utterance that might have been a squeak. He ran to the bell mounted on the pole in the middle of the street and rang it five times, then bolted up the main street toward the manor house.
“Peculiar man,” Hadrian remarked, stopping his horse at the well and, in turn, halting the whole party.
“I think you scared him,” Royce said.
Hadrian glanced back at the elves sitting in a perfect line on their great white stallions in their gleaming gold armor, the center one holding aloft a ten-foot pole with a long blue and gold streamer flapping from it. “Yeah, it was probably me.”
The two continued to watch the man run. He appeared only as tall as an outstretched thumb, but Hadrian could still hear his feet slapping the dirt.
“Know him?” Royce asked.
Hadrian shook his head.
“What’s the bell for?” Royce asked.
“Emergencies, fires, the hue and cry-that sort of thing.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t see a fire.”
“Are we stopping here?” Myron asked. He and Mauvin sat on their mounts just behind the elves and just before the wagon. “The ladies want to know.”
“Might as well. I sort of planned to ride up to the manor to announce ourselves but… I think that’s being taken care of.”
He dismounted, letting his horse drink from the trough. The others got down as well, including Arista and Modina-the empress still wrapped in her blanket. They left the sleeping girls wrapped up in their covers.
Hadrian was just about to rap on the bakery’s door when a crowd of people began filing into the village, following the cow path from the fields. They carried rakes over their heads and trotted into the street, stopping the moment they saw them. Hadrian recognized most of the faces: Osgar the reeve, Harbert the tailor, Algar the woodworker, and Wilfred the carter.
“Haddy!” Armigil shouted. The old brew mistress pushed her way through. Her broad hips cut a swath through the crowd. “How did ya-What aire ya doin’ ’ere, lad? And what ’ave you brought with ya?”
“I-” was all he got out before she went on.
“Never ya mind answering. Ya needs to be gone. Take the lot of ya and go!”
“You need to work on your manners, dear,” Hadrian told her. “The last time I came to town, you hit me, and now-”
“Ya don’t understand, lad. Things have changed. There’s no time to explain. You need to get out of here. His lairdship caught the storm after you left last time.”
“Haddy?” Dunstan the baker and his wife approached, staring at him in disbelief. They were both dressed in worn wool, covered in speckles of mud, and their bare feet and legs were caked with drying earth.
“How are you, Dun?” Hadrian asked. “What are you doing in the field?”
“Plowing,” he replied dully as he stared at the strangers on his street. “Well, trying to. Things have warmed up a lot, but the ground’s still not quite soft enough.”
“Plowing? You’re a baker.”
“We bake at night.”
“When do you sleep, then?”
“Quit yer yammering and go, shoo! Away with ya!” Armigil shouted, waving at him as if he were a cow in her vegetable garden. “Haddy, you don’t understand. If they find you here-”
“That’s right!” Dunstan agreed, as if he suddenly woke from a dream. “You need to go. If Luret sees you-”
“Luret? The envoy? He’s still here?”
“He never left,” Osgar said.
“He charged Lord Baldwin with disloyalty,” Wilfred the carter put in.
“Siward died in the fightin’,” Armigil said sadly. “Luret locked up poor old Baldwin in his own dungeon, and that’s why you and yer friends need to get!”
“Too late,” Royce said, looking down the road toward the manor house. “A line of men are marching down the hill.”
“Who are they? Imperial troops?” Hadrian asked.
“Looks like it. They’re wearing uniforms,” Royce said.
“What’s going on?” Arista asked, coming forward. She beamed a smile at Dunstan and Arbor.
“Oh, Emma!” Arbor spoke to her with a fearful tone but said nothing more. Arista appeared puzzled for a moment and then laughed.
“Oh dear,” Armigil went on when she noticed the wagon, where Allie and Mercedes were stretching and yawning. A sorrowful expression came over the brew mistress. “Ye got wee ones with ya too?”
“Is it too late to hide them?” Arbor asked.
“They can see us from there,” Osgar answered.
Mauvin stepped up near Royce, peering up the road at the small figures coming down the hill. “How many do you count?”
“Twelve,” Royce replied, “including Luret.”
“Twelve?” Mauvin said, surprised. “Seriously?”
Royce shrugged. “Maybe the fella that ran up there mentioned we had women and children.”
“But twelve?”
“Eleven, really.”
Mauvin rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest in disgust as he watched them approach.
“So Luret has you all working in the fields?” Hadrian asked as he dismounted and tied up his horse.
“Are you daft man?” Armigil shouted. “What ere you makin’ conversation fer? They’re coming to arrest ya-if you’re lucky, that is! They’ll haul you to the dungeon, beat you, starve you, and likely torture you. That Luret is not right in the head.”
Mince and the boys took it upon themselves to gather the horses and tie them to the wagon, taking time to pause and nod politely to the townspeople.
They soon heard the stomp of feet as the soldiers from the manor house marched at them in an even rhythm. They moved in a two-line formation of six men in back and five in front. They wore chain mail and flat helms. Those in front carried spears, those in the rear, crossbows. Luret rode behind them on a pale speckled mare with a black face and one white-circled eye. Luret looked much the same as he had the last time Hadrian had seen him. The man still had hawkish features and brutal eyes. His attire, however, had improved. He wore a thick brocade tunic along with a velvet cape and handsome long gloves neatly embroidered with chevrons that ran up his wrists. His legs were covered in opaque hose, and his feet covered by leather shoes with brass buckles, which caught what remained of the setting sun.
“Aha! The blacksmith’s son!” Luret exclaimed the moment he saw Hadrian’s face clearly. “Back to claim your inheritance? Or have you run out of places to hide? And who is this rabble?” He smirked, and waved his hand in the air. “Outlaws the lot of you, I’m sure.” He paused a moment as he took notice of the elves, but his sight fell back to Hadrian again. “You’ve brought them here to roost, eh? Think you can hide out amongst your old friends?” He pointed at Royce. “Oh yes, I remember you, and you too.” He looked at Arista. “I don’t think they will be quite so quick to take you in this time, not after the beating I gave them.” He looked at Dunstan, who stared down at his own feet. “They learned their lesson about harboring fugitives. Now it’s time for you to learn a lesson too. Arrest the lot of them. I want chains on these two.” He pointed at Hadrian and Royce.
The soldiers managed only one step forward before Hadrian drew his swords. The rest followed his lead. To his left, Degan stepped up, and beside him Magnus held his hammer. To his right the elves advanced to stand in front of Royce, causing him to sigh. Even the boys drew daggers, except for Kine and Mince, who did not have any, but they put up their fists, nonetheless.
The soldiers hesitated. Luret drummed his fingers on his saddle horn. “I said arrest them!”
One of the soldiers near Royce jabbed forward with his spear. The nearest elf severed the metal tip from the shaft. The guard backed up, holding the wooden staff.
None of the others moved.
Luret’s face reddened. “You are defying arrest! You are challenging an imperial envoy and duly appointed
