“As isLothair.”
“Aye.”Lara allowedherself a quick smile of satisfaction.“Minus a bite or two offlesh taken by my wolf, in whom you put an arrow.”
“Otsoa?”the older man said.He made a slashing motion along his left forearm.“Otsoa ziztada Lothair?”Wolf bite Lothair?
Inigo gave a curt nod and the mancrossed himself.
“When I was six monthspregnant,” Lara made a rounding motion over her belly and pointedat Isabeau, “Nithard had several of his men try to burn me and myunborn child alive in my house.And yet, here we are.We have takenour rightful places as heirs of Oloron, and Nithard and his pack ofcurs have made a mercenary deal with you to—”
“With my uncle,” Inigosaid quickly.“Deal is with my uncle.”
“What do you and youruncle get out of this deal, besides women and children tosell?”
Inigo held her gaze for a long momentbefore answering her.“A wagon of Fank steel.”
“Weapons?”Lara’s headspun.Nithard would’ve had to have been buying or stealing weaponsfor months to have a wagon full.“How long has your uncle beenmaking deals with Nithard?”
“They first come to ourvillage one year ago October, when Lothair’s arm still injured.They come and go since, live under my uncle’s protection when inour village.Ravenna there now.Frank weapons will bring us muchprotection against our enemies.”
“And us women and childrenwill bring you much coin?”
Inigo dipped his head to her.“You gosit, eat.Tomorrow come early, last long.”
***
“Mama?”
“Shush, baby.”Lara held afingertip to her lips and finished scratching Nithard’s name in thedirt at her feet with a twig.“Mama’s drawing a secret.”
Isabeau squatted down andmimicked her mother’s finger to her lips as Lara scratched thewordtrapinLatin below Nithard’s name, along with the initials R and L.Sheglanced over her shoulder at the guard standing watch with his backto the women as they relieved themselves behind a hedge of bushes,then tore a piece of her skirt’s hem and hung it on a low branch ofthe bush she squatted behind.Then she stood and made a noisy showof trudging over to their horses with Patience andDoralice.
Poor Berta stood rooted, lookingforlornly at her mount.Lara gave her a leg up and reminded her totuck her skirts under her legs to avoid chafing.She handed Wilricup to Patience, who tucked her skirts under her and around her sonas she’d seen Lara do with Isabeau, then gave her friend’s leg agrateful squeeze for her steady calmness.Patience was no more usedto a full day’s riding than the other women, yet she’d uttered nomore than a stiff groan when lying down to sleep on the hard groundlast night and mounting her horse this morning.
Lara lifted Issy up onto her mount’ssaddle, then swung her leg up and settled in behind her.She wastying Issy in with her skirts when she caught Inigo’s second,Ortzi, walking the edge of the camp, straight for the bush her bluestrip of hem dangled from.
“Hold on, Monkey,” shewhispered into Isabeau’s ear, tightening her one-armed hold on her.“Mama’s going to make horsey dance.”
She kicked the horse hard in the sidesand pulled up on the reins at the same time, causing the cob torear up.She faked a scream and hoped her daughter’s squeal of gleewas taken as fright as she let the horse take a few stunted jumpsforward before reining it in.She didn’t have to fake panting fromthe effort or the wild look in her eyes as she searched for Ortzi,who stopped his searching and stood with his back to the bush,crossing himself.
“Did you see that bee?”she said, every eye on her.“It flew right at the horse’sface.”
***
Talon
Fifty men rode out with Talon at firstlight, half of them field workers riding their cart horses andarmed with everything from pitchforks and wooden staffs to oldfamily swords that had lain in chests for a generation or more.Theother half consisted of Talon and his men-at-arms, six of Nithard’sprevious guard who’d chosen to stay in Oloron when he’d left andhad sworn fealty to Talon, the keep’s stable hands, and variousvillagers and tradesmen.Denys stayed to tend to Tree and Wolf andhis pregnant wife, and had given Shadow to Willem to ride, asWillem’s horse was more used to pulling carts than riding intobattle.
Touched and proud as he was by theshow of men, Talon let it be known he’d be moving fast and hard andwould wait for no one.By the time they reached the remains of theBasque camp mid-morning, only twenty-three were still with him,including Willem, Arnulf, the miller, and the silversmith whosegrievance against the tailor Talon had presided over and ruled infavor of yesterday at Mallus.Rilke was his name, a sturdy man ofmiddle age who rode a gray as sturdy as he, with his cart horse asa second, who wore a jerkin of lacquered leather with a silverhilted longsword slung across his back.
“I haven’t always been asilversmith,” Rilke told Talon as they looked over the campsite.“Irode under Carloman’s banner until his death.”
“And now?”Talon asked.Itwas well known there’d been bad blood between Charles and hisbrother, and the rumor that Charles had poisoned Carloman to gainsole control of the kingdom had run rife.
“Now I ride for the Countand Countess of Oloron.For a chance at a fair life in a fairprovince.”
“It’s a good thing I ruledin your favor, then.”Talon clapped Rilke on the shoulder.“Anexperienced sword arm is always good to have on yourside.”
“It is yours, my liege,”Rilke vowed.“Yours and your fair lady’s.”