will keep you with us until Brittany is ours, lest you take it into your head to inform the king.” He took a step closer, placing his hand on his sword. “The real question is, must I put you in chains, or will the promise of killing your father be enough to keep you in line?”
Maraud stared into Pierre’s cruel face. He did not care about his father’s safety, but he did care about his country. “Threats against my father will be enough. You have no need of chains.” He would stay long enough to learn exactly what d’Albret was up to. Then he would do everything in his power to stop it.
Chapter 76
Sybella
We wait among the trees until Rohan’s supply wagon comes into view. The cart has a driver and two mounted guards. A lark sounds nearby. A moment later, a small silent missile from Yannic’s slingshot strikes the driver of the cart in the temple. He keels over, so quiet and sudden that the other horsemen keep riding before they realize he is no longer steering. Finally one of them glances over his shoulder. “Now what, Remy?”
When Remy doesn’t answer, the man returns to the wagon and peers down at his slumped companion. “How much did Remy have to drink last night?”
As the guard stands there pondering how drunk Remy might be, another silent missile emerges from the trees, this one striking his horse in its flank. It rears up in startled surprise, nearly throwing its rider, as it kicks and bucks, then bolts down the road.
The second mounted soldier calls out after the other, then quickly swings his horse around, his hand going for his sword as he rides back to the cart to see what is going on. Yannic sends a third missile out, this time hitting the horse in the shoulder, eliciting a similar reaction.
The sharp pebbles were Aeva’s idea. They surprise the horses, startle them much as a bee might, but do no lasting harm. We spent an hour debating the merits of hurting the horse or killing the man. In the end, Aeva assured us the effect on the horses would be both brief and forgettable. Since she knows more about horseflesh than the rest of us, we bowed to her judgment. It was much preferable to leaving a trail of bodies behind.
The rest of us emerge from our hiding places, each grabbing a small barrel and stuffing it into a sack, then we make a clumsy, obvious trail leading back to the castle. Better to let Rohan’s men think Marshal Rieux stole his powder and ensure no thoughts of hidden resistance or sabotage enter their minds.
Once we have stashed the powder, Beast brushes off his hands. “And now,” he says, “it’s time we go see if anyone from Marshal Rieux’s garrison has ventured out to meet with us.”
* * *
Beast leaves nothing to chance and sends two of his men ahead to be certain the message hasn’t gone astray and our proposed meeting place been compromised. They return shortly with news that all is clear and we proceed to the menhir that lies just south of the castle.
The menhir is one of the oldest sites in Brittany where standing stones mark the passages of the old nine gods. This one in particular is sacred to Arduinna. Small offerings are propped against the two vertical stones, small bundles of the last of the harvest’s wheat, now dried and brown. A small egg, cracked and sucked dry by some wild creature, a green ribbon faded to almost yellow from its days out in the sun. There is no shortage of maids, young or old, beseeching Saint Arduinna for protection.
We dismount to go forward on foot, then hang back at the edge of the trees, waiting. Just as I am counting heartbeats to be certain we are still alone, a rustling reaches my ears.
“Hold! Do not move. Any of you.” A voice comes from the trees off to the left.
I glance at Beast and reach for one of my rondelles.
“And, Arduinnite!” the voice calls again. “Do not even think of reaching for your bow. We have four arrows trained on you even as I speak.”
Aeva cuts an annoyed look Beast’s way. “I thought your scouts said it was clear.”
He shrugs, embarrassed. “And I thought you could hear someone coming from twenty paces.”
“Hush!” I tell them both. “That voice is—”
“Beast! Is that you?”
“Ismae!” Joy mingles with disbelief. “I’m turning around now, and if you shoot me,