The War Lord Page #3

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So has a cow.

How was she?

- I let her go.

- You let her go?

Small wonder you can't sleep! Why?

Ah, there's a strangeness in this place.

I've felt it since first we came here.

Nonetheless, I thought it mine.

Poor place.

Marsh, naked tower...

The world's end almost.

But to have it, to hold it.

If only...

What do you think of it, this land?

Dung heap.

You deserve better. Much better.

What say you, Bors?

You are my lord.

This land serves you, I serve you.

But if it should be a land unholy?

Here.

Do you feel nothing,

hear nothing, see nothing?

I feel bored.

I hear the wind. I see fever

burning holes in your head.

Silence.

That speaks of spells.

Ah!

Bors...

Sire, all men have heard how,

when the Lord Christ came,

the old gods, demons and spirits with

snakey hair were cast down into hell!

Good riddance.

But some say they still linger,

prowling the dark corners

and unblessed places of the earth.

Changed to beggar men and goose girls.

Bors, you surprise me.

You've produced a thought.

God help the man who meets one.

The blood in his heart changes.

And what of that devil's dish

he met today?

She's the cause of his fever

and that's the truth.

- How so?

- Because you let her go!

Bors...

You know who she is?

Well, find out from Rainault

and put her to work in the kitchen.

(Grunts)

Why should she waste her charm

on pigs in the swamp

when there's use to be made of it here?

Ha! Oink!

(Snoring)

(Bors) Come here!

Now, girl, you will take his arms

and hold him firm while I...

Lie flat, my lord.

Here!

Now you will hold him here and here.

And he will plunge like a gelded colt.

I did.

Take him.

A trick I learned from the heathen Moor.

If a wench hold a warrior, he doesn't kick

as much. Pride of manhood, I suppose.

Take ten men to hold my lord

or one woman.

Sire, I shall count to five.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

(Falcon shrieks)

(Draco) Volc, call him down.

Use your lure!

Damn falcon,

he never knows what he wants.

(Volc) They're almost human that way,

my lord.

(Draco) You know less about falcons

than a flea does about Sunday.

In order to train a falcon, Volc, you must

have a larger brain than a falcon.

Come down here

or I'll wring your damn neck.

Devil damn me,

but look at Sir Flea bristle!

(Laughter)

I'll kill him.

By my faith, I'll kill them both!

I'll twist your nose

with a slack in your belly!

I'm...sorry.

Draco...

Draco!

Don't run from me.

- Is that poppy?

- Yes.

- What do you want with this?

- We call it oxeye.

We get camomile from it for seasoning.

It also has the power

to rob men's minds.

(Sniffs)

Like magic.

- And it can kill.

- Oh, no magic.

My foster father heals with these herbs.

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