Blood in Snow (9 page)

Abby stammered, giggled again, and looked nervously at Pond.

“She reads!” Pond blurted out.

The knights seemed even more impressed.

“A traveling merchant with a wife who can read?”

“And what does she read that includes military terminology?” the knight behind their leader said suspiciously.

Uh-oh!

Abby’s forced laugh was much too long. “Oh, he’s just joking. Why would a woman need to read?”

At this, the knights laughed as well.

“No, my lord.” She fanned her face, though it was cold enough for thin layers of ice to form on the river. “I simply guessed what you meant. Given what you’d been saying about wagons and such, I merely thought you’d need some place to stop and camp. The valley to the east should suit you. But I’m no expert on such matters, of course.”

Many of the knights seemed to ponder this, though two surveyed the hills as if danger might be near.

“That should do wonderfully.” The lead knight bowed to Abby. “Fair lady, thank you very much for your assistance in this matter.” He pulled a small pouch from his pocket and drew closer to the wagon, hand outstretched. “Please accept this as a humble offering of thanks for your guid—”

Becky leapt up and snarled.

The knight froze.

The others drew their weapons.

“Becky!” Abby admonished, stroking the dog’s large head. “Becky, be good! These men are lords! They won’t hurt us.”

Becky sat but continued to snarl quietly at the lead knight. More than one in the company had drawn a bow.

Abby quickly took the pouch.

“Thank you kindly, my lord!”

“Actually, my lady”—he backed his horse away from the wagon—“I’m a mere knight doing the bidding of His Highness, King Lionel. You may call me Sir James.”

He bowed again.

Then, eyeing Becky, he said, “That’s a fine animal you have there. She could bring down a horse if she had the mind.”

Abby giggled, not really knowing what to say.

“What kind of beast is she?” asked Sir James.

“She’s a … a …” Pond stammered, “a grey wolf!”

“A grey wolf?” Sir James repeated doubtfully. “I have never seen a wolf that large.”

“We bought her as a puppy years ago,” Pond explained. “She’s a fierce and loyal guard dog!” He tried to laugh.

“I’m sure she is,” Sir James said. “You’re fortunate to have such a beast. If you breed her, her offspring would bring a high price in Eryn Mas. Indeed, I would pay handsomely for any males of her line.”

“Hear that, sweetie?” Pond said to Abby, voice high and strained. “I told you we’ll be wealthy some day!”

Sir James inspected Becky from a distance for a moment longer, then turned to his company.

“Thomas, you and Arthur go east and find this valley. Prepare it for our arrival. We’ll need firewood in the plenty. Nights in these lands are cold, and the cooks will need fires for their tasks. We’ll also need corrals for the horses. We will return south and inform His Majesty.”

“Yes, sir!”

Two knights began edging past Pond’s wagon, weapons in hand in case Becky lunged. Sir James bowed again at Pond and Abby. “Thank you again for your assistance. I will tell His Majesty of your loyalty, Mr. Horgenswagle.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pond said. “May we go?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Please.” The rest of the knights made a lane for the wagon to pass through. “By all means. We will be heading the same way; however, we cannot tarry. Please forgive us for not offering you company on your journey.”

“Thank you, sirs!” Pond cracked the reins. The horses began to pull the wagon southward. “Pleasure meeting you! Good luck with—”

Abby shushed him. “Thank you, sirs! And thank you very much for the coins.”

“My pleasure.” Sir James watched them bump along the overgrown path … then something seemed to occur to him.

“Half a moment,” he called.

Pond reined the horses to a stop.

“Why are you headed south this way if the road from Rood is five days to the east?”

Oh no!

Next to Edmund, Hendrick drew back his bowstring.

“Why didn’t you head south along the River Bygwen?” Sir James asked, puzzled.

Pond and Abby exchanged anxious glances.

“Because …” Abby began, panic in her face.

“Because,” Pond said, “I’d … I’d like to move up here. We’re looking for a plot of land.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “We’re hoping to make a fortune raising sheep!”

“Sheep?” Sir James scanned the forested hills. Several times he glanced right past the bush behind which Edmund knelt.

Stay calm. Stay … calm.

“I suppose they would do better here than cattle,” Sir James said after a moment. “Although I cannot promise anything, I’ll request that His Highness grant you a parcel of land to help repay you for your assistance.”

“Oh!” Abby laughed. “That’s not necessary!”

“But it is, my lady. Without you, our entire army would be bumbling around these hills, unaware that we were in the wrong location.”

One of the three remaining knights looked up into the trees where Edmund and the guards crouched, hidden. Suddenly he pointed up at them.

Hendrick nearly stood up and loosed his arrow, but Edmund clutched his shoulder.

“Sir!” The knight gasped. “Look at the size of that stag!”

On a high ridge behind Edmund, a red deer the size of a horse pushed through the underbrush and trees crowning the hill, the spread of its antlers as wide as a man’s outstretched arms. The four knights watched it.

“Yes.” Sir James smiled. “This truly is a wondrous place. Perhaps when all of this is over, we can request leave to hunt in these hills. There’s rumor of bears here twice as large as any we have to the south. Some are completely white.”

“Perhaps His Majesty will appoint us to garrison this region,” one of the knights said.

“Perhaps.”

For many uncomfortable minutes, Edmund held his breath while the knights stared just past him and his men, watching the deer meander along the hill’s crest until it disappeared from view.

“Very well,” Sir James said. “Let us return to our task. Mr. and Mrs. Horgenswagle, it’s been a pleasure!”

With that, the knights heel-tapped their horses and began cantering southward along the river.

Chapter Ten

“All right!” Edmund yelled, trying to end the quarrel between Abby and Pond. “Let’s not discuss it anymore! It went well enough. Hopefully the King will steer eastward toward the R-River Celerin. That should buy us a week or so, maybe more.”

He rubbed at his temples.

“Here.” Vin plopped a stein in front of him. “This will help. Trust me.” He patted Edmund’s back.

Edmund took the stein filled with a hot spiced wine garnished with raisins and nuts. It smelled like cinnamon. He took a sip.

Oh! Incredible.

“Good, eh?” Vin said. “What did I tell you? It’ll make you forget the cold, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked. “I’ll have enough for everybody in a few days.”

Edmund nodded, took several more drinks, and reluctantly placed the stein on the table around which he, Pond, Abby, Hendrick, Bain, and a few others sat. He looked at them each in turn. Apprehension colored their faces, but Edmund could sense they weren’t ready to give in yet. Rood and their freedom were too precious.

“So what now, sir?” Hendrick asked.

“Well,” Edmund sighed, “my initial plan was to stall, t-t-to, to keep, to keep avoiding conflict or a siege until winter set in.”

“I thought winter had set in,” Bain said.

Edmund took another drink and shook his aching head. Everybody around the table wore whatever thick woolen coats they’d managed to find. He still wore a light cloak.

“This is autumn. Winter won’t officially begin for another month. Around that time, it’ll get colder—
much
colder. There’ll be several feet of snow on the ground before long. I was hoping to use that against the King’s army.”

“How long,” Hendrick asked, “before it gets really miserable?”

Edmund gazed out The Buxom Barmaid’s window. The sky was a clear blue, but the town square was empty; most of the townsfolk were indoors. He feared the noise from their working might attract attention. Besides, many of the settlers weren’t used to temperatures that could freeze water. They all huddled in the various barracks, trying to keep warm, which was difficult since they didn’t have heavy clothing and Edmund wouldn’t allow them to have a fire.

It’s not going to snow for days.

Yes, but it’s getting colder.

Not cold enough.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually.

“Why not attack their supplies?” Abby asked, still furious with Pond.

Everybody stared into their mugs.

“I mean”—she glanced around the table—“if we get to those wagons, they’ll have to withdraw south to get more supplies, right? By then, the weather will play to our advantage.”

“The wagons will be guarded,” Pond said.

“Of course they will!” Abby sneered at him. “Did you think they’d just leave them lying about?” She turned back to everyone else. “Still, if we can get to their supplies, they’ll have to go home, right? Or at least go somewhere to get more. That’s at least a month’s ride away.”

“The problem is,” Bain said, “if they find out where Rood’s located—”

“The fight would be over before they need supplies,” Hendrick finished his partner’s thought.

Edmund sipped his wine, which warmed him considerably but didn’t lift his spirits any.

We have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We have to drive them back south.

But how?

Again they stared into their mugs. A few of the more experienced fighters drummed their fingers on the table.

“Look,” Abby said sharply, hands thrust onto her hips. “Even without Lionel and his men, we still need supplies. I mean, you said Vin here can make us feel warm, but we could still freeze to death without heavy coats and hats and the proper gear, right? So either way, we have to get those supplies or we’re dead. Period.”

They all fell quiet.

Then Toby stirred. “How many men would be guarding the wagons?”

“Maybe a hundred,” Hendrick replied.

“A hundred.” Edmund wished the wine did more than just warm him. “We couldn’t fight all of them, even if every man in Rood was an experienced fighter.”

“What if we had really good weapons?” Toby glanced meaningfully at Edmund. “I mean,
really
good swords, for example.”

Edmund knew exactly what Toby was suggesting, but he shook his head.

“It’s not the quality of our weapons. We could have the best swords in the world, and those knights would still fill us with arrows before we could even swing them.”

“Oh,” Bain said, correcting him, “they aren’t knights.”

Everybody lifted their heads.

“Not those guarding the supplies,” he remarked.

“Out of the thousand or so who are coming north,” Hendrick explained, “probably only two hundred of them are knights. The rest of the army will consist of ordinary men-at-arms.”

“And others,” Bain said. “Cooks, squires, and so on. Maybe a few carpenters or wainwrights in case a wagon wheel breaks or a river needs to be bridged. Good-for-nothing lords. But all told, their fighting force is probably no more than seven hundred.”

“Doesn’t that help us?” Pond asked, avoiding Abby’s glare. “I mean, there has to be a silver lining somewhere; maybe this is it!”

“Mostly men-at-arms …” Edmund whispered.

“Have an idea?” Abby asked.

Edmund watched the steam rise up from his stein, then shook his head with a sigh.

“No,” he admitted, “but I think Pond is right. Somehow fighting men-at-arms gives me some hope.”

“Not to squelch your optimism, sir,” Bain said, “but these men aren’t chambermaids. They’re experienced, battle-hardened warriors. They can fight on horseback as well as on their feet, and they’re heavily armed, skilled with blade and bow, and looking for battle so they can win fame and fortune.”

They all stared into their mugs again. For a while, nobody spoke.

Then, at the end of the table, feet propped up on a chair, Vin chuckled with a mischievous grin.

“I could get them all drunk,” he said.

Everyone laughed bitterly, thinking Vin was joking, but Edmund suspected what Vin was getting at.

“Could you do that? I mean … do you have anything strong enough to get that many men inebriated?”

“I have a few barrels in the cellar that could certainly do the trick. I’d just need a couple days to prepare it.”

Pond looked from Edmund to the brewer, trying to decipher their exchange of knowing glances. “What?”

“How long would it take?” Edmund asked. “To get them drunk, I mean. How many drinks?”

“Not many. Hell, we could even poison the drinks! Send the bastards into a sleep they’ll never wake up from.”

Edmund sat back and gazed out the window again.

A few fluffy flakes blew in the wind, but no other snow was on the way.

Vin could poison the men guarding the supplies, and judging from what Vin said earlier, Edmund figured he could do it without a hitch. But killing a hundred men-at-arms would barely weaken the King’s forces, and the thought of killing all of those unsuspecting people made him cringe inside.

“No.” He exhaled heavily. “I want as little bloodshed as possible. If we killed a hundred of their men, that would only give the rest something to fight for.”

Under the table, Becky cracked open a bone.

“But I think you’re right,” he went on, “we need to incapacitate as many of them as we can, then we’ll have to attack the supplies. We’ll try to burn them, at the very least, or burn enough of them so they’ll be forced to retreat south. That’d give us more time to figure out how we’re going to survive the winter.”

“If burning them is all we’re trying to do,” Hendrick said, “we could cause a diversion, then loose flaming arrows into the wagons. There’ll be less risk to our men.”

Edmund got to his feet, thinking out loud as he paced.

“We could have you ride past,” he said, meaning Vin, “pretend that you’re coming north to sell your wonderful beer in Rood—”