“I had already sold most of them,” Erdhan said. He turned to his mother with an elaborate wink. “I’m more upset about losing my warm woolen socks.”
She laughed, flushing with pleasure. “I will knit you another pair, but only if you promise to wear them while you sleep.”
Erdhan chuckled as he drew his mother into a hug. “Always.”
Talk inevitably turned to war after everyone’s belly was full.
“You will be conscripted, along with myself,” Josef said to Erdhan. “Franz will not be counted fit. He will have to tend to the forge as best he can in my absence.”
Erdhan leaned back and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “I would have signed up anyway to defend Wilefur.”
“I will assemble the townsfolk tomorrow to discuss how best to defend the women and children.” Josef directed his attention to Horace and Arnulf. “I could use your help to move some supplies to a safe camp.”
Horace grunted his assent. “We can spend another day here. ’Tis the least we can do in return for your kindness in affording us the comfort of your home. Outfitting a safe camp is a wise, cautionary move, although I suspect the war will not come this far south and Wilefur will remain unscathed. With a large marching army, it is likely Brufus will attempt to penetrate Macobin through the upper plains.”
“Where does your family hail from?” Josef looked pointedly at Orlla.
“A tiny village far north of here.” She squirmed under Horace’s sullen stare. “I have no hope of reaching home before Brufus’s troops arrive.”
“Mercy!” Catrain said. “Then you must stay here with me. I will have need of an extra pair of hands with my two main men at arms.”
Orlla smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you. That is gracious of you.”
She turned her attention back to her stew, unwilling to be pressured into a commitment. She could stay a day or two, just long enough to give Samten time to reach Wilefur. If he hadn’t shown up by then, she would have to press on and run the risk of encountering Brufus’s soldiers.
Josef studied her for a moment before flicking a curious glance at his eldest son. “Have you sworn yourself to this woman?”
Erdhan let out a snort and raised his hands in protest, while managing to look somewhat pleased at the notion. “It’s not as you suppose, Father. We only just made each other’s acquaintance at The Leaky Cup.”
“And shared a room in the inn,” Horace interjected.
“A communal room with six others,” Erdhan added.
Josef grunted. “War is upon us. There is little time to waste on preliminaries if you intend to wed again.”
Catrain nodded in agreement, shining eyes on Orlla. “Erdhan has been like a one-winged bird since the loss of his first wife. He has need of a woman to give him flight again.”
Now it was Orlla’s turn to be embarrassed. She looked down at her boots, cheeks blazing. Did these people think she was desperate enough to marry a stranger just because war had broken out and she needed a night’s lodging?
“Tell us about Essexmount,” Erdhan said, abruptly changing the subject and sparing her further humiliation.
Horace cleared his throat. “It’s a sight bigger than Wilefur, and a whole lot colder.” He winked at Erdhan’s younger brothers. “Cold enough to freeze little boys’ toes clean off.”
They all laughed at that, and the tension in the room dissolved. They chatted back and forth for a while until everyone grew sleepy and the conversation lulled. Erdhan’s parents and brothers retired for the night to the adjoining bedroom, and the weary travelers curled up on the rush floor in their cloaks, soaking up the dying warmth of the embers.
Sleep would not come for Orlla. Her agitated mind ran in several different directions at once, trying to make sense of how she had ended up at a Macobite bailiff’s home, fleeing an assassin, while searching for her fugitive brother with an overly jovial knife-juggler on the eve of war. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she rose quietly and slipped outside. Countless stars flickered to life in the ebony sky above. At least the heavens were untouched by the corruption below—a corruption she had become a part of by deceiving these kind-hearted people and abusing their hospitality for purposes they knew nothing of. Horace had been right to follow his instincts and challenge her unreliable narrative. She didn’t belong here.
It would be best for everyone if she saddled up her horse and left now before she was forced to fend off too many more awkward questions, and while there was yet time to find Samten and make it back through the pass before war turned the mainland to blood.
Her decision made, she padded around to the barn where the horses were stabled and deftly saddled up her mare. Shivering in the cold night air, she led the horse around the back of the forge and out into the muddy street that wound through the farmsteads.
One foot in the stirrup, she went rigid when a footfall sounded behind her.
Chapter 10
Clutching her horse’s reins tightly, Orlla spun to see Arnulf standing in the shadows watching her. She drew in a sharp breath, but he made no attempt to approach her. Her heart beat wildly. His circumspect expression indicated he was waiting on her to speak first, but she had no intention of making this easy on him. Her affairs were no concern of his, or his companion’s.
He raised his heavy brows and edged toward her with a hesitant gait. “You’re leaving?”
It was barely a question, flat enough to pass as a statement, but something about his tone compelled Orlla to offer some explanation of her actions. “I don’t wish to impose any longer on the kindness of strangers. You and Horace will be conscripted and gone in a matter of days—Josef and Erdhan too. His family has enough mouths to feed while the men are at war.” She fiddled with the reins in her hands. “Besides, my family will be worried about me if I don’t return. Seeing the joy on Catrain’s face tonight when she welcomed Erdhan home made me realize I need to do whatever it takes to get back to them. If I ride hard, I can arrive ahead of Brufus’s troops.” Orlla dabbed at her eyes to authenticate the fictitious narrative. At least the conviction in her voice was genuine.
Arnulf squared his jaw. “A woman traveling alone on the roads when war is afoot is foolishness.” He folded hairy arms across his chest, feet braced apart. “No woman in her right mind would set out in the middle of the night at such a time as this.” He frowned as if weighing a thought. “Unless, perhaps, she was intending to meet up with Brufus’s troops. Maybe Horace was right to suspect you of hiding your true identity and purpose among us.”
Orlla willed calm into her veins and strength into her voice as she averted her eyes and adjusted the saddle. “I seek my family, nothing more. If I’m determined to make it back to my village before Brufus’s troops arrive then that’s my business. I bid you well.”
Arnulf reached for her mare’s bridle. “If you’re a spy, it’s my business. And until I know for sure, I cannot permit you to leave.”
Bristling at the underlying threat in his words, Orlla spun to face him. “Permit me? You have no authority over me. Step out of my path.”
A scowl darkened Arnulf’s features. “You are sorely mistaken. While you may have unwittingly dismissed Horace and I as uncouth louts, we are in fact Kingsmen, tasked with unmasking Brufus’s spies. We have full authority to apprehend anyone suspected of spying for Pegonia and bring them before the court in Lichtenburg.”
Orlla’s stomach roiled. She blinked in disbelief at Arnulf, his words raining down on her like shards of ice. Kingsmen! Combing the land for spies! On reflection, it made perfect sense. She had been duped by their homespun garb and unrefined manner, but all the signs were there. Their swift reaction to trouble at the inn had impressed her, while it should have alerted her. Probing, listening, observing, all the while making a pretense of being absorbed in their pie and ale. They had been suspicious of her from the outset, taking note of her evasive answers to their questions, the unusual construction of her bow, the strange feathers in her arrows
, even her accent that lacked a northern cadence. Horace had recalled his sister talking about Enndolynn’s abduction, and had no doubt shared his misgivings with Arnulf. They were well-versed in rooting out spies, and she had foolishly caught their attention.
Arnulf peered at her from beneath his brows, a flicker of pained regret in his eyes. “You seem like a reasonable woman. You can come back inside with me now of your own accord, and we will say nothing of the matter to Erdhan or his family until we leave for Lichtenburg. Or, I can truss you up like a prisoner and inform the bailiff that you are under suspicion of being a spy.”
Orlla swallowed hard as she considered her options. Arnulf would simply overpower her if she tried to bolt. And if he tied her up, escaping would be nigh impossible. She would have to pretend to go along with him for now. Wordlessly, she turned her horse around and led it back to the stable. Her shaking hands fumbled with the saddle as she unbuckled it under Arnulf’s watchful eye. She would find a more opportune time to escape tomorrow. But it would need to be soon—before the Kingsmen could drag her before a Macobite court and the truth came out. All this time she had been worried about Samten giving away Efyllsseum’s existence and now it was she who might put their homeland in danger.
For the remainder of the night, Orlla drifted in and out of sleep, but each time her eyes shot open, Arnulf was watching her, his black eyes glistening in the moonlight that spilled through a crack in the tiny shuttered window. Despair filled her heart. How was she going to find Samten and get back to Akolom and her father? If she didn’t return soon, the Protectors would conclude she had defected with her brother and alert King Ferghell to her disappearance.
Morning finally came, and a dreary dawn broke over Wilefur. The household gathered around the hearth as Erdhan set about laying a fire and Catrain hung up the kettle to boil. Orlla buttered hunks of rye bread and passed them around, avoiding Horace’s accusatory gaze. No doubt Arnulf had told him he had caught her trying to flee during the night—validating their suspicions about her. They would both be watching her like hawks from now on.
“I sent Franz and a neighbor lad to assemble the townsfolk in the marketplace,” Josef said. “We will discuss what defense preparations we need to make before the men are conscripted.”
Horace gave a grunt. “I still say it could be weeks before the southerners are called up, if at all.”
“Nonetheless, we must see to it that the women and children are well-prepared,” Josef insisted.
After breakfast, they fed and watered the horses and then made their way as a group into town. Catrain fell in step with Orlla, unremittingly detailing the villagers’ occupations and scandals as they walked, as though assuming Orlla would be staying on for the length of the war. “Serves rotten cabbages and turnips … the butcher’s sister knocked over a crate of chickens … set in the pillory for selling foul wine …”
Orlla scarcely heard a word she said, as her mind wrestled to find a way to escape from the Kingsmen, only ever a few heavy-footed steps behind them.
At the marketplace, a couple hundred townsfolk had already gathered. They gestured and conversed in troubled tones while boisterous children chased each other around carts and stalls or played at their parents’ feet. On the other side of the square, a flock of sheep puttered around in a pen next to a litter of squealing piglets. Orlla took note of the alleys leading away from the main street, and the horses tethered to a hitching post nearby, weighing the merits of a stealthy escape against the odds of a brazen flight for freedom.
Josef nodded to friends and neighbors and fleetingly introduced Orlla, Horace, and Arnulf as friends of Erdhan.
The townsfolk eyed them dubiously and made no move to initiate conversation past a perfunctory greeting, which suited Orlla well enough. She had no desire to skirt around the issue of which village she hailed from, yet again, while Horace and Arnulf attended to her every word.
“Did you rest well?” Erdhan asked, walking up to her.
She stretched a smile across her face. “Thank you again for your hospitality,” she responded, opting for evasion. “It was a relief not to have to spend the night in the cold forest.”
Erdhan studied her for a moment, a troubled look clouding his eyes. “I saw you come back inside with Arnulf last night. It’s not my business, of course … ”
Orlla's eyes widened in understanding. “Surely, you cannot think there is anything between Arnulf and myself. I merely heard the horses whinnying and went to check on them, as did Arnulf. There was nothing more to our chance meeting than that.”
Erdhan frowned. “Arnulf gave me the impression … never mind. Perhaps I misunderstood the import of his words.” His face brightened. “I am heartened to hear you hold no particular affection for him.”
Orlla’s cheeks grew warm as his gaze collided with hers. She hated to take advantage of him further, but she was desperate. She squeezed her clammy hands together. He might be willing to help her if he knew the truth—at least as much as she could tell him. Casting a furtive look over her shoulder at the Kingsmen engaged in discussion with Josef and another man, she beckoned him closer. “Erdhan,” she said in a low, coaxing tone. “Something dreadful is afoot. Horace and Arnulf are Kingsmen tasked with weeding out Brufus’s spies in Macobin. I fear they have concluded through a series of misunderstandings about my village and accent that I am such a reprobate. They plan to turn me over to the court in Lichtenburg to be investigated.”
“Kingsmen!” Erdhan stared at her in dismay. “I would never have offered them shelter if I had known. They are despised in these parts on account of King Hamend’s proclivity to hang a peasant too poor to pay his taxes. Are you sure of their intentions?”
Orlla gave a decisive nod. “Arnulf told me so himself.” She looked directly into Erdhan’s eyes, holding his shocked gaze with an imploring look. “I must return to my family. Will you help me get away from them?”
Before he could furnish an answer, the townsfolk began pressing in. “Gather round!” Josef called out in a booming voice from atop an upturned wooden crate. “As you are aware, the word from the north is that Brufus has declared war on Macobin. We do not yet have confirmation from King Hamend, or our troops, but we must prepare ourselves nonetheless.”
Several voices chimed in their agreement.
“As Wilefur has no wall for defense,” he continued. “We will make preparations for the women and children to flee to the forest and hide at a temporary camp in the event Brufus’s forces make it this far south. If they have our soldiers on the run, they will pillage and burn every settlement in their path, including Wilefur. We will begin preparing the camp today, hiding supplies and provisions in the forest.”
“If they raze everything, we will have no home to return to,” a young woman balancing a sickly-looking girl on one hip called out.
“Then we will be forced to winter in the forest,” Josef replied matter-of-factly.
The wail of a young child broke the silence that fell after Josef’s dire forecast. A babble of nervous voices followed, floating questions about what supplies to bring, how to handle the livestock, and where the camp should be located.
Orlla grimaced at the thought of the townsfolk struggling to survive in freezing temperatures in the damp forest during the long, cold months of winter. Franz would suffer greatly, as well as the sickly-looking girl, and many of the other ragged and malnourished children running around.
“Begin curing what meat you can slaughter, and gather up everything you can spare,” Josef said. “The market will be open for business today, as usual, so you can procure whatever supplies you need for the camp. I will put together a party of men to transport the supplies to the forest and build a shelter. We will begin at once.”
After some muttered exchanges, the townsfolk dispersed to begin the arduous task of packing up and preparing for the eventuality of a long, bitter winter in a makeshift camp in the woods.
On the way back, Horace nonchalantly fell in step with
Orlla. Erdhan’s parents walked directly behind them while his younger brothers chased each other around with sticks. Up ahead, Orlla spotted Arnulf lengthen his stride to catch up with Erdhan. Her stomach knotted in fear. Had they seen her whispering with Erdhan? Did they suspect she had asked him to help her flee? They might try and convince him she was a spy, or even threaten him and his family if he came to her aid.
She kept her eyes forward, ignoring Horace’s heavy breathing at her side. He made no attempt to strike up a conversation with her, which only affirmed her hunch that he was walking beside her to make sure she couldn’t overhear the dialogue between Arnulf and Erdhan. She quickened her step to test her theory. Almost immediately, Horace laid a heavy hand on her arm, slowing her down. “Tell me more about your village,” he said, loudly enough for Erdhan’s parents to pick up on.
Orlla’s throat tightened, but she wouldn’t allow Horace to intimidate her. Despite what he believed about her, she wasn’t his enemy. “If you wish to insult me by accusing me of spying for Brufus,” she hissed, “then don’t think for one moment I will divulge any details about my life to you.” She shook her arm free from his grip and faced forward once more.
Horace laughed uproariously as if she had whispered something funny to him, and then began whistling loudly as he kept pace with her for the rest of the way.
Back at the house, Erdhan’s parents assigned each of the younger boys a task to keep them occupied in the barn, and then went inside to begin packing up the supplies they would need to sustain the family in hiding.
“Horace and I will prevail upon your hospitality for only one more night,” Arnulf said to Catrain. “In the morning, we will head north to meet up with King Hamend’s troops.”
“You must do as you feel inclined,” Catrain said. “I pray you are right and the fighting will not come this far south, and Erdhan and his father will not be required to enlist after all.” She gave a shy glancing smile across at Orlla. “We might have a wedding instead.”
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 10
