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emerged from the house with a stone lamp. By the wavering light Scot
saw it was a young but hefty woman. "Want a blanket, Fred?"
Fred? Well, a Saxon warrior could have any name he chose!
"Bitsy, you know the code. Not unless he takes one."
Hospitality? No merely equality. Honor forbade the Saxon's taking
advantage of such a comfort alone; it would be construed as a
prejudicial weakness. Scot was coming to appreciate the Saxon code
more and more. It threw the burden of decision on the person most
strongly motivated. The one in the right.
The girl came to Scot. "Blanket?"
Why not? The Saxon could probably withstand the cold better than
Scot could. "Thank you."
She gave it to him, then went for another.
"Wife?" Scot inquired when they were alone again.
"Sister." Then, as if appreciating the small comfort that had been
allowed, the Saxon amplified, "Nice kid. Never done wrong in her life.
Our folks MT'd, but she had a man who couldn't, so she stayed. Then
it broke up, and she was stuck. I've been seeing after her."
"I know how it is," Scot agreed. "My fiancée MT'd without me. But
later I found a better woman. Your sister should have no trouble."
"She's big, like me some say fat. But it's not fat, it's a big frame and
muscle. She's twenty now, in her prime. I could make somebody take
her, but she won't have it that way. Oh, if I lost her as spoils of war
she'd go but she won't take it as charity. She's near as stubborn as I
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am. So she cooks for me, and washes. Good at it, too."
"I'm sure," Scot agreed politely. "The pretty ones always go
somewhere else, always get a man, even if they can't do a thing."
"That's for sure!" the Saxon said emphatically. "Lot more to a woman
'n looks! Bitsy can carry a dressed hog. Where's the pretty girl can do
that?"
Scot visualized the increasingly large wild pigs that roamed the
countryside. Many would weigh over a hundred pounds, slaughtered
and dressed. Brand had brought a couple down with the good bow
they had traded from another neighbor, as well as a few of the
migrating wild bovines. "Mine could, maybe," he said. "She's a small
girl, but she's got chest muscle you wouldn't believe."
"I believe," the Saxon said. "I saw her. But who else?"
"Not many."127
The man grunted affirmatively, and there was another long round of
silence.
Morning came, and still they sat. Scot felt the need to relieve himself,
but of course could not. The Saxon looked uncomfortable, and now
Scot realized that his own lack of a big meal and drink was a net
advantage.
He fought off waves of sleepiness, determined not to relent. The
Saxon camp came alive, ignoring them. The Druid passed by and
nodded affirmatively. "There is an easier route," he said. "If you
would agree that some justice lies on either side, and exchange tokens
of compromise, this becomes unnecessary."
"We must be free," Scot insisted.
"You can be free within reasonable limits. Deliver the pinch of
incense to the altar of Baal I speak figuratively, of course; Baal is no
Celtic God swear fealty as vassal to the King and perhaps he will be
disposed to return you to your farm. You would pay seasonal tribute
to him in return for his protection from the Huns. Is that
unreasonable?"
"It's one way of doing it," Scot said.
"And you," the Druid said persuasively to the Saxon. "Could you not
spare some token as a sign of amity? This man has challenged you
honorably, and he bears the Cross of the Holy Order of Vision
brothers in spirit to we Druids.128 You would sacrifice no honor in this
gesture "
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"I never sacrificed any honor!"
The Druid returned to Scot. "I can virtually guarantee that the King
would accept your vassalship.129 I have reasoned with him, pointing
out the significance of your association with the Order of Vision. We
want no quarrel with them."
"They don't quarrel," Scot said. "Their whole philosophy "
"Ah, but the King does not realize that."
It was too smooth, too ingenious. Scot distrusted it. This man spoke of
religion, but he lacked Brother Paul's fundamental integrity. Scot
remained sitting, though his tongue ached for water. "I will not
practice deceit," he said.
"One must accede to the times. When in Rome "
"I'm in this challenge because I'm not in Rome," Scot said firmly.
"And not in the Saxons, or Celts or whatever. I intend to be my own
man, on my own farm, with my own wife and own friend. And I must
help my neighbors, who have helped me in the past. If I start
compromising now, where will it end?"
The Druid shook his head and turned away. "If you should change
your mind, it can still be arranged," he said.
When the Druid was out of hearing, the Saxon spoke. "For what it's
worth, I agree with you. These smooth operators can twist things
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