Coll agreed with that, but he saw a big, burly outlaw, one of the ones who shaved once a week and bathed once a month, pausing to eye Dicea as she moved about the cooking fire, and since Gar and Dirk were watching, she was at her most graceful. “I would like to,” he said slowly, “but my mother and sister may not, and I can’t leave them alone again.”
“Of course not,” Gar agreed. He turned to the women. “Will you come with us, Mother, lass?”
“Ah, me!” Mama sighed. “It would indeed be pleasant to stay in the greenwood, and I would certainly feel quite safe myself—but Dicea…”
“Don’t you dare leave me here!” Dicea exclaimed. “There isn’t a man among them who hasn’t been undressing me with his eyes, and with you gone, they wouldn’t hesitate a minute to do it with their hands!” She glanced at the two knights out of the corner of her eye as she said it.
Coll glanced, too, and saw Gar only nodding judiciously. Dirk said, “No, you’d better come with us.”
“We will certainly be glad of your company,” Gar said. “Coll’s advice has been invaluable, and the presence of women always sweetens the day.”
Dicea blushed and lowered her eyes, and even Mama flushed with pleasure. Coll wondered if the big knight knew that what he intended as mere gallantry, Dicea might take as flirtation.
So that afternoon, they bade good-bye to Banhael and his men. The leader was quite surprised, and tried to talk them into staying. “You will be welcome, you will be more than welcome!” He shot a covetous glance at Dicea, and Coll could have killed the old goat—he had a woman and three cubs at home! “You don’t need to worry about attack, Sir Gar…”
“I know.” Gar clapped Banhael on the shoulder. “I’ve come to trust you amazingly in just these two days, Banhael.”
Which meant that it would be amazing if he trusted Banhael at all, Coll thought. On the other hand, he could trust Banhael, too—trust him to try to bundle Dicea into his bed the moment her brother and the two knights were out of sight. Come to think of it, Gar could trust Banhael quite a lot, indeed—trust him to stick a knife in his back as soon as he didn’t need Gar anymore, trust him to betray the knights at every turn, trust him to try to twist the knights’ presence into a way of gaining mastery over the forest, then over the wider world …
“But there are other forests we must visit, other bands we must tell about you and your resolve,” Gar explained. Banhael covered a quick look of alarm; he had planned to be the bandit leader to control all the forests. However, Gar’s second phrase seemed to reassure him—a little.
“We have to go looking for other groups of men who want to stop the lords’ oppression,” Dirk explained. “If it all comes down to numbers, we’ve got to dredge them up.”
Gar nodded. “There are more serfs than lords, after all. There must be some way to arm and raise more of them than the lords can.”
Banhael looked skeptical, but all he said was, “Well, if I can’t dissuade you, then I can wish you well. Vinal! Oram! Guide these guests out of the forest by the most secret path!”
So they set off out of the settlement with Banhael’s parting gift—another stallion and two ponies, for the women to ride.
And, of course, his guides to follow. Coll rode with his spear in his fist, and noticed that Gar and Dirk each kept a hand close to his sword. In spite of it all, though, they rode unthreatened to the edge of the forest, where Vinal and Oram touched their forelocks and Vinal said, “Yonder lies the pastureland and the plowed fields, sir knights.”
“We wish you well, and so does Banhael,” Oram said. “Remember, if things go wrong out there, you’ll always have friends and a home in here.”
Coll hoped they wouldn’t have to live in it.
They wouldn’t, at least for the moment. As the afternoon waned into twilight, they came upon a ragtag band of people clustered around a campfire, backed by two oxcarts. They looked up warily as Gar and Dirk rode up, but some of the women glanced behind the knights and saw two peasant women, which seemed to reassure them somewhat. The oldest man, a hale and hearty greybeard, stood and came toward them, sweeping off his hat to bow. “Good evening, good sirs! Can a poor band of mountebanks aid you in any way.”
“Mountebanks!” Gar and Dirk exchanged a startled glance, then turned back to the man with slow smiles. “Are you players?” Dirk asked.
“We have that privilege, sir.”
“Actors who perform plays?” Gar clarified.
“Well, we do try,” the man said with a self-effacing smile.
“Then we would like to travel with you to your next performance, so that we may watch,” Gar told him. “Would that trouble you?”
“No—no, not at all,” the man said, with a look that verged on panic. The other players stirred uneasily, trying to hide their alarm.
“Oh, yes it does,” Dirk said with a smile. “We’ll camp near you, then, but not with you, and follow you in the morning.” He turned his horse away, and Coll turned with him—but his gaze lingered on one young woman, a redheaded, sloe-eyed beauty, who noticed his interest and lost her alarm in a slow, measuring smile.
Dicea frowned and moved her pony forward. “Then let us find a resting place quickly, while there is still light.”
“Yes, of course!” Dirk jolted himself out of his reverie. “We’ll see you in the morning then, players.”
“Good night to you, sir knights,” the greybeard said, obviously relieved, and the party moved on—but Coll glanced back twice, and felt his heart leap when he saw that the redhead’s gaze stayed fixed on him.
Gar pulled them off the road into a small clearing. The earth was beaten hard, and there were two rings of blackened stones with the evidence of many fires. “This seems to be a virtual way station. Did you bring canvas, Dirk?”
“Canvas? Sure.” Dirk dismounted and pulled a thick square of folded cloth from a saddlebag. So did Gar. They pitched camp, and Mama set herself to working wonders with dried meat, some roots that she grubbed up, and a kettleful of water. Scarcely had she set the pot over the fire, though, when she exclaimed with annoyance, “Savory! There’s none to be found. I’ll just walk back to those players, and see if they have any.”
“You shouldn’t go alone, Mama,” Coll said quickly. “I’ll go with you.” He fell in beside his mother, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of red hair and huge eyes. He heard scraps of talk behind him.
“Now, why would the good widow do that?” Gar wondered. “Surely the herbs cannot be so very important!” Dicea turned to him, forcing a smile that became real as she gazed at him. “It isn’t the savory she really goes for, sir—it’s the other travelers.”
“Oh, of course.” Gar nodded. “I expect the company of other women would be comforting. Are you sure you don’t want to go with her?”
Dicea gazed up at him, and her eyelids drooped. “By your leave, sir, I’d sooner stay here with yourself and Sir Dirk.”
Coll frowned, a little nettled at not being even an afterthought, which he always had been, as far as Dicea was concerned. He sighed, glad that he wasn’t going to have to stay to watch his sister flirt with the impassive giant.
8
Mama and Coll came back in less than an hour, Mama wreathed in smiles, Coll with a slight curve to his lips and a strange light to his eyes that made Dicea frown. He had just had fifteen minutes’ talk with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and felt as though his blood were wine.
“Oh, what hospitable folk they are!” Mama held up a bunch of greenery. “Dried savory, and rosemary and sage, too!”
“And good conversation with it?” Gar asked, smiling. “A great deal of news.” Mama sat down beside the kettle and crumbled a little savory into the stewing meat. “There, now, half an hour more, and your dried meat and vegetables should have turned into a most appetizing stew. Such good conversation, my! They’ve heard of the battle already, how the king fought with Earl Insol, and won—and without even slaying all that many men, though a good number are lost on both sides.”