Simak,Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman,The

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

Title : The Fellowship of the Talisman

Author : Clifford D. Simak

Original copyright year: 1978

Genre : science fiction

Comments : to my knowledge, this is the only available e-text of this book

Source : scanned and OCR-read from a paperback edition with Xerox

TextBridge Pro 9.0, proofread in MS Word 2000.

Date of e-text : February 20, 2000

Prepared by : Anada Sucka

======================================================================

The Fellowship of the Talisman

Clifford D. Simak

1

The manor house was the first undamaged structure they had seen in two days

of travel through an area that had been desolated with a thoroughness at once

terrifying and unbelievable.

During those two days, furtive wolves had watched them from hilltops. Foxes,

their brushes dragging, had skulked through underbrush. Buzzards, perched on

dead trees or on the blackened timbers of burned homesteads, had looked upon

them with speculative interest. They had met not a soul, but occasionally, in

thickets, they had glimpsed human skeletons.

The weather had been fine until noon of the second day, when the soft sky of

early autumn became overcast, and a chill wind sprang from the north. At times

the sharp wind whipped icy rain against their backs, the rain sometimes mixed

with snow.

Late in the afternoon, topping a low ridge, Duncan Standish sighted the

manor, a rude set of buildings fortified by palisades and a narrow moat. Inside

the palisades, fronting the drawbridge, lay a courtyard, within which were

penned horses, cattle, sheep, and hogs. A few men moved about in the courtyard,

and smoke streamed from several chimneys. A number of small buildings, some of

which bore the signs of burning, lay outside the palisades. The entire place had

a down-at-heels appearance.

Daniel, the great war-horse, who had been following Duncan like a dog, came

up behind the man. Clopping behind Daniel came the little gray burro, Beauty,

with packs lashed upon her back. Daniel lowered his head, nudged his master's

back.

"It's all right, Daniel," Duncan told him. "We've found shelter for the

night."

The horse blew softly through his nostrils.

Conrad came trudging up the slope and ranged himself alongside Duncan.

Conrad was a massive man. Towering close to seven feet, he was heavy even for

his height. A garment made of sheep pelts hung from his shoulders almost to his

knees. In his right fist he carried a heavy club fashioned from an oak branch.

He stood silently, staring at the manor house.

"What do you make of it?" asked Duncan.

"They have seen us," Conrad said. "Heads peeking out above the palisades."

Side 1

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"Your eyes are shaper than mine," said Duncan. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, m'lord."

"Quit calling me 'my lord.' I'm not a lord. My father is the lord."

"I think of you as such," said Conrad. "When your father dies, you will be a

lord."

"No Harriers?"

"Only people," Conrad told him.

"It seems unlikely," said Duncan, "that the Harriers would have passed by

such a place."

"Maybe fought them off. Maybe the Harriers were in a hurry."

"So far," said Duncan, "from our observations, they passed little by. The

lowliest cottages, even huts, were burned."

"Here comes Tiny," said Conrad. "He's been down to look them over."

The mastiff came loping up the slope and they waited for him. He went over

to stand close to Conrad. Conrad patted his head, and the great dog wagged his

tail. Looking at them, Duncan noted once again how similar were the man and dog.

Tiny reached almost to Conrad's waist. He was a splendid brute. He wore a wide

leather collar in which were fastened metal studs. His ears tipped forward as he

looked down at the manor. A faint growl rumbled in his throat.

"Tiny doesn't like it, either," Conrad said.

"It's the only place we've seen," said Duncan. "It's shelter. The night will

be wet and cold."

"Bedbugs there will be. Lice as well."

The little burro sidled close to Daniel to get out of the cutting wind.

Duncan shucked up his sword belt. "I don't like it, Conrad, any better than

you and Tiny do. But there is a bad night coming on."

"We'll stay close together," Conrad said. "We'll not let them separate us."

"That is right," said Duncan. "We might as well start down."

As they walked down the slope, Duncan unconsciously put his hand beneath his

cloak to find the pouch dangling from his belt. His fingers located the bulk of

the manuscript. He seemed to hear the crinkle of the parchment as his fingers

touched it. He found himself suddenly enraged at his action. Time after time,

during the last two days, he'd gone through the same silly procedure, making

sure the manuscript was there. Like a country boy going to a fair, he told

himself, with a penny tucked in his pocket, thrusting his hand again and again

into the pocket to make sure he had not lost the penny.

Having touched the parchment, again he seemed to hear His Grace saying,

"Upon those few pages may rest the future hope of mankind." Although, come to

think of it, His Grace was given to overstatement and not to be taken as

seriously as he sometimes tried to make a person think he should be. In this

instance, however, Duncan told himself, the aged and portly churchman might very

well be right. But that would not be known until they got to Oxenford.

And because of this, because of the tightly written script on a few sheets

of parchment, he was here rather than back in the comfort and security of

Standish House, trudging down a hill to seek shelter in a place where, as Conrad

had pointed out, there probably would be bedbugs.

Side 2

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"One thing bothers me," said Conrad as he strode along with Duncan.

"I didn't know that anything ever bothered you."

"It's the Little Folk," said Conrad. "We have seen none of them. If anyone,

they should be the ones to escape the Harriers. You can't tell me that goblins

and gnomes and others of their kind could not escape the Harriers."

"Maybe they are frightened and hiding out," said Duncan. "If I am any judge

of them, they'd know where to hide."

Conrad brightened visibly. "Yes, that must be it," he said.

As they drew closer to the manor, they saw their estimation of the place had

not been wrong. It was far from prepossessing. Ramshackle was the word for it.

Here and there heads appeared over the palisades, watching their approach.

The drawbridge was still up when they reached the moat, which was a noisome

thing. The stench was overpowering, and in the greenish water floated hunks of

corruption that could have been decaying human bodies.

Conrad bellowed at the heads protruding over the palisades. "Open up," he

shouted. "Travelers claim shelter."

Nothing happened for a time, and Conrad bellowed once again. Finally, with

much creaking of wood and squealing of chains, the bridge began a slow, jerky

descent. As they crossed the bridge they saw that there stood inside a motley

crowd with the look of vagabonds about them, but the vagabonds were armed with

spears, and some carried makeshift swords in hand.

Conrad waved his club at them. "Stand back," he growled. "Make way for

m'lord."

They backed off, but the spears were not grounded; the blades stayed naked.

A crippled little man, one foot dragging, limped through the crowd and came up

to them. "My master welcomes you," he whined. "He would have you at table."

"First," said Conrad, "shelter for the beasts."

"There is a shed," said the whining lame man. "It is open to the weather,

but it has a roof and is placed against the wall. There'll be hay for the horse

and burro. I'll bring the dog a bone."

"No bone," said Conrad. "Meat. Big meat. Meat to fit his size."

"I'll find some meat," said the lame man.

"Give him a penny," Duncan said to Conrad.

Conrad inserted his fingers into the purse at his belt, brought out a coin,

and flipped it to the man, who caught it deftly and touched a finger to his

forelock, but in a mocking manner.

The shed was shelter, barely, but at the worst it offered some protection

from the wind and a cover against rain. Duncan unsaddled Daniel and placed the

saddle against the wall of the palisade. Conrad unshipped the pack from the

burro, piled it atop the saddle.

"Do you not wish to take the saddle and the pack inside with you?" the lame

man asked. "They might be safer there."

"Safe here," insisted Conrad. "Should anyone touch them, he will get smashed

ribs, perhaps his throat torn out."

The raffish crowd that had confronted them when they crossed the bridge had

scattered now. The drawbridge, with shrill sounds of protest, was being drawn

up.

Side 3

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"Now," said the lame man, "if you two will follow me. The master sits at

meat."

The great hall of the manor was ill lighted and evil smelling. Smoky torches

were ranged along the walls to provide illumination. The rushes on the floor had

not been changed for months, possibly for years; they were littered with bones

thrown to dogs or simply tossed upon the floor once the meat had been gnawed

from them. Dog droppings lay underfoot, and the room stank of urine--dog, and,

more than likely, human. At the far end of the room stood a fireplace with

burning logs. The chimney did not draw well and poured smoke into the hall. A

long trestle table ran down the center of the hail. Around it was seated an

uncouth company. Half-grown boys ran about, serving platters of food and jugs of

ale.

When Duncan and Conrad came into the hail, the talk quieted and the bleary

white of the feasters' faces turned to stare at the new arrivals. Dogs rose from

their bones and showed their teeth at them.

At the far end of the table a man rose from his seat. He roared at them in a

joyous tone, "Welcome, travelers. Come and share the board of Harold, the

Reaver."

He turned his head to a group of youths serving the table.

"Kick those mangy dogs out of the way to make way for our guests," he

roared. "It would not be seemly for them to be set upon and bitten."

The youths set upon their task with a will. Boots thudded into dogs; the

dogs snapped back, whimpering and snarling.

Duncan strode forward, followed by Conrad.

"I thank you, sir," said Duncan, "for your courtesy."

Harold, the Reaver, was raw-boned, hairy and unkempt. His hair and beard had

the appearance of having housed rats. He wore a cloak that at one time may have

been purple, but was now so besmirched by grease that it seemed more mud than

purple. The fur that offset the collar and the sleeves was moth-eaten.

The Reaver waved at a place next to him. "Please be seated, sir," he said.

"My name," said Duncan, "is Duncan Standish, and the man with me is Conrad."

"Conrad is your man?"

"Not my man. My companion."

The Reaver mulled the answer for a moment, then said, "In that case, he must

sit with you." He said to the man in the next place, "Einer, get the hell out of

here. Find another place and take your trencher with you."

With ill grace, Einer picked up his trencher and his mug and went stalking

down the table to find another place.

"Now since it all is settled," the Reaver said to Duncan, "will you not sit

down. We have meat and ale. The ale is excellent; for the meat I'll not say as

much. There also is bread of an indifferent sort, but we have a supply of the

finest honey a bee has ever made. When the Harriers came down upon us, Old

Cedric, our bee master, risked his very life to bring in the hives, thus saving

it for us."

"How long ago was that?" asked Duncan. "When the Harriers came?"

"It was late in the spring. There were just a few of them at first, the

forerunners of the Horde. It gave us a chance to bring in the livestock and the

bees. When the real Horde finally came, we were ready for them. Have you, sir,

ever seen any of the Harriers?"

Side 4

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"No. I've only heard of them."

"They are a vicious lot," the Reaver said. "All shapes and sizes of them.

Imps, demons, devils, and many others that twist your gut with fear and turn

your bowels to water, all with their own special kinds of nastiness. The worst

of them are the hairless ones. Human, but they are not human. Like shambling

idiots, strong, massive idiots that have no fear and an undying urge to kill. No

hair upon them, not a single hair from top to toe. White--white like the slugs

you find when you overturn a rotting log. Fat and heavy like the slugs. But no

fat. Or I think no fat, but muscle. Muscle such as you have never seen. Strength

such as no one has ever seen. Taken all together, the hairless ones and the

others that run with them sweep everything before them. They kill, they burn,

there is no mercy in them. Ferocity and magic. That is their stock in trade. We

were hard put, I don't mind telling you, to hold them at arm's length. But we

resisted the magic and matched the ferocity, although the very sight of them

could scare a man to death."

"I take it you did not scare."

"We did not scare," the Reaver said. "My men, they are a hard lot. We gave

them blow for blow. We were as mean as they were. We were not about to give up

this place we had found."

"Found?"

"Yes, found. You can tell, of course, that we are not the sort of people

you'd ordinarily find in a place like this. The Reaver in my name is just a sort

of joke, you see. A joke among ourselves. We are a band of honest workmen,

unable to find jobs. There are many such as we. So all of us, facing the same

problems and knowing there was no work for us, banded together to seek out some

quiet corner of the land where we might set up rude homesteads and wrest from

the soil a living for our families and ourselves. But we found no such place

until we came upon this place, abandoned."

"You mean it was empty. No one living here."

"Not a soul," the Reaver said sanctimoniously. "No one around. So we had a

council and decided to move in--unless, of course, the rightful owners should

show up."

"In which case you'd give it back to them?"

"Oh, most certainly," said the Reaver. "Give it back to them and set out

again to find for ourselves that quiet corner we had sought."

"Most admirable of you," said Duncan.

"Why, thank you, sir. But enough of this. Tell me of yourselves. Travelers,

you say. In these parts not many travelers are seen. It's far too dangerous for

travelers."

"We are heading south," said Duncan. "To Oxenford. Perhaps then to London

Town."

"And you do not fear?"

"Naturally we fear. But we are well armed and we shall be watchful."

"Watchful you'll need to be," the Reaver said. "You'll be traveling through

the heart of the Desolated Land. You face many perils. Food will be hard to

find. I tell you there's nothing left. Were a raven to fly across that country

he'd need to carry his provisions with him."

"You get along all right."

"We were able to save our livestock. We planted late crops after the

Harriers passed on. Because of the lateness of the planting, the harvest has

been poor. Half a crop of wheat, less than half a crop of rye and barley. Only a

Side 5

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

small oat crop. The buckwheat was a total failure. We are much pushed for an

adequate supply of hay. And that's not all. Our cattle suffer from the murrain.

The wolves prey upon the sheep."

Trenchers were set down in front of Duncan and Conrad, then a huge platter

with a haunch of beef on one end of it, a saddle of mutton on the other. Another

youth brought a loaf of bread and a plate of honey in the comb.

As he ate, Duncan looked around the table. No matter what the Reaver may

have said, he told himself, the men who sat there could not be honest workmen.

They had the look of wolves. Perhaps a raiding party that, in the midst of

raiding, had been surprised by the Harriers. Having fought off the Harriers and

with nothing better to do, they had settled down, at least for the time. It

would be a good hiding place. No one, not even a lawman, would come riding here.

"The Harriers?" he asked. "Where are they now?"

"No one knows," the Reaver told him. "They could be anywhere."

"But this is little more than the border of the Desolated Land. Word is that

they struck deep into northern Britain."

"Ah, yes, perhaps. We have had no word. There are none to carry word. You

are the only ones we've seen. You must have matters of great import to bring you

to this place."

"We carry messages. Nothing more."

"You said Oxenford. And London Town."

"That is right."

"There is nothing at Oxenford."

"That may be," said Duncan. "I have never been there."

There were no women here, he noted. No ladies sitting at the table, as would

have been the case in any well-regulated manor. If there were women here, they

were shut away.

One of the youths brought a pitcher of ale, filled cups for the travelers.

The ale, when Duncan tasted it, was of high quality. He said as much to the

Reaver.

"The next batch will not be," the Reaver said. "The grain is poor this year

and the hay! We've had a hell's own time getting any hay, even of the poorest

quality. Our poor beasts will have slim pickings through the winter months."

Many of those at the table had finished with their eating. A number of them

had fallen forward on the table, their heads pillowed on their arms. Perhaps

they slept in this manner, Duncan thought. Little more than animals, with no

proper beds. The Reaver had lolled back in his chair, his eyes closed. The talk

throughout the hall had quieted.

Duncan sliced two chunks of bread and handed one of them to Conrad. His own

slice he spread with honey from the comb. As the Reaver had said, it was

excellent, clean and sweet, made from summer flowers. Not the dark,

harsh-tasting product so often found in northern climes.

A log in the fireplace, burning through, collapsed in a shower of sparks.

Some of the torches along the wall had gone out, but still trailed greasy smoke.

A couple of dogs, disputing a bone, snarled at one another. The stench of the

hall, it seemed, was worse than when they had first entered.

A muted scream brought Duncan to his feet. For a second he stood listening,

and the scream came again, a fighting scream, of anger rather than of pain.

Conrad surged up. "That's Daniel," he shouted.

Side 6

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

Duncan, followed by Conrad, charged down the hall. A man, stumbling erect

from a sodden sleep, loomed in Duncan's path. Duncan shoved him to one side.

Conrad sprang past him, using his club to clear the way for them. Men who came

in contact with the club howled in anger behind them. A dog ran yipping. Duncan

freed his sword and whipped it from the scabbard, metal whispering as he drew

the blade.

Ahead of him, Conrad tugged at the door, forced it open, and the two of them

plunged out into the courtyard. A large bonfire was burning and in its light

they saw a group of men gathered about the shed in which the animals had been

housed. But even as they came out into the yard the group was breaking up and

fleeing.

Daniel, squealing with rage, stood on his hind legs, striking out with his

forefeet at the men in front of him. One man was stretched on the ground and

another was crawling away. As Duncan and Conrad ran across the yard, the horse

lashed out and caught another man in the face with an iron-shod hoof, bowling

him over. A few feet from Daniel, a raging Tiny had another man by the throat

and was shaking him savagely. The little burro was a flurry of flailing hoofs.

At the sight of the two men racing across the courtyard, the few remaining

in the group before the shed broke up and ran.

Duncan strode forward to stand beside the horse. "It's all right now," he

said. "We're here."

Daniel snorted at him.

"Let loose," Conrad said to Tiny. "He's dead."

The dog gave way, contemptuously, and licked his bloody muzzle. The man he

had loosed had no throat. Two men stretched in front of Daniel did not move;

both seemed dead. Another dragged himself across the courtyard with a broken

back. Still others were limping, bent over, as they fled.

Men were spewing out of the great hall door. Once they came out, they

clustered into groups, stood, and stared. Pushing his way through them came the

Reaver. He walked toward Duncan and Conrad.

He blustered at them. "What is this?" he stormed. "I give you hospitality

and here my men lie dead!"

"They tried to steal our goods," said Duncan. "Perhaps they had in mind, as

well, to steal the animals. Our animals, as you can see, did not take kindly to

it."

The Reaver pretended to be horrified. "This I can't believe. My men would

not stoop to such a shabby trick."

"Your men," said Duncan, "are a shabby lot."

"This is most embarrassing," the Reaver said. "I do not quarrel with

guests."

"No need to quarrel," said Duncan sharply. "Lower the bridge and we'll

leave. I insist on that."

Hoisting his club, Conrad stepped close to the Reaver. "You understand," he

said. "M'lord insists on it."

The Reaver made as if to leave, but Conrad grabbed him by the arm and spun

him around. "The club is hungry," he said. "It has not cracked a skull in

months."

"The drawbridge," Duncan said, far too gently.

"All right," the Reaver said. "All right." He shouted to his men. "Let down

the bridge so our guests can leave."

Side 7

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"The rest stand back," said Conrad. "Way back. Give us room. Otherwise your

skull is cracked."

"The rest of you stand back," the Reaver yelled. "Do not interfere. Give

them room. We want no trouble."

"If there is trouble," Conrad told him, "you will be the first to get it."

He said to Duncan, "Get the saddle on Daniel, the packs on Beauty. I will handle

this one."

The drawbridge already was beginning to come down. By the time its far end

thumped beyond the moat, they were ready to move out.

"I'll hang on to the Reaver," Conrad said, "till the bridge is crossed."

He jerked the Reaver along. The men in the courtyard stood well back. Tiny

took the point.

Once on the bridge, Duncan saw that the overcast sky had cleared. A

near-full moon rode in the sky, and the stars were shining. There still were a

few scudding clouds.

At the end of the bridge they stopped. Conrad loosed his grip upon the

Reaver.

Duncan said to their erstwhile host, "As soon as you get back, pull up the

bridge. Don't even think of sending your men out after us. If you do, we'll

loose the horse and dog on them. They're war animals, trained to fight, as you

have seen. They'd cut your men to ribbons."

The Reaver said nothing. He clumped back across the bridge. Once back in the

courtyard, he bellowed at his men. Wheel shrieked and chains clanked, wood

moaned. The bridge began slowly moving up.

"Let's go," said Duncan when it was halfway up.

Tiny leading, they went down a hill, following a faint path.

"Where do we go?" asked Conrad.

"I don't know," said Duncan. "Just away from here."

Ahead of them Tiny growled a warning. A man was standing in the path.

Duncan walked forward to where Tiny stood. Together the two walked toward

the man. The man spoke in a quavery voice, "No need to fear, sir. It's only Old

Cedric, the bee master."

"What are you doing here?" asked Duncan.

"I came to guide you, sir. Besides, I bring you food."

He reached down and lifted a sack that had been standing, unnoticed, at his

feet.

"A flitch of bacon," he said, "a ham, a cheese, a loaf of bread, and some

honey. Besides, I can show you the fastest and the farthest way. I've lived here

all my life. I know the country."

"Why should you want to help us? You are the Reaver's man. He spoke of you.

He said you saved the bees when the Harriers came."

"Not the Reaver's man," said the bee master. "I was here for years before he

came. It was a good life, a good life for all of us--the master and his people.

We were a peaceful folk. We had no chance when the Reaver came. We knew not how

to fight. The Reaver and his hellions came two years ago, come Michaelmas,

and...

Side 8

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

"But you stayed with the Reaver."

"Not stayed. Was spared. He spared me because I was the one who knew the

bees. Few people know of bees, and the Reaver likes good honey."

"So I was right in my thinking," Duncan said. "The Reaver and his men took

the manor house, slaughtering the people who lived here."

"Aye," said Cedric. "This poor country has fallen on hard times. First the

Reaver and his like, then the Harriers."

"And you'll show us the quickest way to get out of the Reaver's reach?"

"That I will. I know all the swiftest paths. Even in the dark. When I saw

what was happening, I nipped into the kitchen to collect provisions, then went

over the palisades and lay in wait for you."

"But the Reaver will know you did this. He'll have vengeance on you."

Cedric shook his head. "I will not be missed. I'm always with the bees. I

even spend the nights with them. I came in tonight because of the cold and rain.

If I am missed, which I will not be, they'll think I'm with the bees. And if you

don't mind, sir, it'll be an honor to be of service to the man who faced the

Reaver down."

"You do not like this Reaver."

"I loathe him. But what's a man to do? A small stroke here and there. Like

this. One does what he can."

Conrad took the sack from the old man's hand. "I'll carry this," he said.

"Later we can put it with Beauty's pack."

"You think the Reaver and his men will follow?" Duncan asked.

"I don't know. Probably not, but one can't be sure."

"You say you hate him. Why don't you travel with us? Surely you do not want

to stay with him."

"Not with him. Willingly I'd join you. But I cannot leave the bees."

"The bees?"

"Sir, do you know anything of bees?"

"Very little."

"They are," said Cedric, "the most amazing creatures. In one hive of them

alone their numbers cannot be counted. But they need a human to help them. Each

year there must be a strong queen to lay many eggs. One queen. One queen only,

mind you, if the hive is to be kept up to strength. If there are more than one,

the bees will swarm, part of them going elsewhere, cutting down the number in

the hive. To keep them strong there must be a bee master who knows how to manage

them. You go through the comb, you see, seeking out the extra queen cells and

these you destroy. You might even destroy a queen who is growing old and see

that a strong new queen is raised..."

"Because of this, you'll stay with the Reaver?"

The old man drew himself erect. "I love my bees," he said. "They need me."

Conrad growled. "A pox on bees. We'll die here, talking of your bees."

"I talk too much of bees," the old man said. "Follow me. Keep close upon my

heels."

Side 9

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The

He flitted like a ghost ahead of them. At times he jogged, at other times he

ran, then again he'd go cautiously and slowly, feeling out his way.

They went down into a little valley, climbed a ridge, plunged down into

another larger valley, left it to climb yet another ridge. Above them the stars

wheeled slowly in the sky and the moon inclined to the west. The chill wind

still blew out of the north, but there was no rain.

Duncan was tired. With no sleep, his body cried out against the pace old

Cedric set. Occasionally he stumbled. Conrad said to him, "Get up on the horse,"

but Duncan shook his head. "Daniel's tired as well," he said.

His mind detached itself from his feet. His feet kept on, moving him ahead,

through the darkness, the pale moonlight, the great surge of forest, the loom of

hills, the gash of valleys. His mind went otherwhere. It went back to the day

this had all begun.

2

Duncan's first warning that he had been selected for the mission came when

he tramped down the winding, baronial staircase and went across the foyer,

heading for the library, where Wells had said his father would be waiting for

him with His Grace.

It was not unusual for his father to want to see him, Duncan told himself.

He was accustomed to being summoned, but what business could have brought the

archbishop to the castle? His Grace was an elderly man, portly from good eating

and not enough to do. He seldom ventured from the abbey. It would take something

of more than usual importance to bring him here on his elderly gray mule, which

was slow, but soft of foot, making travel easier for a man who disliked

activity.

Duncan came into the library with its floor-to-ceiling book-rolls, its

stained-glass window, the stag's head mounted above the flaming fireplace.

His father and the archbishop were sitting in chairs half facing the fire,

and when he came into the room both of them rose to greet him, the archbishop

puffing with the effort of raising himself from the chair.

"Duncan," said his father, "we have a visitor you should remember."

"Your Grace," said Duncan, hurrying forward to receive the blessing. "It is

good to see you once again. It has been months."

He went down on a knee and once the blessing had been done, the archbishop

reached down a symbolic hand to lift him to his feet.

"He should remember me," the archbishop told Duncan's father. "I had him in

quite often to reason gently with him. It seems it was quite a job for the good

fathers to pound some simple Latin and indifferent Greek and a number of other

things into his reluctant skull."

"But, Your Grace," said Duncan, "it was all so dull. What does the parsing

of a Latin verb..."

"Spoken like a gentleman," said His Grace. "When they come to the abbey and

face the Latin that is always their complaint. But you, despite some backsliding

now and then, did better than most."

"The lad's all right," growled Duncan's father. "I, myself, have but little

Latin. Your people at the abbey put too much weight on it."

"That may be so," the archbishop conceded, "but it's the one thing we can

do. We cannot teach the riding of a horse or the handling of a sword or the

Side 10

Simak, Cliffard D - Fellowship of the Talisman, The - Notisblokk

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: