She folded her arms.
Robert was still troubled. “Then we’re assuming the Assassins’ operation was to drop in, find a ‘wilful’ steed as this story says, and rig the reins to fail? How could they know Dodo would choose that steed and be thrown from the saddle?”
“Good point,” said Paul. “I mean their whole plan sounds pretty weak.”
“Unless they made sure there was some reason Dodo would need to change mounts,” Maeve suggested. “They could have done something earlier as well. Perhaps they cause injury to one of the hooves on Dodo’s mount at the citadel. The horse would come up lame shortly after he departed, prompting him to look for another mount.”
“That answers my question about why they would need a fresh horse,” said Paul.
“Yes, and it just stacks a few more assumptions onto the pile we already made here to concoct this scenario,” said Robert.
“And here’s one more for you,” said Kelly. “Suppose they are the farmers—the Assassins! It would explain how they could easily rig the reins on this stallion. In fact, they could have prepared this mission for some time, sending someone in to find just the perfect horse and then bringing it to this roadside farm. The fact that it’s an Arabian, ‘one of the five’ as Maeve says, makes this ever so suspicious.”
“Good point,” Paul agreed. “It strengthens the mission from their standpoint, and removes a raft of assumptions they would have to make about this as well. They’ve selected the horse, and they make sure Dodo’s mount is going to come hobbling along as he heads south. I’m willing to bet this horse will be easy to spot, Maeve. They’ll have it tethered at an inviting place, close by the road to catch Dodo’s attention. Deliberate sabotage to force a need for a fresh mount would fill the bill nicely. All they have to do here is find a way to impede Dodo and spare the life of Lambert. So yes, it’s also possible that they will be at the farm site with the Arabian.”
“Which means Maeve may need more than a good offer and a chunk of gold to get that horse,” said Robert. “Assuming, of course, that Dodo and Alpaida were at the citadel in Heristal, and that this was the road Dodo took to Lambert’s villa at Leodium, and that the loose twine was the rein on this Arabian horse we assume is quietly waiting there at a farm for Maeve to find.” The sarcasm in his voice made his point plain enough.
Maeve fixed them all with those steady hazel eyes. “Someone have another suggestion? Yes, Robert, we’re making a lot of assumptions here, but there is sound reasoning behind them as well.”
“The citadel at Heristal is the most likely candidate for this banquet. In fact it’s the only one close enough to fill the bill. So it’s reasonable to assume we’ve got the correct road. Look, this is as good as we’re going to hone this down given the situation. We won’t have to mess with a Prime. We’ve got the time, we’ve got the place, we’ve got the Arch, and brothers, I’ve got the gold.”
“But you may have to mess with the Assassins if Kelly is correct,” said Paul, an obvious warning in his voice. “Considering the consequences involved here, they may not be as friendly and polite as they have been in our encounters with them thus far.”
“Yes,” Maeve agreed. “It’s going to be dangerous, I know. But I’m willing to do what I can, Paul. What other option do we have?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” said Paul. “So we also need to consider what we do if you should fail to find this horse, or carry out any other part of your mission as we envision it here.”
“Well…” Maeve thought for a moment, her eyes hardening as she spoke.
“You two shift in with me as an escort to pose as a couple of my retainers while I secure a mount near Heristal, perhaps a couple of monks. I head south, and if I don’t return riding that Arabian in a reasonable period of time, then you’ll know what you have to do.”
Robert gave her a bemused look. “Now what have you dreamt up?” he said. “What do we have to do?”
“Why, you have to kill Bishop Lambert,” she said flatly. “If Dodo doesn’t get him, then you’ll have to do it.”
Part VI
The Road
“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.”
Chapter 16
“That was awesome!” Nordhausen exclaimed. “The colors are amazing. I’ll never get tired of it.”
“Don’t you get nauseous?” said Paul. “I keep my eyes shut as tight as I can.”
“You miss everything then,” said Robert, hugging himself with the cold. The icy fog from the shift had dissipated, and they were standing in a green field, behind a stand of low hedges.
“Come on then,” said Maeve. “We’ve little time to lose here. The city should be north,” she pointed. “We’ll most likely find something I can ride there, and the sooner the better. Memorize this location. That stump there should be a good reminder.”
Paul took in the lay of the land. The river Meuse was to their east, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The sky was clouding over, with a darkening front off to the west. Green fields formed a patchwork all around them, spaced by dark, sodden ground that had been freshly tilled. They were in the farmland just south of the city where the predominant crop was barley, but much of it had long since been harvested, and they could see remnants scattered over the cleared fields.
The road was tiled with well placed stone, well weathered by the elements and heavy use over the long years since Roman cohorts once marched briskly along its track, the red caped life blood in the veins of an empire that encompassed all of the known world, as far north as Hadrian’s old wall in Britain. Now it was overgrown with tufts of grass and invading weeds in places, and fringed by stands of trees and thorn scrub. In its day it had carried the commerce of war and Medieval society, Rome’s legions, traders, horsemen, stolid oxen hauling in the harvest of the land on heavy wooden carts. And it connected the emerging cities and settlements of Gaul, small hamlets, farms, and old Roman Villas that once stood as resting spots for citizens and soldiers alike, and now served as stone walled estates for the wealthy, or privileged clerics of the region.
Cities did not amount to much more than a scatter of squat wooden buildings at this time, with wood post walls and thatched roofs, with an occasional stone tower or walled area, mostly ruins from an earlier time when Rome ruled the land here. Rutted earthen roads stretched out to the immediate vicinity, connecting farms and hovelled homesteads where people sought the protection of the city garrisons.
As they walked they could just make out a few outlying shacks now, and what looked like a low stone wall off in the distance. They walked, breathless for a time, their eyes keen for any signs of other people. It was not long before they spied a stable and blacksmith on the southern outskirts of the town. The sharp ring of his hammer resounded through the clear, cold air.
“Now let me do the talking,” said Maeve.
“In Old Frankish?” Robert chided.
“Most likely Latin will do,” said Maeve. “It was my language elective when I got my history degree. It tended to come in handy throughout this period. The common tongue was a derivative of the old Roman Latin.”