number

of travellers at the inn tonight, and it seemed less likely that the girl

meant to lead him into a trap. Or had her confederates lain in wait along the

trail, probably they were content to steal his horse and gear. The priest

swore angrily, decided he had been too suspicious.

His ankle stabbed with pain, but at least it bore his weight. His boots had

probably prevented worse injury. He damned the voluminous grey cassock as it

flapped about his trousered legs. It was slitted front and back from ankle to

midthigh, and while that enabled him to straddle a horse, he blamed the clumsy

garment for his fall.

The two-storey square log structure was a welcome sight. The autumn night grew

chill; mist flowed like waves across the ridges. A night spent in the open

would be uncomfortable at best. Worse, he bad been warned of danger, and his

sword was strapped to his saddle somewhere in the darkened hills.

A sign hung over the door: Vald's Cove Inn. The carving seemed of recent work,

the priest noted as he climbed up to the door. The latch was not out, though

the hour was not late, Hearing voices within, he knocked loudly.

He was about to knock a third time, when the door was opened. Light and voices

and the smell of warmth spilled out into the night.

A narrow, beardless face frowned out at him from the half-open doorway.

"Who... what do you want... reverence?" His voice was thin and nervous, and he

spoke in half-whisper.

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