Harriet thought again of how young Gwenhyvaer seemed. She reminded herself once more that Gwenhyvaer was a grown woman in this society and almost past her prime marriage years. For that reason, Gwenhyvaer had good reason to be concerned about her future with Artorius.
A woman’s position in this society depended largely on the prestige of her father and her husband. Even worse, the status of men in this time was fluid and uncertain, leaving any particular woman with few good choices. The wealth and social strata of Roman society were gone and the social system of medieval England lay many centuries in the future. Gwenhyvaer knew that if she did not marry well before long, she might have to choose between spending her life as a glorified servant in the palace or marrying a man who rode with Artorius in summer and tended sheep the rest of the year.
“Did your husband ever fight in a war before?” Gwenhyvaer asked. “Did you worry about him all the time?”
“He never fought in a war,” said Harriet.
“Really? He’s so big. He would make a good warrior. Why didn’t he?”.
Harriet suppressed a smile, thinking of the First Law. She also realized she would have to embellish the story of her life with Hunter a little in order to answer. “When the Saxons drove us out of Linnuis, on the coast, we had no army left in the area to join. And if he had gone to find Artorius farther inland, I would have been abandoned.”
“I see,” said Gwenhyvaer. “That’s when he took you with him to Gaul.”
“That’s right.”
“I hope I get married soon.” Gwenhyvaer turned from the fire to Harriet. “Did you get married young?”
“Well…yes.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m forty.”
Gwenhyvaer straightened in surprise, her eyes wide. “What? Are you joking with me?”
“No. I’m not joking.” Harriet smiled at her surprise, knowing that the average life expectancy here was in the early forties, due to the stresses of physical labor, limited diet, and the lack of medical knowledge and dental care. “I’m forty years old.”
“But…you have all your teeth.” Gwenhyvaer looked at her mouth again, making sure.
Harriet laughed lightly. “Yes, I do.” She shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate.”
“But you just don’t look that old. I thought you were…oh, I don’t know.” Gwenhyvaer stared at her face.
Harriet knew that a few individuals lived into their sixties and seventies even in this century, but Gwenhyvaer had good reason to be shocked. Most of the women Harriet’s age in this time did look much older. The women she resembled most were closer to thirty.
“Can you…I mean, when I get older, can you help me look that way?”
“I don’t have any secrets. If I did, I would be glad to share them. But I don’t.”
Gwenhyvaer nodded slowly and turned to gaze into the fire again.
Long after dark, Jane lay under the stars wrapped up in her blanket. She knew from Wayne’s slow, rhythmic breathing that he had fallen asleep. Of course, Ishihara remained alert. She hoped that because she had made no move to escape, he had not focused his attention on her.
She knew that if she prepared herself to make a move, perhaps by taking several deep breaths and shifting her position, Ishihara would hear the difference. That would cost her any element of surprise. Her best chance was to move impulsively, so she did.
All at once, she flung off the blankets, scrambled up, and ran in the faint moonlight toward the camp.
“Hunter!’She screamed as loud as she could. “It’s Jane! Hunter! Here!”
Footsteps, certainly Ishihara’s, sounded behind her, gaining fast.
“Hunter!”
“Hey! Get her!” Wayne yelled sleepily.
Before she could shout again, she stumbled on the uneven sod, losing speed. Ishihara’s footsteps come right up behind her and she felt a firm hand grasp her arm.
Ahead of her in the camp, startled voices spoke in puzzled tones, probably sentries.
In another moment, Ishihara slipped one arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. He moved his other hand from her arm to cover her mouth with his hand. Jane squirmed, trying to shout for Hunter again.
“I know I am not harming you,” Ishihara said quietly. “I can feel on my hand that you are breathing sufficiently through your nose.”
Jane decided to save her strength and quit fighting. Hunter should have heard her. Now she could only wait.
Hunter was lying on the ground pretending to sleep when he heard Jane’s first shout. He recognized her voice even before she identified herself. Instantly he rose and ran through the camp toward the sound, leaving Steve asleep; he did not want to endanger Steve by having him follow. By altering his vision to maximum light receptivity, he saw clearly enough in the moonlight to avoid stumbling over sleeping men or gear.
“You there! Stop!” A man standing on the edge of the camp to Hunter’s left shouted, holding up a spear. “Stop, I say! Now!”
Hunter angled his run away from the man, hoping to elude him. However, the man who had shouted began running toward him, as did other sentries on Hunter’s right. He changed his angle again, still running toward Jane’s voice. Having the sentries follow him might actually help him rescue her.
“Halt! What’s wrong with you? Stop!”
Up ahead, Hunter heard hoofbeats canter away. Even at his best robotic running speed, he doubted he could catch the mount. Still, he would normally have tracked the animal through the darkness on the assumption that it carried Jane and probably Wayne.
However, he could not reveal his true running ability to the sentries chasing him. For now, he would have to give up the chase. He came to a halt and turned to face them.
The first sentry ran up to him holding his spear forward. “When I order you to halt, you halt! What is your business out here?”
Five other sentries jogged up behind him, three from one side and two from another. They surrounded Hunter. No one else spoke.
“You must have heard the woman shouting,” Hunter said calmly. “I came to help.”
“You know her?”
Hunter decided that admitting he knew Jane could endanger her. He did not want the sentries to pay any independent attention to her if they came across her later. “No. I just came to help.”
“She’s just some camp follower quarreling with a scavenger,” said the sentry. “That’s their own business, not ours. Stay out of it.”
“He’s been a troublemaker all day,” growled another man. “I remember him by his height. He almost started a brawl by the wagons this afternoon.”
“Is he the one? I heard about that,” said the first sentry. He lowered his spear point toward Hunter’s abdomen, but did not advance. “The Saxons will give you all the fight you want. We have no rule against chasing a camp follower in the middle of the night, but you’ll need your rest. Go on back to your squad and I’ll forget about it.”
Hunter knew that Ishihara still had to be protecting Jane; in fact, he had probably forced her to stop yelling for help. That took away the immediate First Law imperative for Hunter. He nodded to the sentry and began walking through the moonlight back into the camp with the sentries.
The incident had not been a waste. Now he knew that Jane, with Ishihara and presumably Wayne, was with the army. He would have other chances to reach her.
Ishihara jogged through the moonlight away from the camp, carrying Jane by the waist under one arm. He still held one hand over her mouth to stop her from shouting again. Next to him, Wayne rode the mule at a canter.
By the time Ishihara had run back to their campsite carrying Jane, Wayne had already slipped the bridle on the mule and rolled up the blankets he and Jane used. As soon as he had seen Ishihara coming back with Jane, he had mounted up and kicked the mule into a canter, letting Ishihara take the lead.
Now Ishihara, with his hearing turned up to maximum, could hear Hunter giving explanations to the sentries behind them. Because their voices were stationary, Ishihara knew the pursuit had ended for now. Still, he continued to jog parallel to the river, staying just far enough from the trees for Wayne to ride safely without hitting branches in the darkness.