Part 15 (1/2)

96 They plodded on toward the peasant family. Then Geoffrey took a chance and said, ”The sorcerer's guards grow care- less, Papa.”

”Why?” Rod frowned. ”You mean because they let these people pa.s.s?” He shook his head. ”That's not where they're coming from. Here, I'll show you.” He stepped over to the side of the road as the big peasant and his family came up.

The man looked up at him, surprised, and scowled. Then weariness overcame him, and he relaxed, humbling himself to talk to someone who was below his station. ”Hail, tinker!

Dost thou travel north, then?”

”Aye,” Rod answered. ”Poor folk must seek their living where they can. Why, what moves in the North?”

The peasant shook his head. ”We know only what Rumor speaks. We ourselves have not seen it.”

Rod frowned. ”So fearsome? What doth Rumor say?”

”That an evil sorcerer hath risen,” the peasant answered.

”He hath overcome the Sire de Maladroit, the Baron de Gratecieux, and even the Count Lagorme.”

Rod stared, incredulous. ”Why? Who doth speak so?”

Geoffrey looked unbelieving, too, at the idea that Alfar's men could have 1st someone slip out to bear word.

The big peasant shrugged wearily. ”Rumor flies, tinker- and well thou shouldst know it, for 'tis thy tradesmen that do carry such tidings, more often than not.”

”Is it that, then?” Rod's eyebrows lifted. ”Only that a cousin told a neighbor, who told a gossip, who told an uncle, who told...”

”Aye, belike.” The big peasant shrugged. ”I know only what my G.o.d-sib Hugh son of Marl told unto me-and that the whiles he packed a barrow like to this, and set packs to the backs of his wife and sons. 'Whither comes this word?' quoth I; and spake he, 'From Piers Thatcher...'”

Rod interrupted. ”Lives he on the Count's estates?”

The peasant shook his head. ”Nay, nor on Gratecieux's, ^ nor on Maladroit's. Yet he hath a cousin whose G.o.d-sib's nephew hath a brother-in-law whose cousin hath a niece who doth live hard by the good Count's manor-and thus the word doth run.”

”Is't so?” Rod glanced back at Geoffrey, then back to the peasant, bobbing his head and tugging a forelock. ”I 97.

thank thee, goodman. We shall wend our way a little farther north-but we shall ponder well thy words.”

”Do,” the big peasant advised, ”and turn back toward the South.”

”These things are not certain,” Gwen protested.

”Nay,” the peasant's wife agreed. ”Yet we have heard this word again and, aye, again, for all these months of spring. First Rumor spoke of the Sire-but then of the Baron, and now of the Count. If Rumor doth begin to speak of the Duke, belike we'll find we can not flee.” She shook her head. ”Nay, an thou lovest thy little ones, chance not the truth of Rumor.”

”Mayhap thou hast the right of it,” Gwen said, with a pensive frown. ”I thank thee-and farewell.”

”G.o.d be with thee, goodman.” Rod tugged at his forelock again.

”G.o.d be,” the man returned, and took up the handles of his cart again.

As the peasant and his family slogged away toward the South, Geoffrey spun toward his father and fairly exploded in a hissing whisper. ”So easily. Papa! Is all the work of so many guards and sentries brought low so easily, by naught but gossip?”

”Indeed it is,” Rod answered sourly. ”Remember that when you command. The fence isn't made, that can stop a rumor.”

Geoffrey threw up his hands in exasperation. ”Then why mount a watch at all?”

”Proof.” Rod grimaced. ”If none of the lords have proof, they won't go to the expense of sending an army northward.

After all, what did the King himself do, when he heard the unconfirmed word? Sent us!”

”All this, to hold back proof?”

Rod nodded. ”Without that, anybody who wants to be- lieve the news is false, can.”

”Until the sorcerer and his minions overun them,” the boy said darkly.

”Yes,” Rod agreed, with a bleak smile. ”That is the idea, isn't it?”

”Papa,” said Cordelia, ”I begin to fear.”

”Good.” Rod nodded. ”Good.”

98.

Half an hour later, they saw a small coach in the distance, hurtling toward them. As it came closer, they saw that the horses were foaming and weary. But the woman who sat on the coachman's box flogged them on, with fearful glances over her shoulder at the troop of men-at-arms who galloped after her on small, tough Northern ponies, and the armored knight who thundered at their head on a huge, dark war- horse that would have made two of the ponies.

”What churiishness is this,” Gwen cried, ”that armed men pursue a woman shorn of defense?”

”Don't blame 'em too hard,” Rod snapped. ”I don't think they're terribly much aware of what they're doing.”

”Thou must needs aid her, my lord!”

”Yes,” Rod agreed. ”It isn't too hard to tell who the bad guys are, is it? Especially since we've seen their livery before. Ambush stations, kids.”

”Magnus and Gregory, guard the left,” Gwen instructed.

”Cordelia and Geoffrey, do thou ward the right. Flit toward them, as far as thou canst.” She turned to Rod. ”How wouldst thou have them fell their foes, husband?”

”One by one. Unhorse them.” Rod felt a warm glow at her support.

Delia caught up her broomstick with a shout of glee.

”How shall we fell them. Mama?” Geoffrey grinned.

”Throw rocks at them?”

Gwen nodded. ”Aye-but take thou also thy belts of rope, and discover how thou mayst make use of them.”

They all quickly untied the lengths of hemp that were lashed about their waists. ”Mama,” said Magnus, ”I think that I could make the nails to disappear from the horses'