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said, waving a rust-streaked blade with the last third of it gone near the tip
end. "Here in this heap is good striking metal enough to rearm all our
castle's fighting men once it has been recut, sharpened and fastened to a new
hilt and hold! But you are not being asked to rearm us all, merely make one
good, battle-worthy sword for a hob less than half a man's size& and perhaps a
dagger and shield to go with it!"
"Well, I doubt a shield, now& " began the blacksmith, gathering his courage
but sounding remarkably timid in spite of all that.
"Use your wits, man! Shields are not solid iron if they were, the weariness
of shield-arms would make many encounters much shorter than they are. Also,
the function of the shield is to turn a blow. To be sure, it is a fine thing
to have that well-polished, shining surface on which is a coat of arms. But
there is no question of coats of arms here, any more than there would be for
one of our common armsmen, and strips of iron, laid close together, will turn
a sword edge as well as a solid cover. True, a spear point may catch on the
line between two strips, but there is no question of the hob riding with
couched lance, either!"
"What you say is true " began the blacksmith.
"Then get on with it. You may need the help of Master Carpenter and others,
but I leave the small parts up to you."
"I'm glad you're here," said Jim to Brian and Harimore. "I was going to find
you and ask you about this. Brian, you know our hob well, but of course, Sir
Harimore, you know nothing about him that's him, standing right over there."
He gestured at Hob, who had backed off some little distance so as not to
intrude. He had been looking excited, hopeful, worried and showing half a
dozen other emotions in a sort of kaleidoscope of reaction as he listened. He
was resisting his frequent tendency to stand on one leg, however, and still
had the squared-shouldered, upright stance he had shown Jim in the Solar.
"Indeed, Harry," said Brian unexpectedly. "He has been with James and myself
on many a dangerous expedition, and shown great bravery as well as sharp wits.
I do not believe there is another hobgoblin living who has had such adventures
and carried himself so well."
"It's true. Thanks, Brian," said Jim gratefully. Brian had unknowingly given
him the excuse to speak, and now was the time to follow up with the
information. "It just happened that today he was able to tell me something
that touches allEngland  perhaps touches the whole world. I can't,
unfortunately, tell you the details because it involves magic. But it's the
reason we now need him not only armed but able to fight with the rest of us."
"Armed? Fight? A hobgoblin?" Sir Harimore stared at Jim.
"Yes!" said Jim. "As I say, I wish I could tell you more so that you could
see the need of it, but as a Magickian my lips are sealed."
Mentally, he crossed his fingers, remembering that Brian had told him Sir
Harimore's respect for his knight's vows and obligations were as strict as
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those of Brian himself. Would they, in this case, tip him toward acceptance of
an armed and battle-ready hobgoblin or against the very idea? Jim could not
directly lie to the man, but he was suddenly inspired.
"As I said," Jim went on, "my lips are sealed. I can only give you my word he
must be armed and learn to fight."
"I accept your word of course, Sir James," said Harimore stiffly. "No more
need be said."
"Well, there's just one thing more," said Jim. "I was going to try to give
him a lightning-swift course in how to use his sword and shield "
"James, there is no thing such!" said Brian, looking embarrassed. "The art of
arms cannot be taught in an hour or a day "
"I know that," said Jim hastily. "But there are a few necessary things to
know, such as how to hold your sword and how to strike with it, regardless of
what your enemy might be doing in the same movement. I'd hoped I could at
least show that much to Hob." Mentally he crossed his fingers again before
going on. "And then if you will forgive me, sirs it came to me that two
gentlemen like yourselves, learned in the art, might be willing to at least
teach such simple things correctly, where I could likely not& "
He let his voice trail off hopefully. Brian, he knew, loved to teach, but Jim
had never heard of Sir Harimore Kilinsworth educating anyone in the skills he
was so good at himself.
"Hah! No doubt!" said Harimore. "But there must be something of a makings of
a man to start with catch that!"
With the last words, and so swiftly that Jim had barely time to realize the
knight had done it, he had drawn his needle-sharp, razor-edged poniard and
thrown it tumbling through the air toward Hob.
Hob, looking puzzled, watched the approaching weapon until it was almost upon
him, then took one step aside, picked it out of the air by its hilt and
started carrying it back to Harimore.
"Hmpf!" said Harimore, in an obvious tone of surprise, then lifted his voice
to speak to Hob again. "No! Hold to it! Go back where you were."
"Yes, m'lord." Hob obeyed. Harimore poked through the pile and came up with
the amputated handle of a diseased-looking half-pike.
"Come," he said to Hob, and when Hob came, he handed him the handle. "Let me
see you cut that with my poniard."
"Yes, m'lord."
Hob lifted the poniard and brought its blade down edgewise on the old, dark
wood of the handle. A little of the dry, hard wood chipped off, but that was
the only result.
"So it is revealed," said Harimore, turning to Jim and Brian, who had drawn
close to watch. "Natural speed of eye, hand and body make for a good
swordsman, but what is it of worth if he has no strength of body?"
"Forgive me, my noble lord," said Hob in a small voice, "but did you mean you
wished me to cut the staff intwo?"
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"Of course."
"Oh!" Hob picked up the ancient half-pike handle with one hand and lifted the
poniard. He brought the weapon down again but this time with a difference.
This time his whole body arched to the blow and his feet left the ground as
blade met wood. The hard, dry pike handle opened up not completely, but the
handle's two end-pieces fell apart, all but perhaps half an inch of wood
clinging to both ends at the bottom of Hob's cut.
Brian and Harimore stared at each other in what was plainly amazement.
You see what he can do if he tries! Jim was about to say, when he discovered
there was no need. Brian exploded as Harimore stared. "A drawing cut! He used
a drawing cut you saw it yourself, Harry!" he cried.
A drawing cut was where the blade was pulled along the surface it contacted,
so as to make a deeper wound. Brian had mentioned it from time to time, but it
was never one of the things Brian had attempted to teach Jim.
"I saw," said Harimore. "I still believe he will make the equal of a fighting
man only by an Act of God " he crossed himself" but I own you were right,
Brian and my Lord Sir James. The makings of a small fighter at least may be
there. If you will adventure, Brian, to teach him some simple matters of
weaponry, so will I also."
Chapter Ten
Cheerfully, Jim left them all and went on his way. Now, finally, for a look
at how they were coming with the Nursing Room also the chance to get some idea
of how the people of Malencontri were reacting to this terrifying shadow of
plague creeping upon them. He found the place in the servants' quarters which
had been chosen almost certainly by Angie, who knew these precincts much
better than he did.
It had already been walled off to make a large separate room that was what
had probably kept Angie awake and up while he slept. She would have wanted to
supervise the work closely until it was done.
The door in the new front wall was wide open, and a considerable din was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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