THE FROG AND THE GROG
by
Christopher Stasheff
Copyright 2011
Cadavan didn't know what it was, but a wizard recognizes magic when he sees it. It was another spell to kill intruders, and that was all he needed to know. He pivoted and leaped, slamming into Jojo's legs and bringing the wolf stumbling down just as light flashed, thunder bellowed, and the tunnel filled with smoke. Jojo howled. Cadavan hopped around him, frantic to know where he was hurt, then remembered the device and turned back… to see it folding itself away into the stone of the pathway, sure it had stopped the invaders—as it would have, if Cadavan had been more than a foot high and Jojo had been standing. His stomach sank as he realized why the sewer had so convenient a ledge—too keep the target in front of that strange thunder-tube. Whatever it was supposed to do, though, had been intended for a man on hands and knees, not for a frog and a wolf lying on his belly.
Now he smelled blood, coming from Jojo's head. He hopped up and shot his tongue out between the wolf's ears. He tasted blood, yes, blood and fur, but his tongue felt no bone, only flesh, and the blood was oozing, not pumping. " 'Sawright," he assured Jojo. " 'Sawright."
Jojo whined a question.
"Headache," Cadavan told him. "Go 'way. Go 'way." Resolutely, he turned his back and hopped on down the tunnel, hoping there were no more booby traps.
* * * * *
Aelwyn sang for the king and his courtiers, tales of adventure and battle, until his fingers were growing sore, but the king was grinning and nodding with the music and everyone around them was laughing and drinking. Aelwyn struck a final chord and, under cover of the applause, muttered to Galben, "Tell me again why we're here."
"To distract them all from the frog coming in through the dungeon," said the reeve, "and the frog is there to rescue the princess."
"Who wouldn't be there if he hadn't wanted to see the royal castle."
"He has to see his wizard friend, the boy..." Galben almost said "king" but swallowed the word at the last minute. "...tutor."
"Play shomeshing more, minshtrel." The king waved his cup. It sloshed over, and a server quickly took it from him, replaced it with another, then ran to tap the keg for one more.
Aelwyn judged that the king was drunk enough, and sang,
"The drums roll thunder, the bugles bray
For the young men march to war today.
But when will they come home?
And what will they have done?"
King Viburnum frowned. "Wha'shish?"
Maybe not drunk enough—but the die was cast. Aelwyn swallowed his doubts and sang on:
"Battles gains land and power and more,
But young men always die in war,
Plain folk lose both house and home
And on the roads are set to roam."
"Don't think I like thish." The king frowned, his goblet slopping over. "Better play shomeshing elsh."
Well, Aelwyn certainly wanted that wine to go down the royal throat, not on the floor.
"When soldier shall come marching home,
When our young all shall march on home,
The girls will dance and the boys will shout!
The women they will all turn out,
With a big loud hooray
When soldiers come marching home."
The king didn't object, but he frowned -- a frown that turned into a yawn. Then he set the cup to his lips and drank again.
Galben looked about him and hissed, "Aelwyn—they're falling asleep!"
Aelwyn stared in surprise, then realized what had happened.
"Shing," the king commanded.
"The young folk shall go off to war—
But what are they all marching for?"
Earl Chain scowled. "The cathedral, of coursh!"
So… he was drunk, too.
Beside him, Sir Harry stared, scandalized. His adored captain, his lord, his suzerain—drunk? How could that be?
"How could their spies come in so near?
How is it they had naught to fear?
Who told the guards to look away?
When damage done, how then came they?"
"Don' like zhish at..." Earl Chain's head sagged forward; he snored.
"Chain? Gotta... gotta..." The king blinked owlishsly at his champion. "Whassha gotta do?"
Aelwyn answered.
"Call back your troops and send them home,
Tell true who thought to crash the dome.
Whose gave the wreckers inspiration?
Who gained most retaliation?"
The king's chin fell to his chest. He snored.
Aelwyn lowered his lute with a sigh.
"You've bewitched them!"
Aelwyn looked up in alarm. One lone young knight came charging toward him, drawing his sword and slashing. "Guards! Awaken! Save your king!"
Three guardsmen lifted their heads as though they each weighed a ton. They blinked like owls, then stumbled toward Aelwyn, leveling their spears.
Aelwyn sidestepped and, as the young knight stumbled by, swung his lute like a club. It smashed on the young man's head; he tripped on a sleeping courtier and fell, unconscious and rolling.
Galben slipped between the spears and slammed a fist into one guard's belly. As the man doubled over, the reeve clouted the next guard on the temple, then knocked the first on the back of the head and turned back to kick the second's feet out from under him. The third stumbled toward them, waving his pike. Aelwyn swung the hardwood neck of his lute and cracked the man's skull. He fell without a word.
Galben saw the young knight's body roll over against the wall, pinning the bottom of a tapestry behind him. Curious, the reeve went over and sniffed the man's breath, then looked up and nodded. "A teetotaller. He didn't drink."
"The rest certainly did." Aelwyn stood in the wreckage, looking out over a sea of snoring bodies. "I know too much wine can make people sleepy, but I think this goes beyond the natural."
"Don't be too sure," said Galben. "After all, they really got into the spirit of the occasion."
"Or the spirit got into them." Aelwyn went over to press his ear against the keg, then straightened, nodding. "The ghost got into the brew again." He pulled the strings from the wreckage of his lute. "Take their belts and points, and tie them up, Galben. We don't want any surprises when they waken." He went to tie the king's hands behind his back with a musical fiber. "I win the bet, reeve. I told the king what I think of his plot, to his face."
"Sang it," Galben returned, "and it doesn't count if he was dead drunk at the time."
Aelwyn took the strings from his lute and bound Viburnum's hands behind him, then those of his advisers, while Galben took the laces from courtiers hose and bound them hand and foot, then turned to bind others. They worked in a fever of haste, unsure how long they'd be asleep.
* * * * *
There didn't seem to be any more booby traps; Cadavan hopped cautiously, ready to flatten himself against the stone, and heard the cautious clicking of claws behind him as Jojo followed, equally wary.
Then light gleamed ahead.
Cadavan quickened his pace, the realized that the light was the yellow of fire, not the silver of moonlight. He slowed, wary of another trap—but as the light grew brighter, he realized it was coming from overhead. Two more hops, and he was under a grate that barred the top of the tunnel. He was under the dungeons!
Of course. No wonder there was a sewer.
But the grate's lattice was small, the space between bars barely an inch across. Of course—it was designed to keep out rats.
And frogs.
Cadavan's stomach sank as he stared up at the frog-proof grate. He was so close to Monahere and rescue! He summoned all his determination, gathered himself, and sprang straight up, as hard as he could—but his back slammed into iron and he fell back with a pain along his backbone.
Jojo whined and nosed him aside. Cadavan looked up in alarm, but the wolf only reared back, resting his head against the grate—the suddenly straightened, and the grate swung back. It fell clattering aside. It had been designed to keep out rats, not wolves.
" 'Ankoo! 'Ankoo!" Cadavan sprang out of the hole.
"Whazzat? Whazzat?" A slovenly man in rags and tatters, with a huge ring of keys at his waist, rose from a stool at the end of the hallway and came stumbling toward them. His eyes were bleary, and he stank of beer—and stale sweat. "How'd you get in here?" He swung a foot back, baring filthy teeth in a gapped grin. "Ain't kicked a frog in years!"
Then the wolf's head rose through the grate, and in one lithe bound, Jojo was out of the sewer and into the dungeon hallway—not that it was much of an improvement. The jailer froze, staring.
Jojo crouched, eyes aflame, growling.
The jailer screamed, whirled, and went stumbling away, up the stairs and gone. The keys jangled at his belt, the sound fading.
" 'Ankoo," Cadavan said to Jojo again.
* * * * *
The jailer burst into the great hall, wild-eyed and waving, crying, "A beast! A wolf in the castle! With a giant frog! Help! Guards! Help!" Then he saw the people sleeping at tables and on the floor, and froze, staring.
Aelwyn exchanged a glance with Galben, then went to the man, saying, "That must have been quite a shock."
The wild eyes focused on him. "The wolf! It will chase us! Kill us!"
"Oh, it won't dare come to where it smells so many people." Aelwyn took the jailer's arm and led him to a bench near the keg. "Here, let me draw you a dram, and you can tell us about it."
The jailer's eyes lit at the word "dram." Aelwyn picked up the nearest fallen goblet, filled it from the keg, and handed it to the jailer. "Take a good long drink, now."
The man swung the cup high, gulping greedily.
Aelwyn took the goblet and refilled it. "Now," he said as he handed it back, "tell us the manner of it."
"It was terrible! I was sitting there on my stool, minding my own business and watching the cells, and all of a sudden there's..." He broke off to yawn, then smacked his lips and blinked. "Where was I?"
"On your stool," Aelwyn said helpfully. "Here, take another sip and tell us what appeared before you all of a sudden."
The jailer took a long swallow, then nodded. "All of a sudden there it was, a frog bigger than any you've ever seen, two feet across if it... was..." He stopped to yawn again, then drank off the rest of the goblet.
Aelwyn refilled it again. "A giant frog? That must have been astounding."
"It was, it was! But when I went to crush it—can't have frogs hopping about in my dungeon, no I can't—I'd scarcely lifted my foot when this wolf was there, red-eyed and growling at... at..." His head fell forward as his voice faded into a snore.
"I thought he'd drink the whole keg!" Aelwyn laid the man down under the table.
"And I doubt that was his first drink of the evening," Galben agreed. "Sounds like are friends are in the dungeon."
"Alive and well, praises be!" Aelwyn turned to yank a belt from a courtier's waist. "Keep tying wrists and ankles, Galben! We don't want anybody here to wake up and interrupt the frog."
"Oh, we'll just pour them another cupful," Galben said.
* * * * *
Cadavan hopped along a passageway lit by only one guttering torch, looking at the wasted faces inside. Then he realized that a jailer fleeing meant he'd be back with soldiers. "Work quick," he told Jojo. "Work quick."
"What was that?" A pale face appeared at an iron grill at the end of the passageway—a familiar face whose eyes widened as she cried, "Jojo!"
How she had recognized him as a wolf was more than Cadavan could understand.
Jojo ran up to the bars and nuzzled Princess Nadia's hand, whining. She laughed softly as she stroked his head. "Yes, I'd love to come out of here to pet you, Jojo, but there's a lock on the door and that nasty excuse for a man has the key. However did you turn into a wolf?"
But Cadavan was looking at the farthest corner of the cell at a heap of grimy cloth topped by a mane of red hair. He croaked his loudest, and the red hair lifted, turning to show him Monahere's face. Her beauty glowed even in that dim light like a torch of her own. A small, pallid face nestled in the crook of her arm.
Cadavan's heart lifted, what little there was of it, relieved to see that Duke Viburnum had spared the prince—but also delighted, as he always was, by Monahere's beauty. He croaked, and she must have heard the urgency in his voice, for she patted the prince in reassurance and set him aside to come to the bars, frowning down at the amphibian. "I've never seen a frog as big as you," she said, "and why would a frog come up into a dungeon and croak at a prince's tutor?"
"Change 'im! Change 'im!" Cadavan croaked.
Monahere frowned. "I wish I could understand you, friend, but I don't speak frog."
"Cadavan! Cadavan!" the bullfrog croaked in panic.
Musa stepped forward from the shadows. "He asks that you change him back into his proper form, wizard."
"What kind of a frog asks a wizard to change him?" Monahere's eyes narrowed. "You're not really a frog, are you?"
"Cadavan! Cadavan!"
"He says his name is 'Cadavan'," the genius supplied.
"Cadavan?" Monahere stared. "What went wrong? Never mind, you can't answer me like that. Well, they've taken my wand, but they haven't taken my voice." She chanted a quatrain in a language that even Cadavan couldn't recognize, it was so old, and he saw the mist rising about him, felt the stretching and the pain begin, bit his lips against it—and was delighted to discover he had lips again!—then gave a long-drawn croak of victory that turned into a shout of triumph.
Even knowing who it was, Monahere was surprised to see the frog change into an old friend. "Cadavan, what happened to you?"
"An oversight," he said, and hurried on. "I think it's more important to have you and your charge out of this place." He scowled at the lock. "You could open that easily enough."
"I could," she said, "but what would be the point? There were guards to either side of this cell every minute of every day and night… until a few minutes ago, when that lovely aroma wafted down the stairs and they left to see where it came from. If we went up there, we'd only find more of them—and this time they might not be content to leave us in a cell."
"I don't think we'll have trouble now," Cadavan said, "but I'll have a look and make sure. You get yourself and your king out of there." He bowed. "By your leave, Your Majesty."
"You think we'll be free?" the lad asked, wide-eyed.
"We can only do our best." Cadavan turned, wincing at the thought of Monahere having to see his bare backside, but was glad to hear her intoning a spell—surely she must be looking at the lock, not at him.
Cadavan went up the stairs and came into the great hall, where he looked about at all the snoring bodies with satisfaction, then snatched a robe from the nearest baron. He looked about the hall as he was struggling into it and saw the two wakeful men working furiously to tie up the sleepers. "Well done, Aelwyn!" he cried. "Another victory, Galben."
Aelwyn looked up in shock, thinking he'd missed one. "Who the blazes are you?"
"That's right, I've changed my look since we last met." Cadavan dropped his voice into his chest and said, "Ribbit. Ribbit, ribbit!"
"Cadavan!" Aelwyn cried, standing up and coming toward him in relief. Then he paused and frowned. "Is that really your name?"
The wizard nodded. "Luckily enough, I'm called one of the few names a frog can say." He glanced at the shattered wood, then shook his head in apology. "Your lute... sorry, Aelwyn."
"It died in a good cause," Aelwyn assured him, though he felt like wailing. "What were you doing down there, anyway?"
"Freeing the wizard who could change me into a man again." Cadavan looked about, frowning. "Have you seen a fat little man dressed in rags?"
"With a huge bunch of keys on his belt?" Aelwyn pointed at a table. "Right under there."
"Ah." Cadavan stooped and stood up with the key ring. "I'll be right back."
"But this mob might wake!" Aelwyn called after him.
"Not until morning," Cadavan answered as he descended the stairs.
He felt considerably more confident approaching the king's cell in a robe. "They're all asleep up there," he told Monahere, "except for two friends of mine."
"What a relief!" she said with a sigh. "Changing you back into a man is one favor you can repay right away, Cadavan!"
"Yes, it is." Cadavan took a key, pushed it into the lock, tried to turn it, and shook his head. "Not that one." He found the right one on the fourth try and pulled the cell door open.
Whining with delight, Jojo leaped in and ran to Nadia.
"There now, I'm sure it was terrible." She knelt to stroke his head. "But you're here now, with nothing more to fear."
Jojo closed his eyes and tilted his nose up in ecstasy.
"She has charmed him thoroughly," Cadavan said.
"Pubescent boys aren't that hard to charm," Monahere noted. She held the little king close to her side and said, "Come, Majesty, out of this terrible place."
They went out, the lad holding tight to her. "I'm not a majesty any more, am I, Monahere?"
"You always were," she said firmly. "Don't believe the usurper's lies. You shall sit on the throne, cousin, and rule for the rest of your life."
Cadavan followed, grimly resolving to make sure the king's life was long.
So Cadavan and Monahere came up the stairs out of the dungeon with the boy king. Looking up and seeing them, Aelwyn decided that was all that mattered. He stepped over in front of them and knelt. "Your Majesty!"
The boy stared; then his shoulders squared, his chin lifted, and he said, "Yes. I am king again, aren't I?"
"And always were." Galben knelt in front of him too. "I am Galben, reeve of one of your shires, Majesty, and sworn to the service of the true king."
"He helped us amazingly in freeing you." Aelwyn tactfully didn't say anything about Galben's first attempt to arrest him. "I am Aelwyn, only a wandering minstrel, Majesty, but one who had the luck to befriend a poor hapless frog."
"He certainly seemed to be," Nadia said, coming up behind her cousins.
Galben looked at the young woman with the wolf at her side, then looked again. "Um... Your Highness—are you sure he's safe?"
"I would count myself safer with Jojo than with a dozen guards."
Nadia beamed down at the wolf, who gazed up at her with worshipful eyes.
"Hard to believe he's really a boy," Galben said.
"A boy?" King Edmund spun to stare at the wolf. "Are you really?"
Jojo nodded.
"I have a notion you'll see him as he really is shortly after sunrise, Your Majesty," Cadavan said.
"Just as we see you now as you really are." Aelwyn glanced up at Cadavan. "I still can't believe that frog was really a man."
"A man and a wizard," Monahere told him.
"A wizard?" Aelwyn stared at Cadavan. "What turned you into a frog?"
"Time enough for that tale when we can sit by the fire with goblets of mulled wine," Cadavan said quickly. "First we must do something about the mess in this room." He held up the ring of keys. "I think we might be able to find room for them."
Aelwyn grinned. "We'll start hauling." He stooped to pick up a courtier.
Cadavan held up a hand. "I can do that easily enough. First, though, let us see if there are any left within this castle who are loyal to Edmund."
"I know those who are," Monahere said. "I was tutor here for half a year before the traitor overthrew the king. I had a great deal of time to learn who was loyal to Edmund because they were true to his family, and those who were loyal to whoever paid them."
Aelwyn didn't ask how she knew; she was a wizard, after all. "Were there any who were loyal to Viburnum?"
"Some," Monahere said, "but they were harmless unless the duke decided to seize the throne, and he was far from this castle in his own domain—or so we thought. When Viburnum came with Earl Chain and his bodyguard to pay his respects to King Edmund, I took alarm and warned the regent, but he would not hear of betraying the hospitality he had granted to the earl. When Chain rose in the night and began his murders, he was lightning-fast; there was no time to take arms against him."
Cadavan frowned; it was odd that Monahere had not read the intentions of Duke Viburnum's faction. His suspicion sharpened that Viburnum had his own wizard at hand who had warded his thoughts from Monahere.
"These may stay," Monahere said, "Sir Albren, Sir Ostro, Sir Makron, and all their attendants. They are in the dungeons; we shall loose them to make room for these." She nodded at the bound courtiers before her. "Earl Torlin, Baron Eltser, Baron Urbane..."
She went on, listing the lords and knights on whom they could relay. Tears gathered in her eyes at the memory of loyal folk who had died trying to defend Edmund. Then she launched into a list of servants and ended by saying, "All others you must expel. Come now, Cadavan, with your friends, and let us see these traitors bestowed where they should be." She uttered an incantation, motioning upward with her hands, and half the bodies levitated from the floor, still snoring. Cadavan recited the same words and also made the lifting gesture, and the rest of the bound courtiers rose. Monahere turned to lead the way, marching down into the dungeon again. The snoring bodies followed.
Cadavan brought up the rear. He gave Galben the ring of keys. "Open each cell, free the people within it, and we'll load these bodies in."
Galben nodded and ran ahead.
Aelwyn watched them go with a frown, feeling left out—but the little king was sitting close by his cousin Nadia, who was bandaging Jojo's head, and Aelwyn didn't think he should leave them unguarded. Not that he had much in the way of weapons, although the neck of his lute was almost three feet long and made of hardwood. If he had to use it again, he would.
Then Monahere came back up the stairs with Cadavan and Galben behind her. Following them were fifty or sixty people in grimy clothing, blinking and dazed to once more be free.
Monahere told Galben, "Hold the keys until the jailer wakens; then let him have his post again. You, however, shall hold the keys. If a cell needs opening, they may call for you."
Galben inclined his head.
King Edmund stood again and addressed the freed prisoners. "I thank you all for your loyalty. May I always have such stalwart souls to defend me, until I am old enough for you to follow me into battle."
"Your Majesty!" they cried with one voice, and knelt.
Cadavan blinked in surprise; the boy did seem to have the royal manner. Perhaps blood did tell.
"Rise, and seek your chambers and fresh clothing," King Edmund said.
Talking with one another in relief and delight, the loyal lords, knights, and soldiers left the great hall.
"There are others who fled," Monahere told Cadavan. "When the servants are dressed, I shall send them to summon back the other loyal folk who have gone into hiding."
Cadavan nodded. "Wisely done."
"These two shall be knighted for their service to me," Edmund declared. "Reeve, give me you sword."
Galben blinked in surprise, then handed the lad his blade.
"Kneel," Edmund commanded, then laid the blade on one shoulder, then the other. "Rise, Baron of Durnhelm!"
"Majesty… I do not deserve..."
"You risked your life for me," Edmund said simply, and turned to Aelwyn. "Kneel."
The minstrel did, staring in awe at the lad with the royal manner.
"I dub thee knight," Edmund said, touching first one shoulder, then the other. "Stand, Sir..." He glanced at Monahere.
"Aelwyn," she supplied.
"Sir Aelwyn," the king finished, "and do not dare to think to tell me you do not deserve the honor."
"Majesty, I shall not." Aelwyn rose.
"Monahere, can we make him a new lute?"
"I shall see he has the finest our kingdom can supply," Monahere promised.
"Now send for the loyal servants to clean up this mess," Monahere told Galben. "Cadavan, join us, if you will; the king and I must speak with you."
"Must we?" King Edmund asked in surprise.
"We must." Monahere beckoned to Nadia. "Your highness, will you join us?"
"Not without my wolf!"
"I would not think of it."
"Should I not knight him, too?" Edmund asked.
"When he has learned to talk and to walk on two legs, yes." Monahere looked about with a frown. "Where is she who would teach him?"
"Yes!" Edmund said. "She too must be honored!"
They waited, but the great hall was silent.
"She will come when there is need of her," Cadavan told him, "and if you truly wish to honor her, learn all that she can teach."
"Why, then, I shall," said Edmund with full resolve.
"Come, then." Monahere held out a hand to Nadia, who came to join her. Up the staircase they went, with Jojo trotting by Nadia's side and Cadavan bringing up the rear, reflecting that Monahere was a joy to watch, from any angle.
* * * * *
The darkness was warm and comforting, shielding Harry from the knowledge that he had failed his earl. Why then did someone insist on banishing that darkness? But she did; a female voice echoed in the corridors of dream, calling, "Harry! Sir Harry! Wake up!"
"Go 'way," he muttered, and raised an arm to shield his head—but not quickly enough; soft lips brushed his with a kiss, and the shock of that touch made him open his eyes.
It wasn't much of an improvement; she was fuzzy and rippling, like an image seen through a pane of ice, and everything behind her blurred together. "On your feet!" Her voice was sharp with urgency. "We must hide you."
TO BE CONTINUED…
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