Sit. Good. Freeman, I am taking my brother at his word and trusting that you will hold your tongue about anything discussed here.’
Christopher nodded silently.
‘I am running low on supplies,’ said Alberon. ‘As it stands, we have barely enough for the next two days, and the Lord Razi will need a good portion of that in order to see him through his ten days’ journey home.’
‘Seventeen,’ said Wynter. ‘If one pushes one’s horse and takes no diversion it should take a minimum of seventeen days to get from the palace to here.’
Alberon looked at her with fond admiration, and she felt like smacking him. Was it really such an accomplishment that she could count?
‘Razi will make use of my maps, sis. They will guide him through the summer passes to the north of the palace and get him home in just under ten days. However, there is barely enough scrub up there to keep a rabbit alive, and I will need to provision him and his party for the full ten days’ travel. I myself will take my personal guard and follow him. We are too poorly provisioned to travel the same route, so we will ride in parallel, lower down the slopes. The going is slower there, but the hunting better and I will have a chance of feeding my men on the trail. Razi will arrive home about five days in advance of us. That should give him ample time to ease my father’s fears and ensure my safe reception. After that,’ Alberon spread his hands and grinned, ‘it is in the hands of God.’
‘I would say it is in the hands of your father,’ commented Christopher, ‘and he’s a mite more formidable than God, if you ask me.’
The Prince was not accustomed to commoners chiming in with witticisms, and he regarded Christopher as if he were some amazing talking dog. Razi ducked his head, smiling. Christopher’s dimples creased the corners of his mouth, and Wynter sighed. Alberon would get used to him eventually – or hit him; it all depended on the depths of his royal patience.
‘Your supplies have been cut off, I presume?’ she asked.
Alberon nodded. ‘Until recently we have been in regular receipt of small shipments. No one came to us, of course, but my provisioners would go down into the valleys and meet with my supporters. The men from the last trip have not yet returned.’
‘The poor fellow we found dying by the river. You suspect he was one of these provisioners?’
‘I can think of nothing more likely.’
‘You fear the others have been taken?’
‘Yes, Wyn, I do.’
Wynter’s belly knotted at the thought. Those poor men. ‘They will betray you, Albi,’ she said softly. ‘They may not want to, but they will. The King has employed inquisitors. No one can withstand their torture for long.’
‘That fellow Isaac did,’ murmured Christopher. ‘He endured an inhuman degree of torment.’ Wynter shut her eyes at the terrible memory of it. He was protecting Mary, she thought.
Alberon cleared his throat. ‘My provisioners are already three days overdue,’ he said.
Three days!
‘You must move camp!’ cried Wynter. ‘You must do so now! They may already have given you away!’
‘I could not relocate till now, sis. I needed the Loups-Garous to find me. But yes,’ he drummed his fingers and gazed out the door, ‘I must move.’
‘And you must feed your men,’ observed Christopher.
‘Aye,’ breathed Alberon. ‘I must feed those men who accompany me back to the palace, as well as those I shall leave behind. I will order the majority of my men to remain in camp. I cannot allow them to return to their homes before I have secured my father’s approval. They would be strung up and dead before the words long live the King had left their lips. I need to keep them fed and watered for the time it takes for all of us to get home and ensure their safety.’
‘How many in all?’
‘The Combermen and Midlanders are leaving tomorrow, so I reckon it at—’
‘The Lady Mary is not fit to travel,’ interrupted Razi sharply.
‘Well, neither is she fit to stay!’ said Alberon. ‘Would you have her break her waters here? With a bevy of soldiers as her midwives?’ He snorted in amusement at the thought. ‘My men would die of flusterment; they wouldn’t have an idea what to do. No, there is naught I can do for the poor thing. Her fate is out of my hands; she will have to go back with her priest.’