"When were they through this village?" she asked between mouthfuls.
"Today."
She stopped eating and stared hard at him in the dim light. He was digging a small pit at her feet in which he lit a fire. Out of a large piece of rough fabric, also pulled from his bundle, he constructed a lean-to shelter with the aid of some stout sapling branches. This shelter was built so as to shield the light of the fire from any late travelers down on the road or inquisitive eyes from the village.
When he had finished his labours he came and sat beside her. "I took as much as I could from the village; I think it will be enough. We must try to get into the mountains as quickly as possible. The villagers said that the soldiers will be coming back this way tomorrow. By mentioning the names of some of the people I met yesterday in the other village, I was able to buy most of what we needed, but there were suspicious looks and questions none the less."
"We will head north as soon as it is light." Her voice was steady and decisive.
"Good. By the way, I found more suitable clothing for you as well, your grace." He grinned as he spread a bedroll beside the banked fire, indicating that she should sleep in the shelter.
She raised her eyebrows wordlessly. Unrolling her bed, she lay down under the primitive shelter. Within minutes she was asleep, but Daffyd lay awake gazing pensively into the sky until the moon, a thin crescent, silvery sharp and bright, rose up out of the trees.
In the early hours of morning, Daffyd roused the fire enough to heat a pot of water for tea and washing. Another frugal meal was shared between them, though Daffyd promised better fare once they were in the mountains where he could hunt and fish. Farion had grazed the surrounding area thoroughly and was eager to be on his way to newer pastures. After eating and washing her hands and face, Hollin was presented with a bundle of what appeared to be coarse rags and a wooden comb.
"I thank you for the comb," she said beginning to unbraid her tousled hair, "but what are these?" She pointed to the rags with her foot.
"Those are your traveling clothes," he replied amiably, heaping dirt into the pit to smother the fire.
Hollin put down the comb and gingerly pawed the bundle apart. Her investigation produced a pair of heavy woolen leggings, a frayed cotton shirt, a leather over-tunic, a pair of low boots and a dingy grey worsted hat. An expression of amusement flitted across her face. It was an odd costume to go looking for a prince in, but it would keep her warm and be easier to walk in than her skirts.
Daffyd, noticing her scrutiny of the garments, straightened abruptly from the pile of bedrolls, pans and ropes, packets of food, and various other provisions that he had been trying to sort and pack. "I'm sorry if the clothes displease your grace, but I really think that they would be better protection for the rigors of the mountains than what you have."
"They are more, what is it you said last night...suitable." She bent and gathered them into her arms.
"I thought that your grace could wear your skirts over them..." He stopped, embarrassed. "They are men's attire but I tried to find ones that I thought would fit."
Hollin smiled at him. "Obviously you do not know the scandalous reputation of the Duchess of Langstraad," she observed. To his puzzled look she explained. "Frequently in my own domains I wear men's attire when I deem it more suitable."
Daffyd grinned back at her. "Scandalous but sensible, your grace."
With a nod, she modestly retired behind a screen of bushes to change into her new attire. The woolen leggings were warm, but they itched and she had to school herself not to scratch at them. She loosened the stays on her skirt, letting it fall to her ankles and stepped out of it. She kept her own undergarments and chemise on, pulling the rough peasant garments on over the finely embroidered cotton lawn. Neatly rolling her discarded clothing into a ball, she sat down beside them to finish dressing her hair. Combing the snarls out with care, she deftly rebraided it and wound it about her head, securing it with jeweled pins. Feeling much the better for her personal ministrations, she shook her cloak out and refastened it around her shoulders.
When she stepped back around the bushes, she found Daffyd placing the saddlebags on Farion. The marks of where they had camped had been obliterated such that a cursory glance would reveal nothing. She handed him her bundle of clothing to be stuffed into one of the saddle-bags and noticed his approving look. In order to lessen the strain on Farion they had agreed to take turns riding and walking. Daffyd boosted her onto the horse and led them forward into the morning light.
They traveled quickly and soon were in the rugged hills and canyons of the upper foothills. Hollin described where she thought a narrow pass into the mountains existed based on what she had gleaned from the ring, and together they searched for clues to its whereabouts. They made two frustrating forays into canyons that ended at the base of cliffs before Hollin called for a halt in order to consult the ring. Working with the ring took time and energy, but at last they came upon the opening of a narrow, twisting rent in the side of the mountain that they were climbing and Hollin proclaimed it to be the right path.
Peering up the rocky incline, Daffyd turned to her and shook his head. "If your grace says that this is the way, then this is the way that we shall go; but I am afraid that your horse will never make it through here."
Hollin slid off Farion's back and stood stroking his neck. Farion turned his head and rubbed his face against her. She crooned to the large horse, saying nothing to Daffyd immediately. When she did turn to face Daffyd, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Swallowing hard, she began to take his saddle off. Silently, Daffyd helped. The bridle was the last thing that she removed and when she had done so the horse turned a confused eye on her.
"Perhaps he will make his way back to Langstraad," Daffyd said encouragingly.
Hollin stopped stroking Farion's neck and regarded the horse speculatively. Brightening perceptibly she reached behind her neck to unfasten a thin gold necklace, withdrawing it from next to her skin. Daffyd bent close to see a polished stone of pale lavender agate dangling from its clasp on the gold chain. She held the stone to her lips and then proceeded to braid it into Farion's long thick forelock. When she had made certain that it was securely in place, she put her hands on either side of the horse's head and touched her own forehead to Farion's. She stood in this manner for many minutes. Releasing the horse at last, she bid him to go and swatted him affectionately on the flank. Farion tossed his head, flicked his tail and then turned and ambled back down the trail they had just come up.
"Is all well with you?" Daffyd inquired as he threw the saddlebags over his shoulders.
With a dreamy nod Hollin picked up her own bundle. "What about the saddle?"
"We shouldn't leave it lying where it can be easily found," Daffyd asserted, as he hoisted the saddle and bridle into his arms. "We'll carry it with us until we find a place to dispose of it."
Slowly they wended their way up the tortuous path into the mountain. Amidst the boulders and stunted trees seeming to grow out of the very rocks themselves they picked their way. Nightfall found them far advanced up the mountain but surrounded so that all they could see in any direction were broken walls of rock. Daffyd had deposited Farion's saddle and bridle deep in a cleft they had passed earlier, covering it with a pile of rocks to ensure its concealment. Looking about them now, he pointed to a network of cracks in the wall of rock above them. One of the cracks offered the possibility of being a ledge. Leaving his bags on the ground, he crawled spider-like up to it. It proved to be wider and deeper than it had looked from the ground and Daffyd reckoned that it would offer better protection than the exposure of the trail. The ledge was about twenty feet long, thinning to a long crack at the far end where it rejoined the cliff. An overhang of rock along the length of the ledge gave it the aspect of an open cave and offered shelter from the elements.
He scrambled down and used a rope to haul their bags and bundles onto the ledge. Hollin climbed up on her own, letting Daffyd assist her
only the last few feet. She looked about the ledge and concurred with Daffyd that it would serve well for the night. Neither had mentioned it to the other but both were anxious about the possibility of being tracked. Hollin pushed the bundles back against the wall and sat down.
"I don't think we should risk a fire tonight, your grace," Daffyd said, joining her.
"No, it would be wisest not to," she agreed.
They ate yet another frugal meal and drank deeply of the water that Daffyd had brought. True dark settled into the canyon as, far above, stars began to burn intensely in the black of the sky. A rising wind sent chill fingers down the canyon, seeking out the cracks and hollows. Hollin shivered violently and wrapped her arms about herself. Digging into his pack, Daffyd brought forth a small flask which he uncorked and pressed into Hollin's cold hand. She sniffed, catching the aroma of a strong spirituous liquor, and began to hand it back.
"Go on, your grace," Daffyd said with a chuckle, pushing her hand away. "It works wonders against cold and nerves."
"Is this an old mountain remedy then?" she jested in return.
"It was much used in the house of my uncle," he affirmed.
She took a sip and followed it by attempting to smother a spasm of coughing. In a choking voice she inquired if it was brewed from dragon's blood or old boots. He laughed, patting her on the back to relieve the coughing. He urged another draught, which she took after steeling herself to meet the effects. This time the fiery sensation was not so unexpected and, as it settled in her chest and stomach, definitely improved her sense of well-being. She handed the flask back, complimenting him on his foresight. "And now I think we should try to get some sleep," she finished.
"Yes, your grace. There is one small matter..." He spoke hesitantly. "I beg you to understand me aright: the night is cold and will get colder. Also, this ledge is not very wide. It would be advisable for you and I to put our sleeping rolls next to each other, as close to the back wall as is comfortable."
Though she could not see his face clearly in the starlight, she understood his concern. Now that she had accepted him as her traveling companion, she realized that she needed to set him at ease. They might be many weeks or months in each other's company on this journey and it was important that they come to an understanding of one another.
"Your suggestion is sensible. We are far from Pentarin Palace and what was suitable there might not always suit the practicalities of our current situation. This journey will be difficult enough; we do not need to add further complications. In this venture you have agreed to be my paxman, and also my guide and comrade.
"You know about traveling in rough country like this. I rely on your knowledge and good sense to tell me what we need to do to survive." She paused and he saw her teeth gleaming in the dark. "I am no young girl, prey to over-modest behavior, and I have not led a totally sheltered life behind castle walls. As a child, my father taught me to ride, to fly a hawk and to wield a sword. I have never climbed through unknown mountains, but I am not afraid to try."
"I agree that certain forms of behavior, proper at court, must be set aside for expediency," a relieved Daffyd responded. "I also appreciate your grace's willingness to trust my judgment."
Hollin scrambled to her knees. "Good. Now let us arrange our sleeping rolls, before your mountain-brew wears off and I feel the chill again."
While Daffyd opened the sleeping rolls, placing them as far away from the edge of the ledge as he could, Hollin pushed the saddle bags deep into the overhang at their feet and positioned the softer bundles to be used as pillows. When this was done, she removed her boots and cloak, throwing the cloak on top to act as an additional blanket, and slipped into her primitive bed. The rock beneath her was unforgivingly hard though she knew that Daffyd had placed the blanket of last night's shelter under her to give a modicum of padding. Daffyd lay down beside her and there was a period of awkwardness as they both tried to find comfortable positions, very aware of the other's proximity. The exertions of the day soon proved stronger than their discomfort, and they fell asleep.
Both Daffyd and Hollin were startled into wakefulness in the same instant. Back in the crevice of their ledge it was still dim with shadow, but the opposite wall of the canyon was lit with the rising sun. Daffyd lay on his side with his arm resting protectively over Hollin who lay close to him. Unconsciously in the cold hour of night they had each sought the warmth of the body lying beside them. Abashed, Daffyd began to remove his arm and roll away, when the sound that had first awakened him caught his ear.
The wind had died and along with the dawn singing of birds he heard the unmistakable sound of a shod hoof striking rock. Hollin had also heard the sound and started to say "Farion," but Daffyd's arm suddenly tightened on her and he shook his head. Their faces only inches apart, they stared into each other's eyes and strained their ears; coupled with the sound of moving hooves was the creak of leather. The sound of another horse joined the first and an indistinct mutter of voices came to them. As the horses came closer, the voices became intelligible.
"It's a fool's mission. No one came up this forsaken bit of canyon."
"Horse tracks came this way..."
"No, only to the entrance, then they veered off. I tell you, if she has escaped then she'll head back to her own lands."
"Then why did the horse come up here? And there were two sets of footprints."
"Made by men's boots. I don't know what to think, but no one's been up this way and my horse can't go much further. Anyway, it probably dead-ends at the bottom of a cliff, all of these canyons do that, and I'm damned if I'm going to start mountain climbing..."
"The earl's not going to be too happy if he find's that she's escaped."
"And I'm telling you, no one's been up this way. Come on, let's be getting back." The voices began to recede. "Queer business all around. Be glad when we've proper soldier's work to do..."
In stiffened silence, the two fugitives waited until all sounds had ceased before breathing easily again. Daffyd loosened his hold, rolled over and slithered to the edge of the ledge. No one was in sight. If it had not been for Hollin's corroboration, he would have thought it a mere dream. She joined him, lying flat on her stomach. Putting his finger to his lips he indicated that they should retreat to the back of the ledge.
"Should we wait to make certain that they won't return or shall we go on now?" she whispered, pulling on her boots.
"Give them a few more minutes and then let us continue in all haste," he advised. "They seem to think that this canyon leads nowhere. Are you certain that this is the right way?"
Hollin nodded decisively. "Yes, this is the way we must go."
They ate some of the dried fruit and drank from the water-skin while waiting to be sure the soldiers had left the canyon. Then Daffyd rebundled their meager belongings into more manageable packs, using ropes to enable them to be carried on their backs. When he judged sufficient time had elapsed, he lowered the packs, followed by the duchess, to the ground and climbed down himself. They quickly distributed everything between them and started up the trail, moving as silently and rapidly as they were able.
The canyon proceeded to get narrower and rockier the higher they climbed, but Daffyd always managed to find a way to continue up. By early afternoon they had succeeded in climbing out of the canyon and into a forest of oak and aspen. They continued walking until the sound of rushing water brought them to a stream; the water danced in the dappled shade of the trees. Here they rested and while Hollin sat on a rock, cooling her feet in the swirling water, Daffyd wandered upstream with hooks, lines and a net to see if dinner might also be lurking in the stream.
Left alone, Hollin unbound her hair and with a cake of ugly yellow soap, gleaned from one of Daffyd's saddlebags, washed her abundance of coppery hair. When he still did not return, she quickly stripped off her clothes and gave the rest of her body the same treatment she had given her hair. Disdainfully she picked through her clothing and washed those pieces that she hesit
ated to put on her newly cleaned body. Dressed again, but still tingling with the invigoration of the cold water, she sat on a rock beside the stream and let the warmth of the spring sun dry her hair.
Meanwhile, Daffyd, enjoying the game of luring fish onto his hooks, had lost track of time. It was later than he had anticipated when he started back downstream with his catch. The hour of fishing had revived his spirits and given him hope. In the mountains he knew what he should do and how it must be done. Life was simplified to the acts of procuring food and finding shelter. He had almost forgotten why he was there when he broke through the trees and glimpsed the duchess sitting on her rock in the stream. Her back was towards him, so he stood for a moment taking delight in her beauty before he walked forward and made his presence known.
She had reattired herself in her traveling clothes and neatly rebound her hair. As she heard Daffyd approach she turned quickly, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. He held aloft the two fish he had caught and she stood to return to the shore. Her movements were easy and sure as she leaped from rock to rock back to the bank where Daffyd waited.
"It's not the time of day that fish are looking to be caught," he said, rinsing the fish in the water and wrapping them in leaves. "And it is later than I hoped to be back, but we can still travel a couple of miles before we make camp. I also took advantage of the stream." He pointed to his still damp hair that curled waywardly about his head.
Together they shouldered their packs and resumed their march. Working with the ring while Daffyd was fishing, Hollin had sensed that they must head north and slowly to the west. An image had come into her mind of a great wall of loose rocks at the end of a small alpine valley. It was an image that she had experienced before in her initial work in Pentarin. She was aware of the fatigue that was the result of working with the ring, but she ignored it and marched on. That evening she ate her first cooked meal in over three days. Daffyd cheerfully informed her that he would lay snares while they camped and could forage for edible plants as they walked. She nodded wearily, hardly conscious of him. She did not know the next morning how she had gotten into her bed. Awakening, she found her boots removed and herself snugly tucked into her bedroll with a cushion of leaves beneath her.
The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups Page 17
