they gave up the meeting point for Prince Alberon’s provisioners. When next the Prince’s men arrived to collect supplies, the King’s soldiers took them.’
‘Those poor men,’ whispered Wynter. ‘They were already overdue when we arrived in Alberon’s camp.’
‘I doubt they were tortured, Protector Lady. The King’s men had orders to send them back to the Prince carrying a message from his Majesty offering forgiveness and a chance to parley.’
‘It is a trap?’ asked Razi.
Pritchard nodded. ‘I suspect so, my Lord. But I am days late finding these things out. The King has already left for his rendezvous, and though I race to warn the Prince, I fear he may already have departed his camp and moved beyond my reach.’
‘Alberon . . .’ breathed Wynter.
‘It’s possible the Prince did not receive the King’s message,’ said Christopher. ‘He certainly hadn’t by the time we left camp, and he was due to leave the very next day. It’s possible that he’s right at this moment travelling the slopes below us as we planned, heading home to the palace.’
‘If that is the case, my Lord Razi must get to the palace before him,’ said Pritchard. ‘Otherwise it will look as though the Prince is attempting a coup while the King is away. You must return and convince all parties involved to hold fire until legitimate parley has been established.’
‘It is useless us returning to the palace if the Prince is blithely heading to a rendezvous elsewhere!’ cried Wynter.
‘Perhaps we should all return to the camp,’ said Christopher.
‘Where is the King planning on meeting the Prince?’ asked Razi.
Pritchard shook his head. ‘His Majesty took off with a tiny entourage of men, but told no one of his destination. There have been reports of a camp settled by the Chér Ford. But I do not know for certain. I had to leave before I could confirm the sightings. Though a royal pennant was reported, I can’t confirm that it is the King; it could be just rumours.’
The Chér Ford. Wynter knew of it. Silted over with treacherous mud, its ferry house a ruin, the ford had not been used by travellers for generations. It was deep in the remote woods, and was three days’ journey from the palace. If Alberon had received the King’s message and had decided to act on it, rather than follow their plan to return home, he would almost be there by now. She had no doubt he would be riding into a trap.
‘You must go, Lord Andrew!’ she cried, pushing Pritchard to his horse. ‘You must continue to Alberon’s camp and try and convey your message to him! You must fly!’
Christopher and Sól handed Pritchard his weapons and he leapt onto his horse.
‘What will you do?’ he shouted, holding the animal in place. They had no answer for him. ‘Get yourselves back to the palace! Keep the Lord Razi safe and wait for news.’ And with a brief, frowning look of despair he pulled his horse around and galloped back onto the trail.
Christopher watched Pritchard rapidly disappear from view. ‘I suppose it’s useless offering my opinion,’ he said.
‘Unless it differs from your usual suggestion that we leave this mess behind and head to the Moroccos,’ said Wynter.
‘It doesn’t have to be the Moroccos,’ he said. ‘Anywhere would do.’
Wynter smiled sadly at him, and he sighed. ‘Come on, Sól. Let’s get the horses, and call Boro in from his hunt.’
‘Huh,’ grunted Sólmundr as they turned to go. ‘You better explain to me that man or it danger that I get cranky.’
The two men began to walk away.
‘Thank you, Christopher,’ called Wynter, not really wanting him to leave without him having had his say.
Christopher paused. He turned back. His eyes flitted briefly to Razi. ‘This is his chance, you know,’ he said. ‘It don’t matter what they want, they can’t make use of him now. He could be free, if you let him walk away. He could be free of the lot of them and we could all start afresh.’
He stood for a moment, waiting for her reply, and when she couldn’t give him one he nodded and turned away again. Wynter had the horrible feeling he was turning away for good.
‘Christopher!’ she cried.
He glanced back. ‘Hold your peace, woman,’ he said softly. ‘I’m only off to get the horses.’
They smiled, each understanding the other, then, with a last glance at Razi, Christopher headed off to do his job.
‘They delivered a man’s head in a sack?’ whispered Razi.