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normally did not get hangovers. But on the other hand, normally he did not let
himself slip into the depths of drunkenness he must have hit somewhere along
the line last night and, from the feel of it, simply kept going on down.
He remembered how once before he had had a hangover after an incautious
evening and gone outside to find Sir Brian and John Chandos examining Gorp,
his so-called war horse.
Both Brian and Chandos had been drinking; and with the cheerful malice of
their kind, they had insisted he immediately swallow a large, full cup of wine
with them. He had just managed to get it down; but he remembered now that,
once down, it had helped. He looked at the wine jug presently on the table
before him, and shuddered.
No, life was not worth it. He would become a hermit and live on water and dry
bread. He needed help.
He looked toward the leathern curtain that covered the entrance to the other,
adjoining room.
"Angie!" he croaked.
There was no answer from the other room and Angie did not appear. He called
again, but still there was no answer. Painfully, he bent down and reached for
the piece of paper that had been lying by his mattress, pulled it up, rubbed
his eyes and with effort read it.
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Jim
If you're going to stay up like this on other nights, would you see if Brian
will put you up for the night.
None of us got a wink of sleep last night after you came back except Robert.
We'd just manage to drop off, and you'd start snoring again and wake us up.
I've never heard you snore like that before in my life. Robert, the little
darling, somehow slept right through with no trouble at all. But the rest of
us are all worn out and Geronde has been good enough to let us catch up on our
sleep in her room; since she's going to be out of it all day long.
If you want anything, don't forget you can send the sentry at the door for
just about anything you need. I'll be back up to the room to dress for dinner
about an hour before noon. I'll see you then if you're free.
I'm sorry about this, Jim, but youdosnore. If you had to lie and listen to
yourself all night, you wouldn't be able to put up with it either.
Jim let the paper drop from his fingers. There was a scratching at the door.
He closed his eyes against the noise.
"What is it?" he called, sending a stab of pain through his temples.
The door opened a crack and the man-at-arms on duty outside stuck his face
in.
"Sir Giles is here, m'Lord," he said. "He's been here several times, but he
didn't want to disturb you. Can he come in now?"
"Who? Giles? Yes. Yes," said Jim, every word an effort and accompanied by an
extra stab of headache. "Let him in."
The door opened and Giles came in, carrying a large pewter flagon, with a
green cloth tied over its top. He walked softly with this to the table and set
it down carefully there.
"Sit," said Jim, remembering his manners.
Giles sat. He himself, except for the arm that was still in the sling, was
looking very well but concerned.
"We were all up rather late last eve," he said, in a carefully low tone of
voice, looking interestedly at one of the blank walls of the room and avoiding
Jim's eye.
Jim was caught in a dilemma. Would it hurt more to nod his head or just say
yes?
"Yes," he said. He had been wrong, of course. To talk had evidently been the
worst choice.
"All are speaking today about how finely you sang last night," Giles said,
looking earnestly back at Jim, "and what an honor it was to speak with you.
Many were concerned that you had over-tired yourself, when you er could not
finish a song and needed some assistance in leaving the hall. The Lady Angela
has been explaining to us this morning that the evening we had came on top of
a very hard morning of necessary magic duties, that normally you would have
rested from for at least twenty-four hours. All understand that you must rest
today; and all are concerned that you soon recover your strength."
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"Oh," said Jim bravely, ignoring his headache. A knight, of course, could not
admit to any weakness; and theoretically would never become drunk enough to be
helped out of a room. Only theoretically, of course, for it happened almost
daily. A sort ofThe Emperor's New Clothessituation. "That's very good of them.
I should be all right in another twenty-four hours."
"I'm overjoyed to hear it!" said Sir Giles, as earnestly as if he really
believed that Jim had been nothing more than overtired the night before. He
looked away at the wall again, however, before returning his gaze to Jim. "By
the way, I thought I might bring you a draught that in our family has been
known as a remarkable cure for fatigue such as yours."
He gestured at the flagon with the green cloth tied over it.
"You merely drink this down without stopping you must not stop, it would be
mortal otherwise it will greatly help an over-tiredness such as yours."
He untied the thong holding down the green cloth over the top of the flagon,
and pushed it with the cloth still on it toward Jim.
Jim eyed it with suspicion. It was undoubtedly one of the noxious brews that
went by the name of medicine in this particular age. On the other hand, it
might just possibly turn out to be one of those types of folk medicines that
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