"I see. A symbol," he agreed. "Not the less real," Arscoate said tartly. "Symbols both mean and are. Garth here is a symbol too and that is why, old as he is, he must be in the thick of it. He is like the ancient battle flags of romantic pre-space history. People before now have actually _seen_ Grandfather Stomper. I am _not_ a superstitious backworlder, Mr. Cole, but--" Cole raised a placatory hand. "I know you are not, general. Forgive me if I seemed to suggest it." "Let's have wine," Bidgrass said, pushing back his chair. "We'll take it in the parlor and Pia can sing for us." When General Arscoate said good-night he told Cole not to worry, that he would have reliable guards at the manor gate during Garth Bidgrass' absence in Car Truro. "I meant to tell you and Pia in the morning, lad," Bidgrass said. "Arscoate and I must go to Car Truro. There's heartburning there over who gets to fight and who must stay behind. It will be only two days." * * * * * Cole felt uneasy all day. He spent most of it writing the covering letter for his report and phrasing his resignation from the university field staff. He wrote personal letters to his uncle and a few friends. After dinner he finally signed the official letters and took the completed report to Bidgrass' desk. Then he went to bed and slept soundly. Pia wakened him with frantic shaking. "Dress quickly, Flinter. The guard at the gate was just changed and it's not time." She darted out to the hall window while he struggled with clothing, then back again. "_Quickly_, darling! Morgan's crossing the garden, with men. Follow me." She led him through the kitchen and out a pantry window, then stooping along the base of a hedge to where a flowering tree overshadowed the garden wall. "I planned this, out of sight of guard posts, when I was a little girl," she whispered. "I always knew--over, Flinter, quickly!" Outside was rough ground, a road, a wide field of cabbages and then the barrier. Veiled Annis rode high and bluish in the clear sky. They crossed the field in soaring leaps, and shouts pursued them. The girl ran north a hundred yards behind the shadowy buttresses and squeezed through a narrow crack between two huge timber baulks. Cole barely made it, skinning his shoulders. "I found this too when I was a little girl," Pia whispered. "I had to enlarge it when my hips grew, but only just enough. Morwenna grant they're all too big!" "Morgan is, for sure," Cole said, rubbing his shoulder. "Pia, I _hate_ to run." "We must still run. My old plan was to reach here unseen, but now they know and they'll come over the wall in flyers. We'll have to hide in the thick brush near the forest edge until Uncle Garth returns." She pulled a basket out of the shadows. "Food," she said. "I brought it last night."