The rest of them got to trussing the boar’s legs together, their efforts punctuated by their grunts and the solid chonk of sharp blades hitting wood as the trio by the tree chopped down a few of the straighter branches.
There was the faintest disturbance of foliage behind him before the warm gust of a horse’s breath heated Hamish’s neck. He twisted to give his horse’s muzzle an affectionate rub and moved on to check her saddle. “Soon, lass.” Over the mare’s back, Hamish caught the steward glaring at him from atop his horse. “Aye, Lyall? What is it now?”
Those pale blue eyes grew sharp and the man’s lip quivered in derision. They both knew he’d only meant to visit the village to check on the damage done to Ewan’s fences, not go gallivanting into the woods after the beast responsible. “It seems that his highness has forgotten that the ambassador is to arrive today. And that her Majesty expressly stated the presence of all her children was required when the ship comes in, which was sighted at dawn.”
Hamish groaned. This had to be the third ambassador to visit Tirglas in a year. Clearly, his mother was being a little more aggressive in scouting foreign nobility for a potential bride to wed him off to. It didn’t even seem to matter that the woman was also an uncloistered spellster. “I didnae forget,” he muttered, turning his full attention back to the men lashing a crude sledge from the felled branches. How could he have possibly forgotten when the man reminded him at every opportunity?
With the sledge complete, they fastened the poles to either side of his horse before hefting the boar onto the framework and used every last length of available rope to secure the beast.
“You promised her Majesty you’d be there,” Lyall pressed as Hamish swung into the saddle.
Hamish nodded, absently adjusting the straps securing his bow. “Aye, I did.” He nudged his mare into a steady walk. Maybe the men would discover the tracks of yet another monster boar that could’ve been the fence-destroying culprit. So long as it was something Hamish could spend the better part of the day hunting down with them. By the Goddess, if the steward wasn’t babysitting him, Hamish wouldn’t have given a thought towards seeking home until night had well and truly settled in.
Lyall rode alongside him. He stroked his beard, curling the black and grey end around his finger. “You’ll barely reach the castle before them at this rate. Forget meeting the ship at the docks.” He shook his head. “Will you at least clean yourself up before greeting the ambassador?”
Hamish smiled at the old man. “I thought you said I didnae have time?” Maybe turning up covered in pig blood would help deter the woman from heeding any of his mother’s daft plans. Then again, the ambassador was from the Udynea Empire, she’d probably mistake it for a proposal.
Their passage through the woods was slow, hampered every so often by the need to heft the sledge over the odd piece of treacherously uneven ground. The woods seemed to still with their passage, though he caught the occasional flash of bigger animals. Deer, at least he hoped so. With spring settling in, the bears would be wandering the valleys in search of food. If any were nearby, the hulking beasts would hopefully make for the gutted remains before bothering them.
They stuck to the gentler hills, making their way around the steeper sections they’d originally traipsed over to spare any extra strain to the horses. His mare might’ve been a heavy animal, capable of spending long days crashing through the woods after sprightlier prey, but she was no plough horse accustomed to dragging dead weight.
Slowly, the land they trod became less wild. Trees stopped pressing in on each other, the undergrowth thinned and the slope of the earth evened to a gentle downhill incline. The familiar bleating of sheep grew louder, punctuated by the fainter call of cattle. Hamish slowed his mare and allowed the men to lead the way to the farm, deferring to their knowledge of walking along paths frequently travelled.
The men picked up their pace and, before long, the shattered remnants of the fence became visible through the sparse trees. With a little rearranging of the already-broken rails to fit their crude sledge, Hamish continued on through the open field with the steward and Ewan whilst the rest of the farmers returned to their repairs of the fence.
Unhindered by brush or trees, their passage over the hills remained smooth and swift. The bleating of sheep grew louder as they neared Ewan’s farmhouse. When he had first arrived, the locals were attempting to herd the remaining flock into the pens.
Hamish scanned the gently rolling hills. There could easily be a few tucked away in the hollows, but it seemed they’d been successful. His mother would be glad, for the less sheep the people lost to wild animals, the less the crown had to reimburse them.
They crested the brow of the hill that’d blocked the sight of the farmhouse. Sheep milled around the buildings like impatient clouds. Children and dogs darted amongst the flock, driving some into the nearby barn and others into pens where adults waited for the animals.
The activity slowed as they neared and curiosity drew people’s attention from their tasks.
One of the women—which Hamish presumed was Ewan’s wife—hastened out of the pens to meet them. “Is that the blighter responsible for ruining me fences?” she asked of the man, tilting her torso to peer around Hamish’s horse. “He’s a fair brute, isnae he?” She turned her attention to them, swinging her head from side to side as she seemed to count them. “Didnae more of you leave this morning? Where’d the rest of you lot go to? Are
