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.Bran unfurled yet another flag by candlelight, and then just sat where he was, gazing at another banner, bearing a red dragon on a green background.In the armory there was also a red dragon helmet, of fine, even futuristic (though at the time I did not know that word) workmanship in enameled steel.It was Ivald who suggested an explanation.More than likely Arthur, like other kings and rulers, had used several heraldic devices during his life.Often such a change was made to avoid confusion with other leaders who had used the same or very similar ones.Flagon-dry demanded: "Are you telling us that Arthur was the lord here?""I don't see why it's impossible.Arthur had other castles than Camelot, did he not?""This is hardly a castle.""Well, other houses, then."Argument died out quickly.We were all frightened, though we tried to avoid showing it, and all reluctantto utter every thought that passed through our minds.* * *Also in the guardroom or armory off the Hall of the Round Table, we opened chests, cabinets, and closets to discover an impressive cache of weapons and armor.These were valuable items, of awesome workmanship and fine materials.The quantity was great enough to have equipped a company of men, perhaps forty or fifty; bows and arrows and throwing spears and pikes and lances, swords and daggers and shields and helms, all of a most catholic variety of styles of workmanship.There were solidly built bunks, stacked two and three high, for twenty men or even thirty, and a mess hall of modest size, with its own door leading back into the kitchen.Trying yet another door, we entered another large room, a kind of adjunct to the armory, and had a scare that threatened to launch us into panicked flight, because our first impression was that ten or a dozen men were waiting for us in silent ambush.Flagon-dry was so startled at the sight when he entered the room that he knocked down the nearest figure with a blow from the sword he had just picked up, so that the empty thing fell and came apart with a crashing and clanging fit to wake the dead.Moments later, inspecting the situation in relative calm, we saw suits of full-metal armor, each standing on its own small rack, so that the room appeared almost full of standing armored men.Each hollow suit, from visored helmet to metal toes, was composed of dozens of pieces cunningly hinged and riveted to fit together, so that the complete set would encase a man's whole body; none of us had ever seen the like before."How could a man move, let alone fight, in one of these?" he asked a few moments later, wonderingly, holding an arm of one of the things and making the dead joints move."He'd need to be a strong man."Someone thought that men were never meant to really wear such stuff; the truth had to be that they were magically animated.We moved uneasily away, picturing the empty suits grabbing up weapons and striking us down, fearful of somehow activating the spell.Page 29ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"And what are those?" Later I was to learn that the strange weapons were jousting lances, stacked in racks against the wall.And shields of metal.There was even armor for horses-more pieces of steel whose purpose eluded us until we saw one piece in the outlined metal shape of a horse's head.At the back of the house we came upon a shed housing a forge, cold and silent now, where armor no doubt could be made.Spreading his thick arms, Flagon-dry inquired, almost reverently, of the world: "What house have we entered?"But none of us with him could give him an answer.We concluded our inspection with the feeling that we had at least looked into all the rooms, with the exception of the one locked upstairs chamber.Outside, rain alternately drizzled and poured, a comfortable sound when one is warm and dry indoors.Except for Jandree, who was again crying uncontrollably in bursts, and Bran, who suffered with her, we were all finding it difficult to stay awake.And I am sure we would have slept, except that none of us really dared to do so.The dawn could be no more than an hour or two away at most, and even if for some strange reason the rightful inhabitants of this stronghold were unwilling or unable to come back, surelyComorre had not changed his plans regarding us.Our pursuers had not given up.Their arrival at the open gate could be delayed no more than a few hours.Vivian wondered aloud: "Ought we to shut the gate?"Flagon-dry shrugged his heavy shoulders."What good will that do? The owners will only be all the more angry at us when they return.""How could they be any more angry than they're already going to be? Or we could tell them it blew shut.Or that we closed it to keep dangerous intruders out."That line of discussion seemed to lead nowhere.There was a pause before Bran commented: "Comorre and his people are strangers in this part of the country, too.""How does that help us?" Maud wanted to know."Just that they probably don't know whose place this is, any more than we do.""So what?"Bran spoke steadily.He sounded almost completely worn down, but still doggedly determined, not defeated or hopeless."Well, one thing we cannot do is run from them any longer.Not until we get some rest.Even if we weren't trapped here at the end of the land, with the sea ready to swallow us, all of us are on our last legs." He looked over his shoulder at the figure on the rumpled couch."Jandree can't even walk across the room.The oxen will quit on us, or die under the yoke."No one could argue with those facts, and the rest of us murmured or nodded agreement.Then we sat looking back at Bran, waiting again for him to save us.The speaker paused to look at each of us in turn
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