poached from the king’s own stock of deer in this forest.
Surprise tingled up her neck; it was a change from years past, to be sure, and a dangerous one at that. Everyone knew the penalty for poaching the king’s meat was at least the loss of a hand, and at worst, death. That someone had risked it now was a sign that all was not well with Will’s band of outlaws—at least not as well as it had been when she left them three years earlier.
Pulling her horse to a halt behind Will, she dismounted, taking measure of some of those who rose from the fires or emerged from the tree shelters to greet them. Someone came up to help the wounded man into one of the tree shelters, and a few others who recognized her called out greetings. But the rest hung back, uncharacteristically reticent from her recollections of the rollicking welcome that had always greeted their leader’s return. They were a motley assortment of men and women, many of whom were strangers to her, and these new faces especially turned toward her and Braedan, studying them with unabashed interest.
Will took one blond-haired woman’s arm and led her over to where Fiona stood with Braedan. “I have a few surprises of my own to tell you about, sister,” he murmured, “and this is one of them. Joan Prentice is my intended. She joined us shortly after you left, taking up your old role in our arrangement—though with your return, it will be a boon to be able to divide the duties and perhaps send out two groups at once, on different roadways.”
Fiona met Joan’s gaze, and Joan smiled, her expression tentative as she looked from Fiona to Braedan and back again.
“Will has told me much about you,” Joan said, her voice soft as she glanced at Braedan before fixing her eyes on Fiona again. “He wondered why you’d be travelin’ with a king’s man—and I did, too. But since you’re here, he must be satisfied with your reasonin’ on it.”
“We’ve discussed it,” Fiona answered, still struggling to conceal her surprise at Will’s news.
“She is married to him if you can believe it,” Will admitted with a laugh, his words loud enough for everyone in the little settlement to hear him; the onlookers’ murmurs were punctuated with the sound of him thumping Braedan hard on the back. Fiona glanced over at Braedan, wondering how he would take this ribbing on top of the insult of having to pretend their union, but other than grimacing in response to Will’s blows, he didn’t react in any way.
“My sister, wed to a de Cantor,” Will continued under his breath, shaking his head and flashing that mocking half smile again. As he spoke, he ambled away from them toward one of the cook pots, bending to lift the ladle from it and blowing on the contents before taking a taste. Then, making a grunting sound of approval, he straightened and tossed the ladle back in, spreading his arms to call out, “Ah, well, Christ knows stranger things have happened, eh? I propose a feast to celebrate my sister’s return to the fold, with a husband at her side! Bring on the food!”
A cheer rose from the company, men and women alike joining in the happy din. At the call for victuals, a number of bedraggled-looking children tumbled out of the tree shelters and found places around one of the fires.There were eleven of them, all seeming under the age of ten. Six more babes since she’d left, then . The entire outlaw group was a good deal increased, and from their pinched faces, and the grasping, thin hands reaching for the bread trenchers being passed round to share, they weren’t always getting enough food.
Another change from years past.
But her troubling thoughts wavered to more immediate concerns, as Braedan sat next to her on the mossy pad she’d chosen by the nearest fire. Without a word he handed her the dry trencher she realized they were to share; as a married couple, it was only right, and yet the strange familiarity of it caught her by surprise. Pursing her
Surprise tingled up her neck; it was a change from years past, to be sure, and a dangerous one at that. Everyone knew the penalty for poaching the king’s meat was at least the loss of a hand, and at worst, death. That someone had risked it now was a sign that all was not well with Will’s band of outlaws—at least not as well as it had been when she left them three years earlier.
Pulling her horse to a halt behind Will, she dismounted, taking measure of some of those who rose from the fires or emerged from the tree shelters to greet them. Someone came up to help the wounded man into one of the tree shelters, and a few others who recognized her called out greetings. But the rest hung back, uncharacteristically reticent from her recollections of the rollicking welcome that had always greeted their leader’s return. They were a motley assortment of men and women, many of whom were strangers to her, and these new faces especially turned toward her and Braedan, studying them with unabashed interest.
Will took one blond-haired woman’s arm and led her over to where Fiona stood with Braedan. “I have a few surprises of my own to tell you about, sister,” he murmured, “and this is one of them. Joan Prentice is my intended. She joined us shortly after you left, taking up your old role in our arrangement—though with your return, it will be a boon to be able to divide the duties and perhaps send out two groups at once, on different roadways.”
Fiona met Joan’s gaze, and Joan smiled, her expression tentative as she looked from Fiona to Braedan and back again.
“Will has told me much about you,” Joan said, her voice soft as she glanced at Braedan before fixing her eyes on Fiona again. “He wondered why you’d be travelin’ with a king’s man—and I did, too. But since you’re here, he must be satisfied with your reasonin’ on it.”
“We’ve discussed it,” Fiona answered, still struggling to conceal her surprise at Will’s news.
“She is married to him if you can believe it,” Will admitted with a laugh, his words loud enough for everyone in the little settlement to hear him; the onlookers’ murmurs were punctuated with the sound of him thumping Braedan hard on the back. Fiona glanced over at Braedan, wondering how he would take this ribbing on top of the insult of having to pretend their union, but other than grimacing in response to Will’s blows, he didn’t react in any way.
“My sister, wed to a de Cantor,” Will continued under his breath, shaking his head and flashing that mocking half smile again. As he spoke, he ambled away from them toward one of the cook pots, bending to lift the ladle from it and blowing on the contents before taking a taste. Then, making a grunting sound of approval, he straightened and tossed the ladle back in, spreading his arms to call out, “Ah, well, Christ knows stranger things have happened, eh? I propose a feast to celebrate my sister’s return to the fold, with a husband at her side! Bring on the food!”
A cheer rose from the company, men and women alike joining in the happy din. At the call for victuals, a number of bedraggled-looking children tumbled out of the tree shelters and found places around one of the fires.There were eleven of them, all seeming under the age of ten. Six more babes since she’d left, then . The entire outlaw group was a good deal increased, and from their pinched faces, and the grasping, thin hands reaching for the bread trenchers being passed round to share, they weren’t always getting enough food.
Another change from years past.
But her troubling thoughts wavered to more immediate concerns, as Braedan sat next to her on the mossy pad she’d chosen by the nearest fire. Without a word he handed her the dry trencher she realized they were to share; as a married couple, it was only right, and yet the strange familiarity of it caught her by surprise. Pursing her
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