away in towers.
Elena, however, made him think of Diana, goddess of the hunt. In his mind he reclothed her according to the style of the ancients: a softly draped chiton in purest white, bow arm and right breast bare, standing in a chariot drawn by prancing stallions…
Only right now, she was hunting him. He’d better keep his mind on saving himself.
“Look,” he said, spreading out his hands to indicate peaceful intent. “I’m a-a pilgrim, a traveler. I’m on my way to Constantinople, and I-”
She spat at him. “Liar! I know your Byzantine tricks. You will say anything, do anything to save your pathetic skin. Last night we showed you that we want none of you here!”
“I had no part in the battle-”
“Why not? Did you scuttle for cover at the first charge?” she asked with scorn that was like the rake of fingernails. “Are you a pilgrim, or perhaps a scribe following at Lord Theodore’s heels like a trained dog to write his letters for him?”
Thaddeus barked and howled, throwing himself upon the ground and rolling about.
Hot-cheeked, Noel made no answer. She was dangerous in this mood. The wrong word from him could send an arrow flying to his chest. If he was going to get out of this situation, he’d better make them understand that he was no part of what happened last night.
“This… Theodore you mention,” he said carefully, “is a stranger to me. I am a traveler alone. I-”
“No one is stupid enough to come through our mountains alone,” she said with a harsh laugh. “Have you not heard of the Milengi? Do you not fear us?”
He didn’t answer. He’d never heard of the Milengi. Right now his fingers were itching to access the memory store of his LOC and get some answers, but he had to wait.
“The whole Peloponnese fears our tribe!” she boasted. “And Taygetus is ours. You cannot travel here without our permission.”
“Then I beg your pardon,” said Noel, although it was hard to force the apology from his mouth. Own the whole mountain range indeed. “How do I get permission? It’s important that I reach the city of-”
“Silence! We are not stupid. We cannot be fooled by such an obvious lie.”
“I’m not lying!” he shouted back. “George tells me I’m a good month’s journey off my destination. So I’m lost. That’s all. I got caught in last night’s mess by accident. I am alone.”
She studied him a moment, and the contempt deepened in her gaze. “You are not only a liar, but a coward as well. And this is the kind of man that is sent to rule over us. Hah! You are as pathetic as your master. If you think you can mew about being lost and have us believe that, you must think again, Byzantine. You will be taken to our camp, where you will join your wretched companions. What will they think about your attempt to desert them, eh?”
Snapping her fingers, she said, “George, Thaddeus, quickly!”
Alarmed, Noel spun around to face the dwarfs who came at his back. Thaddeus swung at him with his dagger. Noel feinted, engaging with a swiftness that struck sparks between the two blades, and sent the dwarf’s weapon spinning through the air. It was a trick Noel had learned from a seasoned Roman centurion on one of his past travels. He swung to deal with George, but from behind him Elena snatched a cloak off the nearest corpse and flung it over Noel’s head. Blinded by the garment, Noel struggled to yank it off, but before he could succeed, she pinned his arms in a bear hug. She was stronger than she looked. Cursing himself for letting her get behind him, Noel thrust his foot behind Elena’s and nearly succeeded in tripping the girl, who was shouting for the dwarfs to help her.
Noel whipped around, throwing Elena off balance. He broke her grip and freed one arm. Twisting sharply, he shoved her away from him and was pulling the cloak off his head when she kicked him hard in the groin.
The resultant pain was like an explosion. Choking, he doubled over and they swarmed him. While he wheezed, struggling to regain his strength, his three opponents succeeded in binding a cord about his arms and chest, leaving him semi-helpless and completely blind in the suffocating folds of his cloak.
“Now,” said Elena breathlessly, her voice hard with determination. “We take him to camp and put him with the rest of the Byzantine dogs.”
“No,” said Noel furiously, his voice muffled within the cloak. The smell of old sweat and blood nearly choked him. “Please, you must listen to me. My uncle is a cloth merchant, a dyer. He sent me here in search of alum.”
“Get him moving,” said Elena, not listening. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”
“Look, you don’t understand,” said Noel in rising desperation. “I don’t belong-”
Something narrow and hard walloped him across the ribs, and he yelped. Once the agony stopped pulsing through him, and he could catch his breath again, he suspected she had hit him with her bow. His temper burned, but even as*he spun clumsily around, blinded and disoriented beneath the cloak, he had no way to express it, no way to reach her. And a cautious corner of his brain warned him that she might kick him again if he tried anything. The lady played dirty.
Jeering, the dwarfs spun him around and around until he staggered with dizziness.
“You will be quiet,” said Elena, “and you will give us no trouble. One quick push and you break your neck falling down the mountain. Understand?”
He was an observer, not a participant. He had no part in the events happening here. He could not afford to tamper with history, not in the slightest way. But he vowed that as soon as his hands were free he was going to put them around this little amazon’s pretty neck.
“Do you understand?” she repeated.
“Go to hell.”
“He understands,” said George.
The dwarfs laughed merrily, and Elena laughed with them.
“Move him along,” she said. “When Sir Magnin comes, we can tell him that not one whoreson got away.”
She sounded far too pleased with herself. Caught by a woman and two dwarfs as easily as a greenhorn, thought Noel. Not only was his pride and body bruised, but he’d already flunked his training in how to avoid capture, arrest, and seizure.
Training class, he thought in exasperation, didn’t cover female Greek bandits.
CHAPTER 3
By the time they reached the camp hidden somewhere upon the craggy sides of Mt. Taygetus, Noel was winded, hot, and furious. His muscles ached from tension, for walking blind over rough terrain made him irrationally certain that each step was going to send him plunging over a precipice to his death.
The dwarfs flanked him on either side. George tapped him or tugged at the hem of his tunic to give him guidance signals. Thaddeus’s signals were all painful pinches on his thigh. Noel vowed that as soon as he got free of his bonds he was going to kick Thaddeus off the mountain.
The rocks and bracken left him bruised and scratched. Soon he was limping on his bare foot. How, he wondered desperately, had he managed to lose one sandal in the time stream?
And what the hell did it matter, considering the trouble he now found himself in? He had to get away from these people and consult his LOC’s data banks. His observations so far told him he was somewhere between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. But three hundred years of latitude wasn’t precise enough. He must know exactly when he was so he could reprogram the LOC for an emergency return.
A sour bubble of fear rose to his mouth. He thought of going back through the anomaly that had cast him here, of experiencing that agony, that terrible void, and he broke out into a cold sweat.
There had been too many tests for him to believe the equipment at fault. That made Tchielskov’s absence suddenly suspicious, although Noel hated to believe the old man capable of treachery.
But if it was sabotage and his destination had been deliberately altered, would his return capability have been tampered with also?
The thoughts raced through his mind until they half maddened him. He forced himself to calm down, to not
