'Before dawn? Eustace repeated with a scowl.
'Aye, my lord. He spoke over his shoulder to Oliver who grunted a reply, one forefinger held up. 'About an hour before, so Osmund says.
'How far is Bristol from here?
'Four hours' ride, my lord, on horses like yours. Takes me five on my old horses and half a day with my cart.
Eustace calculated and threw back his second cup of ale with an angry tilt of his head. 'Then we've lost them, he growled. 'I'd give my soul for just one fingernail of the bastard Angevin's luck. He slammed the cup down on the trestle. 'So close, he said bitterly, and held up his forefinger and thumb. 'I might as well be a hundred miles away! He made a sound of pure disgust and glared at Godard. 'Let him skulk in Bristol. He'll have to emerge at some time, and when he does I'll crack him open like a flea. He closed his finger and thumb, clicking the nails together.
'Yes, sir, Godard said diplomatically. 'Would you like to try a bite of my wife's chicken stew?
Eustace declined. 'We have work to do. He thrust to his feet. 'The Angevin whoreson might have escaped by the skin of his teeth, but I can yet singe his tail. He tossed two silver pennies from his pouch on to the trestle. 'Fortunate for you that you entertained the right army, he said, and strode out.
The troop mounted up and rode away. A hot silence descended on the village as the dust began to settle.
'Jesu. Legs suddenly weak, Oliver collapsed at one of the trestles and ran his hands through his hair. He poured himself some of Edith's ale, took a long drink and then laughed with relief and dark amusement.
'What's so funny? Edith's tone was waspish. She had half-expected the alehouse to go up in flames.
'I told him that Henry had gone through three hours since, but it's much nearer to one. If Eustace ran his horses ragged, he might just catch him.
'Well, what was all that about singeing Henry's tail? Godard asked. He took the ale jug from Oliver and poured himself a cup.
The laughter died from Oliver's eyes. 'I wager that he intends to burn and ravage villages beholden to the Earldom of Gloucester. He's fuming with choler and desperate to strike out. He'll loot and torch and then retreat to Oxford to await his next opportunity.
Edith tightened her lips and busied herself clearing the trestles. 'Who cares who rules the country as long as all this wanton waste and destruction stops, she snapped. 'Time and again it is the innocent who suffer for the ambitions of men who dare to call themselves "noble".
Godard cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.
'I agree, Oliver said, 'but I am caught up in it for good or ill. What would you do if another ale-wife appeared and took your home for herself? Would you just walk away with a shrug?
Edith wrinkled her nose and took his point, but she was still none too happy. 'Well, I still say they should compromise their differences. Let Stephen keep the throne, let Henry have it after him and let everyone have the land which was theirs at the time when old King Henry died.
'And beggars might ride, Godard snorted.
'They well might, Oliver said less sceptically. 'Henry has spoken of such a move before. He wants his grandfather's crown but, if necessary, he's willing to outlive Stephen to get it.
'And what about Eustace?
'If you saw Henry and Eustace together, you would know that there is no comparison. Eustace may have blood as royal as Henry's but the similarity ends there. I'd give my life for Henry Plantagenet, but I'd not even consider giving my oath of loyalty to such as Eustace. Neither would most of the barons in the country if the truth were known. Men who are loyal to Stephen will not remain loyal to his son.
'Well, as long as it doesn't touch us here, I'm not bothered. Edith hitched her vast bosom. 'Can't say as I liked him much myself, but with good fortune he won't happen this way again. She stumped off to continue with her tasks.
'Women, Godard said, a trifle uneasily.
Oliver could see him wondering if offence had been taken. He smiled to set him at ease. 'They live by different codes, he said, 'and who can blame them. Often as not when a pot is broken, they are the ones who are left to either mend or sweep up the shards.
'Often as not the pot was thrown at a man's head in the first place, Godard said with a roll of his eyes.
Grinning, very pleased with themselves at having outwitted Eustace, and bonded together in masculine camaraderie, the men went off to inspect the state of Hero's foreleg.
Although improved a little, it was obvious that the stallion would not be fit to be ridden for several days, if not a full week, and then but lightly. Godard offered Oliver the use of his brown cob to reach Bristol and Oliver accepted, intending to set out on the morrow when Eustace would be well out of the vicinity.
He was cleaning his hauberk with a mixture of sand and vinegar and inspecting the rivets for any weak or broken links, when he heard the thud of horse hooves and the jingle of harness. It was too late to bundle up his equipment and thrust it back into the understore. He grabbed an armful of hay, tossed it over the hauberk and went swiftly outside, adopting a crabwise, servile gait, his back slightly stooped.
Catrin stared at him in astonishment from the back of her brown mare. Beside her, Geoffrey FitzMar stared too.
'God's bones, Oliver, what in Christ's name are you doing!
Equally astonished, Oliver straightened and gaped at Catrin and Geoffrey. 'Lying low and keeping my hide intact, he responded, when he could find his voice. 'But I might ask you what in Christ's name you are doing!
Catrin flushed. 'Richard told us Hero was lame and you had taken refuge with Godard. Prince Henry's sent you a re-mount. She indicated the handsome blue-roan stallion that Geoffrey was holding on a lead-rein and, kicking her feet from the stirrups, jumped down from the mare.
Oliver clenched and unclenched his fists, the colour draining from his face to leave him ashen with rage. 'Don't you know how foolish it is to be abroad just now — a lone woman, a single knight and three good horses? he choked. 'You could have been set upon and killed!
She shook her head. 'We saw no one on the road, our worry was for you.
'But you knew I'd be safe with Godard. He jerked his arm in an angry gesture.
'I knew no such thing! Running to him, she set her arms around his neck. Her nails dug into the flesh at his nape. 'You don't understand. I had to know that you were whole.
'Of course I'm whole, he snapped. He was still furious, but the fierceness of her embrace and the tears in her eyes compelled him to put his own arms around her.
She buried her face in the old, hay-burred tunic. 'Twice Louis rode away and left me, she said, her voice muffled by the scratchy wool. 'Then when I sought you in Bristol, you were brought to me at death's door. I don't want to be told by others that you are safe, I need to see it for myself.
She raised her face, uncaring that they were in full public view, and kissed him. Oliver kissed her back, hard, with considerable exasperation, but was aware of a treacherous tenderness overtaking his anger.
'That "seeing for yourself could have meant your own life, he said, giving her a little shake. 'Eustace and his mercenaries are ravaging and burning hereabouts. If they had come upon you and Geoffrey, you'd be butchered corpses by now!
'But they didn't and we're not, she said practically. 'You cannot live your life by the code of "what if. Besides, Eustace would not harm someone who has tended his own father's sickbed.
Oliver shook his head. 'You do not know Eustace. He scowled at Geoffrey. 'Could you not have stopped her?
'Short of binding her hand and foot and bolting her in the cells, no, the knight snorted. 'I tried to reason her out of it, but it was as if I was talking a different language. He gave Oliver a sudden shrewd look from his light blue eyes. 'It was like the time at Wareham when we assaulted the town. Do you remember? You did not care whether I was at your side or not, you were determined to plunge into the thick of the fray?
Oliver glowered but had the grace to nod in acceptance of the point. 'I remember, he said tersely, 'although I would rather forget.
'Are you not pleased to see me and a fine new horse? Catrin gave a little sniff and forced a smile.
'Of course I am, he growled, and gave her another little shake. 'But I'm terrified too. You do not want to lose me, love, but by the same code I do not want to lose you.
They embraced again, this time with more gentleness. He stopped short of asking her to promise that she would not do the like of pursuing him again, for he knew that she would refuse, they would quarrel and both of them would lose. Breaking the embrace, he went to look at the horse that Henry had given to him.
'Where's Rosamund? he asked, as he ran his hands down the animal's sound young legs.
'I left her in Edon's care. She's struck up quite a friendship with her brood.
'Her brood? There was something in Catrin's tone which suggested there were more than the two boys Oliver recalled.
'She's got five, and another one due in the autumn, Catrin said neutrally.
Geoffrey grinned and shrugged. 'I never was much good at pulling up before the finishing line. 'Then you should practise, Catrin said. 'I do, all the time. Another grin.
Catrin tightened her lips and turning her shoulder on him gave her attention to Oliver. 'What do you think of him?
'He's a fine animal. What I cannot understand is why Henry should give him to me.
'His name is Lucifer, Geoffrey said drily. 'All the journey he has been as docile as a lamb, but I seem to remember one of the grooms muttering something about him becoming frisky under a saddle.
Oliver nodded without surprise. He had learned literally never to look gift horses in the mouth when Henry was the benefactor. The Prince liked to appear generous but would not spend good money unless forced. Still, if the stallion was saddle-shy he could be schooled and Oliver was no impatient novice with horses, to be thrown at the first obstacle.
'What's he like without a saddle? Answering his own question, Oliver grabbed the headstall and swung smoothly astride. Lucifer back-kicked and plunged a few times, but once the reins were drawn in tight he settled down. Oliver trotted him around the open space in front of the alehouse. An interested crowd of villagers collected to watch.
Catrin watched too for a while, then quietly disappeared.
Going out to toss scraps into the pig-pen, Edith found her retching into the midden pit, her complexion a gaunt, greenish-white. With an exclamation of concern, Edith put a maternal arm around Catrin's quivering shoulders. 'What's the matter, lass?
'I'm all right, I'm not ill, Catrin gasped, clutching her stomach. 'It's passing now. Tentatively she straightened.
'You're not ill, Edith repeated with scepticism, and placed her large, firm palm on Catrin's brow. 'A mite clammy, but there's no fever, she said with cautious optimism. 'Shall
I fetch that man of yours from his love affair with his new horse?
'No! Catrin said, more sharply than she had intended. Edith eyed her curiously.
'No, she said in a calmer voice. 'I am not ill, but if he thinks I am he will worry. God knows, he was ready to burst because I rode out to find him instead of staying in Bristol.
'Well, it was foolish, you must admit. Taking her arm, Edith drew her towards the alehouse. 'Lord Eustace and his troops wouldn't have stopped to ask questions if they had come across you, and they're not the only brigands on the road by any manner of means. Here, sit you down. She pushed Catrin gently on to a wall-bench and fetched her a small cup of strong, sweet mead. 'Drink this; it will settle your belly.
Catrin took the mead and gratefully sipped. The sweetness was what she needed now. Not only would it settle her stomach, it would help the sudden feeling of weariness in her limbs. She stifled a huge yawn.
Edith studied her thoughtfully. Her shrewd gaze dropped to the hand that Catrin had tucked against her belly. The gesture in itself was protective and the outline showed a slight roundness.
'You are with child! Edith said like an accusation.
Catrin immediately lifted her hand and smoothed her gown so that the gentle swell of her womb was not so obvious. 'I think I might be, she prevaricated, 'but nothing is certain yet.
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