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“The searches for MC 3 and MC 4 ended in much greater danger than we face here so far,” said Ishihara. “I assure you again that I will take you and Wayne away from danger if necessary.” He patted the spot on his torso in which he had placed the belt unit.

“I know,” Jane said quietly. She looked at Wayne. He did not seem to have noticed Hunter and Steve.

Jane wondered if the troop would ride back into the tor while Emrys was still selling sheep and firewood there. Ifso, she might have a chance to get Hunter’s attention. She would have to hope that Wayne and Ishihara would not notice Hunter first.

8

Steve moved into the line as the squad prepared to throw spears. Ahead of him, the other riders waited for Cynric to wave his arm in a sharp downward slash. Then the first rider kicked his mount, rode at full gallop about fifty meters, and threw his spear into the ground next to Cynric’s.

When Steve’s: turn came, he hefted his spear in his right hand and looked at Cynric. At the signal, he took off and eyed his target. Several other spears had stuck in the ground near it; others had fallen flat. Steve threw his without slowing his mount.

His spear flew forward but instead of sticking in the ground, it landed flat on the grass. He reined in near the other riders and turned. Hunter came next.

At the signal, Hunter rode forward. As he neared the target, he threw his spear. It angled through the air and stabbed into the ground next to Cynric’s.

Around them, scattered allover the rolling hills, the other squads conducted similar exercises.

As Hunter rode up next to Steve, Cynric nodded approval. When the squad had finished throwing their spears, they gathered around Cynric. Steve suddenly wondered if he might be cut from the troop and Hunter retained.

Cynric said nothing about it, however. “Leave your spears where they are. Form two lines facing each other, two horse lengths apart. When I signal, move against the rider across from you. I want to see you handle your swords and shields. Lay on hard, now-this is no game.”

As the riders formed the lines, Steve and Hunter moved across from each other. At Cynric’s signal, all the riders rode forward. Steve found that the real challenge to this exercise was holding the reins in his left hand while using the shield on his left arm to protect himself.

Hunter’s blows were light, at least by Hunter’s standards, and always landed on Steve’s shield, no matter how he moved it. Steve swung his own sword with more abandon, secure in the knowledge that Hunter could easily block each stroke with his own shield. On each side of them, the other squad members did the same.

Cynric rode slowly behind each line, circling the squad. He shouted instructions and encouragement at times. After a while, he ordered them to halt.

Steve lowered his sword and shield and grinned at Hunter with relief.

“Take up your spears again,” Cynric called out. Then, as the riders moved out of their line, he turned to Hunter. “You sit a horse well for a man your size.”

“Thank you for the kind words.” Hunter nodded acknowledgment. “Tell me something. I always heard that the Saxons have no horses. In Linnuis, I never saw a mounted Saxon. Why do you have us perform this exercise against another man on horseback?”

“A man who fights for Artorius must be at home on his mount,” Cynric said sternly. “Besides, occasionally a Saxon patrol will take a horse or two. But you are right. In the main, a battle against the Saxons means a small British cavalry against a much larger army of Saxon foot.”

Steve had to dismount to pick up his spear. While he was on the ground he handed a couple of the other spears up to other squad members. Then, clumsily cradling his own in the crook of his left arm, he managed to mount again.

Hunter plucked his own spear from its vertical position in the ground and rode up next to Steve.

“Harriet radioed me a moment ago,” Hunter said quietly. “She is well, but has seen no sign of MC 6.”

“Is she just going to walk up and down the streets of the village all day?”

“Perhaps not. She has seen some from the citadel come out to shop. Since Artorius probably lives there, she hopes to speak to them.”

“Hey, maybe she can get inside somehow.”

“Follow me!” Cynric shouted suddenly, holding spear high. “Now!” He rode away abruptly, as before.

The squad, caught by surprise, took off after him.

The remainder of the morning continued the same way. Cynric ordered specific exercises with weapons, often divided by sudden orders to charge across the hills. These charges sometimes were straight, and sometimes curved; the riders had to stop and wheel around quickly, changing direction. Finally, at midday, wagons came out of the tor to bring bread, cold mutton, and water to the squads. The horses were watered and rested.

In the afternoon, the nature of the exercises changed. Now the squads worked together, maneuvering in combinations of ten, with a hundred riders each. Steve stayed close to Hunter. Finally, in late afternoon, Lucius gave the order to return to the tor.

As Steve and Hunter rode on weary mounts with the rest of the troop back to the main gate, Cynric rode up alongside them.

“You will join us in the camp,” said Cynric.

“You are in a camp?” Hunter asked. “I have not seen a camp. Where is it?”

Cynric grinned. “Behind the village, on the far slope. The green recruits are kept out of the way.”

Steve wondered what Hunter wanted to do about Harriet, but he did not ask. A blunt conversation would have to wait until they were out of the hearing of others. He looked up at the village and wondered if Jane was there somewhere.

Hunter knew that he could not call Harriet. He had no idea if she had company within the hearing of her lapel pin. If they could not find her in the streets of the village, then he would have to wait for her to call him again.

At the paddock, each rider unsaddled and brushed down his own mount. Then they were dismissed. Hunter, however, walked back to the armorer, who had a fresh leather boiling in a big vat.

“Is that for me?” Hunter asked.

“Keep your tunic on to protect yourself from the heat,” the armorer said gruffly.

Steve stood by as the armorer pulled the steaming leather out with a long, hooked pole. The leather had a hole already cut out of the middle and the armor lowered it over Hunter’s head. Moving quickly, the armorer tied it snugly around Hunter’s waist with a piece of old rope. Steam rose from the leather.

“I’m glad he already had one my size,” Steve muttered. “That’s hot.”

“No one ever died of this,” growled the armorer. “I’ve been doing it for years. That tunic he’s wearing will protect him.”