When the column slowed to a walk again, Steve could see the difference. The riders around him relaxed, breathless, and began talking and laughing among themselves. Under the hooves of the horses ahead, the soft road quickly turned to muddy slop, but no one cared. The road wound east and sometimes northeast around rolling hills covered with lush green grass; clumps of trees lined the hollows among the hills.
“I hear word from up ahead,” said Hunter. “A rumor of our destination is slowly passing back through the column, from one man to another.”
“Well, what is it? Where are we going?”
“To the River Dubglas in Linnuis,” said Hunter. He lowered his voice and leaned toward Steve, switching to English.” According to the library data I took before we left, that is the Douglas River in modern Lincolnshire.”
“River Dubglas, you say?” Cynric, riding on the far side of Hunter from Steve, nodded. “That sounds right.”
“So I heard,” said Hunter.
“We fought them by the banks of that river late last season,” said Cynric. “If we hope to drive them back this summer, we’ll have to attack their territory. Last year’s campaign penned them on the far side of the river, but I suppose they look to cross it again, with their reinforcements from across the Channel.” His face tightened as he considered this.
“How long will we take to reach River Dubglas?” Hunter asked.
“If we ride without a break to the same site as last year’s battle, three days. Our scouts will ride back with word as we draw closer, though, to tell Artorius exactly where on the river to go. We might spend some time moving up and down the bank. Artorius will make his final plans according to how many of our veterans join us quickly.”
“You feel he may order us to wait and gather his troops before moving into battle?” Hunter asked.
“Anything is possible. We will find out his plans when we are close enough for our scouts to bring fresh information.”
Steve understood the real questions in Hunter’s mind, behind his spoken words. Hunter wanted to take Steve away from the column before any battle began. Ideally, they would find MC 6 and simply return together to their own time before the fighting started. Now Hunter could estimate that they had a minimum of three days before Artorius could reach the Saxons.
14
Wayne and Jane rode the mule. He held the reins while Jane sat behind him with her arms around his waist. Even at a walk, the mule’s long legs moved faster than a human’s legs would walk.
Ishihara had to stride quickly to keep up. He moved at a pace that no human could maintain for long, but of course had no trouble with it himself. Because the road had been churned to a deep muddy soup by the horses ahead, Wayne rode through the long grass by the side of the road.
Inlate morning, they caught up to the camp followers hiking after the riders. Ishihara led Wayne on a long detour around the camp followers, far enough to avoid conversation. Then they moved back to the side of the road again.
At midday, Wayne stopped for a break. He and Jane ate part of their bread and mutton in silence. Then they mounted again and continued on their journey.
Late in the afternoon, Ishihara suddenly trotted about twenty meters ahead of the mule, then stopped. As Wayne caught up to him, Ishihara raised a hand for him to halt. Wayne saw that Ishihara was listening to something.
“They have stopped to make camp,” Ishihara said finally. “The noises are faint, but we will come within sight of the camp soon. We must decide how to proceed now, before anyone in the camp sees us.”
“Well…I don’t know exactly what to do,” said Wayne. “What do you suggest?”
Ishihara looked up the road, which still wound through rolling hills ahead. “That long line of trees suggests a river or at least a stream that provides water for Artorius’s camp. We will need water, too, so we might as well go close enough to see what the camp looks like.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can see MC 6 from a distance.” Wayne kicked the mule forward.
As Wayne passed, Ishihara looked behind him, at Jane. “You are still well?”
“Yeah,” Jane muttered.
The troops halted to make camp by a small stream. Hunter saw new scouting patrols ride out, crossing the stream. He understood that by stopping with plenty of daylight left, the main column allowed the baggage train time to catch up before darkness fell.
The squads split up and fanned out from the road. The riders tended their horses first, unsaddling them and hobbling them to graze. Then the men were ordered to gather firewood to make separate campfires for the night.
“There’s dead wood among those live trees, all over the place,” said Steve, glancing at the trees lining the stream. “We don’t need everybody to gather it.”
“Every man does his share,” growled Cynric. “Come on, you two.”
“Hold it,” called Bedwyr, with a big grin. He walked briskly among the other men and horses toward them. “I have business here, Cynric. How did my green friends fare on their first day of march?”
“Very well, thank you,” said Hunter.
“You told me you lead a scouting patrol,” said Steve. “Do you have any news? We heard a rumor about going to River Dubglas.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Bedwyr. “But none of the patrols today have made contact with the Saxons. Fresh patrols rode out a few minutes ago, but we’re still a long way from Linnuis.”
Steve nodded.
“I have a serious reason to speak with you,” said Bedwyr. “Artorius is worried about having so many green recruits and so few veterans. The rest of our veterans should join us during the next day or so, but he wants to mix some quick-witted new recruits with his veterans to give them some experience. I want you two to join my patrol.”
“Really?” Steve grinned but glanced uncertainly at Hunter. “That sounds exciting.”
“It can be,” said Bedwyr.
Hunter considered the offer quickly. On the face of it, scouting could be more dangerous to Steve than riding in the body of the army, since the patrols would make the first contact with the enemy. They could even be ambushed. However, Hunter also had to prepare for them both to leave the area before any fighting began, ideally without witnesses. Slipping away from the rest of the patrol momentarily would be much easier than leaving the main column. He knew that scouts occasionally were killed and never accounted for on campaigns of this sort, so no one would question their disappearance. In fact, when he and Steve had to return for Jane, they might claim simply to have lost their way or to have been caught behind the enemy lines for a short time.
“We accept,” said Hunter.
“Ah! I’m glad. We’ll do well together. Get your gear and your horses.”
Cynric sighed loudly. “All right.” He jerked a thumb toward Hunter. “His weight is rough on a horse, but he’s good with both his horse and his weapons.” He glanced at Steve and Hunter. “Watch yourselves out front, there.” Then he trudged after the men going to gather firewood.
Steve looked toward the rear, where the baggage train had rolled into view down the muddy road. “Bedwyr, would you help us with a personal matter? After we move our horses and belongings up to join your patrol?”
“What is it?”
“We, uh, have to confront a man in the baggage train. We don’t want him to get away, and the wagonmaster stopped us from seeing him before we left.”
“The same man you were looking for in the palace, when we met?”
“Maybe. He…owes us a little money.” Steve grinned. “We want it back.”
Bedwyr laughed. “You told me before he did not owe you any money.”
Steve had forgotten what he had told Bedwyr before, and now had to explain the discrepancy. “Well, you and I had just met. I, uh…”
“You wanted to be careful until you learned what kind of friend I might be.” Bedwyr chuckled. “Of course I understand. And on this matter of finding your friend, I will be glad to help you. But what do you want me for?”
“Maybe you will know some of the men. We won’t be total strangers.”