“Remember what I said about not putting weight on it,” she told him, playing the part of the healer to avoid speaking of anything else. “The bone must be allowed to knit.”
He didn’t answer and didn’t look at her.
She turned to Jaromir. “I think it’s safe for him if we press onward.”
Jaromir exhaled through his nose, as if considering something, and then he stood up in the back of the wagon. “Everyone,” he called out, “over here.”
Faster than Céline would have expected, all the men had gathered round. Amelie was among them, looking up at Jaromir curiously.
“Ryazan is not far up this road,” he began, pointing north. “Guardsman Rurik will stay with me, but I’m sending the rest of you back now.” Turning his body slightly, he motioned down a wide, well-maintained road to the east. “I don’t want you crossing the river again, so head east and use the bridge up above Enêmûsk.” He handed the map to Bazin. “Then head straight home and make sure Pavel stays off his leg.”
Almost everyone nodded in agreement . . . all except for Guardsman Rurik, who was aghast.
“Me?” he asked. “Sir? Shouldn’t you choose someone else?”
Jaromir wasn’t accustomed to having his orders questioned. “Guardsman?”
“What if Prince Anton needs a message sent to his father?” Rurik rushed on.
Jaromir’s jaw twitched. “He can send someone else.” His voice held an edge of threat, and Rurik fell silent, but he looked shaken.
Céline wondered why. She’d found him to be a good choice on Jaromir’s part. Rurik might not be as strong a fighter as Pavel, but he was steady and of a cheerful disposition, and on this task, those two qualities might be of more use. Why was he reluctant to stay? Had he heard any hints about what she and Amelie had come here to do? Even so, he was a soldier and didn’t strike her as someone easily frightened.
“Guardsman Voulter,” Jaromir said. “Tie the women’s travel bags onto one of the extra horses.” He continued giving orders in preparation for them to separate from the group, but Céline stopped listening.
She turned and gazed up the road to the north, forgetting about Rurik’s strange reluctance and Pavel’s broken leg.
Ryazan waited.
Chapter Four
By midday, the already narrow road had turned into little more than a path, but when Jaromir saw a clearing up ahead, he knew they’d arrived at their destination. As his horse broke through the tree line, he had no idea what to expect.
But . . . he had anticipated at least seeing a number of small buildings. From what he understood, Prince Lieven had had men stationed here for five years.
“Tents?” Amelie asked in equal puzzlement, pulling her horse up beside his.
Six enormous tents and numerous smaller ones were the only dwellings in sight. Behind the tents stood a large, makeshift wooden barn, but it appeared to be the only permanent construction.
Several soldiers in dark brown tabards—and carrying spears—turned their way, but they all froze as Céline rode up beside her sister and then Rurik brought up the rear.
Jaromir raised a hand in greeting. No one responded, and the soldiers milling among the tents stood staring at Amelie and Céline. These men appeared unwashed and on edge, with tight, anxious expressions. Following his instincts, Jaromir decided not to advance until someone approached him.
Finally, an overweight guard came walking over, gripping his spear but holding the point straight up.
“You lost?” he asked.
Two other guards came up behind him, looking even more unkempt up close. One was young, maybe seventeen, with long tangled hair and mismatched eyes: one blue, one brown. He appeared more skittish than edgy. His companion was a little older and taller, with two missing front teeth. The younger one hid halfway behind him, as if seeking protection.
But all three men continued to stare at Amelie and Céline.
Jaromir tensed at the complete lack of military discipline, and he pitched his tone to cold, angry authority. “I am Lieutenant Jaromir of Castle Sèone. We’ve been sent at the request of Prince Lieven. I would speak with Captain Keegan.”
There was still a soldier inside the rotund guard directly in front of him, because the man winced, as if remembering something forgotten. Then he straightened and touched his chest. “Guardsman Saunders, sir.” He pointed first to the youth behind him and then to the other man. “Guardsmen Graham and Ramsey.”
“Where is your captain?” Jaromir asked.
Saunders turned around. “This way, sir.”
Remaining mounted, Jaromir nodded to Amelie and then followed Guardsman Saunders through the tents. Many of the temporary shelters they passed looked years old, with patches and untended holes. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was overcast and gray, adding to the dismal quality of their surroundings. Saunders led them toward the back of the encampment to the second- largest of the tents—the size of a small house—only this one appeared newer than the others.
Jaromir dismounted and turned to help Amelie off her horse. She looked at his outstretched hands and seemed about to push them away, but he shook his head once, hoping she’d have the sense to play her part. Thankfully, she seemed to realize this as well and let him lift her down. Rurik was on the ground, doing the same for Céline.
“Announce us and then see to our horses,” Jaromir ordered.
Saunders stuck his head inside the open front flap of the tent. “Captain, visitors here to see you . . . from Castle Sèone.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Jaromir walked past him, inside, motioning to his companions to follow. After the shabby visage of the camp outside, he was somewhat taken aback by the luxury now surrounding him. The floor was covered in thick furs. Tapestries hanging from the ceiling had been tastefully arranged to create partitions. There was a long polished table with six wooden chairs in the center of the main area, decorated with silver candlesticks. Looking through the partitions toward the rear, he could see a round, stone-bordered fire pit with a ventilation hole up above, so this tent could be kept warm when necessary.
At present, the tent held only two occupants, both men in chain armor and dark brown tabards. Jaromir pegged Captain Keegan right away, but only by virtue of his age. Keegan was of medium height, with a stocky, muscular build that was just now going to fat. His hair had gone gray, and he wore a close-trimmed beard that completely covered the lower half of his face.
The other man was in his late twenties, tall, well built, and clean-shaven, with sandy-colored hair and light blue eyes.
Keegan immediately bristled at the visitors walking into his tent. “What is this?” he barked.
Again, Jaromir hesitated. Had all semblance of military professionalism broken down here?
“Lieutenant Jaromir,” he answered stiffly, “of Castle Sèone.” He held one hand toward the women. “May I present the ladies Céline and Amelie Fawe of Prince Anton’s court?”
As with Saunders, his manner had an immediate effect, and both men came to attention but seemed at a loss for words.
Céline smiled. “Forgive our appearance, Captain. We have been traveling for days.”
This had an even more rapid effect than Jaromir’s words, and both Keegan and his companion hurried to the table, pulling out chairs. “Ladies, please,” Keegan said, “come and sit.”
Saunders was gone now, and Rurik stood in the doorway. “You’re dismissed,” Jaromir told him quietly. “Make sure the horses are cared for.”
“Yes, sir.”
Keegan was pouring wine for Amelie and Céline, who were seated at the table, and he motioned to the tall, sandy-haired man. “This is Corporal Quinn. He is my current second-in-command.” Glancing back at Jaromir, he asked, “You were sent by Prince Anton?”