soft plod of the horses’ hooves on the damp turf and breathed the warm air deep. As the sun rose and the greenwood warmed, he began to sweat in his heavy robes. He allowed himself to drop a little farther behind the others, and noticed that the two young Welshmen had likewise fallen behind the leaders.
The search has begun, thought Tuck.
Soon the others were some distance ahead. Tuck picked up a little speed and drew up even with the Welshmen. “Be about your business, lads,” he said as he passed by them. “I’ll go ahead and keep watch and give a shout if Hugh or his men come back this way.”
Ifor and Brocmael stopped then, and Tuck rode on, still taking his time, keeping his eye on Bran and Earl Hugh and the others now fading into the dappled shadow of the trail far ahead. When he had put enough distance between himself and the two behind him, the friar reined his mount to a stop and waited, listening. He heard only the light flutter of the breeze lifting the leaves of the upper branches and the tiny tick and click of beetles in the long grass.
He had almost decided that Hugh and the others had forgotten about them when he heard the sound of returning hoofbeats. In a moment, he saw two horses emerge from the shadowed pathway ahead. The earl had sent his knights back to see what had happened to the stragglers.
Glancing quickly behind him, Tuck searched for a sign of his two young comrades, but saw nothing. “Hurry, lads,” he muttered between his teeth. “The wolf ’s pups are nosing about.”
Then, as the two Ffreinc knights neared, Tuck squirmed ungracefully from the saddle and, stooping to the right foreleg of his mount, lifted the animal’s leg and began examining the hoof. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, but he made as if the beast might have picked up a stone or a thorn. As the two hailed him in French, he let them see him digging at the underside of the hoof with his fingers. One of the knights directed a question at him as much as to say, “What goes here?”
“Mon cheval est . . .” Tuck began. He pretended not to know the word for lame, or limping either, so just shrugged and indicated the hoof. The two exchanged a word, and then the second knight dismounted and crossed to where he stood. He bent and raised the hoof to examine it. Tuck stole a quick glance behind; the two tardy Welshmen were nowhere in sight. Sending up a prayer for them to hurry, he cleared his throat and laid his finger to the hoof in the huntsman’s hand, pointing to a place where he had been digging with his finger. “Une pierre,” he said. That the animal had picked up a pebble was perhaps the most likely explanation, and the knight seemed happy with that.
“Boiteux?” he asked.
Tuck shrugged and smiled his incomprehension. The knight released the hoof and took hold of the bridle, and walked the animal in a circle around him, studying the leg all the while. Finally, satisfied that whatever had been wrong was no longer troubling the beast, he handed the reins back to Tuck, saying, “Pendre seile.”
Tuck took his time gathering his bishop’s skirts and, with the help of the knight to boost him, fought his way back onto the high horse. Taking up the reins once more, he heard the sound of hoof-beats thudding on the trail behind. He turned in the saddle to see Ifor and Brocmael trotting towards them. Tuck hailed them and, satisfied now that the stragglers were all together once more, the Ffreinc knights led them up the game run to rejoin the others.
They soon came to a small clearing where Count Rexindo and Earl Hugh were waiting. At that moment, the hounds gave voice. “La chasse commence!” cried the earl and, lashing his horse, galloped away, followed by his knights.
Bran wheeled his mount but lingered a moment to ask, “Success?”
“Just as we planned, my lord,” replied Ifor.
Brocmael made a furtive gesture, indicating the empty lance holder attached to his saddle, and said, “Never fear; we were not seen.”
“Well done,” said Bran. “Now we hunt, and pray we sight the game before our beefy host. Nothing would please me more than to steal the prize from under Hugh’s long Ffreinc nose.”
CHAPTER 17
Three days of hunting from earliest daylight to evening dusk, and