Christopher Stasheff

‘Aye!’ the crowd bellowed.

‘Will you fight?’ Tuan howled, shaking a fist.

‘Aye!’ they cried, crowding closer with blood-thirst.

Tuan’s hands shot out waist-high, palms down, fingers spread.

The crowd stilled.

His voice was hushed, chanting. ‘You were born to filth and the scabs of disease!’

‘Aye,’ they muttered.

‘You were born to the sweat of your joints, and the ache of your back in hard labor I,

‘Aye!’

‘You were born to the slack, empty belly and the want of a home!’

‘Aye!’

‘Who filled your bellies? Who gave you a roof for your head in this very house?’

‘You did!’

‘Who gave you a fortress?’

‘You did!’

‘Who?’

‘You!’

‘Tell me the name!’

‘Tuan Loguire!’ they shrieked.

‘Aye!’ Tuan’s hands went out again; he stood crouched, eye afire.

‘This was the misery I took from you. But who gave it to you at birth? Who is it has beaten you down, century upon century, from father to son, age upon age to the time of your remotest grandfathers?’

The crowd muttered, uncertain. ‘The peasants?’

‘Nay,’ the crowd answered. ‘Was it the soldiers?’

‘Aye!’ they shouted, come to life again.

‘And who rules the soldiers?’ ‘The nobles!’

Rod winced at the hate they packed into the word.

‘Aye! ‘Twas the nobles!’ Tuan shouted, thrusting upward with his fist, and the crowd howled.

He let pandemonium reign for a few moments, then threw up his arms again.

Then his hands dropped down to belt-level again, he fell into the crouch.

‘Who!’ he demanded, and the drum throbbed behind him. ‘Who! Who alone of all the high-born took your part? Who gave you food when Christopher Stasheff you cried for it, heard your petitions? Who sent judges among you, to give you justice instead of a nobleman’s whim?’

His fist thrust upward with his whole body behind it, ‘The Queen!’

‘The Queen!’ they echoed him.

‘She, shut her ears to the noblemen, that she might hear your cries!’

‘Aye!’

‘She hath shed tears for you!’

‘Aye!’

‘Yet,’ cried the hunchback, ‘she cast you out, our Tuan Loguire!’

Tuan smiled sourly. ‘Did she? Or did she send me among you!’ He threw up his arms, and they roared like an avalanche.

‘It is the Queen who has given you your birthright again!’

‘Aye!’

‘Are you men?’ Tuan shouted. ‘We are!’

‘Will you fight?’

‘We will fight! We will fight!’ ‘Will you fight the noblemen?’

‘Aye!’

‘Will you fight for your Queen?’ ‘Aye!’

‘Will you fight the noblemen for Catharine your Queen?’

‘Aye! Ayeayeayeaye!’

Then the noise of the crowd covered all. The people leaped and shouted; men caught women and swung them about.

‘Have you weapons?’ Tuan shouted.

‘Aye!’ A thousand daggers leaped upward, gleaming.

‘Catch up your packs, fill them with journeybread! Burst out of this house, through the south gate of the city! The Queen will give you food, give you tents! So run you all to the South, south along the great highway to Breden Plain, there to wait for the noblemen!

‘Go to it!’ he shouted. ‘Go now! For the Queen!’

‘For the Queen.”

Tuan flipped his hand; the drum boomed loud and fast. ‘Hunting call’ Tuan snapped in aside to Rod.

Rod flourished the trumpet to his lips and began the quick.

bubbling notes.

‘Go!’ Tuan roared.

The people broke, to their rooms, to the armory. In ten minutes’

time they had caught up packs, staffs, and knives.

‘It is done!’ Tuan leaped down off the rail to the balcony floor.