Heric whimpered. Alain looked back to see that Rage had gotten hold of the man’s leggings as he tried to creep back the way they had come.
“That’s a big party,” he whined. “Listen! A hundred or more, Lord Geoffrey riding to war. Maybe come to have you killed!”
Alain shook his head. “They’re riding toward Lavas Holding.” He turned to the hounds. “Rage. Sorrow. Stay. Guard.”
He picked his way past fallen branches, more numerous close to the joining with the road as though the bandits had pulled down obstacles to cover their tracks. Soon he heard the procession in full spate but marked also with the giggling of children and an unexpected snatch of hymn from a voice he had heard before but could not quite place.
“… who made a road to the sea
And a path through the mighty waters.”
He came to the last turning, where the path hitched around a massive oak that served as a towering landmark. He recalled it from earlier years. The autumn storm had half torn it from the ground. Its vast trunk had fallen westward to leave roots thrust like daggers across the path. He used these as cover as he examined the road.
There were soldiers riding in pairs or marching in fours while between their ranks trundled carts and wagons filled with household goods and children and elders and caged chickens. Youths and sturdy looking women walked alongside, most of them carrying a bundle or two. A pair of clerics walked beside a wagon containing several fine chests. He saw—
Hathumod!
She sat on a wagon next to a white-haired woman placed among pillows. Another, older woman dressed in cleric’s robes made up the third in the bed of the wagon. Her back was to Alain, but by the movements of her shoulders and hands she seemed to be talking in a lively way while the others listened, the white-haired woman with a smile of patient interest despite the pain etched into her face, and Hathumod with a scarcely concealed look of boredom.
The wagon passed and was gone beyond his line of sight through the trees before he realized who he had just seen. And where she must be going: Lavas Holding was about three days’ journey west, and there was no crossroads that came sooner on the road than the holding itself.
Soon it would be dark. The cavalcade must camp for the night, most likely on the road itself. Soldiers scanned the woodland as though they expected attack, but the upturned oak hid him because he did not move. What strange company was this? It was like an entire village on the move, not like a noblewoman’s royal progress.
When the last ranks of infantry had passed, he waited a while longer, and at length a trio of silent outriders ambled by. He waited even longer until one last pair of men rode past with hands easy on the reins, their gazes keen and penetrating, and a bow and a sword, respectively, laid across their thighs.
It was one of these who saw him, although he hadn’t meant to be seen.
“Whsst!” The young man’s chin jerked around fast. He had his bow up and arrow ready, holding his horse with tightened knees, before Alain could take a second breath. The other man reined his horse around to face back the way they’d come, sword raised.
“I’ll come out,” said Alain in an even voice. “I’ve been waiting for you. What business has Biscop Constance in these parts? I heard she was a prisoner of Lady Sabella in Autun.”
“Come out,” said the archer. “What think you, Captain? Are there more? Should we shoot him?”
The other man’s horse took one side step. “Let him come free if he moves slowly. Let’s see what he knows first. Better the battle come sooner when we’re ready for it than later when we’re not.”
Alain put his hands out with palms raised and turned toward them, and walked onto the road.
The captain narrowed his eyes, examining him. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Gent!” said the young one. “In Count Lavastine’s company. Wasn’t he—?”
The captain hissed sharply between gritted teeth. “You’re Lavastine’s heir—the very one. Your claim was put aside in favor of Lord Geoffrey’s daughter.” He extended his sword as a threat. “What brings you here? I heard you had marched east as a Lion.”
“So I did. Now I am come back.”
“To challenge Lord Geoffrey?”
“No. I have another purpose.”
“What might that be?” asked the captain in a genial tone that made it clear he demanded an explanation.
In that woodland, sound carried far. The progress of the cavalcade had faded westward. With the promise of nightfall, the wind sighed to a halt.
