bell began to ring in the back of Delf’s mind. Wulf had been looking oddly at the woman ever since they arrived. He was up to something, and this was exceptional. Wulf was usually about as devious as a falling tree.
“Look,” he said to the man he was practicing with, “you two have a go – I’m just going to check on Wulf. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I want to make sure.”
The two men nodded. They didn’t care. Both had once been farmers, and knew that Wulf was his friend.
He made his way towards the hearth where they were billeted and from a distance he could see Wulf talking to the woman. He was speaking quickly, urgently, and he was gripping her wrist. She looked afraid. Delf had no idea what was going on, but he knew that it was going to be trouble. Wulf was an honest man, a straight man. He couldn’t deceive, lie or cheat to save his life, so Delf had to do it for him. That was the trouble with honest men, good men – they were always causing trouble. It was like looking after a child at times, but mostly he thought of it as a privilege.
As he drew closer the tableau changed. Now she was talking to him. She no longer looked afraid, and she was gripping his hand with both of hers.
“Wulf!”
He looked up, spoke a couple of words to her, and she seemed nervous again.
“What’s going on, Wulf?”
“Delf, this is Falla.”
He knew he looked blank, but he also knew that he knew the name, but he couldn’t connect it to anything. “Falla?”
“Falla san Tarbo,” Wulf replied.
Delf looked at her face, and there was fear there, and just a little hope, and now that he knew he could just see what Wulf had seen, a family resemblance. Falla san Tarbo. She was the missing daughter of their friend and mentor in the village, the daughter of the man who had given them a new life, of the woman who had cooked their meals for all those evenings during harvest. It was worse than he could possibly have imagined.
“We will take you home, Falla,” he said without hesitation. “When we go, we will take you home.” That was the easy part, but between now and then there was a problem. Wulf, he knew, would want to protect her, to look after her. He did too, but such a thing would be difficult in a place like this. Wulf could get them all killed, but for now he was happy, and smiling, and nodding. The important thing was to survive, to stay alive until they had an opportunity to get away, and let’s face it; she was one of the camp whores, however unjustly and however unwillingly. If they tried to stop that it could be fatal. Wulf, he knew, would try to stop it.
“We have to leave soon,” he said. As soon as possible, he thought. Tonight would be best of all, but there’s not much hope of that. “Can you two try to behave normally for the next few days?” he asked. Wulf looked at him. Falla nodded. “I understand, Wulf, really I do, but this is the place it is, and we’re already in trouble.”
Wulf continued to look at him.
“All right,” he said. “The others know that you’re good with herbs, so tell them that Falla has some sort of infection, and you’re treating it. They might believe that. Tell them it will only be a few days.” They would have to be gone by then.
Where to go was the next question. Even if they managed to get away from the camp they would be noticed within hours. They were three days’ journey from Tarbo’s village, even on horseback, and the bandits would probably be able to trail them there, so it was not a good place to go. Ideally he would have to think of something that would make the bandits not want to follow them, but for now he was drawing a blank.
* * * *
Two days later Delf was still getting nowhere with his escape plan. He was sitting looking into the fire turning over a number of poor options, trying to decide which version was least likely to get them killed when Wulf
“Look,” he said to the man he was practicing with, “you two have a go – I’m just going to check on Wulf. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I want to make sure.”
The two men nodded. They didn’t care. Both had once been farmers, and knew that Wulf was his friend.
He made his way towards the hearth where they were billeted and from a distance he could see Wulf talking to the woman. He was speaking quickly, urgently, and he was gripping her wrist. She looked afraid. Delf had no idea what was going on, but he knew that it was going to be trouble. Wulf was an honest man, a straight man. He couldn’t deceive, lie or cheat to save his life, so Delf had to do it for him. That was the trouble with honest men, good men – they were always causing trouble. It was like looking after a child at times, but mostly he thought of it as a privilege.
As he drew closer the tableau changed. Now she was talking to him. She no longer looked afraid, and she was gripping his hand with both of hers.
“Wulf!”
He looked up, spoke a couple of words to her, and she seemed nervous again.
“What’s going on, Wulf?”
“Delf, this is Falla.”
He knew he looked blank, but he also knew that he knew the name, but he couldn’t connect it to anything. “Falla?”
“Falla san Tarbo,” Wulf replied.
Delf looked at her face, and there was fear there, and just a little hope, and now that he knew he could just see what Wulf had seen, a family resemblance. Falla san Tarbo. She was the missing daughter of their friend and mentor in the village, the daughter of the man who had given them a new life, of the woman who had cooked their meals for all those evenings during harvest. It was worse than he could possibly have imagined.
“We will take you home, Falla,” he said without hesitation. “When we go, we will take you home.” That was the easy part, but between now and then there was a problem. Wulf, he knew, would want to protect her, to look after her. He did too, but such a thing would be difficult in a place like this. Wulf could get them all killed, but for now he was happy, and smiling, and nodding. The important thing was to survive, to stay alive until they had an opportunity to get away, and let’s face it; she was one of the camp whores, however unjustly and however unwillingly. If they tried to stop that it could be fatal. Wulf, he knew, would try to stop it.
“We have to leave soon,” he said. As soon as possible, he thought. Tonight would be best of all, but there’s not much hope of that. “Can you two try to behave normally for the next few days?” he asked. Wulf looked at him. Falla nodded. “I understand, Wulf, really I do, but this is the place it is, and we’re already in trouble.”
Wulf continued to look at him.
“All right,” he said. “The others know that you’re good with herbs, so tell them that Falla has some sort of infection, and you’re treating it. They might believe that. Tell them it will only be a few days.” They would have to be gone by then.
Where to go was the next question. Even if they managed to get away from the camp they would be noticed within hours. They were three days’ journey from Tarbo’s village, even on horseback, and the bandits would probably be able to trail them there, so it was not a good place to go. Ideally he would have to think of something that would make the bandits not want to follow them, but for now he was drawing a blank.
* * * *
Two days later Delf was still getting nowhere with his escape plan. He was sitting looking into the fire turning over a number of poor options, trying to decide which version was least likely to get them killed when Wulf
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