No wonder Iola seemed smitten with him.
“Yes, Majesty.”
“Lieutenant Butus has a report of a band of men riding in the area. How far did you say, Lieutenant?”
“About half a league, Majesty.”
“We're going to find them before they cause any more damage. Please have Lightning brought over from the pasture.”
Captain Drathan saluted and jogged away, shouting orders. The villagers watched as the soldiers assembled in their little square. Elser walked over from the barn raising.
“Trouble, Majesty?” he asked.
“I don't know yet. We're going to find out.”
Josey looked down at her clothes. Though she wasn't dressed for riding, she couldn't take the time to change. They needed to catch these riders before they slipped away. The village headman backed away as a soldier led Josey's horse over. She put her foot in the stirrup and climbed up, relieved to see her bodyguard was likewise mounting.
Captain Drathan rode over. “We have thirty-seven men here, Majesty. I could send for more.”
“No. We'll ride with what we have. Elser, can you send someone to the camp and tell them where we've gone?”
As Elser went to find a runner, they rode out at a swift canter, Lieutenant Butus leading the way. They followed a dirt path to the end of the adjacent fields, but then it was a bumpy ride across-of course-more mud. Riding more east than south, they came upon a line of trees running perpendicular to their course and found a raised road running along the arbor. Beyond were more mud flats that extended to the foot of some low hills in the distance.
Lieutenant Butus pointed to a stand of trees bordering the flats. “That's where they were seen, Majesty. They would have had to cross this ground. So if we-”
“There!” Captain Drathan flung up his hand.
Josey saw them, too, a party of ten horsemen making their way across the eastern edge of the flats. Like Butus had reported, they flew no colors, but she could pick out the gleam of armor even from this distance. “I want them stopped!” she shouted, and urged Lightning into a gallop.
The clamor of hoofbeats and jangling chainmail filled Josey's ears as she crouched over Lightning's neck. For a moment, she considered the wisdom of her actions. She had little idea what they were riding into, whether the men ahead had friends in the area. Months ago she had fended off multiple attempts on her life, but after the long, slow journey from Othir she longed for some excitement.
They approached the end of the arbor, and suddenly the path vanished in a wide patch of frozen mud. Josey tried to pull up, but Lightning had too much momentum to stop. As her steed's hooves struck the slick ice, Josey was hit by the sickening feeling of weightlessness. Lightning floundered, and they would have fallen over except that the horse slid into a patch of knee-deep snow. Josey gulped as the world righted itself, hardly believing she had kept her seat. The others, seeing her folly, rode around the icy patch.
Captain Drathan's face went white as the snow as he reined in close to her. “Majesty! Are you-?”
Josey took a breath. “I'm fine. Really.” She bent over to see if Lightning was all right. The stallion's legs quivered, but otherwise he appeared hale and healthy.
Josey climbed down from her horse, not wanting to risk an injury to him. One of her soldiers dismounted and gave up his steed. While Josey climbed up, her bodyguard continued forward. She rode at the rear across the ground, which was a mash of mud and ice. The stirrups were too long for her, forcing her to cling to the horse's belly with her thighs. She couldn't see the armed riders anywhere. Just as she started cursing in her head, Captain Drathan shouted.
“In the name of Josephine, Empress of Nimea, halt where you stand!”
Josey couldn't see anything through the crowd of tall soldiers, but as they slowed she was able to wend through their ranks. The armed riders had gathered across a small meadow. She could see right away by their gleaming mail and the quality of their steeds that they were men of means and not brigands. All wore great helms that hid their features. Josey imagined what they must look like to the defenseless villagers, riding in with swords swinging. Like monsters. She kneed her mount forward as her bodyguard spread out to surround the men.
The armed riders watched them warily. One of the men in chainmail urged his mount forward, and thirty-six swords cleared their scabbards. The riders started for their weapons, too, but the man who had come forward stopped them with an upraised fist.
“Whoever you are,” he said, “you had better have a good reason for stopping us.”
“We do.” Captain Drathan nodded to Josey. “Your empress demands it. Now get down off your horses before we are forced to lay hands upon you.”
Josey swallowed as all the riders turned their heads to look at her. Then their leader slid down from his mount. He reached up and pulled off his helmet to reveal a tan, weathered face. His sweaty gray hair was matted to his pate. Holding his helmet under his arm, he lowered himself to one knee, and his men did likewise.
“Who are you?” Josey asked. “Where are you from?”
The leader looked at her and frowned. His eyes were steel-blue under bushy black brows. “I am Gerak Therbold, lord of Aquos.”
Josey had heard of that territory, but knew almost nothing about it. “Where are you going with these men, Lord Therbold? You're armed as if for battle.”
“I am going to defend my lands, Highness,” he replied without hesitation.
Josey's borrowed horse pranced in a circle, and she had to turn around to keep facing the lord. “Defend them from whom, my lord?”
“It is a private matter, Highness. I would prefer to deal with it on my own.”
Josey clamped her legs around the horse and jerked the reins sharply to get it to stand still, but with little effect. “Like you and your ilk have dealt with the local villagers? I have seen the devastation wrought by your private little war, my lord. I aim to put an end to it. Now tell me. Who were you going to fight?”
Lord Therbold's mouth twitched, and Josey thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he said, “Count Sarrow of Farridon. His men have been pillaging our eastern border since last spring. Two days ago we received a message from Hafsax, one of my larger fiefs, that Sarrow was moving there in force. My son took a party of men to prevent this, but I haven't had word from him since.”
Josey took a deep breath. Her anger was dwindling, against her will. “And you are going to find your son, my lord?”
“I am, Highness. By the grace of the Prophet.”
“Stand up, Lord Therbold. How far is Hafsax?”
The man climbed to his feet. “Three leagues from here, Highness. As the crow flies.”
Josey nodded to Captain Drathan. “We will accompany Lord Therbold on his mission. Send someone back to the lord general for additional men. And have Master Hirsch come with them.”
While the captain selected a messenger, Lord Therbold and his men remounted with Josey's permission. Therbold looked unsure, but surrounded by her bodyguard, he didn't have much choice in the matter.
“Lead the way, my lord,” she said, and flinched at the steel in her own voice.
With a bark to his retainers, the nobleman kicked his steed and took off through the cold mud. They rode for the better part of a candlemark, over countryside that became rougher and hillier as they progressed. The road was little more than a dirt path riddled with ruts and frozen puddles. Josey shifted back and forth trying to find a comfortable position in this saddle, but it was proving a futile endeavor. The borrowed seat was killing her.
“Are you aware,” she said to Lord Therbold, who had deigned to ride beside her, though he hardly spoke at all, “that my army has been traveling through your lands for more than a sennight?”
“From what I've heard, Highness, it isn't much of an army.”
He bent his stiff neck. “My apologies, Highness. If I have been remiss in my hospitality, pray excuse me.”
