Harald Read Free Page A

stall, went out for another.

    Harald reached up to where he had hung his saddle, pulled the saddle mace free, stuck it in his belt, untied the rain cloak, wrapped it about him. His companion spoke in a low voice.

    "The horses?"

    "Not all night, but they should do for an hour; two safer than one."

    Hrolf nodded, armed and cloaked himself and followed Harald into the courtyard.

    The inn was a big dining room, kitchen built on at the end, stairs to sleeping rooms above. Most of the party of riders were at the one big table; their leader was arguing with the owner.

    "King's men, King's road. You want to be paid for two lousy rooms, send the bill up to the castle."

    He turned on his heel, went to join the rest. One of them was yelling for beer. They got it.

    The owner saw Hrolf and Harald in the door, motioned them in.

    "You see how it is. You're welcome to benches in the hall, but gods know when you'll get to sleep."

    "By your leave, we'll eat here, sleep over our horses. Hay's softer than wood."

    "Suit yourself—how many horses?"

    "Four."

    "A silver penny'll feed you and them, buy space for both."

    Harald gave him a long look.

    "High, but times are hard. I'll throw in breakfast in the morning, bread and sausage to take with you for lunch. Bound up Eston way?"

    Harald nodded, paid, found a bench in one corner of the room. After some time the one serving maid got free of the big table long enough to bring mugs of ale, bowls of thick soup, a flat loaf of dark bread. They ate in silence. Aside from the riders, there were only a handful of men and no women.

    The big man was talking, his voice only a little slurred.

    "I say tomorrow. Bitches aren't expecting us."

    "Peaceful, like the lordling said?"

    "By the time we're done, peacefullest hold in the damn kingdom. Leave at dawn, lunch in their hall."

    He fell silent, glanced around the room. Harald was slumped on the bench, head down on the table, Hrolf draining the last few drops from his mug. Two others were stretched out on benches by the big fireplace, wrapped in cloaks.

    Bedded down in the hayloft over the horses, they took quiet counsel.

    "Dawn to noon, say a six-hour ride. What holds that close?"

    Hrolf thought a moment.

    "Big one up the valley?"

    "Too close to the castle. If it's still there the King has it—or his cousin's friends in the Order. Besides, I only counted twelve; they wouldn't try that one without more. It'll be some little place, four or six Ladies, a few helpers. No guessing where. Have to follow."

    The next morning they heard voices and the noise of horses below, lay still until the stable was empty. Twenty minutes later, packed and saddled, they followed, fresh hoof prints clear on the road south. At the top of the rise they slowed. The road ahead, visible for a mile or more to the next rise, was empty. Harald crossed the flat, took the long downslope at a gallop; Hrolf followed.

    Two hours south the road forked—the main south, the tracks east. The eastern road ran up a small valley into the mountains, thinning to little more than a path. Ahead shouts and a heavy thudding noise. Coming over the next low rise in the path they could see the whole tiny battle spread out before them.

    To the left of the road the hold, little more than a fortified house. In the stone courtyard a body, mail over the gold-brown robe of the Order. The door shut, three men with a tree trunk trying to open it. Up on the roof two archers shooting down into the courtyard where one attacker lay while another, weapon arm limp at his side, crouched behind his shield. Four more crowded the courtyard, shields up to protect the men with the ram. On the other side of the road two more men, with bows, shooting from behind trees. One of the archers on the roof fell back.

    Harald's bow was out, arrow on the string, two more held by the fingers of his bow hand. He nodded right, drew and loosed. The first missed, the second caught the archer high in the back. The man