Part 78 (1/2)

”But why would so few men try to reach the city?” asked a fellow. ”And why, so few in number, would they strike at the pens?”

”They are mad,” said a fellow.

”Drunk,” suggested another.

A man looked down at me, and I quickly lowered my head, that I not meet his eyes.

”It is over now,” said a fellow.

”We do not know,” said a fellow. ”There may still be fighting.”

”There were less than fifty, surely,” said a man.

”I think it would be over,” said another.

At about that time the bars began to diminish, first one stopping sounding, and then another.

”Yes,” said a fellow. ”It is over now.”

They began then, wis.h.i.+ng one another well, separating the one from the other, to take their diverse ways from the terrace.

I lifted my head.

It was still bright, still late afternoon.

I wondered if, elsewhere, some skirmish was done, some steel reddened.

It was a strange feeling, being where I was, where it seemed so quiet, the sky so blue and calm, the clouds moving overhead, unhurried, knowing that not far away some terrible action might be ensuant, perhaps at the pens. But the bars had stopped sounding. It was done then. It was over.

I sat back against the wall.

I wondered where the Lady Constanzia and the scarlet-clad fellow might be. One supposed they might have taken cover with the sounding of the bars. Or perhaps she had been braceleted while he went to investigate, perhaps one bracelet put about her left wrist, the other about the linkage of a stout fence, or perhaps she had been knelt before a stanchion, her wrists braceleted about it.

Some folks were strolling now on the terrace. I closed my eyes, against the heat, the sun.

”Look!” I heard. It was a man's voice. It came from somewhere in the vicinity of the bal.u.s.trade.

I opened my eyes and stood up, by the ring. I looked in the direction in which he was pointing, out, over the bal.u.s.trade. Several others, too, were looking.

Some of these were near the bal.u.s.trade. Others had turned about, from where they were on the terrace.

”Look!” he cried again.

I could now see, in the distance, that to which he must have reference.

It was another flight of tarns. They seemed tiny, so far away. It was difficult to judge their number.

”Tarns!” said another fellow, now, too, pointing. Two more men ran to the bal.u.s.trade.

The tarns seemed larger now. They must be coming very rapidly, I thought. It seemed clear that there were more tams in this group than in the first group, perhaps considerably more, but by how much the numbers of this group might exceed those of the first group it would be very difficult to say, that for two reasons, their formation and orientation. They were in single-file, like the first group, but they were not moving to the right, as had the first group, an orientation that had made possible a fairly exact estimate of their numbers.

Rather, this time, in file, they seemed to be moving directly toward us. If one had not been looking at an exact point in the sky one might not even have noticed them. Too, they seemed at a fairly low alt.i.tude, approaching parallel to the ground. They might not be more than a few yards' height above the walls. At times they were difficult to detect for the mountains behind them.

”They're coming this way!” said a fellow.

”Go,” said a man to a free woman. ”Leave! Get indoors! Get off the terrace!”

I saw a child, with a ball, running toward the bal.u.s.trade.

”Run!” said a man.

”There is no danger!” said a fellow. ”The bars are not sounding!”

”They have to be our lads!” said another. ”It is a second pursuit!”

”Disperse! Disperse!” said a guardsman, near the bal.u.s.trade. ”Move!

Move!”

The flight did indeed seem to be approaching with great rapidity.

”Go!” said the guardsman. He actually pushed a fellow. That is seldom done with free persons.

If the approaching riders had banners they had not yet unfurled them.

To be sure, this is normally done only when recognition is practical, or important. It might be mentioned, too, that the unfurled banner, at high speeds, is difficult to manage. It requires a strong man under such conditions to keep it from being whipped from its boot. It also, because of drag, reduces airspeed. Too, obviously, it handicaps its bearer in combat. His compensation is the banner guard, usually four of his fellows whose duty it is to protect him and the ensign. Actual instructions in flight are usually auditory rather than visual. They tend to be transmitted not by banners, or standards, or even pennons. but by tarn drums, trumpets, and such. Even riderless birds, as I understand it, will often respond to these signals, the charge, the wheel to one att.i.tude or another, the ascent, the dive, the retreat, and such.

In measured flight, tarn drums may also supply the cadence for the wing beat.

”Go!” said the guardsman.

”The bars aren't sounding!” protested a man.

”Go!” cried the guardsman.

I saw a woman turn about and began to hurry from the terrace.

”There!” said a man. ”See! The banners! The banners of Treve!”

There was a cheer from those on the terrace.

Still the flight proceeded toward us.

”Run!” screamed the guardsman. ”Run!”

”No!” cried a man.

”Look!” cried another.

”See the banners!” cried another.