The Retreat (medieval historical fiction)

Chapter 18 I Will Track Them Down

When the shadows of the forest floor became too dark to see the trail, Gerard chose our camp. Above the orange-tinged trunks of alder, oak and beech was a sky that was still light, with just the earliest stars visible. Our enemies would be making progress towards wherever it was they were going, for another hour at least. But we could no longer be sure of their path.

As I dismounted, perhaps my concerns showed in my face, for Gerard patted my arm consolingly.

'The weather is dry, thank God. Their spore should still be clear enough in the morning.'

I didn't reply, but began to unstrap the tack from my destrier.

'Is this our camp?' asked Jacques.

'Aye.'

'Don't you think it might be a water course?'

'Could be.'

'Well. Aren't we risking a damp night?'

'It will not rain tonight.'

'I'm not so sure. Let's go up that slope a little, to the bluebells.'

'Very well so,' said Gerard, after a pause and a glance towards me.

After I'd brushed down my horse and given him some oats, I led him up to the two men and undid my own armour, which slid heavily to the ground. Then I spread out the chainmail and sat upon it, Gerard on my right and beyond him, Jacques.

'What have we got to eat?' asked Gerard, 'I'm starving.'

I looked in the satchel that Arnulf had given me. 'Peas. Strips of dried pork. This cheese.'

Gerard's hopeful look faded. 'We can't risk a fire to cook the peas.'

'I've boiled eggs.' Jacques tossed an egg over to me, then handed another to Gerard. 'I've some apples too, but think to save them for the morning.'

'Is there water?' Gerard asked, after quickly eating his egg. I got up and brought back my water skin and my wine skin.

'Good man. Boiled eggs always make my mouth dry. I'd have another all the same though, Jacques, if you had more.'

'One more each.'

The cheese was old and hard. It took me a while to cut the block into three, taking care not to slice my hand. After we'd eaten that, we shared the pork strips.

'Not bad,' said Jacques. 'I've had worse suppers.'

Gerard smiled. 'Many's the night we had nothing at all.'

I was still hungry, but he was right about the peas. I had my hunting bow with me though. 'Once we've rescued Cateline, I can hunt.'

'And there is plenty of food in the forest this time of year if we're no longer in a hurry,' observed Jacques with a wave of his hand. 'Nuts and fungi and nettles and the like.'

'Ah well.' Gerard took a long drink of water. 'So here we are.'

'Twixt somewhere and nowhere.' Jacques lay back on his cloak.

'Well,' I said, 'not nowhere. They must be living somewhere.'

'True,' allowed Jacques, 'some runaway village.'

'How do you mean, runaway village?' I asked, wondering at cottages that could move.

'You seen them I'm sure, a cluster of wooden homes made by escaped serfs, or outlaws.'

'Oh. Not really. Sometimes a serf runs. But they hardly ever get far. One time, though, Count Theobald sent one of ours all the way back from Troyes. Runaways would never manage to set up a home or a village of their own kind.'