Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction January 1964. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
THE EYES HAVE IT
In a sense, this is a story of here-and-now. This Earth,this year ... but on a history-line slipped slightlysidewise. A history in which a great man acted differently,and Magic, rather than physical science, was developed....
RANDALL GARRETT
Illustrated by John Schoenherr
Sir Pierre Morlaix, Chevalier of the Angevin Empire, Knight of theGolden Leopard, and secretary-in-private to my lord, the CountD'Evreux, pushed back the lace at his cuff for a glance at his wristwatch—three minutes of seven. The Angelus had rung at six, as always,and my lord D'Evreux had been awakened by it, as always. At least, SirPierre could not remember any time in the past seventeen years when mylord had not awakened at the Angelus. Once, he recalled, the sacristanhad failed to ring the bell, and the Count had been furious for aweek. Only the intercession of Father Bright, backed by the Bishophimself, had saved the sacristan from doing a turn in the dungeons ofCastle D'Evreux.
Sir Pierre stepped out into the corridor, walked along the carpetedflagstones, and cast a practiced eye around him as he walked. Theseold castles were difficult to keep clean, and my lord the Count wasfussy about nitre collecting in the seams between the stones of thewalls. All appeared quite in order, which was a good thing. My lordthe Count had been making a night of it last evening, and that alwaysmade him the more peevish in the morning. Though he always woke at theAngelus, he did not always wake up sober.
Sir Pierre stopped before a heavy, polished, carved oak door, selecteda key from one of the many at his belt, and turned it in the lock.Then he went into the elevator and the door locked automaticallybehind him. He pressed the switch and waited in patient silence as hewas lifted up four floors to the Count's personal suite.
By now, my lord the Count would have bathed, shaved, and dressed. Hewould also have poured down an eye-opener consisting of half a waterglass of fine Champagne brandy. He would not eat breakfast untileight. The Count had no valet in the strict sense of the term. SirReginald Beauvay held that title, but he was never called upon toexercise the more personal functions of his office. The Count did notlike to be seen until he was thoroughly presentable.
The elevator stopped. Sir Pierre stepped out into the corridor andwalked along it toward the door at the far end. At exactly seveno'clock, he rapped briskly on the great door which bore thegilt-and-polychrome arms of the House D'Evreux.
For the first time in seventeen years, there was no answer.
Sir Pierre waited for the growled command to enter for a full minute,unable to believe his ears. Then, almost timidly, he rapped again.
There was still no answer.
Then, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught that would follow if hehad erred, Sir Pierre turned the handle and opened the door just as ifhe had heard the Count's voice telling him to come in.
"Good morning, my lord," he said, as he always had for seventeenyears.
But the room was empty, and there was no answer.
He looked around the huge room. The morning sunlight streamed inthrough the high mulli