panic yet. He had to remain stable and listen to his trained instincts. He had to wait, putting up with being a prisoner, until the moment for escape was right.
In the meantime, not being able to see through the tight weave of his cloak left him disoriented and edgy. Sounds were muffled too. He tried to walk normally, but he found that he tended to lift his feet higher, in shorter steps, groping his way although George kept a running commentary on what obstacles were ahead of him. With his arms bound to his sides, he felt off balance and clumsy.
Thaddeus pinched him hard. “Rock ahead,” he said.
Noel flinched from the pain, and his temper got away from him. He whirled on the dwarf, yelling, “You damned little twerp! Leave my backside alone!” and kicked out blindly.
His foot connected with Thaddeus. Noel heard a grunt and a yell of fright accompanied by a crackling of crushed weeds as the dwarf went tumbling. George’s laughter rang out through the crisp air.
“Quiet! All of you!” commanded Elena from ahead of them. Her footsteps came rustling back through the weeds and loose shale.
Noel sensed her presence as much as heard the whistling swing of her bow. He dodged blindly, and managed to escape the worst force of the blow. Still, it hurt enough to make him swear.
“Stand still, you!” said Elena. “George, stop that noise and go after your brother.”
Thaddeus moaned from somewhere to Noel’s left. “Kicked me, just like a mule. Broke me leg.”
“Be what ye deserved,” said George without a trace of sympathy. “Get up. Ye ain’t hurt.”
“I could have been. It’s sore bruised. Could be broke.”
There came the sound of a thud, and Thaddeus’s quick yelp.
“I’ll give ye broke. Get on with ye!” said George.
They came scrambling and panting through the scrub. Noel considered making a break for it, but Elena’s hand closed upon his shoulder. “Don’t do that again,” she said in a low voice.
“I’ll do it every time I’m provoked,” said Noel hotly. “Tell him to keep his damned hands to himself.”
Elena drew in a quick breath as though exasperated. “What do you expect? The rules of chivalry? We have our own laws and our own ways. We do not need the iron heel of Byzantium on our necks.”
“Forget the political rhetoric,” said Noel. “I’m talking about treating your prisoners decently-”
“Just havin’ a bit of fun, was all,” said Thaddeus. “And you bein’ our prisoner means we can do as we like with you.”
“Bring him on,” said Elena. “And you, scribe, if you try anything else we’ll slit your throat and leave you here to feed the vultures. We have enough prisoners taken already.”
Noel swallowed his anger and kept silent after that. To discover that the people of this age were just as selfish, backward, petty, and vicious as any other era, including his own, was hardly surprising, but disappointing just the same. He remembered that Trojan had said once that chivalry was more often sung about in troubadour ballads than practiced by knights.
Thinking about Trojan brought a rush of homesickness that he’d never encountered before in all his years of traveling.
Then he caught himself up sharply, angry at his wallow in self-pity. He hoped with all his heart that Trojan’s journey to the muddy battlefield of Agincourt had been a safe one. He hoped that none of his fellow historians had fallen into a trap like his.
Noise ahead drew him from his reflections. He lifted his head, straining to decipher the sounds of goats and horses, people talking, bursts of low laughter, moans of pain, the clank and rattle of activity.
“Hold him here,” said Elena and went on.
Noel stood in place, pretending a docility he was far from feeling. To his left at a distance ran a rushing burble of water. Noel swallowed with difficulty, longing to slake his thirst in the stream. Mingled with the scents of fresh goat and horse droppings, he could smell woodsmoke and the aroma of cake and roasted meat. His stomach growled loudly. He felt hollow enough to eat a five-pound steak with all the trimmings.
“Yani! Demetrius!” Elena’s voice was bugle clear. “Look what I have brought you.”
Noel strained to listen to the murmur of two voices, purposely kept low although Elena’s excited words ran like a mountain stream over the other’s. Then the second voice lifted, revealing a man’s deep tones: “Cut him free, and let us see him.”
A knife cut the cord binding Noel’s arms. He swept off the suffocating cloak in a fury, ruffling his hair, and felt the cool kiss of fresh air with relief. At first the bright sunlight dazzled his eyes. He squinted, putting a hand across them in protection.
By the time his vision adjusted, Elena had walked back within a few feet of him. Beside her stood a man with a bullish neck and shoulders, muscles bulging even in his wide jaws. He towered over Elena, and only the faint red cast to his dark hair and a certain similarity around the eyes spoke of any family resemblance between them. Although he wore hose over legs like tree trunks and short, ankle-high boots, his long, sleeveless jerkin was fashioned from a wolf pelt with the fur still attached to the hide. Its leather lacings strained across his broad chest with every breath he drew.
He was chewing on a haunch of what smelled like roasted kid. Every time he bit off a hunk, hot juices sizzled through the meat. Noel found his gaze locked on the man’s greasy mouth, watching the powerful jaws grind methodically. He swallowed, longing for food, imagining its taste in his own mouth.
“Well?” said Elena impatiently. The breeze blew her hair across her face, and she tossed it back. “Have you nothing to say, Demetrius?”
The man drew the back of his hand across his mouth and tossed the bone to a mongrel dog cringing nearby with its tail tucked low. It snarled and snapped at the prize. Immediately two other dogs appeared. They fought viciously over the food until Demetrius uncoiled a whip from his belt and cracked it at them.
“Get out!” he shouted.
One hound snatched the bone and dashed away. The others slunk after it.
Demetrius’s gaze came back to Noel. His eyes narrowed. “He’s no soldier, no courtier.”
“But he is Byzantine,” she said in frustration. She stared at the man in plain disappointment. “We caught him and brought him in. Otherwise he’d have gone to Maina or even to Monemvasia and sounded the alarm. That is worth something, is it not?”
Demetrius ignored her; his gaze remained fastened on Noel although his mind seemed elsewhere. He belched. “Long run over to the coast. Not much to worry about from a skinny scribe like this. Should have slit his throat rather than bring him here.”
Fresh alarm touched Noel. These people were all too casual about slitting throats. He took a step forward. “Just a-”
George whipped a dagger point to Noel’s stomach. Without a word, he shook his head once. His eyes, weary, a touch cynical, and very serious, stared up into Noel’s from his craggy, ill-proportioned face.
“Don’t need another mouth,” said Demetrius. “Too many to feed now. Dogs hungry.”
“But-”
“Enough, Elena,” he said sharply. “Bring anything for the treasury?”
She glared at him. “I dislike robbing corpses!”
“No different than robbing live ones. You-”
“Oh, you are hopeless,” she said, walking back and forth with her hands on her hips. She kicked at a pebble. “Where is Sir Magnin? Has any word come yet about how he fared with the castle?”
Demetrius gave her a slow, sly grin. “Sir Magnin, eh? You talked us into this all because of your precious Sir Magnin.” He gripped her arm. “What if he doesn’t take the castle, eh? What if he dies with an arrow in his throat?”
She yanked free. “Why should I care?” she said loftily. “If he fails, then we have no Frank possessing Mistra. The Byzantines will send another foreign kephale from Constantinople, and we’ll be no better off-”
“We can catch the next one too,” said Demetrius, still grinning, “and ransom him like this one.”
“You should wait until you have word from Sir Magnin before you send any independent ransom demands to Constantinople,” she said sharply. “He planned this well, and it is to our advantage to help him.”
Demetrius spat. “That gasmoule half-breed. Why should I take his orders?”
“Because, brother,” said a youth, walking up to join Elena and Demetrius, “he is more clever than you. As long as he shares his spoils and gold, I don’t mind taking his orders. What have you found today, little Elena?”
