The other two burst into gales of laughter. Hannah knew they didn’t believe her childish claim, and now that they’d taken her captive lying would make the encounter worse. But she didn’t wish to face what came next, and in desperation, she shouted while pointing. “Look! There they are.”
Three heads turned to where she pointed. As they turned, she spun and darted down the path, taking three solid steps before the first shouted warning sounded. Instead of slowing, she put her chin on her chest and pumped her fists, lengthening her stride. She heard footsteps pounding after her, at least two men, but looking would slow her.
Her breath already came harder and faster. The path was wide enough for one and reasonably clear of large rocks or roots that might trip her. She flew down it hearing the footsteps behind grow closer and closer, then they abruptly ceased. A quick glance assured her that the two men chasing her had both quit. The third must have stayed with the copper coins spread on the ground. They had been good for a few dozen steps chasing her, but quickly tired, as she hoped. If they knew of the small fortune she carried inside her pants they might still be running, but probably not. They didn’t look like men who could run very far or fast.
Her steps came slower, and her legs ached, but she kept blundering ahead, paying no attention to where she ran. As long as it was away from them, who cared? Later, she learned to regret that decision when she found herself lost in the forest. She had turned to her left at a path that went in the direction where she expected to find the road, and then she could use it for directions. But she only found an endless forest, and the sun kept peeking through the trees to her left when it should be ahead.
She turned to the left again, and still found no road. While crossing a stream, she remembered the words of Sir James. All streams either join others or flow into rivers. Along streams or rivers are farms or bridges. Hannah turned left for the third time and followed the stream.
Several paths and trails later, she still followed the stream but had not yet found the road or bridge. She kept her eyes and ears open, often pausing to observe what lay ahead. Before crossing any meadow, she either skirted around the edges or made sure there were not people waiting for her. The last mistake had almost cost her to be in the hands of the three men who stole five pennies for a living. Who knows what they would have done if they’d caught her? Especially, if they had figured out, she was a girl.
As the Knight predicted, she eventually came to the road, the same one she had been on when she had ridden in the back of the wagon. She immediately recognized a gnarled tree and a cabin set off the road in a clearing, looking like a house from a fairy tale. She had been under the no-see-me spell at the time. She wished for it again, but glanced both ways on the road and decided to chance using it. There were travelers going in her direction behind and in front of her, but they were a family with children, one of them a blonde girl about nine or ten.
Highwaymen will attack them and never look twice at me. She told herself that over and over. A hay wagon traveled in her direction. She increased her pace to move closer to it. At another stream crossing, the wagon halted, and the mule dipped its snout into the cold water and snorted, spraying water into the air like it was a game. The farmer leaped from the seat and scooped water into a metal cup. As he tilted the cup to drink, his eyes found her.
He said, “You’re getting out of there, too?”
“What?”
“The Palace. Are you getting away, too?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The Royals back there are killing each other. They say they’re trying to kill the King and set a new one on the throne.”
“Who is?”
“Nobody knows who’s behind it, but I thought I’d get away before being forced to take sides.”
“How many are dead?” Hannah asked, refusing the use of his tin cup.
“Three or four Royals, they say. Some guards fighting other guards, and the Knights are fighting, too.”
Hannah said, “Can you remember anything about those who died?”
“Just a little. Lemme see. A Lady Marlstone who was a favorite of the King got herself poisoned last night. The Old Mage died a few days ago, and the head Knight, Sir James, and his servant.”
The last seized her as if a hand wrapped around her neck. She felt the blood drain from her face, and she felt dizzy.
“You alright?”
“The servant. Did you hear his name?”
“You don’t look so good. Lemme think. He was Sir James’ manservant, and he was stabbed in his bed in the middle of the night, they say.”
“William? Was it William?” Hannah gasped.
“That’s the name. William.”
Hannah slipped to her knees, the tears streaming down her cheeks, the wails of pain loud enough for the small group of people following to slow and finally wait instead of passing by them. The driver also waited, his compassion and curiosity keeping him at her side.
He finally said, “You knew him?”
Knew him? He had been alive when he helped her escape. In a handful of days, she had a father, a pseudo-uncle, and a mentor who, all father figures, all willing to help her improve her miserable life. Now all were dead.
If she had not shown that stupid flame to the Old Mage, all would still be alive. It was her fault. Three deaths were on her head, three good men. The crying had almost ended, but with the thought of the three deaths, she started again.
When she almost controlled herself, and the farmer was helping her up, she realized that three bodyguards had also died, as well as others who attacked her. She had no way of knowing the total number of people who had died in the last few days because of her. She’d never even heard of Lady Marlstone, or how and why she was involved. It sounded like an attempt to overthrow the rule of the King.
Then, as if a mist falling from above, Hannah began to grow angry. Not the kind of anger that consumed a person over time, but the complete cold anger that turns other men’s knees weak. The anger of a person who has seldom felt anger, but now it filled them as certainly as a sack was filled to overflowing with grain. The sack cannot hold one more grain, yet another is forced inside, and one spills out.
The sobbing quit and she stood, looking at the farmer and his tear-filled eyes. He probably believed he had brought her the pain in some manner, and blamed himself. She wiped her nose and said, “None of this is your fault. I thank you for telling me what’s happening at the Palace.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you, son.”
“You didn’t. It’s my problem.”
“Would you like to ride on my wagon? I’ll be on this road for some time.”
She shook her head. “The road. It goes straight down this valley and into another?”
“That it does.”
She glanced at the small group patiently waiting behind on the road and gave them a half-wave of thanks before saying, “There are some things I have to do on my own.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hannah turned her back to the wagon and walked to the edge of the forest without looking back. When she was deep into the trees, and certain nobody could observe her, she let the tears for William flow, slowly and gently. Somebody had stabbed him while he slept.
Nobody had stabbed him in all his years, but the night she escaped someone had gone into his bedroom and put a knife in him. The timing could not be a coincidence. Somebody knew he helped her, and gave her his support. While there had been no mention of torture, she had no doubt that the killer had used the knife and demanded information about Hannah, and when William refused to provide it, the assassin killed him.