Rannick smiled unpleasantly. ‘To get them used to the field again, Captain. The better to appreciate this haven. And to search, to find, to take, to learn, to test our strength. Many things.’
Still little the wiser, Nilsson turned quickly to prac-ticalities.
‘As you command, Lord,’ he said. ‘How many do you wish to go, and for how long?’
‘All of us, Captain,’ Rannick replied. ‘All of us.’ He looked round at the plain stone walls and arched ceiling. ‘But not for long. There’s much to be done here when we return. This place must be made fit for our presence.’
‘All of us, Lord?’ Nilsson echoed cautiously. ‘We must leave a dozen or so to guard the place.’
‘Against what, Captain?’ Rannick said with a flicker of a malevolent laugh that chilled Nilsson. ‘The villagers? They’re less likely than ever to come up here now. And what would they do if they did? Nibble at their stolen tithe like mice?’
Nilsson had no answer. ‘Old habits, Lord,’ he said after a moment.
Rannick turned his attention back to his hands, flexing each of them in turn, then he nodded slowly. ‘Besides, I will leave a guard here that none will defy.’
Thus it was that, early the following day, the villag-ers found themselves watching the entire troop trotting noisily through the village. There was some elation at first, but it soon vanished as, in their wake, came the cold-eyed message that Nilsson had left with Gryss:
‘We’ll be back.’
Nevertheless, their departure opened up opportuni-ties for some, as Nilsson, for some reason, had chosen to tell Gryss that the entire troop was leaving on an exercise, and that nothing would be required at the castle until they returned in a few days.
‘Harlen says they’ve gone all the way downland,’ Jeorg said. ‘And left no guard posted. We mightn’t get another chance. I can leave for the capital right now, and you and the others can go to the castle and see if there are any documents there saying who they are.’
Gryss was unhappy about both ideas, not least be-cause, in an attempt to prevent Jeorg from doing anything impetuous, he had been fulfilling his promise to instruct him in the route to the capital. He had made the instruction quite leisurely, affecting to forget certain parts and spending a great deal of time referring to some very old journals that he had kept during youthful journeyings. Despite Gryss’s delaying tactics, though, Jeorg had been attentive, thorough and uncharacteristi-cally patient. And now his reasoning was sound: who could say when the valley would be left unguarded again?
‘I suppose so,’ Gryss agreed, after some protracted badgering. ‘But in the name of pity, Jeorg, take care.’
‘I’ll keep my eyes open obviously, but I’ll tell them I was coming after them to ask permission if I bump into them,’ Jeorg said confidently.
His confidence, however, was not contagious, and Gryss could not keep his anxiety from his face as he bade farewell to his friend later that day.
‘Don’t look so miserable, Gryss,’ Jeorg said. ‘We’ve planned it as well as we could. I’m no tracker, but they’re a big crowd and I don’t think I’m going to run into them by accident.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Anyway, it’s a fine day for a ride.’
Gryss ignored the false heartiness. ‘Are you sure your wife’s agreeable to this?’ he asked, in a final attempt to deter him.
Jeorg’s confidence faltered. ‘Yes,’ he said, followed immediately by, ‘Well, no. Not really. But… it’s got to be done, hasn’t it? She’s with me.’
And that was that. Gryss stood motionless, his head forward and his shoulders hunched in tension as he watched Jeorg ride off. The sun was warm on his face and the air was filled with the scents and sounds of burgeoning summer, but inside, Gryss roared with anger. Anger at himself for what seemed to be his continuing folly in placating the villagers and allowing Jeorg to undertake this risky journey. Anger at Nilsson for being whatever he was and for bringing such dismay to this quiet and beautiful place. Anger at Jeorg for being so capable, so naive, so…
He swore to himself to dash aside such indulgence and began walking back to his cottage. It was time to move on to his next folly.
But he would do this on his own. With the vision of Jeorg’s retreating figure etched into his mind, he knew that he did not have it in him to risk any more of his friends, for whatever cause.
The searching of the castle had been hastily ar-ranged for the following day and involved Gryss, Yakob and Garren visiting the castle while Harlen, Farnor and Marna kept look-out along the valley. He squinted up at the sun to judge the time. If he set off now and rode, there would be time enough to be there and back before the light failed.
He would go to the castle now, and if he found it empty he would search it on his own.
He had reckoned without Farnor, however. More excited than he chose to admit by the prospect of the venture planned for the morrow, he had spent the afternoon watching the castle closely. He had selected a vantage point on a grassy hillock which gave him a good view and from which he could also see much of the village. Aware of his duties for the next day, he kept glancing back down the valley to the place from where it had been agreed that Marna would signal if Nilsson’s troop unexpectedly reappeared. So it happened that he saw Gryss riding along the road when he was only a few minutes out of the village.
Presuming that Gryss was intending to visit Garren, perhaps to make further arrangements for the next day, he paid little heed to him until he saw him pass by the end of the path that led to the farm. Farnor frowned. Where was he going?
Without pondering the question further, and anx-ious to impart his own new information, Farnor began a cautious descent of the steep knoll. At the bottom the slope eased and he finished the last part at some speed, startling Gryss’s horse as he burst out of the bushes in front of it.
Gryss leaned forward and seized its neck anxiously.
‘I’m sorry,’ Farnor blurted out as the look in Gryss’s eyes heralded a particularly fulminating reproach. He took the horse’s head and patted it gently.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
Caught between concern for the fright he had re-ceived, the loss of dignity he had suffered and Farnor’s swift apology, Gryss was only able to splutter.
‘It is empty,’ Farnor said, capitalizing on this hiatus.
‘What?’ Gryss managed as the statement cut through his confused indignation.
‘It is empty,’ Farnor repeated. ‘The castle. I’ve been watching it all afternoon and I haven’t seen a sign of anyone. Nilsson was telling the truth. They’ve all gone.’
‘Oh,’ said Gryss flatly.
‘Where are you going?’ Farnor asked, abruptly.
Still unsettled by Farnor’s sudden appearance, Gryss blurted out the truth. ‘To the castle,’ he said.
Farnor’s eyes widened. ‘Why? I thought you were going tomorrow.’ He looked around. ‘Where are the others?’
Gryss stayed with the truth. ‘I decided I didn’t want anyone else involved,’ he replied.
Farnor frowned. How could anyone not be involved in discovering the truth about these people? he thought.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Gryss began, but Farnor was already leading the horse forward. Gryss reined it to a halt.
‘No, Farnor. This is my responsibility, and I’ll carry it by myself. You stay here and keep watch for me.’
Farnor stared at him blankly. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said after a moment. ‘But why…?’
‘That’s what I want,’ Gryss said.
Uncertain, Farnor remained standing in the middle of the road as Gryss rode off. Then he began walking after him.
A little later Gryss approached the castle gate and found a red-faced and panting Farnor waiting for him.
‘It’s much quicker over the fields,’ Farnor explained before he was asked.
Gryss looked at him pensively, surprised at the mix-ture of emotions he was experiencing. He was concerned that the boy – young man, he reminded himself yet again – was about to involve himself in something the significance of which he could not begin to appreciate. He was a little angry, too, that his categorical instruction to Farnor had been so blatantly disregarded. And yet he was glad to see him there, young, strong and fit, free of the bodily reluctance and emotional hesitancy with which old age had hemmed in his own true self. It was strange, he thought, how he found Farnor to be such a powerful support, for he had no illusions that he would be of any value against such as Nilsson in any form of combat, mental or physical.