In the Ruins

“Yes, my lord.”



They rode east through a land so dry that the vegetation snapped under the hooves of their horses. There was little grass for grazing. The grain went faster, obviously, than Lord Hugh had planned, so he adjusted the rations. Where they passed the remains of juniper or olive groves all the trees had been felled in the same direction, shattered by wind. Of spring greens she saw only thistle and creeping vine.



This was rugged country, the kind of scrub-infested land that in Wendar would have been left to the shepherds as summer pasture. Along their path they passed three more silent villages before midday. Once, folk had lived and traded here. Anna wondered if they had all died or if some had escaped. She imagined children herding goats and sheep along those slopes. She imagined women walking to market with babies bundled on their backs and wheelbarrows heaped with onions and parsnips, or whatever strange food folk ate in these parts. Nothing tasty, she supposed.



It was so quiet, as though death had eaten the world and moved on, leaving only the stones and the empty buildings and the whitened grass. Now and again as they rode along a narrow passage with ridges rising steep on both sides, she imagined that refugees peered at her from the rocks above, but in truth she felt nothing. She felt that even the animals had fled, that nothing lived here anymore and that the clouds would never part and only dust would be her companion evermore. Certainly, her tongue was sticky with dirt, but she didn’t dare ask for more water. Therefore it was a surprise to her when scarred John came riding back from forward scout with the news that he had sighted a column of armed riders.



“Fourscore at least, my lord,” he reported. “Not Aostan, by the look of them.”



“Are these the ones you’ve been expecting to meet?” asked Captain Frigo. Blessing sat behind him, wrists tied, fingers gripping the back of his saddle. She tried to get a look around him, as if hoping to see a saint come to rescue her.



“It’s hard to say without a look at them,” said Hugh. He nodded at John.



“There’s an abandoned village ahead, my lord. If we hide there, we might see them pass by without being seen ourselves.”



“Is there no other cover?” Hugh asked. “I’d rather not ride in haste into a village that might be harboring the plague.”



“Forest up along the hills,” said Theodore, who had been riding inland for part of the morning and only recently returned, “but the trees are downed, just as we’ve seen everywhere else.”



“Some rocks,” said John, “this side of the village. Very rugged. As like to cut your hands as give you shelter. But enough to hide our party and give a little defensive protection. They’re within view of the road.”



“We’ll go there. Hasten.”



“They’ll see our tracks,” said Frigo.



“Drag sticks behind us, if you must, but we’ve little choice as we’re badly outnumbered. We’ve ridden single file thus far. We must hope they believe us only a pair or three of riders.”



Soon they saw the thread of dust rising far to the east that marked the passage of many mounted men. From her position in the middle of their group, it was difficult for Anna to tell how much of a flag they themselves raised. She had her own horse now, a stolid creature that moved along with the herd sniffing bottoms now and again but otherwise lacking curiosity and initiative. Not the kind of horse to escape on, even if she had anywhere to go and food and drink to run with. Even if she might hope for shelter from an unknown band of soldiers.



The rock formation erupted out of the ground in the midst of dry plain. The sloping ground hid the village from sight, but scarred John assured them it was right over the crest, situated to have a commanding view of the road, which was the main east-west thoroughfare in this region. The red-brown rock spilled down the slope in a series of ragged ribbons, pooling into hummocks high enough to hide horses and men. Once they crossed into the formation, they had to move carefully on the rock. Two men cut their hands. One of the horses got a gash on his right foreleg. The rock was striated and quite rugged, oddly warm to the touch despite the lack of direct sunlight. It seemed freshly deposited, but naturally that was impossible.



Theodore trotted out to the road to survey the rocks and after a few minutes jogged back to say that they were well hidden. Two men had gone out on foot with sticks to brush away their tracks. The rest drank sips of warm, sour ale as they waited. No one spoke.



“Gag the girl,” said Lord Hugh suddenly. Blessing did not struggle as Frigo tied a linen cloth over her mouth and hobbled her ankles as a secondary precaution. Hugh examined Anna as well, then nodded, and the captain got another cloth and another rope. Blessing watched, gaze burning, as Anna was gagged. The cloth bit into the corners of Anna’s mouth and she choked, then steadied her breathing. He hooked her hands up into the small of her back and made a knot, something easy for him to get her out of should they have to move quickly. After that, he ignored her.