Proud stock could not be a hired guard. Toby did not ask the obvious question, but she told him anyway.
"He was enraged! Furious! He turned the color of the dead and would not speak. I asked him if he would watch his mother starve. Or if he would make a thief out of me, for I had naturally taken some of the fee in advance to buy weapons and armor and horses. He could not answer. He would say nothing. He walked the streets for days. He did not sleep or eat. I almost wished he would strike me for betraying him so. On the morning we were due to leave, I dressed in these clothes and went and told him I was his squire and his retinue was waiting. He smiled for the first time since the war came. He ordered me to have the bugles sounded."
The knot in Toby's throat made speech impossible. He bent forward and emptied the last of the water over his hair, then rubbed it vigorously with his shirt.
"We have kept up the pretense ever since," she said, sounding proud of that. "I have told you the truth, senor."
She knew it was pretense, but how much of it did the boy believe? Was he just honoring his mother's courage or had his mind snapped?
"I do not doubt it, Doña Francisca. You are as brave as your son. We have some provisions to spare. We shall divide them with you, so that when we run out, we all run out together, and who can say what may happen before then? No," he insisted when she held out the ring again. "I will not take it. You may pay me when you collect your fee in Barcelona." He pulled on his wet shirt and his doublet over it.
"Please, senor! Let me pay with this, now."
"Never!" He could even laugh a little at her stubbornness—the son had not taken it all from his father. "Your wedding ring for a bag of beans? Even barbarous Scotsmen are not without honor."
"You do not understand," she said miserably. "They say that in Barcelona now this would be a fair exchange, gold for beans. I was a fool, I knew I was outbidding many seasoned soldiers, so I did not ask nearly enough. I had no idea of prices... I did not even leave enough for food, so we have run out already. Do you think those peasants will honor their pledge? Or old Brusi? That woman? They will laugh at me when I ask for the rest. My son will not recognize the problem. And even if they pay, it will not be enough to take us home again."
That would not be a problem. Toby had a very clear image of a head rolling across bloody planks. Her son was going to die in Barcelona, and he would be the executioner. He choked down a surge of nausea and jumped to his feet. He held out a hand to help her rise.
"Come and collect the food so you may lay out the banquet for your lord and the lady. I will not take one blanca for it, because your tale has been reward enough."
The telling had been a strain for her. He had been cruel to insist on it. Realizing that she was weeping, he went on alone and left her to follow at her own hobbling pace.
PART FOUR
More Questions and Some Answers
CHAPTER ONE
They had two more clear days before death claimed the first of them. Two days were not long enough to turn the pilgrims into a team, but Toby and the don between them did effect some improvements.
"Captain," the caballero proclaimed as camp was being struck the first morning, "the terrain has changed. The enemy may conceal his forces anywhere. We should need a hundred men to reconnoiter our advance effectively." He was fully armed, holding his horse's reins and ready to mount, but then he had been awake for the last two hours, so his blue eyes and arrogant red mustache were bright and perky respectively.
Toby was still a little blurred by sleep. "This is true, senor." Certainly the plains offered far more opportunity for ambushes. The coastal trails wound through trees and overgrown fields.
"Reserve all pikemen for defense. Close up the ranks. The foe will direct his attacks upon our commissary."
"Um..." He probably meant the packhorses, and that was a reasonable analysis when the most probable foe was a starving rabble of refugees. "Yes, senor."
"Divide the infantry between the van and the rear guard."
"And the cavalry in the center? As the hidalgo commands."
"Excellent. Carry on, Captain. You may have the buglers sound the advance."
The don's commands always made good sense when properly interpreted. Either he had been given a sound military education or he had a natural soldierly instinct—perhaps it came from the limpieza de sangre—but translating his whimsies into real-world instructions required an understanding that the siege train was Thunderbolt because he carried axes and shovels, the artillery was Brusi Senior with his flintlock pistol, and Hamish's predilection for books had made him the corps of surveyors.
Other than the hired guard, there were six potential fighting men in the band: Toby, Father Guillem, Rafael, Miguel, Josep, and Hamish. Toby inflicted quarterstaff lessons on all of them whenever an opportunity presented itself. Young Josep was willing enough, but his weapons of choice would always remain the quill and ledger. Father Guillem—unlike many Galilean clerics—conceded that a man had the right of self-defense; he was surprisingly good—not quick, but powerful and devious. Rafael and Miguel were straightforward sloggers and deadly, because they saw every practice session as an opportunity to kill the big foreigner. When failure discouraged them, he let them inflict a few bruises on him to spur them to greater efforts. Of course Hamish was better than any of them except Toby himself, and they both had swords to use if the game need be played for serious stakes.
He insisted the women carry weapons. Eulalia settled for a sickle, and Gracia a knife, although he could not imagine her ever using it. Senora Collel accepted a stout cudgel and promised to crack the skull of anyone who tried to steal her mount, but she and whoever she allowed to ride the other horse—Gracia or Eulalia by turns—were perched so high that they were horribly vulnerable to snipers or low branches. Salvador Brusi agreed to carry his flintlock pistol in his belt instead of his saddle bag. The hob's reaction to gunfire was usually tumultuous.
The new order mixed up the groups to some extent and promoted a little more friendliness. Senora Collel and Eulalia were seen talking with the wives of Miguel and Rafael, both of whom were named Elinor. Brother Bernat rarely sought out conversation but would respond to anyone who addressed him, and even a ferocious argument on the ethics of trade between Salvador Brusi and Father Guillem could be regarded as an improvement. The don remained aloof, locked away in his own grandiose world.
Other, less conspicuous, relationships had developed also. Hamish became much given to quoting Catalan poetry and noticeably goggle-eyed in the presence of Eulalia, but his eyes goggled so easily that Toby thought nothing of it until the second morning, when he was striding along the line and Senora Collel snapped at him.
"Monsieur Longdirk!" She glared down from the giddy height of her horse-borne throne.
He knew to expect trouble when she spoke French. "Madame?"
"Your companion Jaume is debauching my servant!"
"He is?" Toby shot a glance back at Eulalia, whose turn it was to ride on the other silla. She tossed her head disdainfully at him, but there was certainly a hint of triumph there also. Perhaps she understood more French than her mistress suspected. It was quite similar to Catalan.
"You are not much of a sentry if you did not see them sharing a blanket in the night!" the senora sneered.