“You’re right,” she said. She took a firmer grip on her riding crop. Ingrid never used it on her horse, keeping it instead as a concealed weapon. It was a piece of stout ashwood, fifty centimeters long, wrapped in leather and with a polished stone pommel at one end. The other end tapered down to the whip section—a flat piece of braided leather. In addition, as was the custom for ladies, she wore a dagger on her belt.
“I’ll take care of the bowman first,” Maddie said in an undertone. “With any luck, the others will run once he’s down.”
“And without any luck?” Ingrid asked.
Maddie grinned. “It’ll be their bad luck,” she said.
6
The man with the bow was becoming impatient. The girls had been standing immobile for several minutes now. He had seen Ingrid cast a look over her shoulder and knew she was aware that any possible retreat was cut off.
“Come along!” he ordered. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Come forward and hand over your valuables!”
To emphasize the point, he began to draw back on the arrow. The bow and the string creaked as they came under strain.
Maddie’s eyes narrowed as she studied the bow. It was a poor weapon, unlike the beautifully fashioned bows that Rangers used. It was made from an unevenly shaped stave, with one limb narrower than the other, so the top half of the bow bent more than the lower. She seriously doubted he could hit anything beyond fifty meters with a bow like that. But then, he would be well used to its peculiarities and would probably allow for any uneven flight.
And besides, they were inside fifty meters, so she decided that it wasn’t worth letting him take a shot.
Moving swiftly and smoothly, she took a long step forward with her left foot, letting the sling in her right hand hang down to its full length behind her body. Then she whipped it up and over, stepping into the shot with her right leg as she did so. It was a smooth, coordinated movement, putting her leg, body and arm into the force behind the sling. The lead shot whizzed away, too fast for the eye to follow, and smashed into the upper limb of the bow, halfway up its length. The upper limb was the weaker of the two, and it was bent more than its fellow. The sudden impact of the lead shot shattered it, so that the bow seemed to explode in the man’s hands as the tension on the string was suddenly released.
The broken limb flew loose, and then, stopped by the string, flicked back and smacked the man across the jaw, raising a bleeding weal there. He cried out and staggered back, dropping the broken bow and throwing a hand up to stem the sudden flow of blood. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Things had moved too fast for him to see clearly. But he knew it had been the fault of that slim girl standing beside the shaggy little horse. Determined on revenge, he reached for the long knife at his belt and started toward her.
“They never learn,” Maddie said. She loaded another slug into her sling and whipped it toward him. It hit him on the point of the shoulder, smashing the bone and bruising the flesh. The knife dropped from his fingers, and he stood, swaying, sobbing with the sudden shock and pain. Slowly he sank to his knees, his left hand reaching to try to ease the agony in his broken shoulder. He doubled over until his head touched the ground, little moaning sounds escaping from his lips.
“You witch!” his companion screamed. He brandished the cudgel above his head and ran at Maddie. She calmly loaded another shot into her sling and stood waiting for him. But Ingrid acted first.
Ingrid spurred her horse forward, reversing her grip on the riding crop as she did. The man saw her coming and turned to face her. He swung wildly with the cudgel, but she nudged her horse with her knees and it gracefully sidestepped, avoiding the blow. Then it lunged back in before he could recover, and Ingrid leaned out of the saddle, wielding the riding crop and bringing the heavy stone pommel crashing down on top of his leather cap.
He looked up at her, startled. Then his eyes glazed and he simply folded up like an empty suit of clothes, collapsing to the leaf-strewn forest path, stone-cold unconscious.
With two of their attackers taken care of, Maddie turned her attention to the third member of the gang. He hesitated, seeing his companions disabled within a matter of seconds. Then he turned and ran.
“Bumper,” said Maddie quietly, and pointed at the retreating figure.
The little horse took off like an arrow released from a bow. Maddie, as always, was fascinated by the acceleration that Ranger horses could manage. Within a few strides, he was at top pace, rapidly gaining on the floundering figure before him.
If the robber had had the wit to cut off into the trees to either side, he might have had a better chance. But he chose to remain on the path, then on the open ground beyond the forest. He’d barely covered ten meters of the latter when Bumper caught up with him and, true to his name, slammed his shoulder into the robber’s side.
The impact sent the man tumbling in the grass, rolling over several times before beginning to rise, groggily, to his feet. He shook his head to clear his vision—his head had thudded heavily into the ground when he fell, and he was a little dizzy. The small, shaggy horse stood a few meters away, ears pricked, watching him with a curious expression on its face, as if to say, What are you planning to do now? The robber had the distinct impression that the horse was amused by the situation. His hand dropped to the knife at his belt. He had lost his spear in the fall, and it was out of sight in the long grass.
He slid the knife from its sheath and began to advance on the horse, muttering a curse as he did so.
“That’s far enough.” He heard Maddie’s warning call and glanced back toward the point where the track led into the trees. She had followed Bumper at a more leisurely pace and was standing now at the edge of the forest. Her sling, loaded with another lead ball, hung unobtrusively from her right hand, swinging slowly back and forth, level with her right knee.
When Maddie had hit his companion with two casts of the sling, the third bandit hadn’t seen exactly what had happened. His view of the scene, and of Maddie’s actions, had been blocked by the horse. Not appreciating the threat offered by the innocuous-looking weapon, he began to advance on Bumper, whose ears twitched slightly.
“Last warning,” Maddie called. Her voice was sharper now.
He glanced at her and snarled. “Best call your horse away, missy,” he said. “Else I’m going to gut him.”
Maddie sighed. She had given him a chance. But Will had spent years drumming into her the rule of thumb in situations like this. Give an enemy one chance to surrender. But one chance only. After that, take action.
The robber took another pace toward Bumper, cooing softly in what he intended to be a soothing voice.
“Come on, horse . . . good horse. Stand still while I plunge this blade into your belly. . . . Stand now, that’s . . . Aaaaiiiyaaah!”
The scream was torn from him as the lead shot slammed into his forearm, breaking the bones there. The knife fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers, and he clutched at his arm with his left hand, bending over in reaction to the unexpected impact and searing agony.
Maddie casually folded the sling and placed it under her belt, then drew her saxe as she advanced on the stooped-over, moaning figure. He heard her approaching and looked up, tears of shock and pain running freely down his grubby, unshaven face.
“You broke my arm!” he said in an accusing tone.
Maddie couldn’t help smiling at his indignation. Here he was, a would-be robber intent on preying on two seemingly defenseless girls, and he had the gall to act as the injured party. It never failed to amuse her how so many thugs on an occasion like this would assume that same attitude of injured innocence.
“Could have been your head,” she said unsympathetically. She prodded him in the rump with the point of her saxe. He skipped away from the contact, sniveling as the movement sent waves of pain coursing through his broken arm.
“Get moving,�
� Maddie ordered him crisply, gesturing toward the path into the forest. Continuing to moan and protest, the robber complied, leading the way back up the trail to where his two erstwhile companions were seated at the base of a large oak. Ingrid stood over them, her reversed riding crop in one hand and her dagger in the other. But the men were thoroughly cowed and offered no resistance to their intended victims. They looked up as Maddie shoved their companion down beside them, eliciting another groan of pain from him as she did so. The man Ingrid stunned had regained consciousness, although a certain dazed look in his eyes told Maddie that he was probably concussed.
She tapped her saxe against her leg as she studied them, figuring out what to do. They could hardly take the men with them, but she certainly wasn’t going to turn them loose.
“All right,” she said abruptly. “Strip.”
None of them moved. They all stared at her, uncomprehending. Finally the former bowman spoke.
“Our clothes? All of them?”
Maddie shook her head impatiently. “I don’t think so. Ingrid doesn’t deserve to see such an unpleasant sight. Just your breeches and your shirts. Down to your underwear.”
They still didn’t move, so she added crisply, “Get on with it!”
This time, they obeyed, moving awkwardly in the case of the two with broken arms, and shrugged off their stained and dirty outer clothing. Their underclothes were no more attractive. They had obviously gone unlaundered for many days, and they were holed and ragged. Maddie kicked the discarded clothes away from the men, into a rough pile.
“Shoes as well,” she ordered, and they reluctantly obeyed.
Ingrid watched curiously. “Is there any reason for this?” she asked quietly.
Maddie nodded, glancing up at her. “Makes them feel vulnerable and less likely to disobey orders. Having them strip tends to take the starch out of them—particularly in front of two girls.”
“Makes me feel light-headed,” Ingrid commented. “They are rather on the nose, aren’t they?”
She was right. With their clothes removed, the strong odors from their unwashed bodies were all too apparent.
“Not much we can do about that,” Maddie commented. She leaned down and caught hold of the concussed man’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and tying his thumbs together with a length of leather thong. Then she quickly did the same for his companions, resulting in more cries of pain as she moved their injured arms into position—something she did without excessive gentleness.
“Oooh, by the gods, that hurts!” the third member of the gang whined.
Maddie eyed him unsympathetically. “Serves you right for attacking helpless girls.”
Ingrid smiled. Anyone less like a “helpless girl” than her mistress she couldn’t imagine.
“Now scrooch up against the tree,” Maddie continued, gesturing for them to shuffle backward so that they were sitting with their backs to the trunk of the big oak. Once they were in position, she ran a length of rope around the tree, looping it around their throats and pulling tight so there was barely any slack. They were now fastened to the tree, unable to move without choking themselves and their companions, and unable to reach up to untie the rope.
“Are we going to leave them here?” Ingrid asked. She had been watching the procedure with interest, wondering how many times Maddie had performed similar actions in her career as an apprentice Ranger. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing, the maid thought. It was probably not the first time she had secured prisoners this way.
Maddie tested the rope, then stepped back, satisfied that there was hardly any slack in it. She smiled as she considered Ingrid’s question.
“I’m tempted to,” she said. “There are wolves and bears in the forest here, I’m sure. They’d take care of them for us.” She noticed the startled, worried looks on the three men as she spoke. “But perhaps we should be merciful. There’s a manor house half an hour’s ride from here. We’ll ask the local lord to send back men to bring these three beauties in and find a nice warm jail cell for them.”
* * *
• • •
They rode on for fifteen minutes, at which point Maddie dismounted and changed clothes, packing away her Ranger uniform and cloak into a large saddlebag and donning a neat, divided riding habit, linen shirt and fine leather jacket more befitting her identity as a princess of the realm. She unsaddled Bumper, removed the packsaddle from Sundancer and changed the two over.
“Sorry about this,” she told Bumper. She felt it was beneath his dignity to act as a beast of burden.
He snorted.
Sundancer, by comparison, seemed delighted to be free of the packsaddle and to resume his proper identity as a saddle horse. He nickered appreciatively as Maddie swung up astride him.
A few kilometers farther on, they rode through a neat little village and stopped at the impressive manor house at its outskirts. The local lord, an elderly knight, hurried out to greet them when Maddie identified herself to his butler. He had obviously been halfway through his midday meal. A large white napkin was still tucked into his collar, and there were crumbs in his beard. He bowed hurriedly as Maddie dismounted, noticed the napkin as he did so and dragged it loose, trying belatedly to conceal it behind his back.
“My lady,” he said, “welcome to Tonbridge Village. I’m Sir Gerald Wollden, and this is my manor house. Can I offer you food and refreshments? A bed for the night, perhaps?”
Maddie shook her head. “Thank you, no. I’m in a hurry to reach Castle Araluen. But there is a service you can perform for us,” she said.
Ingrid noted how easily she assumed the confident, commanding manner of a princess. The elderly knight bowed several times in acquiescence.
“Anything, my lady,” he said eagerly. “Anything at all!”
“We left three injured men a few kilometers down the track. I wonder if you’d take care of them for me.”
“Of course, my lady! I’ll send some servants to look after them straightaway.”
Maddie pursed her lips. “I’d rather you sent your guards to arrest them,” she said. “They’re brigands. They tried to rob us.”
The gentlemanly old soul was aghast at her words. “Rob you? Are you all right, my lady? Are you injured?”
“No,” Maddie reassured him. “My companion here took care of them. She’s a very capable young woman.”
The knight looked at Ingrid in some confusion. She was a slightly built girl. He couldn’t imagine her besting three robbers.
“I’ll deal with them, my lady,” he assured Maddie. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, loosening a few of the crumbs in his beard. “Usually, we hang robbers.”
Maddie frowned. “That might be a little extreme. I’d say put them in a cell for a few days, then keep them for, say, three months, and have them perform all the hard labor that’s needed round the village. That should teach them a lesson.”
“I’ll take care of it, my lady,” he said. “Rest assured, we’ll find plenty of work for them to do.” His eyes glittered as he thought about the three ruffians accosting the princess. “Hard work,” he added.
“Thank you, Sir Gerald. I appreciate your help. Now I’ll be on my way.” She moved back to the horses and, unthinking, went to mount Bumper. He edged away from her, snorting a reminder, and she changed direction to swing herself up into Sundancer’s saddle.
“Going to have to watch that,” she said under her breath as they rode out of the manor house yard.
7
Maddie drew rein as they emerged from the tree line. The sight of Castle Araluen never failed to take her breath away. The beautiful castle, with its soaring turrets and gracefully curving walls, dominated the landscape for miles around. Sited at the top of a long, gradual rise, it seemed at times to be floating in the air. Banners and flags stood out from its many flagstaffs, supported by the breeze that seemed to be a co
nstant in this part of the kingdom. She reflected for a moment. She couldn’t recall ever seeing the flags and banners hanging limply on their staffs.
“I never get sick of seeing it again when I’ve been away,” Ingrid said, noting the rapt expression on her mistress’s face.
Maddie nodded slowly, her eyes still riveted on the beautiful building before them. “It’s stunning, isn’t it?”
Castle Araluen had none of the uncompromisingly solid lines of a castle like Redmont. But its beauty belied its strength. The tall walls and deep moat kept attackers at bay, and the towers and battlements afforded the defenders with a host of positions from which they could rain down arrows, spears, rocks, hot oil and boiling water on those below.
They sat for several minutes, admiring the sight of the graceful building. Then Maddie touched her heels to Sundancer’s flanks and urged the horse forward. Ingrid followed suit, and they rode at a slow canter up through the beautifully landscaped parklands and carefully mown grass. There were only occasional clumps of trees to provide shade and shelter from the wind for people relaxing in the parklands. This was done intentionally. There was no way a large body of men could approach the castle unseen. The ground was open and the view unrestricted for half a kilometer around the castle, preventing any surprise attack in force. Even half a dozen men would be seen quickly from the numerous vantage points on the castle walls. So even though the parkland was pleasing to the eye, it served a far more serious purpose than mere aesthetics, keeping the castle safe from invaders and attackers.
They weren’t halfway when they saw movement at the main gate. The massive drawbridge was down, because it was the middle of the day and there was no perceived threat to the castle. Maddie, watching carefully and knowing what to expect, saw the two sentries on duty at the outer end of the bridge come suddenly to attention as a lone rider emerged from the castle, already moving at full speed.
The Red Fox Clan Page 5