“But surely just a few more can’t hurt,” she’d pressed.
He shook his head.
Lady Fliad’s eyes narrowed at that, her breath gusting in the cold. “You carry food for that dog, and I’ve seen you ride her up on the front of your horse when she’s tired. If you can have an extra luxury, why can’t I who is above you in birth and rank?”
He’d stood so suddenly, that I had worried he might knock over the porridge pot. I’d made a grab for it, pulling it to safety, to the annoyance of Hessa who had been lounging with her head on my lap.
He hadn’t even spoken, just stalked away, leaving Lady Fliad gaping until one of the men asked if she was going to eat her porridge and if not, could they have it.
We’re far down the road and it’s nearly noon when she finally shakes herself and looks at me. We’ve stopped for a moment beside the road. The soldiers heard something – though what they are worried about so far behind the front, I don’t know. They’ve broken into three groups to scout for what it might be. One group has ridden ahead, and one behind.
“I can hear a creek running through the woods over there, Iva,” Lady Fliad whispers to me. The guards stationed with us are spread out, staring intently down the road in either direction as if certain we’ll see an attack. “I’m so thirsty and my waterskin is empty. Could you just step into the woods and fetch me a little water?”
I look nervously around. Everyone is spaced so far apart that none of them hears her.
“Please,” Lady Fliad pleads. Flicker dances nervously under her. He needs the calm of a confident rider. “I’m so cold. I’m so thirsty. Is it too much to ask my vassal for a drink of water?”
It was a reasonable request, except that our guards were on full alert, and they must have a reason for that.
“I don’t think I should go without the soldiers’ permission,” I reply, biting my lip. I’m defying her by saying no. She could have me flogged.
“Need I remind you that I am your lady?” she presses with a cold expression.
I feel a stab of fear through my heart. She doesn’t need to remind me. I know full well. I take the waterskin from her hands and start to dismount.
“Take the horse with you. It’s foolish to walk,” she commands.
The mare rolls her eyes as I urge her toward the deep snow off the path. She’s still not recovered from yesterday and I don’t like pushing her even enough to walk to the creek. She moves, but she’s not happy.
The moment we’re in the tree line, I can’t see or hear anyone. I bite my lip and press on. I can hear the creek, which is strange since we had to cut a hole through the last one. It feels like it’s close, but the more we press on, the more it feels like we are no closer. I pause after a moment, torn. If I keep going, I might go too far and delay our party. If I turn around and go back without the water, Lady Fliad will be furious. And still thirsty.
Anxious, I press on. It’s snowing now – thick and sudden, like dropping an armful of down over your head.
Here it is – the water, at last. It’s not a creek though, but a raging river, still open at the center with thick bands of bubbled, uneven ice on either side. I tie the mare to a slender birch tree and then creep across the ice on my belly and carefully refill the water skin.
My hands are painful and red when I’m done, but I have the water. So far, so good.
I stumble back to the mare, cold to the core now, and untie her reins with fumbling fingers. She snorts at me, and I can’t even see her clouds of breath through all the snow. It’s in my eyes and coating my hair before I can get my hood up, soaking my cloak and chilling me right through before I even have the knot free.
I’ve only just loosened it when the mare rolls her eyes again, sets her ears back, and nickers. I try to grab the rein, but it slips away, and she leaps, bounding like a snowshoe hare and leaving me alone beside the noisy river with her tracks already fading in the snow.
9
HALDUR OAKENSEN
Ihadn’t planned to stop in the town. It’s only midday when I reach it with the scouting party, and I would have liked to get another half a day’s ride closer to the front. There’s a shortcut from this tiny hamlet that cuts straight through the heart of the forest, just like the little-known path we took to get here. It means more rough sleeping, but that’s a small price to pay when men are dying and we hold in our hands the key to peace.
I’ve only just reached the town when the snow starts to fall – thick and full. I lose sight of the inn almost immediately, whistling so that Hessa won’t lose her way – not that dogs do, but I worry about her.
With a sigh, I whistle and my men gather in close. In moments, I have them divided – two to speak to the innkeeper. We’ll stay in the inn or the stables, whichever will have us. I have a few meager silver that the king gave me for expenses. Probably not enough, but I will make it work by any means that I must. I press my lips together in an unhappy line at that thought. I don’t want to cheat the innkeeper and yet I have vassals who depend on me, two women, and just as many horses.
I sigh as I send a rider to bring in the groups behind us.
To my surprise, Lady Fliad’s escort – the main group I left guarding her and Iva – enters almost immediately on our heels. I flick an urgent glance at Gragor when his face becomes clear through the snow. He slaps palm to heart in salute and draws in close.
“Barely made the town. Wind’s so bad I couldn’t see the path. Good thing the lady insisted on riding hard on your heels. Said she had a bad feeling.”
My mouth goes dry as I count those riding past.
