holy-crusade.txt

Chapter I
Archbishop William, a most learned and holy prelate, having commanded me to put into English writing those great events to which I was a humble witness, I take up my quill in the name of the Lord and my patron saint: trusting that they will aid my feeble powers of narrative for the sake of future generations who may with profit study the account of Sir Roger de Tourneville’s campaign and learn thereby fervently to reverence the great God by Whom all things are brought to pass.
I shall write of these happenings exactly as I remember them, without fear or favor, the more so since most who were concerned are now dead. I myself was quite insignificant, but since it is well to make known the chronicler that men may judge his trustworthiness, let me first say a few words about him.
I was born forty years before my story begins, a younger son of Wat Brown. He was blacksmith in the little town of Ansby, which lay in northeastern Lincoinshire. The lands were enfeoffed to the Baron de Tourneville, whose ancient castle stood on a hill just above the town. There was also a small abbey of the Franciscan order, which I entered as a boy. Having gained some skill (my only skill, I fear) in reading and writing, I was often made instructor in these arts to novices and the children of lay people. My boyhood nickname I put into Latin and made my religious one, as a lesson in humility, so I am Brother Parvus. For I am of low size, and ill-favored, though fortunate to have the trust of children.
In the year of grace 1345, Sir Roger, then baron, was gathering an army of free companions to join our puissant King Edward III and his son in the French war. Ansby was the meeting place. By May Day, the army was all there. It camped on the common, but turned our quiet town into one huge brawl. Archers, crossbowmen, pikemen, and cavalry swarmed through the muddy streets, drinking, gaming, wenching, jesting, and quarreling, to the peril of their souls and our thatch-roofed cottages. Indeed, we lost two houses to fire. Yet they brought in unwonted ardor, a sense of glory, such that the very serfs thought wistfully about going along, were it but possible. Even I entertained such notions. For me it might well have come true, for I had been tutoring Sir Roger’s son and had also brought his accounts in order. The baron talked of making me his amanuensis; but my abbot was doubtful.
Thus it stood when the Wersgor ship arrived.
Well I remember the day. I was out on an errand. The weather had turned sunny after rain, the town street was ankle-deep in mud. I picked my way through the aimless crowds of soldiery, nodding to such as I knew. All at once a great cry arose. I lifted my head like the others.
Lo! It was as a miracle! Down through the sky, seeming to swell monstrously with the speed of its descent, came a ship all of metal. So bright was the sunlight off its polished sides that I could not see its form clearly. A huge cylinder, I thought, easily two thousand feet long. Save for the whistle of wind, it moved noiseless.
Someone screamed. A woman knelt in a puddle and began to rattle off prayers. A man cried that his sins had found him out, and joined her. Worthy ‘though these actions were, I realized that in such a mass of people, folk would be trampled to death if panic smote. That was surely not what God, if He had sent this visitant, intended.
Hardly knowing what I did, I sprang up on a great iron bombard whose wagon was sunk to the axles in our street. “Hold fast!” I cried. “Be not afraid! Have faith and hold fast!”
My feeble pipings went unheard. Then Red John Hameward, the captain of the longbowmen, leaped up beside me. A merry giant, with hair like spun copper and fierce blue eyes, he had been my friend since he arrived here.“I know not what yon thing is,” he bellowed. His voice rolled over the general babble, which died away.
“Mayhap some French trick. Or it may be friendly, which would make our fear look all the sillier. Follow me, every soldier, to meet it when it lands!”
“Magic!” cried an old man. “’Tis sorcery, and we are undone!”
“Not so,” I told him. “Sorcery cannot harm good Christians.”
“But I am a miserable sinner,” he wailed.
“St. George and King Edward!” Red John sprang off the tube and dashed down the street. I tucked up my robe and panted after him, trying to remember the formulas of exorcism.
Looking back over my shoulder, I was surprised to see most of the company follow us. They had not so much taken heart from the bowman’s example, as they were afraid to be left leaderless. But they followed-into their own camp to snatch weapons, then out onto the common. I saw that cavalrymen had flung themselves to horse and were thundering downhill from the castle.
Sir Roger de Toumeville, unarmored but wearing sword at hip, led the riders. He shouted and flailed about with his lance. Between them, he and Red John got the rabble whipped into some kind of fighting order. They had scarcely finished when the great ship landed.
It sank deep into pasture earth; its weight was tremendous, and I knew not what had borne it so lightly through the air. I saw that it was all enclosed, a smooth shell without poop deck or forecastle. I did not really expect oars, but part of me wondered (through the hammering of my heart) why there were no sails. However, I did spy turrets, from which poked muzzles like those of bombards.
There fell a shuddering silence. Sir Roger edged his horse up to me where I stood with teeth clapping in my head. “You’re a learned cleric, Brother Parvus,” he said quietly, though his nostrils were white and his hair dank with sweat. “What d’you make of this?”
“In truth I know not, sire,” I stammered. “Ancient stories tell of wizards like Merlin who could fly through the air.”
“Could it be ... divine?” He crossed himself.
“’Tis not for me to say.” I looked timidly skyward. “Yet I see no choir of angels.”A muted clank came from the vessel, drowned in one groan of fear as a circular door began to open. But all stood their ground, being Englishmen, if not simply too terrified to run.
I glimpsed that the door was double, with a chamber between. A metallic ramp slid forth like a tongue, three yards downward until it touched the earth. I raised my crucifix while Ayes pattered from my lips like hail.
One of the crew came forth. Great Cod, how shall I describe the horror of that first sight? Surely, my mind shrieked, this was a demon from the lowest pits of hell.
He stood about five feet tall, very broad and powerful, clad in a tunic of silvery sheen. His skin was hairless and deep blue. He had a short thick tail. The ears were long and pointed on either side of his round head; narrow amber eyes glared from a blunt-snouted face; but his brow was high.
Someone began to scream. Red John brandished his bow. “Quiet, there!” he roared. “’Steeth, I’ll kill the first man who moves!”
I hardly thought this a time for profanity. Raising the cross still higher, I forced limp legs to carry me a few steps forward, while I quavered some chant of exorcism. I was certain it would do no good; the end of the world was upon us.
Had the demon only remained standing there, we would soon have broken and bolted. But he raised a tube held in one hand. From it shot flame, blinding white. I heard it crackle in the air and saw a man near me smitten.
Fire burst over him. He fell dead, his breast charred open.
Three other demons emerged.
Soldiers were trained to react when such things happened, not to think. The bow of Red John sang. The foremost demon lurched off the ramp with a cloth-yard arrow through him. I saw him cough blood and die. As if the one shot had touched off a hundred, the air was suddenly gray with whistling shafts. The three other demons toppled, so thickly studded with arrows they might have been popinjays at a contest.
“They can be slain!” bawled Sir Roger. “Haro! St. George for merry England!” And he spurred his horse straight up the gangway.
They say fear breeds unnatural courage. With one crazed whoop the whole army charged after him. Be it confessed, I, too, howled and ran into the ship.
Of that combat which ramped and raged through all the rooms and corridors, I have little memory. Somewhere, from someone, I got a battle-ax. There is in me a confused impression of smiting away at vile blue faces which rose up to snarl at me, of slipping in blood and rising to smite again. Sir Roger had no way to direct the battle. His men simply ran wild. Knowing the demons could be killed, their one thought was to kill and have done.
The crew of the ship numbered about a hundred, but few carried weapons. We later found all manner of devices stored in the holds, but the invaders had relied on creating a panic. Not knowing Englishmen, they had not expected trouble. The ship s artillery was ready to use, but of no value once we were inside.
In less than an hour, we had hunted them all down.
Wading out through the carnage, I wept with joy to feel the blessed sunlight again. Sir Roger was checking with his captains to find our losses, which were only fifteen all told. As I stood there, atremble with exhaustion, Red John Hameward emerged. He had a demon slung over his shoulder.
He threw the creature at Sir Roger’s feet. “This one I knocked out with my fist, sire,” he panted. “I thought might be you’d want one kept alive awhile, to put him to the question. Or should I not take chances, and slice off his ugly head now?”
Sir Roger considered. Calm had descended upon him; none of us had yet grasped the enormity of this event. A grim smile crossed his lips. He replied in English as fluent as the nobleman’s French he more commonly used.
“if these be demons,” he said, “they’re a poor breed, for they were slain as easily as men. Easier, in sooth. They didn’t know more about infighting than my little daughter. Less, for she’s given my nose many hefty tweaks. I think chains will hold this fellow safe, eh, Brother Parvus?”
“Yes, my lord,” I opined, “though it were best to put some saints’ relics and the Host near by.”
“Well, then, take him to the abbey and see what you can get out of him. I’ll send a guard along. Come up to dinner this evening.”
“Sire,” I reproved, “we should hold a great Mass of thanksgiving ere we do anything else.”
“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “Talk to your abbot about it. Do what seems best. But come to dinner and tell me what you’ve learned.”
His eyes grew thoughtful as he stared at the ship.



 Chapter II
I came as ordered, with the approval of my abbot, who saw that here the ghostly and secular arms must be one. The town was strangely quiet as I picked my way through sunset streets. Folk were in church or huddled within doors. From the soldiers’ camp I could hear yet another Mass, The ship brooded mountainous over all our tiny works.
But we felt heartened, I believe, a little drunk with our success over powers not of this earth, The smug conclusion seemed inescapable, that Cod approved of us.
I passed the bailey through a trebled watch and went directly to the great hail. Ansby Castle was old Norman work, gaunt to look on, cold to inhabit. The hail was already dark, lit by candles and a great leaping fire which picked weapons and tapestries out of unrestful shadow. Gentlefolk and the more important commoners of town and army were at table, a buzz of talk, servants scurrying about, dogs lolling on the rushes. It was a comfortingly familiar scene, however much tension underlay it. Sir Roger beckoned me to come sit with him and his lady, a signal honor.
Let me here describe Roger de Toumeville, knight and baron. He was a big, strongly thewed man of thirty years, with gray eyes and bony curve-nosed features. He wore his yellow hair in the usual style of a warrior peer, thick on the crown and shaven below- which somewhat marred an otherwise not unhandsome appearance, for he had ears like jug handles. This, his home district, was poor and backward, and most of his time elsewhere had been spent in war. So he lacked courtly graces, though shrewd and kindly in his fashion. His wife, Lady Catherine, was a daughter of the Viscount de Mornay; most people felt she had married beneath her style of living as well as her station, for she had been brought up at Winchester amidst every elegance and modern refinement. She was very beautiful, with great blue eyes and auburn hair, but somewhat of a virago. They had only two children: Robert, a fine boy of six, who was my pupil, and a three-year-old girl named Matilda.
“Well, Brother Parvus,” boomed my lord. “Sit down. Have a stoup of winesblood, this occasion calls for more than ale!” Lady Catherine’s delicate nose wrinkled a bit; in her old home, ale was only for commoners. When I was seated, Sir Roger leaned forward and said intently, “What have you found out? Is it a demon we’ve captured?”
A hush fell over the table. Even the dogs were quiet. I could hear the hearth fire crackle and ancient banners stir dustily where they hung from the beams overhead. “I think so, my lord,” I answered with care, “for he grew very angry when we sprinkled holy water on him.
“Yet he did not vanish in a puff of smoke? Hah! If demons, these are not kin to any I ever heard of. They’re mortal as men.”
“More so, sire,” declared one of his captains, “for they cannot have souls.”
‘I’m not interested in their blithering souls,” snorted Sir Roger. “I want to know about their ship. I’ve walked through it since the fight. What a by-our-lady whale of a ship! We could put all Ansby aboard, with room to spare. Did you ask the demon why a mere hundred of ‘em needed that much space?”
“He does not speak any known language, my lord,” I said.
“Nonsense! All demons know Latin, at least. He’s just being stubborn.”
“Mayhap a little session with your executioner?” asked the knight Sir Owain Montbelle slyly.
“No,” I said. “If it please you, best not. He seems very quick at learning. Already he repeats many words after me, so I do not believe he is merely pretending ignorance. Give me a few days and I may be able to talk with him.”
“A few days may be too much,” grumbled Sir Roger. He threw the beef bone he had been gnawing to the dogs and licked his fingers noisily. Lady Catherine frowned and pointed to the water bowl and napkin before him. “I’m sorry, my sweet,” he muttered. “I never can remember about these newfangled things.”
Sir Owain delivered him from his embarrassment by inquiring: “Why say you a few days may be too long? Surely you are not expecting another ship?”
‘No. But the men will be more restless than ever. We were almost ready to depart, and now this happens!”
‘So? Can we not leave anyhow on the date planned?”
“No, you blockhead!” Sir Roger’s fist landed on the table. A goblet jumped. “Cannot you see what a chance this is? It must have been given us by the saints themselves!”
As we sat awestruck, he went on rapidly: “We can take the whole company aboard that thing. Horses, cows, pigs, fowls-we’ll not be deviled by supply problems. Women, too, all the comforts of home! Aye, why not even the children? Never mind the crews hereabouts, they can stand neglect for a while and tis safer to keep everyone together lest there should be another visitation.
“I know not what powers the ship owns besides flying, but her very appearance will strike such terror we’ll scarce need to fight. So we’ll take her across the Channel and end the French war inside a month, d’ you see? Then we go on and liberate the Holy Land, and get back here in time for hay harvest!”
A long silence ended abruptly in such a storm of cheers that my own weak protests were drowned out. I thought the scheme altogether mad. So, I could see, did Lady Catherine and a few others. But the rest were laughing and shouting till the hail roared.
Sir Roger turned a flushed face to me. “It depends on you, Brother Parvus,” he said. “You’re the best of us all in matters of language. You must make the demon talk, or teach him how, whichever it is. He’s got to show us how to sail that ship!”
“My noble lord-“ I quavered.
“Good!” Sir Roger slapped my back so I choked and nearly fell off my seat. “I knew you could do it. Your reward will be the privilege of coming with us!”
Indeed, it was as if the town and the army were alike possessed. Surely the one wise course was to send messages posthaste to the bishop, perhaps to Rome itself, begging counsel, But no, they must all go, at once. Wives would not leave their husbands, or parents their children, or girls their lovers. The lowliest serf looked up from his acre and dreamed of freeing the Holy Land and picking up a coffer of gold on the way.
What else can be expected of a folk bred from Saxon, Dane, and Norman?
I returned to the abbey and spent the night on my knees, praying for a sign. But the saints remained noncommittal. After matins I went with a heavy heart to my abbot and told him what the baron had commanded. He was wroth at not being allowed immediate communication with the Church authorities but decided it was best we obey for the nonce. I was released from other duties that I might study how to converse with the demon.
I girded myself and went down to the cell where he was confined. It was a narrow room, half underground, used for penances. Brother Thomas, our smith, had stapled fetters to the wails and chained the creature up. He lay on a straw pallet, a frightful sight in the gloom. His links clashed as he rose at my entry. Our relics in their chests were placed near by, just out of his impious reach, so that the thighbone of St. Osbert and the sixth-year molar of St. Willibald might keep him from bursting his bonds and escaping back to hell.
Though I would not have been at all sorry had he done so.I crossed myself and squatted down. His yellow eyes glared at me. I had brought paper, ink, and quills, to exercise what small talent I have for drawing. I sketched a man and said, “Homo,” for it seemed wiser to teach him Latin than any language confined to a single nation. Then I drew another man and showed him that the two were called homines. Thus it went, and he was quick to learn.
Presently he signaled for the paper, and I gave it to him. He himself drew skillfully. He told me that his name was Branithar and that his race was called Wersgorix. I was unable to find these terms in any demonology. But thereafter I let him guide our studies, for his race had made the learning of new languages into a science, and our task went apace.
I worked long hours with him and saw little of the outside world in the next few days. Sir Roger kept his domain incommunicado. I think his greatest fear was that some earl or duke might seize the ship for himself. With his bolder men, the baron spent much time aboard it, trying to fathom all the wonders he encountered.
Erelong Branithar was able to complain about the bread-and-water diet and threaten revenge. I was still afraid of him but kept up a bold front. Of course, our conversation was much slower than I here render it, with many pauses while we searched for words.
“You brought this on yourself,” I told him. “You should have known better than to make an unprovoked attack on Christians.”
“What are Christians?” he asked.
Dumfounded, I thought he must be feigning ignorance. As a test, I led him through the Paternoster. He did not go up in smoke, which puzzled me.
“I think I understand,” he said. “You refer to some primitive tribal pantheon.”
“It is no such heathen thing!” I said indignantly. I started to explain the Trinity to him, but had scarcely gotten to transubstantiation when he waved an impatient blue hand. It was much like a human hand otherwise, save for the thick, sharp nails.
“No matter,” he said. “Are all Christians as ferocious as your people?”
“You would have had better luck with the French,” I admitted. “Your misfortune was landing among Englishmen.”
‘A stubborn breed,” he nodded. “It will cost you dearly. But if you release me at once, I will try to mitigate the vengeance which is going to fall on you.”
My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, but I unstuck it and asked him coolly enough to elucidate. Whence came he, and what were his intentions?
That took a long time for him to make clear, because the very concepts were strange. I thought surely he was lying, but at least he acquired more Latin in the process.
It was about two weeks after the landing when Sir Owain Montbelle appeared at the abbey and demanded audience with me. I met him in the cloister garden; we found a bench and sat down.
This Owain was the younger son, by a second marriage with a Welsh woman, of a petty baron on the Marches. I daresay the ancient conflict of two nations smoldered strangely in his breast; but the Cymric charm was also there. Made page and later esquire to a great knight in the royal court, young Owain had captured his master’s heart and been brought up with all the privilege of far higher ranks. He had traveled widely abroad, become a troubadour of some note, received the accolade-and then suddenly, there he was, penniless. In hopes of winning his fortune, he had wandered to Ansby to join the free companions. Though valiant enough, he was too darkly handsome for most men’s taste, and they said no husband felt safe when he was about. This was not quite true, for Sir Roger had taken a fancy to the youth, admired his judgment as well as his education, and was happy that at last Lady Catherine had someone to talk to about the things that most interested her.
“I come from my lord, Brother Parvus,” Sir Owain began. “He wishes to know how much longer you will need to tame this beast of ours,”
“Oh ... he speaks glibly enough now,” I answered. “But he holds so firmly to out-and-out falsehoods that I have not yet thought it worth while to report.”
“Sir Roger grows most impatient, and the men can scarcely be held any longer. They devour his substance, and not a night passes without a brawl or a murder. We must start soon or not at all.”
“Then I beg thou not to go,” I said. “Not in yon ship out of hell.’ I could see that dizzyingly tail spire, its nose wreathed with low clouds, rearing beyond the abbey walls. It terrified me.
“Well,” snapped Sir Owain, “what has the monster told you?”
“He has the impudence to claim he comes not from below, but from above. From heaven itself!”
“He ... an angel?”“No. He says he is neither angel nor demon, but a member of another mortal race than mankind.”
Sir Owain caressed his smooth-shaven chin with one hand. “It could be,” he mused. “After all, if Unipeds and Centaurs and other monstrous beings exist, why not those squatty blueskins?”
“I know. Twould be reasonable enough, save that he claims to live in the sky.”
“Tell me just what he did say.”
“As you will, Sir Owain, but remember that these impieties are not mine. This Branithar insists that the earth is not flat but is a sphere hanging in space. Nay, he goes further and says the earth moves about the sun! Some of the learned ancients held similar notions, but I cannot understand what would keep the oceans from pouring off into space or-“
“Pray continue the story, Brother Parvus.”
“Well, Branithar says that the stars are other suns than ours, only very far off, and have worlds going about them even as our own does. Not even the Greeks could have swallowed such an absurdity. What kind of ignorant yokels does the creature take us for? But be this as it may, Branithar says that his people, the Wersgorix, come from one of these other worlds, one which is much like our earth. He boasts of their powers of sorcery-““That much is no lie,” said Sir Owain. “We’ve been trying out some of those hand weapons. We burned down three houses, a pig, and a serf ere we learned how to control them.”
I gulped, but went On: “These Wersgorix have ships which can fly between the stars. They have conquered many worlds. Their method is to subdue or wipe out any backward natives there may be. Then they settle the entire world, each Wersgor taking hundreds of thousands of acres. Their numbers are growing so fast, and they so dislike being crowded, that they must ever be seeking new worlds.
“This ship we captured was a scout, exploring in search of another place to conquer. Having observed our earth from above, they decided it was suitable for their use and descended. Their plan was the usual one, which had never failed them hitherto. They would terrorize us, use our home as a base, and range about gathering specimens of plants, animals, and minerals. That is the reason their ship is so big, with so much empty space. ‘Twas to be a veritable Noah’s ark. When they returned home and reported their findings, a fleet would come to attack all mankind.”
“Hmmm,” said Sir Owain. “We stopped that much, at least.We were both cushioned against the frightful vision of ourpoor folk being harried by unhumans, destroyed or enslaved, because neither of us really believed it. I had decided that Branithar came from a distant part of the world, perhaps beyond Cathay, and only told these lies in the hope of frightening us into letting him go. Sir Owain agreed with my theory.
“Nonetheless,” added the knight, “we must certainly learn to use the ship, lest more of them arrive. And what better way to learn, than by taking it to France and Jerusalem? As my lord said, ‘twould in that case be prudent as well as comfortable to have women, children, yeomen, and townsfolk along. Have you asked the beast how to cast the spells for working the ship?”
“Yes,” I answered reluctantly. “He says the rudder is very simple.”
“And have you told him what will happen to him if he does not pilot us faithfully?”
“I have intimated. He says he will obey.”
“Good! Then we can start in another day or two!” Sir Owain leaned back, eyes dreamily half closed. “We must eventually see about getting word back to his own people. One could buy much wine and amuse many fair women with his ransom.”



Chapter III
And so we departed.
Stranger even than the ship and its advent was that embarkation. There the thing towered, like a steel cliff forged by a wizard for a hideous use. On the other side of the common huddled little Ansby, thatched cots and rutted streets, fields green beneath our wan English sky. The very castle, once so dominant in the scene, looked shrunken and gray.
But up the ramps we had let down from many levels, into the gleaming pillar, thronged our homely, red-faced, sweating, laughing people. Here John Hamewaid roared along with his bow across one shoulder and a tavern wench giggling on the other. There a yeoman armed with a rusty ax that might have been swung at Hastings, clad in patched wadmal, preceded a scolding wife burdened with their bedding and cooking pot, and half a dozen children clinging to her skirts. Here a crossbowman tried to make a stubborn mule climb the gangway, his oaths laying many years in Purgatory to his account. There a lad chased a pig which had gotten loose. Here a richly clad knight jested with a fine lady who bore a hooded falcon on her wrist. There a priest told his beads as he went doubtfully into the iron maw. Here a cow lowed, there a sheep bleated, here a goat shook its horns, there a hen cackled. All told, some two thousand souls went aboard.
The ship held them easily. Each important man could have a cabin for himself and his lady-for several had brought wives, lemans, or both as far as Ansby Castle, to make a more social occasion of the departure for France. The commoners spread pallets in empty holds. Poor Ansby was left almost deserted, and I often wonder if it still exists.
Sir Roger had made Branithar operate the ship on some trial flights. It had risen smoothly and silently as he worked the wheels and levers and knobs in the control turret. Steering was childishly simple, though we could make neither head nor tail of certain discs with heathenish inscriptions, across which quivered needles. Through me, Branithar told Sir Roger that the ship derived its motive power from the destruction of matter, a horrid idea indeed, and that its engines raised and propelled it by nullifying the pull of the earth along chosen directions. This was senseless- Aristotle has explained very clearly how things fall to the ground because it is their nature to fall, and I have no truck with illogical ideas to which flighty heads so easily succumb.
Despite his own reservations, the abbot joined Father Simon in blessing the ship. We named her Crusader. Though we only had two chaplains along, we had also borrowed a lock of St. Benedict’s hair, and all who embarked had confessed and received absolution. So it was thought we were safe enough from ghostly peril, though I had my doubts.
I was given a small cabin adjoining the suite in which Sir Roger lived with his lady and their children. Branithar was kept under guard in a near-by room. My duty was to interpret, to continue the prisoner’s instruction in Latin and the education of young Robert, and to act as my lord’s amanuensis.
At departure, however, the control turret was occupied by Sir Roger, Sir Owain, Branithar, and myself. It was windowless, like the entire ship, but held glassy screens in which appeared images of the earth below and all the sky around. I shivered and told my beads, for it is not lawful for Christian men to gaze into the crystal globes of Indic sorcerers.
“Now, then,” said Sir Roger, and his hooked face laughed at me, “let’s away! We’ll be in France within the hour!”
He sat down before the panel of levers and wheels. Branithar said quickly to me: “The trial flights were only a few miles. Tell your master that for a trip of this length certain special preparations must be made.”
Sir Roger nodded when I had passed this on. “Very well, let him do so.” His sword slithered from the sheath. “But I’ll be watching our course in the screens. At the first sign of treachery-“
Sir Owain scowled. “Is this wise, my lord?” he asked. “The beast-“
“Is our prisoner. You’re too full of Celtic superstitions, Owain. Let him begin.”
Branithar seated himself. The furnishings of the ship, chairs and tables and beds and cabinets, were somewhat small for us humans-and badly designed, without so much as a carven dragon for ornament. But we could make do with them. I watched the captive intently as his blue hands moved over the panel.
A deep humming trembled in the ship. I felt nothing, but the ground in the lower screens suddenly dwindled. That was sorcerous; I would much rather the usual backward thrust of a vehicle when it starts were not annulled. Fighting down my stomach, I stared into the screen-reflected vault of heaven. Ere long we were among the clouds, which proved to be high floating mists. Clearly this shows the wondrous power of God, for it is known that the angels often sit about on the clouds, and do not get wet.
“Now, southward,” ordered Sir Roger.
Branithar grunted, set a dial, and snapped down a bar. I heard a clicking as of a lock. The bar stayed down.
Hellish triumph flared in the yellow eyes. Branithar sprang from his seat and snarled at me; “Consummati estis!’ His Latin was very bad. “You are finished! I have just sent you to death!”
“What?” I cried.
Sir Roger cursed, half understanding, and lunged at the Wersgor. But the sight of what was in the screens checked him. The sword clattered from his hand, and sweat leaped out on his face.Truly it was terrible. The earth dwindled beneath us as if it were falling down a great well. About us, the blue sky darkened, and stars glittered forth. Yet it was not nightfall, for the sun still shone in one screen, more brightly than ever!
Sir Owain screamed something in Welsh. I fell to my knees.
Branithar darted for the door. Sir Roger whirled and grasped him by his robe. They went over in a raging tangle.
Sir Owain was paralyzed by terror, and I could not pull my eyes from the horrible beauty of the spectacle about us. Earth shrank so small that it only filled one screen. It was blue, banded, with dark splotches, and round. Round!
A new and deeper note entered the low drone in the air. New needles on the control panel quivered to life. Suddenly we were moving, gaining speed, with impossible swiftness. An altogether different set of engines, acting on a wholly unknown principle, had unwound their ropes.
I saw the moon swell before us. Even as I stared, we passed so near that I could see mountains and pockmarks upon it, edged with their o*n shadows. But this was inconceivable! All knew the moon to be a perfect circle. Sobbing, I tried to break that liar of a vision screen, but could not.Sir Roger overcame Branithar and stretched him half-conscious on the deck. The knight got up, breathing heavily. “Where are we?” he gasped. “What’s happened?”
‘We’re going up,” I groaned. “Up and out.” I put my fingers in my ears so as not to be deafened when we crashed into the first of the crystal spheres.
After a while, when nothing had occurred, I opened my eyes and looked again. Earth and moon were both receding, little more than a doubled star of blue and gold. The real stars flamed hard, unwinking, against an infinite blackness. It seemed to me that we were still picking up speed.
Sir Roger cut off my prayers with an oath. “We’ve this traitor to handle first!” He kicked Branithar in the ribs. The Wersgor sat up and glared defiance.
I collected my wits and said to him in Latin, “What have you done? You will die by torture unless you take us back at once.”
He rose, folded his arms, and regarded us with bitter pride. “Did you think that you barbarians were any match for a civilized mind?” he answered. “Do what you will with me. There will be revenge enough when you come to this journey’s end.”
“But what have you done?”His bruised mouth grinned. “I set the ship under control of its automaton-pilot. It is now steering itself. Everything is automatic-the departure from atmosphere, the switch-over into translight quasi-velocity, the compensation for optical effects, the preservation of artificial gravity and other environmental factors.”
“Well, turn off the engines!”
“No one can. I could not do so myself, now that the lock-bar is down. It will remain down until we get to Tharixan. And that is the nearest world settled by my people!”
I tried the controls, gingerly. They could not be moved. When I told the knights, Sir Owain moaned aloud.
But Sir Roger said grimly: “We’ll find whether that is the truth or not. The questioning will at least punish his betrayal!”
Through me, Branithar replied with scorn: “Vent your spite if you must. I am not afraid of you. But I say that even if you broke my will, it would be useless. The rudder settings cannot be changed now, nor the ship halted. The lock-bar is meant for situations when a vessel must be sent somewhere with no one aboard.” After a moment he added earnestly: “You must understand, though, I bear you no malice. You are foolhardy, but I could almost regret the fact that we need your world for ourselves. If you will spare me, I shall intercede for you when we get to Tharixan. Your own lives may be given you, at least.”
Sir Roger rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I heard the bristles scratch under his palm, though he had shaved only last Thursday. “I gather the ship will become manageable again when we reach this destination,” he said. I was amazed how coolly he took it after the first shock. “Could we not turn about then and go home?”
“I will never guide you!” said Branithar to that. “And alone, unable to read our navigational books, you would never find the way. We will be farther from your world than light can travel in a thousand of your years.”
“You might have the courtesy not to insult our intelligence,” I huffed. “I know as well as you do that light has an infinite velocity.”
He shrugged.
A gleam lit Sir Roger’s eye. “When will we arrive?” he asked.
“In ten days,” Branithar informed us. It is not the distances between stars, great though they are, that has made us so slow to reach your world. We habeen expanding for three centuries. It is the sheer number of suns.”
“Hmm. When we arrive, we have this fine ship to use, with its bombards and the hand weapons. The Wersgorix may regret our visit!”
I translated for Branithar, who answered, “I sincerely advise you to surrender at once. True, these fire-beams of ours can slay a man, or reduce a city to slag. But you will find them useless, because we have screens of pure force which will stop any such beam. The ship is not so protected, since the generators of a force shield are too bulky for it. Thus the guns of the fortress can shoot upward and destroy you.”
When Sir Roger heard this, he said only: “Well, we’ve ten days to think it over. Let this remain a secret. No one can see out of the ship, save from this place. I’ll think of some tale that won’t alarm the folk too much.”
He went out, his cloak swirling behind him like great wings.



 Chapter IV
I was the least of our troop, and much happened in which I had no part. Yet I shall set it down as fully as may be, using conjecture to fill in the gaps of knowledge. The chaplains heard much in confession, and without violating confidence they were ever quick to correct false impressions.
I believe, therefore, that Sir Roger took Catherine his lady aside and told her how matters stood. He had hoped for calm and courage from her, but she flew into the bitterest of rages.
“Ill was the day I wed you!” she cried. Her lovely face turned red and then white, and she stamped a small foot on the steel deck. “Bad enough that your oafishness should disgrace me before king and court, and doom me to yawn my life away in that bear’s den you call a castle. Now you set the lives and the very souls of my children at hazard!”
“But, dearest,” he stammered. “I could not know-“
“No, you were too stupid! ‘Twas not enough to go robbing and whoring off into France, you must needs do it in this aerial coffin. Your arrogance told you the demon was so afraid of you he would be your obedient slave. Mary, pity women!”
She whirled, sobbing, and hurried from him.Sir Roger stared after her till she had vanished down the long corridor. Then, heavyhearted, he betook himself to see his troopers.
He found them in the afterhold, cooking their supper. The air remained sweet in spite of all the fires we lit; Branithar told me the ship embodied a system for renewing the vital spirits of the atmosphere. I found it somewhat unnerving always to have the walls luminous and not know day from night. But the common soldiers sat around, hoisting ale crocks, bragging, dicing, cracking fleas, a wild, godless crew who nonetheless cheered their lord with real affection.
Sir Roger signaled to Red John Hameward, whose huge form lumbered to join him in a small side chamber. “Well, sire,” he remarked, “it seems a longish ways to France after all.”
‘Plans have been, urn, changed,” Sir Roger told him carefully. “It seems there may be a rare booty in the homeland of this ship. With that, we could equip an army large enough not only to take, but to hold and settle all our conquests.”
Red John belched and scratched under his doublet. “If we don’t run into more nor we can handle, sire.”“I think not. But you must prepare your men for this change of plan and soothe whatever fears they have.”
“That’lI not be easy, sire.”
“Why not? I told you the plunder would be good.”
“Well, my lord, if you want the honest truth, ‘tis in this wise. You see, though we’ve most of the Anshy women along, and many of ‘em are unwed and, urn, friendly disposed ... even so, my lord, the fact remains, d’ you see, we’ve twice as many men as women. Now the French girls are fair, and belike the Saracen wenches would do in a pinch-indeed, they’re said to be very pinchable-but, judging from those blueskins we overmastered, well, their females aren’t so handsome.”
“How do you know they don’t hold beautiful princesses in captivity that yearn for an honest English face?”
“That’s so, my lord. It could well be.”
“Then see you have the bowmen ready to fight when we arrive.” Sir Roger clapped the giant on the shoulder and went out to speak similarly with his other captains.
He mentioned this question of women to me somewhat later, and I was horrified. “God be praised, that He made the Wersgorix so unattractive, if theyare of another species!” I exclaimed. “Great is His forethought!”
“Ill-favored though they be,” asked the baron, “are you sure they’re not human?”
“Would God I knew, sire,” I answered after thinking about it. “They look like naught on earth. Yet they do go on two legs, have hands, speech, the power of reason.”
“It matters little,” he decided.
“Oh, but it matters greatly, sire!” I told him. “For see you, if they have souls, then it is our plain duty to win them to the Faith. But if they have not, it were blasphemous to give them the sacraments.”
“I 11 let you find out which,” he said indifferently.
I hurried forthwith to Branithar’s cabin, which was guarded by a couple of spearmen. “What would you?” he asked when I sat down.
“Have you a soul?” I inquired.
“A what?”
I explained what spiritus meant. He was still puzzled. “Do you really think a miniature of yourself lives in your head?” he asked.
“Oh, no. The soul is not material. It is what gives life-well, not exactly that, since animals are alive- will, the self-““I see. The brain.”
“No, no, no! The soul is, well, that which lives on after the body is dead, and faces judgment for its actions during life.”
“Ah. You believe, then, that the personality survives after death. An interesting problem. If personality is a pattern rather than a material object, as seems reasonable, then it is theoretically possible that this pattern may be transferred to something else, the same system of relationships but in another physical matrix.”
“Stop maundering!” I snapped impatiently. “You are worse than an Albigensian. Tell me in plain words, do you or do you not have a soul?”
“Our scientists have investigated the problems involved in a pattern concept of personality, but, so far as I know, data are still lacking on which to base a conclusion.”
“There you go again.” I sighed. “Can you not give me a simple answer? Just tell me whether or not you have a soul.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re no help at all,” I scolded him, and left.
My colleagues and I debated the problem at length, but except for the obvious fact that provisional baptism could be given any nonhumans willing to receive it, no solution was reached. Itwas a matter for Rome, perhaps for an ecumenical council.
While all this went on, Lady Catherine had mastered her tears and swept haughtily on down a passageway, seeking to ease her inner turmoil by motion. In the long room where the captains dined, she found Sir Owain tuning his harp. He leaped to his feet and bowed. “My lady! This is a pleasant ... I might say dazzling.., surprise.”
She sat down on a bench. “Where are we now?” she asked in sudden surrender to her weariness.
Perceiving that she knew the truth, he replied, “I don’t know. Already the sun itself has shrunk till we have lost view of it among the stars.” A slow smile kindled in his dark face. “Yet there is sun enough in this chamber.”
Catherine felt a blush go up her cheeks. She looked down at her shoes. Her own lips stirred upward, unwilled by herself.
“We are on the loneliest voyage men ever undertook,” said Sir Owain. “If my lady will permit, I’ll seek to while away an hour of it with a song cycle dedicated to her charms.”
She did not refuse more than once. His voice rose until it filled the room.
 Chapter V
There is a little to tell of the outward journey. The tedium of it soon bulked larger than the perils. Knights exchanged harsh words, and John Hameward had to crack more than one pair of heads together to keep order among his bowmen. The serfs took it best; when not caring for livestock, or eating, they merely slept.
I noticed that Lady Catherine was often at converse with Sir Owain, and that her husband was no longer overjoyed about it. However, he was always caught up in some plan or preparation, and the younger knight did give her hours of distraction, even of merriment.
Sir Roger and I spent much time with Branithar, who was willing enough to tell us about his race and its empire. I was reluctantly coming to believe his claims. Strange that so ugly a breed should dwell in what I judged to be the Third Heaven, but the fact could not be denied. Belike, I thought, when Scripture mentioned the four corners of the world, it did not mean our planet Terra at all, but referred to a cubical universe. Beyond this must lie the abode of the blessed; while Branithar’s remark about the molten interior of the earth was certainly consonant with prophetic visions of hell.
Branithar told us that there were about a hundred worlds like our own in the Wersgor empire. They circled as many separate stars, for no sun was likely to have more than one habitable planet. Each of these worlds was the dwelling place of a few million Wersgorix, who liked plenty of room. Except for the capital planet, Wersgorixan, they bore no cities. But those on the frontiers of the empire, like Tharixan whither we were bound, had fortresses which were also space navy bases. Branithar stressed the firepower and impregnability of these castles.
If a usable planet had intelligent natives, these were either exterminated or enslaved. The Wersgorix did no menial work, leaving this to suchhelots, or to automata. Themselves they were soldiers, managers of their vast estates, traders, owners of manufactories, politicians, and courtiers. Being unarmed, the enslaved natives had no hope of revolting against the relatively small number of alien masters. Sir Roger muttered something about distributing weapons to these oppressed beings when we arrived and telling them about the Jacquerie. But Branithar guessed his intent, laughed, and said Tharixan had never been inhabited, so there were only a few hundred slaves on the entire planet.
This empire filled a rough sphere in space, about two thousand light-years across. (A light-year being the incredible distance that light covers in one standard Wersgor year, which Branithar said was about 10 percent longer than the Terrestrial period.) It included millions of suns with their worlds. But most of these, because of poisonous air or poisonous life forms or other things, were useless to the Wersgorix and ignored.
Sir Roger asked if they were the only~ nation which had learned to fly between the stars. Branithar shrugged contemptuously. “We have encountered three others, who developed the art independently,” he said. “They live within the sphere of our empire, but so far we have not subdued them. It was not worth while, when primitive planets are such easier game. We allow these three races to traffic, and to keep the small number ofcolonies they had already established in other planetary systems. But we have not allowed them to continue expanding. A couple of minor wars settled that. They have no love for us: they know we will destroy them someday when it is convenient for us to do so, but they are helpless in the face of overwhelming power.”
“I see,” nodded the baron.
He instructed me to start learning the Wersgor language. Branithar found it amusing to teach me, and I could smother my own fears by hard work, so it went quite fast. Their tongue was barbarous, lacking the noble inflections of Latin, but on that account not hard to master.
In the control turret I found drawers full of charts and numerical tables. All the writing was beautifully exact; I thought they must have such scribes it was a pity they had not gone on to illuminate the pages. Puzzling over these, and using what I had learned of the Wersgor speech and alphabet, I decided this was a set of navigational directions.A regular map of the planet Tharixan was included, since this had been the home base of the expedition. I translated the symbols for land, sea, river, fortress, and so on. Sir Roger pored long hours over it. Even the Saracen chart his grandfather had brought back from the Holy Land was crude compared to this; though on the other hand the Wersgorix showed lack of culture by omitting pictures of mermaids, the four winds, hippogriffs, and similar ornamentation.
I also deciphered the legends on some of the control panel instruments. Such dials as those for altitude and speed could readily be mastered. But what did “fuel flow” mean? What was the difference between “sublight drive” and “super-light drive”? Truly these were potent, though pagan, charms.
And so the sameness of days passed, and after a time which felt like a century we observed that one star was waxing in the screens. It swelled until it flamed big and bright as our own sun. And then we saw a planet, similar to ours save that it had two small moons. Downward we plunged, till the scene was not a ball in the sky but a great rugged sweep of landscape under our footsoles. When I saw heaven again turned blue, I threw myself to the deck in thanksgiving.
The lock-bar snapped upward. The ship came to a halt and hung where it was, a mile in the air. We had reached Tharixan.