“Skopos now, or so she claims. She rules over a nest of vipers! Sabella can’t be trusted if she once honored that awful woman! Ally to Hugh of Austra! A murderer! A foul maleficus!” Lord Berthold let loose such a tirade of filthy imprecations that Ivar blushed and looked away, and found himself staring at the stocky companion. She had the look of the Quman, but there was something indefinably different about her that Ivar could not identify. She wore a glittering headpiece, beads and gold sewn into a stiff, black fabric, and she had a strong jaw and broad cheekbones, big hands, and a stolid expression. She said nothing. It was not clear if she understand the flood of lurid curses, which did not cease until the rest of Berthold’s group came up to meet them.
Besides Lord Jonas and the Quman man, a slender cleric attended patiently, almost absently, pausing under the canopy of a walnut tree. All carried saddlebags slung awkwardly over their shoulders. The Quman soldier handed two saddlebags to the silent woman. Wolfhere strode up with Prior Ratbold, heads bent together as they talked, and both looked up to count the people waiting beside the gate.
“We’ll close all the gates after you’ve left,” said Ratbold, repeating instructions, “and let no man in.”
“Nor woman either,” said Wolfhere.
“Who will carry the lamps?” asked Berthold. “Where are the horses?”
“No light,” said Wolfhere. “And no horses.”
“We must walk?” asked Jonas disbelievingly.
“How will we see?” asked Berthold.
“I know this path. My lord, the horses are nearly spent. Prior Ratbold has none to offer us. We’ll go faster on foot because we can march night and day. We must move swiftly. The Eika will.”
“The Eika have no horses,” said Ivar. When everyone looked curiously at him, he added, “We saw their army. We were hidden in the trees, upwind. They didn’t know we were there.”
“My lord,” said Wolfhere to Berthold. Berthold nodded, and, that quickly, their party left through the open gate.
Ivar’s feet had grown roots; the wind played around him as branches rattled above and Prior Ratbold watched into the night beyond the gate.
“He never answered me,” muttered Ivar.
“I beg your pardon?” Ratbold asked, without turning.
“I thought,” said Ivar irritably, “that we might join together. Walk southeast together, for safety. Better if Baldwin and I wait for our horses to be reshod…. yet if what the Eagle says is true …”