Belphebe gave a little squeal, and a chorus of excited voices rose from the camp.
Shea gazed at the fragments of the splintered tree and said soberly, «I think that shot was meant for us, and that that just about tears it, darling. Pete, you get your wish. We’re going to have to stay here at least until I know more about the laws controlling magic in this continuum.»
Two or three of Cuchulainn’s men burst excitedly through the trees and came toward them, spears ready. «Is it all right that you are?» one of them called.
«Just practicing a little magic,» said Shea, easily. «Come on, let’s go back and join the others.»
In the clearing voices were no longer quenched, and the confusion had become worse than ever. Cuchulainn stood watching the loading of the chariot, with a lofty and detached air. As the three travelers approached he said, «Now it is to you I am grateful, Mac Shea, with your magical spell for reminding me that things are better done at home than abroad. It is leaving at once we are.»
«Hey!» said Brodsky. «I ain’t hadno breakfast.»
The hero regarded him with distaste. «You will be telling me that I should postpone the journey for the condition of a slave’s belly?» he said, and turning to Shea and Belphebe, «We can eat as we go.»
The ride was smoother than the one of the previous day only because the horses went at a walk so as not to outdistance the column of retainers on foot. Conversation over the squeaking of the wheels began by being sparse and rather boring, with Cuchulainn keeping his chin well down on his chest. But he apparently liked Belphebe’s comments on the beauty of the landscape. As it came on to noon he began to chatter, addressing her with an exclusiveness that Shea found disturbing, though he had to admit that the little man talked well, and always with the most perfect courtesy.
The country around them got lower and flatter and flatter and lower, until from the tops of the few rises Shea glimpsed a sharp line of gray-blue across the horizon; the sea. A shower came down and temporarily soaked the column, but nobody paid it much attention, and in the clear sunlit air that followed everyone was soon dry. Cultivation became more common, though there was still less of it than pasturage. Occasionally a lumpish-looking serf, clad in a length of ragged sacking-like cloth wrapped around his middle and a thick veneer of dirt, left off his labors to stare at the band and wave a languid greeting.
At last, over the manes of the horses, Shea saw that they were approaching a stronghold. This consisted of a stockade of logs with a huge double gate.