Monsters and Magicians (30 page)

With a deep, ferocious growl, the blue lion came up and around from his water-lapping crouch at the stream-side, to come down facing his tormentor, tail lashing furiously, slitted eyes both flashing, fearsome fangs bared. "Who you think you callin' chicken, you muthafucka? Not even your whole fuckin' pack of stinkpots or all your stickers or you steel tee-shirt is gonna stop me from wastin' you, man. I'll like spill your chitlins all over this here place, asshole. I'll..."

Thin-lipped, eyes showing cold a river-ice, Sir Gau-tier stood up straight, pulled up his padded coif, donned his helmet, then took a good, two-handed grip on the shaft of his spear, beaming, "At your pleasure, Master Lion. I regard you with about as much warmth of amity and fraternity as you regard me and only my oaths sworn to our lord Fitz has kept my steel from out your body many's the time, you should know. I slew both a lion and a mountain panther in Syria, whilst afoot, with spear and sword, and I doubt me not but that I can as easily put paid to you.

"But, ere we two lay on, think you not that we should better spend our energies in winning the freedom from odious bondage of my lord Fitz, that generous man who has so often seen your belly filled? Or, if matters of obligation and honor do not, will not move you, then recall that if these captors be slain or driven off, then their fresh kills as well as the freed person of Lord Fitz will be our spoils and that which you earlier described sounds like verily enough bloody flesh to sate even your ever-empty belly."

Taking full advantage of every fold of terrain, every hint of vegetation, Cool Blue, Sir Gautier and the latter's new sergeant, one Wulfhere, crept as close as possible to the bloodsoaked, fly-swarming site of the butchering. But only six men were to be seen there. Fitz was kneeling beside a slender, yellow-brown man lying recumbent on a rough litter, on whose other side squatted an older, stockier man of similiar skintone, Fitz's three-barrel gun across his bare back on its sling. Some yards distant, three other of the

near-nude, yellow-brown men squatted filling woven reed-baskets with meat from a dwindling pile. At least a score of buzzards circled at different heights over the scene, carrion-crows watched from every nearby perch and, keen-eyed and experienced hunter that he was, Sir Gautier easily spotted a double handful of small, furry scavengers waiting impatiently in the underbrush around and about the site.

He asked silently of the blue lion's mind, "What of this dozen or more warriors awaiting us here, Lion?"

"The rest has just all gone into that thicket what the littler stream comes from out of," replied the lion. "I can hear the fuckers, see, they like headed north and they all got heavy loads they toting, too . . . prob'ly baskets like that of meat. But what's got your bowels in a uproar, baby? The less slants it is, the quicker you and your hotshots can kill 'em all and take all the meat away from them and free ol' Fitz. Reet? Hell, you 'n Wolfie, there, can prob'ly put them fuckers there down just by your own se'fs."

"Possibly," agreed the Norman. "But then who is to know how many would be drawn from out those thickets by the din of combat, eh? No, caution must be the watchword, herein. Had we only a few good horses, now . . . ?" he sighed mournfully.

"Wulfhere?" he whispered aloud. "Get you back and summon the band to me here. Bid them advance in quietude and unseen, just as we three did, but advance full-armed and all ready to fight."

As the English-Dane crept back in obedience to his lord, said lord bespoke the blue lion again. "Master Lion, you must creep into yon thicket, find the trail taken by the other unclad warriors and warn me

immediately if any commence to wend their way back in this direction/'

"You want I should try to scare the fuckers from comin' back, man?" asked Cool Blue. "Maybe jump one of them and make him scream enough to make his buddies shit their diapers, huh?"

Cooly, the knight beamed. "I ask not that you do aught which might endanger your over-precious hide, Lion, only that you serve me warning when more foeman approach my position."

"Well, then, fuck you ass, mac!" came the lion's reply. "That's just what you'll get . . . and all you'll friggin' get out of this cat, you stinkin' tin-plated cocksucker!"

The Baby Blue Lion found a spot to lie in such a way that no human could spot him, even from bare-feet distance. Therein, he arranged his big body comfortably, relaxed, closed his eyes and slept . . . but, lightly, feline-lightly, all senses save only sight at full alert. The shadows lengthened, all about him dark and full night descended slowly on Tirnann-n-Og, but still the blue lion kept to his post, ignoring the growling of his empty stomach, lest he do aught which would earn him more of the unbearable contumely of Sir Gautier.

The log-walled longhouse inside the stockade was, this night, more full with humanity than it had been in many a day. After Fitz had rendered airborne and flown the litter bearing Lieutenant Kaoru over the twisting gully full of brush to the very door of the place, he had returned to the streamside to do the same

for not only the remaining baskets of meat, but for all the men—Japanese and Norman, alike—and finally, his pack and gear from out the tree. So novel had been the experience that Sir Gautier had clean forgotten the Blue Lion; indeed, he gave not a thought to the miserable beast until well after sunrise of the next morning.

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