The captain knew better than to argue or ask. He ushered his guardsman out and left the two alone.
“So the rumors that you were captured were false!” Duke Trangray exclaimed.
“As you see, my lord duke.” Earl Insol bowed. “But I shall not soon forget the humiliation that our puppy of a king has forced upon me in order for me to escape. May I ask your hospitality?”
“Given, and gladly! Come, we will see you equipped as befits your station!” The duke led his guest through his private passage to his own chamber and gave him a robe, then summoned serfs to bring hot water. While the earl bathed, the duke sent garments of his own. An hour later, bathed, shaven, and dressed in rich robes again, the earl joined his host for the midday meal.
Before they could begin, a servant stepped in. “Your Grace, you had asked to be told the instant the messenger arrived.”
“He had better have good news,” the duke snapped. “Show him in.”
The servant bowed and went out. The duke turned to Insol and said, “Four of my brave fellow dukes have sent word to say that the king’s estates are far from their own, so they see no reason to march against him—but they encourage me to chastise him, and wish me well!”
“The craven scoundrels,” Insol said with a curl of the lip. “If it were not for you, the king would gobble them up one by one!”
“Yes, and they are content to let me wear myself out in fighting him,” Trangray replied, “whereupon they no doubt intend to swoop down upon me and take all I have! So I shall not battle the king alone. But if I do not have at least a few more lords to fight beside me, I may not fight at all!”
The servant led a messenger in, still dusty with travel. “My lord duke!” he said, bowing low.
“Out with it, man!” the duke snapped. “To whom were you sent, and what is his answer?”
“The Duke of Grenlach, my lord.” The messenger held out a scroll tied with ribbon. “He was outraged to hear the news you sent, and bids me tell you by my own lips that he will ride posthaste with ten knights and a thousand men!”
“A beginning, a good beginning!” Trangray’s eyes gleamed. “Go find food and refreshment!” The messenger bowed and left, and the duke snapped open Grenlach’s letter. “Look, my lord earl, and read the beginning of the king’s doom!”
By the end of the week, all the messengers had returned. Four more dukes had sent word of outrage and a pledge of aid. In fact, they told Trangray they would be on the march by the time he read their letters, and asked what action he intended.
“They have chosen you their leader, my lord duke,” Earl Insol said as they watched the couriers ride away with the duke’s directions to his fellow warlords.
“They have indeed!” Trangray’s eyes gleamed with pride as he watched the horsemen gallop off. “Come, my lord! We must ready our own army to march, for I’ve told my fellow dukes to advance on your own estates! There will we meet, to begin the disciplining of this would-be tyrant! To Castle Insol!”
“I thank you, my lord.” The earl bowed. “It seems I shall return home sooner than I thought.”
The players toured from one town to another, and in each one, large or small, Gar and Dirk managed to fall into conversation with serfs and merchants and young noblemen about “cells” and the hard lot of the peasants and the wrongs done to them by their lords. Coll began to develop a bad case of nerves at the second town; if any lord’s man heard them, the whole company was liable to be clapped into irons, or worse!
Somehow, though, the axe never fell; Dirk explained that they were on their way again before their rabble-rousing could alarm the authorities. But with each town they entered, Coll became more and more apprehensive, and as they left each set of gates behind, he breathed with greater and greater relief—until the next town brought even more fear.
He couldn’t understand why Master Androv didn’t kick the two knights out of his troupe—though admittedly, the thought of kicking Gar out of anywhere was enough to freeze the blood of any man. Still, Coll knew the giant was so courteous that he would have gone without any fuss, simply by being asked—so why didn’t Master Androv ask? Could it be because Gargantua always brought in so much money, and assured them of packed innyards every day they played? Surely he, Dirk, and Gar made themselves useful, helping pack the carts and unpack, setting up the stage and taking it down, and even marching onto the stage with wooden swords and spears, playing soldiers or messengers. Coll even managed a few stammering lines himself. “Milady, the thane approaches,” or “Help, help!” Certainly Androv must have known what Dirk and Gar were doing, the alarming things they were saying! Could he really have seen no harm in it?
He must have, because the greybeard became quieter and quieter the longer they stayed with the company—but he never asked them to go. Could it be because the young bloods left off harassing the actresses when Gar stepped up behind them? Or because Dirk had a way of strolling up to any group of townsfolk who were jibing at the players, rattling his sword and coughing in a way that seemed to calm the hecklers amazingly?
Surely it couldn’t have been because Coll himself was scarcely ever far from Ciare, or because Dicea fumed and sizzled whenever any of the actresses took time to chat with Dirk or Gar, especially since she took it out by flirting outrageously with every male in the company. Some of the townsfolk tried propositioning her, but Coll came up beside her quickly, real spear in hand. She scolded him for it when they were alone, and the next time the young bloods started making insulting, insinuating remarks, it kept on until Gar stepped up. When they went away, Dicea took advantage of the chance to show Gar just how grateful she was; he accepted her profuse thanks gravely, made sure she was well, and went back to work on the stage, leaving her sizzling worse than before.
So on top of dreading the moment the soldiers fell upon them, Coll also had to worry about his sister finally exploding, ranting and raving at the actresses and at Dirk and Gar alike. Fortunately, Mama was so good a cook, and so skilled with her needle, and had become so fast a friend of everyone in the little troupe, that they all would have forgiven Dicea in an instant, just for Mama’s sake. Coll began to realize that his mother had done it intentionally.
So it was no surprise when one of the peasants, listening to Gar and Dirk and growing redder and redder with righteous indignation, finally burst out, “You’re speaking treason! Guards! Arrest them all!”
A dozen men in cloaks threw them open, revealing the livery of soldiers, and drew swords as they fell upon the players, driving them into a knot in the center of the innyard with shouts and curses.
Dirk started to draw his sword, but Gar set a hand upon his, holding the rapier in its scabbard. “No. Our punishment might be visited upon the others.” Dirk froze, and contented himself with glaring at the spy, who showed all his teeth in a grin. “Herd them up! So, gaffer, you thought you could defy the earl, did you?”
“I have defied no one!” Androv protested. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about! ”
“Talking about! I’m talking about the talking these two have been doing, about lords catering to the whims of their serfs and lowborn soldiers refusing to strike at slaves who disobey! Don’t tell me you know nothing about this!”
“Nothing at all!” Androv protested. “You don’t think I would have let them stay in my company if I had, do you?”
“We’re very discreet,” Gar told the spy. “In fact, you wouldn’t have suspected us at all if you hadn’t just happened to be wandering around town listening for subversion, would you?”
The spy reddened again. “But I did hear you, and came back today to arrest you! Secrets always come to light, don’t you know that?” He waved to his men. “Come, take them all!”