`I've waited years to get him back for that!'
He wheeled Kicker in turn and headed off at a fast trot after Halt. Will stayed where he was for a few moments, pondering. Horace had always been so guileless, so straightforward and sincere, that he'd made an easy target for practical jokes. Now, it seemed, he'd developed a cunning streak of his own.
`Probably been around us too long,' he said, and turned Tug after the other two.
***
Later that night, wrapped warmly in his blankets, his head pillowed on his saddle, Will looked up at the stars, clear and bright in the night sky, and smiled quietly to himself. He could feel the chill of the night air on his face, but that only served to make the rest of his body, under the blankets, feel warm and comfortable.
It was good to be back on the road, heading for another adventure. It was even better to be doing so in the company of his two closest friends.
For an hour or so after the confrontation on the road, Halt had attempted to maintain a haughty pretence of injured pride. But eventually, he couldn't keep it up any longer and, with a show of great dignity, he announced that he would forgive Horace for his transgression. Horace, for his part, had affected to be grateful to the bearded Ranger. But he spoiled the effect a little by sneaking a covert wink to Will. Once again, Will realised that Horace these days was not the innocent of old. He would bear watching, Will thought. There was a long history of practical jokes between them that Horace might be looking to redress.
As the stars wheeled in the night sky above him, he found he couldn't sleep and his thoughts turned to the morning they had left Redmont. Crowley, Sir Rodney, Baron Arald and all their friends were there to see them off, of course. But Will's memory focused mainly on two of them: Lady Pauline and Alyss.
Alyss had kissed him goodbye and then whispered a few private words in his ear. He smiled now at the memory of them.
Then Alyss had moved to farewell Horace, who had arrived to join them the previous night, and Will had found himself facing Lady Pauline. She kissed his cheek softly then leaned forward to hug him. As she did, she said quietly, 'Look after him for me, Will. He's not as young as he thinks he is.'
With a slight shock, he realised she meant Halt. Willcould think of no one who needed looking after less than Halt but he nodded, nonetheless.
`You know I will, Pauline,' he said and she looked deeply into his eyes for several seconds.
`Yes. I do know,' she said and then she moved to embrace her husband and re-tie the fastenings of his cloak, patting them into place the way wives do for husbands.
It was strange, Will thought now. He had been desperately sorry to leave Alyss and his other friends at Redmont and the moment of parting brought an uncomfortable lump to his throat. Yet now that they were on the road again, camped under the stars, enjoying the close-knit bond of true friendship that existed between the three of them, he felt remarkably happy. Life was good, he thought. In fact, life was close to perfect. And he fell asleep with that thought.
Two hours later, Horace shook him awake to take over the watch and he rolled blearily out of his warm blankets into the cold night.
Perhaps, he reflected, life wasn't quite so close to perfect at that moment.
* * *
Chapter 15
* * *
It took the travellers five days to reach the Kingdom of Clonmel.
They travelled first to the coastal village of Selsey, where Halt prevailed upon the head man to provide a boat to take them and their horses across the narrow stretch of sea to Hibernia.
At first Wilfred was less than delighted with the idea. The village and its people had grown used to being independent over the years, and they had little interest in the doings of the outside world. They saw Halt's request as an infringement on this independence and an unwelcome disruption to their normal routine. Halt had to remind him that, although Selsey was not part of any fief, it was still part of Araluen and subject to King Duncan's authority —which he, as a Ranger, represented.
He further pointed out that he had saved part of their fishing fleet from destruction, then prevented the Outsiders from absconding with a considerable amount ofgold, silver and jewellery belonging to the villagers. On top of that, Halt had arranged for an armed party from Redmont to hunt down and arrest the bandits who had been working with Farrell and his group, ensuring the village's continuing safety.
Wilfred eventually, although still grudgingly, conceded the point and provided a boat and crew to ferry them to Hibernia.
They landed on a deserted stretch of beach in the southeast corner of Clonmel, just before first light. The three companions quickly mounted their horses and rode into the woods fringing the beach, out of sight of any possible prying eyes. Will looked back as the trees loomed over them, cloaking them in shadows. The boat was already far offshore, the sail no more than a pale speck among the dark waves as her skipper headed back out to sea, wasting no time getting back to the fishing grounds.
Halt saw the direction of his gaze.
`Fishermen,' he said. 'All they ever think of is their next catch.'
`They were a friendly lot,' Horace said. In fact, the sailors had hardly addressed an unnecessary word to their passengers. 'I'm not sorry to be off that tub.'
Halt concurred with the thought, although not entirely for the same reason. As always, his stomach had betrayed him once the boat had left the calm waters of the harbour and begun to plunge and roll on the open sea. The all-pervading smell of stale fish guts hadn't helped matters, either. He had spent the greater part of the voyage standing in the bow of the boat, his face pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the railing. His two young
companions, familiar with his problem, decided the best course was to ignore it and leave Halt to his own devices. From past experience, they knew that any show of sympathy would lead to a snarl of dismissal. And any sign of amusement would lead to far worse.
They rode into the wood, soon crossing a path. It was a narrow, winding game trail and there was no way to ride abreast. They rode in single file, following Halt's lead as he headed north-west.
`What now, Halt?' Will asked. He was riding second in line behind his teacher. The grey-bearded Ranger twisted in his saddle to reply.
`We'll head towards Ferris's castle, Dun Kilty. It's maybe a week's ride from here. That'll give us a chance to see how things are in Clonmel.'
It soon became apparent that things in Clonmel were far from good. The game trail meandered haphazardly and eventually led them to a broader, more permanent high road. As they followed it, they began to see farmlands interspersed with the woods. But the fields were untended and overgrown with weeds, and the farmhouses they saw were shuttered and silent, with the farmyard entrances barricaded by wagons and hay bales, so they resembled improvised armed camps.
`Looks like they're expecting trouble,' Will said as they passed by one such collection of farm buildings.
`Looks like they've already had it,' Halt replied, pointing to the blackened remains of one of the outbuildings, where a pile of ashes and collapsed timbers were still smouldering. They could also make out the huddled shapes of several dead animals in the fields. Ravensperched on the swollen carcasses, tearing chunks out of the rank flesh with their sharp beaks.
`You'd think they'd have buried or burnt those carcasses,' Horace said. He wrinkled his nose as the breeze brought the unpleasantly sweet smell of rotting flesh to them.
`If they're afraid to go out to plough and plant, they're hardly going to expose themselves to bury a few dead sheep,' Halt told him.
`I suppose not. But what are they afraid of?'
Halt eased his backside from the saddle, standing for a few seconds in the stirrups before resuming his seat.
`At a guess, I'd say they're hiding from this character Tennyson — or at least, from the bandits that work with him. The whole place seems like a country under siege.'
The farms and smaller hamlets that they passed all exhibited the
same evidence of fear and suspicion. Wherever possible the three Araluans bypassed them, remaining unseen.
`No point in revealing our presence,' Halt said. But by midmorning of the second day, his curiosity was beginning to nag at him, and when they sighted a small hamlet of five ramshackle houses grouped together, he jerked a thumb towards it.
`Let's go and ask the price of eggs,' he said. Horace frowned at the words as Halt led the way out of the trees and along the road that led to the hamlet.
`Do we need eggs?' he asked Will.
Will grinned at him. 'Figure of speech, Horace.' Horace nodded, assuming a knowing expression just a little too late. 'Oh ... yes. I sort of knew that. Sort of.'
They urged their horses after Abelard, catching up when they were fifty metres short of the hamlet. This was the closest they'd been to one of these silent groups of buildings and as they grew closer they could see the rough palisade that had been thrown around it in more detail. Farm carts and ploughs were formed in a circle around the hamlet. The gaps between were piled with old furniture —benches and tables — and the remaining gaps were filled with hurriedly constructed earthworks and spare timber. Halt raised his eyebrows at the sight of one table, a family heirloom that had been lovingly polished and waxed over the years, now shoved roughly on its side into a gap in the defences.
`Must be dining al fresco these days,' he said softly.
Seen closer to, they also realised that the hamlet was far from deserted. They could make out movement now behind the barricade. Several figures were moving to group together at the point they were heading for. At least one of them seemed to be wearing a helmet. The midmorning sun gleamed dully off it. As they watched, the man clambered up onto a wagon that obviously served as a gate through the barricade. He was wearing a leather coat, studded with metal. It was a cheap and primitive form of armour. In his right hand, he brandished a heavy spear. There was nothing cheap or primitive about it. Like the helmet, it reflected the sun's rays.
`Someone's been sharpening his spear,' Horace observed to his friends. Before they could reply, the spearman called out to them.
`On your way!' he yelled roughly. 'You're not welcome here!'
To reinforce the statement, he brandished the spear. Several of the other occupants growled in agreement and the three travellers saw other weapons waving above the barricade. Several swords, an axe and a selection of farm implements like scythes and sickles.
`We mean you no harm, friend,' Halt called back. He leaned his elbows on the saddle pommel and smiled encouragingly at the man. They were too far away for the farmer to see the expression, but he knew the body language was non-threatening and he hoped the smile would soften his tone of voice.
`Well, we'll mean you plenty if you come any further!'
While Halt parleyed, Will was studying the barricade intently, particularly the weapons that appeared sporadically to be waved threateningly above the top. After a few seonds, he saw a small figure pass a behind a narrow gap in the defences, followed by another, heading for the left-hand end. A few seconds later, weapons were being brandished at that position. He noticed that none were now visible at the right-hand end, where a few minutes ago they had been waving energetically.
`Halt,' he said out of the corner of his mouth, 'there aren't as many of them as they'd like us to think. And some of them are either women or children.'
`I thought as much,' the Ranger replied. 'That's why they don't want us any closer, of course.' He spoke again to the spearman. 'We're simple travellers, friend. We'll pay well for a hot meal and a tankard of ale.'
`We don't want your money and you're not getting our food. Now be on your way!'
There was a note of desperation in his voice, Halt
thought, as if any moment the man expected the three armed riders to call his bluff. Halt knew then that Will was right and the majority of 'defenders' behind the barricade were women and children. There was no reason, the Ranger concluded, to cause them any further concern. Things seemed bad enough in this part of the country anyway.
`Very well. If you say so. But can you tell us if there's an inn anywhere close by? We've been on the road for some time.'
There was a slight pause, then the man answered.
`There's the Green Harper, at Craikennis. It's west of here, less than a league. Mayhap you'll find a place there. Follow the road you're on to the crossroads and you'll find a sign.'
The farmer was obviously glad to be able to direct them somewhere else, and an inn would tend to denote a larger settlement — a village or even a small town. Such a place might be less likely to turn strangers away. Halt waved in farewell.
`Thanks for the advice, friend. We'll bother you no further.'
There was no reply. The man remained standing on the cart, his spear in hand, as they turned their horses and began to trot away. After a hundred metres or so, Will twisted round in his saddle.
`Still watching us,' he said.
Halt grunted. 'I'm sure he'll keep doing so till we're out of sight. And then worry half the night that we might turn back after dark and try to surprise him.' He shook his head sadly. Horace noticed the action.
I tied man,' he said.
`That's one frightene
looked at him. 'Very frightened. And fear is the Outsiders' most potent ally. I think we're starting to get an idea of what we're up against.'
They rode on and came to the road sign directing them to Craikennis. The fact that there was a road sign, and that the place actually had a name, all pointed to the possibility that it was a larger settlement. Still, Halt wanted to avoid the sort of non-welcome they had just received.
`I think we might split up,' he said. 'The sight of three armed men might be a bit daunting for people in this area, and I don't want to be unceremoniously thrown out before we get in. Will, you've got that lute of yours, haven't you?'
Will had long ago given up trying to tell Halt that his instrument was a mandola. And in any case, Halt's question was a rhetorical one. Will always carried the instrument with him and he'd played it around their camp fire the night before.
'Yes. Do you want me to become a travelling minstrel?' He'd foreseen where Halt's thinking was heading. There was something un-threatening about a travelling musician.
Halt nodded. 'Yes. For some reason, people tend to trust a minstrel.'
`And of course, this one has such a trustworthy face,' Horace put in with a grin. Halt looked at him for a few seconds in silence.
`Quite so,' he said at length. 'We'll find a place to camp, then you go in ahead of us and start up some singing. Horace and I will slip in while everyone's watching you. Book a room at the inn. That's what you'd usually do, isn't it?'
Will nodded. `It's the normal thing for an entertainer to ask for a room — or a bed in the barn if the inn's full.'
`You do that, then. We'll have a meal and listen around to see what we can find out. Then we'll go back to the camp. See if you can get any information from the innkeeper but don't look too nosy. We'll compare notes tomorrow morning.'
Will nodded. 'Sounds simple enough.' A grin stole over his face. He knew Halt had a total lack of interest in music. `Any requests for tonight?'
His old teacher looked at him for a long moment. `Anything but Greybeard Halt,' he said.
Horace clicked his tongue in disappointment. 'That's one of my favourites.'
Halt regarded the two grinning young faces.
`Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to regret agreeing to this Task Group?' he said.
* * *
Chapter 16
* * *
Halt and Horace reined in at the outskirts of Craikennis. There was a makeshift palisade here as well, obviously a recent construction. Outside the barrier, in front of the entrance, a canvas shelter was set by the roadside, with three armed men inside, sheltering from the chill of the night. There was a large iron triangle hanging from a pole, with a hammer hanging beside it. In the event of an attack, one of the
men would sound the alarm by clanging the triangle with the hammer, Horace thought.
One of the sentries emerged from the shelter now, took a burning torch from a bracket and advanced on them, holding the light high to see their faces. Halt obligingly shrugged the cowl back from his head so the light could play upon his features.
`Who are you and what do you want?' the man demanded roughly. Horace grimaced. Clonmel wasn't the friendliest country he'd ever been to, he thought. Then again, there was little wonder, in the light of what they'd seen as they travelled through the countryside.
`We're travellers,' Halt told him. 'On the way to Dun Kilty to buy sheep at the markets there.'
`Do shepherds usually go armed?' the man asked, taking in Halt's longbow and the sword that hung at Horace's waist. Halt gave him a thin smile.
`They do if they plan to get their sheep home in one piece,' he said. 'Or are you not aware how things are these days ?'
The man nodded morosely. 'I am that,' he replied. The stranger was right. There was little of law and order in Clonmel these past weeks. The smaller man might well be a shepherd, he thought. He was a nondescript-looking character. The taller of the two had a different feel to him. He was doubtless an armed guard, hired by the shepherd to help safeguard his flock on the return journey.
`We're looking for a meal and a fire to warm us and then we'll be on our way. We're told there's an inn here in Craikennis?'
The watchman nodded, satisfied that the two men offered no real threat to the security of the village. He glanced out into the darkness, making sure they had no companions lurking in the shadows. But there was no sign of movement on the road. He stepped back.
`Very well. But don't cause any trouble. You'll have us and a dozen others to reckon with if you do.'
THE KINGS OF CLONMEL Page 10