Then Alyss had moved to farewell Horace, who had arrived to join them the previous night, and Will had found himself facing Lady Pauline. She kissed his cheek softly then leaned forward to hug him. As she did, she said quietly, 'Look after him for me, Will. He's not as young as he thinks he is.'
With a slight shock, he realised she meant Halt. Willcould think of no one who needed looking after less than Halt but he nodded, nonetheless.
`You know I will, Pauline,' he said and she looked deeply into his eyes for several seconds.
`Yes. I do know,' she said and then she moved to embrace her husband and re-tie the fastenings of his cloak, patting them into place the way wives do for husbands.
It was strange, Will thought now. He had been desperately sorry to leave Alyss and his other friends at Redmont and the moment of parting brought an uncomfortable lump to his throat. Yet now that they were on the road again, camped under the stars, enjoying the close-knit bond of true friendship that existed between the three of them, he felt remarkably happy. Life was good, he thought. In fact, life was close to perfect. And he fell asleep with that thought.
Two hours later, Horace shook him awake to take over the watch and he rolled blearily out of his warm blankets into the cold night.
Perhaps, he reflected, life wasn't quite so close to perfect at that moment.
Chapter 15
It took the travellers five days to reach the Kingdom of Clonmel.
They travelled first to the coastal village of Selsey, where Halt prevailed upon the head man to provide a boat to take them and their horses across the narrow stretch of sea to Hibernia.
At first Wilfred was less than delighted with the idea. The village and its people had grown used to being independent over the years, and they had little interest in the doings of the outside world. They saw Halt's request as an infringement on this independence and an unwelcome disruption to their normal routine. Halt had to remind him that, although Selsey was not part of any fief, it was still part of Araluen and subject to King Duncan's authority -which he, as a Ranger, represented.
He further pointed out that he had saved part of their fishing fleet from destruction, then prevented the Outsiders from absconding with a considerable amount ofgold, silver and jewellery belonging to the villagers. On top of that, Halt had arranged for an armed party from Redmont to hunt down and arrest the bandits who had been working with Farrell and his group, ensuring the village's continuing safety.
Wilfred eventually, although still grudgingly, conceded the point and provided a boat and crew to ferry them to Hibernia.
They landed on a deserted stretch of beach in the southeast corner of Clonmel, just before first light. The three companions quickly mounted their horses and rode into the woods fringing the beach, out of sight of any possible prying eyes. Will looked back as the trees loomed over them, cloaking them in shadows. The boat was already far offshore, the sail no more than a pale speck among the dark waves as her skipper headed back out to sea, wasting no time getting back to the fishing grounds.
Halt saw the direction of his gaze.
`Fishermen,' he said. 'All they ever think of is their next catch.'
`They were a friendly lot,' Horace said. In fact, the sailors had hardly addressed an unnecessary word to their passengers. 'I'm not sorry to be off that tub.'
Halt concurred with the thought, although not entirely for the same reason. As always, his stomach had betrayed him once the boat had left the calm waters of the harbour and begun to plunge and roll on the open sea. The all-pervading smell of stale fish guts hadn't helped matters, either. He had spent the greater part of the voyage standing in the bow of the boat, his face pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the railing. His two young companions, familiar with his problem, decided the best course was to ignore it and leave Halt to his own devices. From past experience, they knew that any show of sympathy would lead to a snarl of dismissal. And any sign of amusement would lead to far worse.
They rode into the wood, soon crossing a path. It was a narrow, winding game trail and there was no way to ride abreast. They rode in single file, following Halt's lead as he headed north-west.
`What now, Halt?' Will asked. He was riding second in line behind his teacher. The grey-bearded Ranger twisted in his saddle to reply.
`We'll head towards Ferris's castle, Dun Kilty. It's maybe a week's ride from here. That'll give us a chance to see how things are in Clonmel.'
It soon became apparent that things in Clonmel were far from good. The game trail meandered haphazardly and eventually led them to a broader, more permanent high road. As they followed it, they began to see farmlands interspersed with the woods. But the fields were untended and overgrown with weeds, and the farmhouses they saw were shuttered and silent, with the farmyard entrances barricaded by wagons and hay bales, so they resembled improvised armed camps.
`Looks like they're expecting trouble,' Will said as they passed by one such collection of farm buildings.
`Looks like they've already had it,' Halt replied, pointing to the blackened remains of one of the outbuildings, where a pile of ashes and collapsed timbers were still smouldering. They could also make out the huddled shapes of several dead animals in the fields. Ravensperched on the swollen carcasses, tearing chunks out of the rank flesh with their sharp beaks.
`You'd think they'd have buried or burnt those carcasses,' Horace said. He wrinkled his nose as the breeze brought the unpleasantly sweet smell of rotting flesh to them.
`If they're afraid to go out to plough and plant, they're hardly going to expose themselves to bury a few dead sheep,' Halt told him.
`I suppose not. But what are they afraid of?'
Halt eased his backside from the saddle, standing for a few seconds in the stirrups before resuming his seat.
`At a guess, I'd say they're hiding from this character Tennyson – or at least, from the bandits that work with him. The whole place seems like a country under siege.'
The farms and smaller hamlets that they passed all exhibited the same evidence of fear and suspicion. Wherever possible the three Araluans bypassed them, remaining unseen.
`No point in revealing our presence,' Halt said. But by midmorning of the second day, his curiosity was beginning to nag at him, and when they sighted a small hamlet of five ramshackle houses grouped together, he jerked a thumb towards it.
`Let's go and ask the price of eggs,' he said. Horace frowned at the words as Halt led the way out of the trees and along the road that led to the hamlet.
`Do we need eggs?' he asked Will.
Will grinned at him. 'Figure of speech, Horace.' Horace nodded, assuming a knowing expression just a little too late. 'Oh… yes. I sort of knew that. Sort of.'
They urged their horses after Abelard, catching up when they were fifty metres short of the hamlet. This was the closest they'd been to one of these silent groups of buildings and as they grew closer they could see the rough palisade that had been thrown around it in more detail. Farm carts and ploughs were formed in a circle around the hamlet. The gaps between were piled with old furniture -benches and tables – and the remaining gaps were filled with hurriedly constructed earthworks and spare timber. Halt raised his eyebrows at the sight of one table, a family heirloom that had been lovingly polished and waxed over the years, now shoved roughly on its side into a gap in the defences.
`Must be dining al fresco these days,' he said softly.
Seen closer to, they also realised that the hamlet was far from deserted. They could make out movement now behind the barricade. Several figures were moving to group together at the point they were heading for. At least one of them seemed to be wearing a helmet. The midmorning sun gleamed dully off it. As they watched, the man clambered up onto a wagon that obviously served as a gate through the barricade. He was wearing a leather coat, studded with metal. It was a cheap and primitive form of armour. In his right hand, he brandished a heavy spear. There was nothing cheap or primitive about it. Like the helmet, it reflected the sun's rays.