Strip ’em and then dump ’em into the wagons.”
“Pond.” Edmund gestured to him. Standing at the edge of the crowd, Pond was the only one who didn’t have his sword drawn. “Come on, give me a hand with this guy. I can’t lift him into the wagon myself.”
Chapter Twelve
Later that night, Edmund stood on a table in The Buxom Barmaid’s crowded common room. When the ovation had died down somewhat, he shook Vin playfully. “And we couldn’t have done it without our brewmaster!”
Applause, whistles, and stomps exploded throughout the room.
“All right!” Edmund shouted. “All right!”
Everyone quieted.
“We have food!” he hollered and the townsfolk cheered again. “We have coats and blankets and warm clothes!” Cheering grew louder. Somebody whistled, high and piercing. “And we have weapons!”
Everybody who had a sword shook it over his head—everybody except Pond, who sat alone in the corner.
“And we have horses!” someone called.
With Becky having chased three wagons full of sleeping men farther south, Edmund had the other wagons driven back to Rood. Each wagon had had four horses. Now he just needed to find a place to stable them all.
“What if the King’s army comes back to where their supplies were?” asked a newcomer, one of the many laborers from Upper Angle looking to farm his own land. “Couldn’t they just follow the wagon tracks back here?”
Edmund had considered this, but the furs, blankets, heavy coats, and food were simply too good to pass up. Fortunately the western skies were starting to cloud over.
He waved for quiet. “We’d discussed that. Captain Hendrick believes the King’s men will travel eastward for at least four or five days looking for us. Four days there and four days back gives us a little more than a week to pray that it snows.”
“And what does Captain Hendrick think the King will do when he finds his supplies are gone?”
Hendrick stood up. “He’s going to shit himself!”
Uproarious laughter shook the room.
“You have to see it from his perspective,” Hendrick called out. “He’ll find no signs of battle, no blood in the snow, no sign that anything went wrong. The only assumption he could logically make is that all eighty men ordered to guard the supplies had betrayed him. He’ll think they all just went home.”
“Good!”
“And then what’ll he do?”
“My guess,” Hendrick replied, “is that he’ll send scouts south, assuming the men who’d stolen his supplies would head back to civilization rather than linger around here waiting to incur his wrath.”
Gabe poked his head in from the kitchen. Something smelled wonderful, like fresh bread dipped in garlic butter. “So what do we do next?”
“Well, that’s what we need to decide,” Edmund said over the noise. “I want to discuss it with all of you since this town belongs to everyone.”
“Quiet!” one of the guards bellowed.
The townsfolk settled down.
“May I suggest,” Edmund began, “that we consider the animals we’ve acquired. They can’t all fit into our stables, and we’ll need a more secure corral.”
Many men nodded.
“I’m afraid,” he went on, “we might need to convert our third barracks into something more suitable for the animals. Those displaced will have to find room either in the other two barracks or here at The Barmaid.”
“There’s room at my place,” said Henry, the owner of the general store.
“There’s also the old lord’s house,” someone else offered.
Thinking of Norb and Molly made Edmund wince. “Absolutely.” He tried not to think of the empty nursery. “We’ll just have to make do.”
Cavin raised his hand. Edmund pointed at him. The carpenter stood.
“Sir, converting the third barracks into a stable won’t be an issue; we’d anticipated it would be used as one eventually. But all of those horses won’t fit. Neither will the cows and oxen some have brought up from the south.”
People grumbled,
“Pond.” Edmund gestured to him. Standing at the edge of the crowd, Pond was the only one who didn’t have his sword drawn. “Come on, give me a hand with this guy. I can’t lift him into the wagon myself.”
Chapter Twelve
Later that night, Edmund stood on a table in The Buxom Barmaid’s crowded common room. When the ovation had died down somewhat, he shook Vin playfully. “And we couldn’t have done it without our brewmaster!”
Applause, whistles, and stomps exploded throughout the room.
“All right!” Edmund shouted. “All right!”
Everyone quieted.
“We have food!” he hollered and the townsfolk cheered again. “We have coats and blankets and warm clothes!” Cheering grew louder. Somebody whistled, high and piercing. “And we have weapons!”
Everybody who had a sword shook it over his head—everybody except Pond, who sat alone in the corner.
“And we have horses!” someone called.
With Becky having chased three wagons full of sleeping men farther south, Edmund had the other wagons driven back to Rood. Each wagon had had four horses. Now he just needed to find a place to stable them all.
“What if the King’s army comes back to where their supplies were?” asked a newcomer, one of the many laborers from Upper Angle looking to farm his own land. “Couldn’t they just follow the wagon tracks back here?”
Edmund had considered this, but the furs, blankets, heavy coats, and food were simply too good to pass up. Fortunately the western skies were starting to cloud over.
He waved for quiet. “We’d discussed that. Captain Hendrick believes the King’s men will travel eastward for at least four or five days looking for us. Four days there and four days back gives us a little more than a week to pray that it snows.”
“And what does Captain Hendrick think the King will do when he finds his supplies are gone?”
Hendrick stood up. “He’s going to shit himself!”
Uproarious laughter shook the room.
“You have to see it from his perspective,” Hendrick called out. “He’ll find no signs of battle, no blood in the snow, no sign that anything went wrong. The only assumption he could logically make is that all eighty men ordered to guard the supplies had betrayed him. He’ll think they all just went home.”
“Good!”
“And then what’ll he do?”
“My guess,” Hendrick replied, “is that he’ll send scouts south, assuming the men who’d stolen his supplies would head back to civilization rather than linger around here waiting to incur his wrath.”
Gabe poked his head in from the kitchen. Something smelled wonderful, like fresh bread dipped in garlic butter. “So what do we do next?”
“Well, that’s what we need to decide,” Edmund said over the noise. “I want to discuss it with all of you since this town belongs to everyone.”
“Quiet!” one of the guards bellowed.
The townsfolk settled down.
“May I suggest,” Edmund began, “that we consider the animals we’ve acquired. They can’t all fit into our stables, and we’ll need a more secure corral.”
Many men nodded.
“I’m afraid,” he went on, “we might need to convert our third barracks into something more suitable for the animals. Those displaced will have to find room either in the other two barracks or here at The Barmaid.”
“There’s room at my place,” said Henry, the owner of the general store.
“There’s also the old lord’s house,” someone else offered.
Thinking of Norb and Molly made Edmund wince. “Absolutely.” He tried not to think of the empty nursery. “We’ll just have to make do.”
Cavin raised his hand. Edmund pointed at him. The carpenter stood.
“Sir, converting the third barracks into a stable won’t be an issue; we’d anticipated it would be used as one eventually. But all of those horses won’t fit. Neither will the cows and oxen some have brought up from the south.”
People grumbled,
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