It would be an expensive trip and an expensive lesson for the young man.
Meanwhile, Edward left the office of Tomas and breathed air free of the heavy smell of horse piss and dung. He stiffened his back and strode directly to his chambers trying to ignore the rising fears and uncertainty of the assignment. This was the first time the sheriff had given him something to do, and he meant to impress. It had been a year of sitting and waiting. Now he planned to earn the trust and respect of the sheriff, as well as that of the others at the table who had taken him lightly.
His mind churned at the array of items he needed to take along on the trip. After all, he was a nobleman who needed to keep up with appearances, even while traveling. His father would expect no less. He would require at least three trunks of proper dress clothing, books to read, several pairs of boots, a variety of hats, and many other choices to make. He still must deal with the likes of choosing silver or pewter for dining utensils. So many questions and only a short time to get ready. The servants would earn their keep today.
CHAPTER SIX
Camilla settled herself on a convenient rock behind a clump of silver sage that was blooming with tiny blue flowers. From there she could see the whole side of Copper Mountain while remaining unseen. Caution had always been part of her daily routine, but now she moved as if her life depended on anticipating an ambush. The short rope looped over her shoulder was tied to each end of the rolled blanket and groundsheet.
The pole the washerwoman had given her rested in her right hand, the knife concealed at her hip where she could draw it quickly. The purse tied at her waist now held most of the coins Robin loaned her, in addition to her broken slice of flint and steel. Two of the iron pennies were rolled in the blanket she carried. Best to always split your assets in case of trouble.
Concealed by the head-high sagebrush, she carefully examined the side of the mountain and the trail she intended to travel in reaching the King’s Road. If her enemies were near, she wouldn’t stumble into their trap. Not again. Not ever.
This might be the last time she’d see this mountain for a while. She had no idea of how long the trip would take, other than the washer-woman said four or five days to reach the herdsman, Arum. She guessed at least twice that to return. Far more than ten days, one way or another, and probably closer to twenty when the sheep and goats slowed them down.
She’d stopped by her cave to store her few belongings in several nearby caches, and to make sure everything was secure for the time she’d be gone. She turned over the stones used for her small fires, concealing the blackened portions in the ground. She made sure any noticeable trace of occupancy was wiped away. The boys from the academy would be searching for clues to her location, and she didn’t intend to make it easy for them.
Maybe they’d forget about her after a while and chase after someone else. But for now, their anger and fear fed each other, increasing as they moved closer to their prey, like a pack of hungry wild dogs. The boys were not hungry; it was their way. In their school they learned to fight for their king, and using those skills on a weaker opponent came to them naturally. Like the lamb, Camilla was the weaker, and, therefore, a target. If they knew she was a girl, it would probably be worse, so she had trimmed her hair again with the small knife and walked heavily on her heels, like boys. She swung her shoulders back and forth instead of her hips as she walked. She’d been doing that ever since she could remember. But, as the washerwoman mentioned, her body was changing and soon she wouldn’t be fooling anyone.
Beginning her trip up the valley brought anxiety and a thousand unanswered questions, but the washerwoman was the only person she trusted to ask. Why she trusted her was another unanswered question, but orphaned girls don’t often question mundane items like why does the sun rise, or why is there dirt beneath their feet, or why to trust some and not others. They simply accept.
The exposed location on the side of the mountain placed her directly in the sun. Sweat beaded and ran down her neck and forehead. Still, she remained still and watched.
Below, snaking down the side of her mountain wound the narrow path taking her to the King’s Road, and the upper valley. Much of the mountain was clear of trees. Sage, scrub, and dried grasses competed for the meager soil, and plants grew low, twisted, and sparse. After the mining of the mountain, the plants never recovered.
Far below she’d spotted movement a while ago, so she hid and waited. At the bottom of the mountain near the road, she spotted a distant figure running in her direction. Running usually means danger. Watching the path that strung out behind the runner for a time revealed there were three more runners.
Why would four people race up the path to the Copper Mountain mines, and incidentally in the same direction as her small cave, unless they were after her? It could be for another reason, but she needed to be sure. Somebody may have seen her leave the washerwoman’s place, or might have followed her in the past, and told another. The boys from the military academy often paid for information, and if they bribed a villager who knew her cave location, they would be after her.
Careful to remain still and hidden, she watched the four race up the path in her direction, as she reviewed her actions and options. She hadn’t done the boys any harm, not a rude word or disrespectful glance in their direction. Yet they singled her out as the weakest and the one with the least support in the village. She became their target.
She came to another conclusion. Rich boys can get away with anything.
If they continued up the mountain and found her cave, the opening hidden behind the cedars and pines that she’d planted last summer, they’d only find three old blankets stored in the rear, and perhaps her stash of nuts and dried apples in a hole under a flat rock. But it would take a hard search to locate the cave and more to find the few items still there.
Arum, the sheep herder, was not expecting her, so a small delay in her departure shouldn’t matter. Camilla wanted to know if the boys searched for her, or if they had another reason for running up the side of her mountain. She needed to know as much as possible because she planned to return. If they found her cave, she had to make other arrangements.
The one running in front wore a bright yellow shirt and was clearly a faster runner. He quickly outpaced the other three, and in a short while, only two of them ran behind. Then only the leader continued, as all the others slowed and then turned back. They shouted and raised fists at the lone runner. Camilla watched him continue, puzzled by their actions. The lone boy was a fast runner. Fast, but not as fast as me.
The huffing of a winded runner sounded as he trotted nearer to Camilla’s hidden location. Peering through the foliage, Camilla saw the craftsman wearing a yellow shirt, not the brown of a student warrior, but close enough in color to be confused at a distance. Looking again down the path to the other three runners, she convinced herself they wore military brown, but the distance was extreme. Maybe the boy soldiers chased another victim. Were there others that the boys fought and tortured? She didn’t remember them chasing another villager, but there had been fights. Now and then a boy or two from the school would get into a fight with a villager. She had watched more than one, always from a distance, but not for at least two years.