“So, what happened?”
The servant who had been injured was propped against a rain-dripping tree, a clean cloth tied firmly around his head, the wound thankfully being quite minor.
“I think I started it,” Sir Lavison admitted, “I was trying to find who to blame for the loss of our bacon this morning. It just got worse from there.”
“They were blaming us.” a servant piped in, probably hoping to sidestep any fault.
“And rightly so.” Terragone said quickly, “It is your job to account for the supplies. However, how did it come to blows?”
“They were speaking poorly of a knight so I grabbed one of them and pushed him. I didn’t mean for him to fall, but I shouldn’t have done it and it won’t happen again.”
“What were they saying about the knight?”
“That it was his fault we’d lost the bacon since he woke us early.” The knight left out the part about the knight’s disrespect for the prince.
“Well,” and Terragone turned to the whole again, “I hope you all see what damage has come of this. Not only have you caused physical injury but you have ruined the good feeling that should have existed between you all.” and he turned and strode over to the man by the tree.
The two groups left behind silently dispersed to pick up dropped packs and and remount wandering horses. By the time Terragone had remounted, after assisting the servant back to his horse, his company was quiet and orderly. Still quite reserved towards each other, but more out of embarrassment than hostility. This adventure was quickly losing its appeal. If this were the way things were going to be, he would have just as soon stayed home. If only he could have traveled without so many knights. Or with fewer servants. Or with less supplies. Or without all this drama and fuss.
If only he weren’t the prince.
—————
And where was James at this time? He was standing under a rock watching as the rain came down in sheets, Frederick at his side. He had been traveling in the rain ever since he had left Grest a few days ago, and he was downright tired of it. It was about lunchtime, so after releasing a sigh expressing his dismay, he turned and plopped heavily on the ground furthest from that unceasing drip. He loosed the packs on Frederick's back and lowered them to the dirt floor. After some rummaging, he pulled out a dry biscuit and a rather bruised apple. He ate up the one while Frederick ate up the other and they both continued to stare blankly at the wall of rain.
“Well, it's better than snow,” James said as he leaned back against the rock, “and it probably keeps off the dangerous creatures. Only crazy people would go out in this muddy mess.”
Here he looked to Frederick for support. The pony's hooves were caked in mud and his poor coat was soaked through, but it made him look as if he did agree, at least in that it was only the crazy who insisted on traveling in bad weather.
James too looked a little worse for wear, but he also felt more vigorous and energetic now than he had a week ago. The days of rough travel were hardening his old muscles, strengthening his weak heart, and expanding his small lungs. He was adjusting to a new world and he hardly even knew it.
He pulled out another biscuit and as he ate it, examined some very nice pebbles lying on the ground. Lovely smooth things, perfect for skipping. He pocketed a few of the best ones and attempted to bury the rest, in case he should ever come back this way.
Having done that, he ate a third hard biscuit before he finally stood and brushed his hands on his pants. Very comfortable traveling pants they were too. He'd been re-suited in Grest and had watched his jeans and flannel button up get devoured by the hearth fire. Most of his new outfit was quite comfortable and easy to travel in. Comfortable, but crude. Not very colorful either, but it wore well and dried fast. He had a nice thick cloak too, which helped keep him a little drier and a little warmer. His boots came up almost to his knees and they kept his feet dry and safe from any sharp debris on the road. They also looked decidedly western and he rather liked that. He had a nifty belt too, which fit his dagger nicely. But as he repacked his stuff and strapped it back on Frederick, his mind was not on his practical attire, but rather on the horrid possibility that the prince and his company had already passed his intercepting road. What would he do then? And how would he really know if they had passed yet or not? He felt Helix should have prepared him for this possibility. And then there was the possibility that the prince wouldn't let him join even if he did run across them. But no. James wouldn't let that happen. He would simply have to convince the prince. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
Helix had said it would take three or four days of travel to reach the great westward road, so James knew he was close, but what exactly was he do once he got there? How long should he wait? He sighed loudly and struggled up to the saddle to wait for the rain to let up a bit. Once it had, he gently prodded Frederick out onto the road again.
The ground under the pony's hooves made a gross squashing sound as Frederick walked on, James perched comfortably on his level back. The rain had subsided for the present, but the sky threatened and leered, seeming to say, “I have let up now, but be sure I'll start again once you are far from any shelter.” And as James grimly noticed, gazing at the broad plain stretched before him, bare of any tree or rock, it wouldn't be long before he was in a shelterless place. Nevertheless, he plodded on, guiding his steed carefully around ditches and holes made by the excessive water flow. Occasionally, he would have to jump down and lead Frederick across some swollen creek or flooded pond whose waters spilled over their path. And sure enough, the moment they were out of sight of any protection, the sky followed up on its intentions and broke, drenching the land and its inhabitants with another incessant downpour.
—————
Terragone’s company was still quite subdued though it had been several hours since the incident. Terragone and Sir Lavison were riding in the rear, also silent.
“How long do you suppose this rain will last?” Sir Lavison asked, mostly to break the silence he was getting weary of.
“Soon I hope. I think we would all be better for a sunny, dry day.” and Terragone readjusted his cloak a bit.
“I agree, and perhaps a little excitement or something to distract us a bit. Why not a wild boar hunt? What do you think?”
Terragone flipped his wet hair out of his eyes. “I’m not particularly inclined, no.”
Obviously not inclined to conversation either, Sir Lavison noticed, and so dropped the topic and thought his thoughts inside his head instead of outside it.
Terragone suddenly snapped his head around and looked at the road and forest behind them. Sir Lavison turned too. After a minute, the knight quietly said, “What is it?”
Terragone answered without looking at him, “I heard something in the trees. Off to the right.”
Sir Lavison scanned the shadow for a moment before a small, brown creature darted out of the undergrowth, across the road, and into the trees on the other side.
Sir Lavison smiled and relaxed, “A rabbit. Though what remarkable hearing you must have to have been able to hear him.”
Terragone smiled and prodded his horse on again, “It was Stirling actually. I saw his ears twitch that way. I don't suppose Wildfoot would catch such small sounds.”
“Well, I don't know about that. I wasn't looking at his ears to see if they twitched. They might have.” and he patted the neck of his good steed.
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. Wildfoot is not a palace horse and as such, is less sophisticated and less intelligent. He's just a wild horse you found in the middle of nowhere who really only knows how to eat and sleep.”
Sir Lavison had to admit it was partly true, “He may not be the cleverest horse but he is quite as beautiful as any royal horse and he makes up in speed what he lacks in wisdom.”
Terragone smiled benignly, “That's what you think, and I admit that he has outrun Stirling on a few, a very few, occasions, but let's remember these palace horses are
bred and born to be fast and surefooted, in addition to being remarkably intelligent.”
Sir Lavison rolled those very rollable facial features of his, “Oh please, don't put on airs. I've beat you more than a very few times, and I bet if I raced any one of these palace horses, my wild horse would come out the winner, or at least very close, every time.”
With a short laugh, Terragone immediately stopped the entire procession and gathered all his knights and servants together.
“Men, Sir Lavison thinks his homeless nag can outrun every one of our fine palace steeds. Let us put him in his place. We will have a race to the edge of this forest to show him the power of a well-trained, well-bred animal. Winner gets a double portion of dinner. The servants may race as well, just so long as you are careful not to lose anymore supplies.”
The formally subdued company livened up immediately. Perhaps it was just the chance to do something different, or the chance to show the prince they could get along, but in any case, they began lining up, four abreast, on the wooded path.
Sir Lavison rode up to Terragone and hissed, “I did not say I could beat all of them. I said I could come close to beating all of them. And my horse is not a homeless nag.” and he rode away to get in position.
A knight and a servant were to stay back with the wounded man and their pack animals and supplies. It was the knight, Sir Ingot, who would give the word to start the race. As soon as all the riders were ready and in position, Sir Ingot gave the word and just like that, the forest was filled with the sound of deafening perpetual thunder.
The company seemed to take great enjoyment in the sport. However, none of them knew exactly how far away the edge of the woods was. Those who started out strong, shooting far ahead at the outset, eventually fell back, having used up all their horses’ energy too soon. The wiser few paced themselves, reserving their horses’ energy for the final dash. Before long the leaders could see the thinning of the trees ahead. Not many horses were left who would have the strength to sprint over the last hundred feet. In the last pull, only four of the riders could push their horses on any faster, Terragone, Sir Lavison, Sir Kessil, and a servant named Fife. It would have been a very close call, but for Sir Lavison's horse, the only horse who had a slender build and small hooves, who stepped in a hole and collapsed, throwing his rider into a ditch. Fife had been close behind Sir Lavison and had to pull to an abrupt stop to avoid trampling Wildfoot. So it was that Terragone won, Sir Kessil close on his heels. Both turned back immediately though to see what had become of the other two riders.
Sir Lavison was struggling out of the muddy ditch and said he was fine though he was limping. His horse was limping too, only worse, and his foreleg was already beginning to swell.
“Doesn't look good, Sir Lavison.” Fife said as he gently rubbed the horse's leg.
The other men were riding up and were wondering what had happened and who had won. Terragone smiled and Sir Lavison grimaced. But Sir Lavison's horse couldn't be ridden now, he was too hurt. Fife said that it would probably be a few days before he should even carry any supplies.
“It's these spindly legs of his, they're very bad for galloping over muddy, uneven ground.” Fife said as he carefully led Wildfoot out of the woods and into the grass on the side of the road. Terragone gave a knowing look to Sir Lavison who ignored it and sat back against a trunk.
It had stopped raining and even looked as if it might clear up. It was late afternoon. They only had a few more hours before it got too dark to travel and Terragone wanted to cover as much ground as he could before then. But they had to wait for Sir Ingot and the others to catch up which meant that, while they did lose some precious daylight, all the hard-driven horses had time for a short rest.
Terragone strode over to where Sir Lavison was sitting massaging his ankle.
“Does it hurt much?”
Sir Lavison looked up and quickly stopped rubbing it, “No, not much. I think my pride hurts more.”
“It really was too bad for you. I can hardly appreciate the win when my biggest competition is thrown. I suppose we'll have to give it another go sometime.” and Terragone sat down nearby and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Sir Lavison looked over at him curiously, hearing under the playful tone, an underlying trouble.
Terragone simply smiled at him unconvincingly and returned his gaze to wandering over the land before them mindlessly.
Sir Lavison narrowed his own gaze, but chose to remain quiet.
—————
The remainder of the prince’s men came riding up about a half hour later.
Terragone rose with a sigh and helped Sir Lavison over to one of the pack horses, “You'll have to ride this sturdy beast until your own thing is better.”
“Oh please.” Sir Lavison said in mock exasperation, “This horse isn't sturdy. It's fat. How exactly does a work horse and pack animal manage to get this overweight?”
“Maybe that’s all pure muscle. But even if it isn’t, they say it’s the heart that counts.” Terragone moved over to swing up on his own steed, giving a curt nod to the knight in the lead who started the company moving again.
The rain seemed to have stopped for the foreseeable future. The clouds above were tearing and ripping apart as rays of sunlight swept down, making every raindrop glitter. Everyone's spirits rose and the knights and servants could be heard actually laughing and joking together, a miracle considering the events of the day. Terragone wanted to make good use of the light since they’d lost time in numerous delays already, so they didn't stop for a hot meal, but instead ate what they had cold, so they could stay on the move.
The sun soon set however, its parting ray sending a cheerful goodnight to the travelers with promises to return the next day. Terragone, still riding in the rear, had already commissioned Sir Lavison and the servants to begin setting up camp for the night while the rest of his knights scouted the surrounding territory. However, as he rode in, he noticed all his knights had gathered on the road at the top of a hill, watching something on the road below them. Terragone rode up to where they were all clustered to see what had captured their attention. There below them on the road was a lone rider. He was still quite a ways off and it was quickly becoming too dark to tell what sort of lone traveler he was and whether or not he had seen them yet. Terragone wasn't going to take any chances though. He ordered his men to go back to the camp with the horses, but told a few of them to carefully return to the crest of the hill with weapons on foot. He dismounted Stirling and slowly crept down the side of the hill towards the stranger. When three of his knights had joined him, he sent them to silently surround the stranger. More knights came and they got the same orders. The traveler was moving at such a slow pace that it didn't take long to have him surrounded and soon knights were positioned behind boulders or trees or in tall grass all around him and slowly moving in. It was only when Terragone was sure he was properly backed-up that he went back up the hill to get his horse. A horseman should meet a horseman, even if in reality, one of those horsemen is quite outnumbered.
Terragone rode forward, his hand not far from the hilt of his sword. It was quite dark by now, but he could still see the even darker spot on the road where the traveler rode slowly west, though so slowly as to seem as if he intended to turn around at anytime. Terragone rode steadily on down the hill and across the plain towards the rider. The stranger must have turned and seen Terragone, for he swung his horse around and started riding towards the prince with purpose. This made Terragone curious. If this was a wholly innocent traveler on the road, going about his own business, there would be no cause for him to turn to meet a total stranger riding on the same road in the same direction.
But Terragone was ready and when he came within hearing range of the rider, he stopped and called out, “What's your business, traveler?”
The rider stopped and Terragone could see that he wore the hood on his cloak up. He vaguely wondered if this could be the same man that had escaped fr
om Sir Lavison and him in the woods a few weeks ago.
“Before I tell you my business, could you tell me yours?” the voice was quiet and had a nervous tremor to it.
“I think you had better tell me what yours is before I tell you mine.”
The stranger moved uncomfortably in his saddle, “Well then, I'm an innocent traveler. Will that do?”
Terragone thought this stranger very curious. What game was he playing?
“I would answer straight if I were you. Why are you lingering on this road? Are you waiting for someone? Lost perhaps? Or maybe you are a trouble-maker?”
“I don’t think it’s fair that I should be the one to have to answer all the questions. Questions should be asked and answered fairly between us. If I answer a question of yours, you must answer a question of mine.”
Terragone thought this an interesting mode of negotiation, but wasn't going to humor the stranger.
“I don’t think that’s going to work. I intend to find out why you are wandering about aimlessly on this road. And if you have good reason for being here, you need have no fear of me. You will answer my questions though or I'll summon my men who surround you at this very moment.”
The stranger looked around in wonder and said in an inaudible whisper, “So I wasn’t just imagining things.” but then turned again and said, “How do I know that you're not just bluffing?”
Terragone felt a smolder rise, unaccustomed to be crossed, “Sir Kessil.”
Out of the darkness behind the stranger an armed knight strode up.
“Satisfied? Now, tell me, what are you doing here?”
The stranger was looking at the knight and seemed to be rather impressed, “Alright, I see you mean your stuff. I am…uh…looking for someone.”
“Who?” Terragone asked curtly as he moved his horse in a little closer.
“Well, this might sound crazy,” the stranger said, “but I'm getting used to sounding crazy I guess and—”
“Out with it, if you please.” Terragone demanded impatiently.
“I was just getting to it. Really, this fellow has no manners.” this latter part was spoken in an undertone, “I'm looking for, well, actually waiting for, the prince.”
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