Chapter Twenty-four #3
flowered tops pointing west, straight up the mountainside. He
stared down at them, trying to think of what little he knew of
yarrow plants, to what purpose Lara would have placed them where
and how she did. An image of her picking some to use for medicines
when they’d ridden through Roncesvalles Pass on their way to join
up with Charles came to him, and he stood and rubbed the back of
his neck. “This is why I love my wife.”
“So she can leave
mysterious clues to help you chase her up and down mountains how
many times now?” Phillipe said.
“Exactly.” Talon motioned
for his men to circle around. “If I’m reading these clues right,
they’re planning to ambush us in a pass two days from now. Now we
know when, the question is where and how.” He looked to Anglbert.
“What do we have in numbers?”
“Twenty-three here now. At
last count, twenty-seven trailing behind.”
“And them?”
“Nine riding with the
women. But at the pass, waiting?” Anglbert adjusted his mace over
his shoulder. “I’d guess four to six more. They wouldn’t have left
more waiting than they used to take our people. They’d know they’d
need numbers in case we did catch up with them.”
Talon looked to Willem, who’d been
born and raised in Oloron. “Any idea where this pass
is?”
“No. I’ve never been west
of the valley.”
“I know these hills,”
Rilke, the silversmith, spoke up. “I’ve been trading up and down
them the last five years.”
“Trading?” Talon said.
“With Basques?”
“With some Basques, yes.
With these Basques, I don’t know. I do know a pass two days’ ride
from here.”
Talon looked to Phillipe and posed his
silent question. After a moment’s thought, Phillipe nodded. He
looked to Anglbert, who stared hard at the silversmith before
giving Talon a nod as well. Talon eyed Rilke. The silversmith stood
tall and square shouldered at his perusal. He suspected Nithard had
planted a spy in the valley, though he had no idea who. He’d heard
no harm of Rilke before or since Mallus, and something in the man’s
steady gaze told Talon he could trust him. And yet.
“Before you answer me,
Rilke, think hard on what I say.” Talon lifted his chin toward
Willem. “This man stands to lose his wife, his son, his wife’s
sister, and their mother.” He jutted his jaw toward Anglbert. “This
man his wife, or as good as.” He looked to Phillipe. “This man was
a step away from going down on bended knee to his intended.” Talon
drew himself up and watched Rilke’s gaze follow him. “Nithard and
his Basque cohorts have taken my wife and child.” He swallowed his
gall. “Lie to me now, and your life is forfeit.”
“I’ve had the honor of
meeting your ladies, sir Count.” Rilke never let his gaze waver
from Talon’s. “The countess ordered a present for you from my
wares, for the one-year anniversary of your marriage. Your lady
wife is as gracious as she is beautiful, and your daughter a
sprite’s version of her mother.”
“Then you know,” Talon
said, his voice catching. “You know I can’t lose them.”
Rilke nodded.
“You’re sure of this
pass?”
“I am.”
Talon made his decision. “What’s the
terrain like between here and the pass?”
“Straight up. Not too
rocky. Trees thin out the higher you get.”
Talon gazed up the mountain’s side.
“Can we ride around them, get ahead of them in two days’
time?”
Rilke rubbed his stubbled jaw. “We’d
have to double our pace and hope they don’t do the
same.”
“They won’t. They don’t
want to lose us. They keep their pace to ours.” Talon glanced down
the mountain to the cloud of dust from the valley’s men still
plodding on behind them. He took the measure of the men there with
him. Oswald was the closest to his size, but he didn’t want to be
missing his bow or his sword arm when the fighting came. The Black
would likely let Anglbert ride him, but Talon knew better than to
ask him to stay behind when Berta was one of the captives. Plus, he
was still deadly with that mace of his. He looked to Dardinel. “Can
you ride the Black?”
“Captain?”
“I need someone to ride
the Black, wearing my armor and leading the farmers behind us as if
he were me, and the farmers, armed warriors.”
Dardinel glanced down the mountain and
then back to Talon, his disappointment showing.
“I’d rather you were
riding with us as well,” Talon told him. “You’re a good man in a
fight, but we need to give them something to watch and worry about
while we swing around them.”
Understanding dawned in Dardinel’s
eyes. “Aye, Cap—”
“No.” Willem stepped up.
“I should stay behind and pretend to be you. I’ll only slow you
down and be of little use in a fight. I can be of more use this
way, and you’ll have one more sword arm to save my wife and
child.”
Though Willem was no horseman, the
Black knew him well enough. It could work. “Can you ride the
Black?”
“I’ve got an apple in my
saddlebag to bribe him with. You can tie me onto his back if that’s
what it takes.” Willem glanced over at Shadow, one of the few
horses ever who hadn’t taken to Talon. “What about you, will Shadow
let you ride him?”
Talon cocked his head at the rangy
bay. “Got any more apples?”