“I pray you,” she shouted. “I am called Liath, daughter of Bernard. In earlier days I rode as an Eagle at the command of King Henry. I am a loyal servant of Wendar.”
To this introduction she got no answer.
“I seek a man named Hugh of Austra. He travels with a girl child, in appearance no more than twelve or fourteen years of age.”
In difficult times, strangers are met with distrust, and by their silence she judged her audience suspicious of her. A man dressed in a monastic habit stepped out through the gate and walked toward her, stopping at a distance perfectly balanced to allow him to see the intimate details of her expression but far enough away that he could bolt if she threatened him.
“I am Prior Ratbold. These holy brothers and poor refugees are under my charge. There are others with you, but they hide in the woods. Who are they?”
She did not turn, knowing better, but naturally Anna did, taken by surprise when, after all, they had decided ahead of time to leave the Ashioi in hiding.
The prior smiled crookedly as he glanced at the stockade. When he nodded, shovels and staves and fists were raised and shaken defiantly.
“So we were warned,” he said, turning back to face her. “Go on your way. This monastery is a place of refuge. It goes against God’s holiest law to abandon one who has begged for Her sanctuary.”
The wind shifted, skating in out of the north. Although it was summer, this wind blew chill, and Liath shivered. Far away, thunder growled.
“The girl he holds captive is my daughter, Brother Ratbold. I will come in and fetch her, whatever you say. I would rather do so peaceably.”
“That child he saved from the Cursed Ones? Painted like a savage and dressed in scraps? Growling and biting like a dog? He saved her from the clutch of the Enemy!”
“So you believe. He has told you lies and woven them to appear as truths. Let me pass. Once I have my daughter, I will leave you in peace.”
The prior had the tenacious look of a dog bred to go after vermin, and he had also the broad shoulders of a man once accustomed to wielding a stave or spear in defense of the innocent. He did not back down. “Every person who can bear arms has risen to the defense of this monastery today. All these were driven from their homes by the creatures of the Enemy. Many are dead, many more are missing, and worse still, what crops were sown are left unattended. Famine will stalk us in the seasons to come.”
“He could be sneaking out the back right now,” muttered Liath to Anna.
The girl shook her head. “Lord Zuangua sent his masks to circle the cloister. We’d have heard their signal by now if there was fighting back there. What will you do, my lady?”
Prior Ratbold had ceased speaking, seeing them talk between themselves. “What will you do?” he asked, in an echo of Anna’s soft words.
Liath took one step toward him, and he took one step back. “I am not your enemy. Whatever Hugh of Austra has told you is a lie.”
hurried after them, but the hounds had truly bolted and no one was willing to call them to heel. They had really run this time. He could not keep up with them as they raced down into Kassel town, out the gates, and loped east along the Hellweg.
He followed as well as he could, unwilling to give up their trail. At length an escort of riders caught up with him on the road, with spare horses, and he saw behind them a score of Eika soldiers trotting along at their own tireless jog.
These were powerful reinforcements, but even so, a man must pause to catch breath now and again, eat a slice of bread and cheese when he has not eaten since the day before, and take a drink. Horses must have water. Men muttered that those hounds were demon-get, surely, for how else could their unnatural stamina be explained?
In the end, it took him until midday to catch them, far east along the Hellweg in the midst of forest, but only one sharp word to bring them slinking and shamed to heel.
6
THE stockade surrounding Hersford Monastery had been built to keep wild animals out and livestock in. The gates could not sustain an assault by armed forces, but they were closed nevertheless when Liath limped up the road and halted beyond arrow range. The exertions of the previous day had caused her thigh wound to flare with pain. It was not fully healed. Maybe, with poison scarring the tissue, it would never fully heal.
Anna was her sole attendant. The servant held on to the staff as though it was the only thing that kept her walking.
Folk lined the stockade wall, armed with staves, scythes, sharpened staffs, shovels, and a trio of pitchforks. Beyond the monastic buildings, storm clouds piled up along the eastern horizon but with the wind at her back, she was safe from their rain for now.
“I pray you,” she shouted. “I am called Liath, daughter of Bernard. In earlier days I rode as an Eagle at the command of King Henry. I am a loyal servant of Wendar.”
To this introduction she got no answer.
“I seek a man named Hugh of Austra. He travels with a girl child, in appearance no more than twelve or fourteen years of age.”
In difficult times, strangers are met with distrust, and by their silence she judged her audience suspicious of her. A man dressed in a monastic habit stepped out through the gate and walked toward her, stopping at a distance perfectly balanced to allow him to see the intimate details of her expression but far enough away that he could bolt if she threatened him.
“I am Prior Ratbold. These holy brothers and poor refugees are under my charge. There are others with you, but they hide in the woods. Who are they?”