"I do." I tore the packs from his hand and wrenched open the one with the letter, rummaging frantically until I found it. "Selig doesn’t know we know his plan to betray d’Aiglemort," I said grimly. "If we take the letter, it will tip our hand. He’ll alter his plans accordingly, and any advantage will be lost. We’ll have to forego proof." I placed the letter back where I’d found it, on a high shelf in the cupboard. My hands were trembling, and I wiped them on my skirts, taking a deep breath. "All right. Let’s go."
We weren’t so lucky in leaving.
Halfway to the door, Gerde emerged from the kitchen and caught sight of us. "Where are you going now?" she asked querulously, walking toward us. "Trygve, you promised!"
"Selig’s orders." Joscelin muttered it, keeping his eyes on the door and towing me forward.
"/ never heard anything about it!" Gerde kept walking, hands on her hips, irritation in her voice. Another few yards, and she’d realize it wasn’t Trygve beneath the wolf-hood. I shook Joscelin’s hold off my arm and stepped between them.
"And why would you?" I asked, letting my voice fill with scathing contempt. "Does Lord Selig send for you, when he is minded to have pleasure? Does he send for any woman in his steading?" I swept my gaze across the hall, meeting gaping stares. At least no one was looking at Joscelin now. "No, he does not," I continued haughtily. "He is worthy of the name King, and he sends for one worthy of pleasing a King. And if it is his pleasure to make camp this evening and send for me to join him, anyone who would remain long in his favor would be well-advised not to question it!"
I spun on my heel and marched toward the door. Joscelin gave a disgusted shrug in the general direction of the hall, moved ahead of me and shoved the door open, following me through it. I could hear the furor rising behind us, like a kicked hornets' nest. If we were caught, there would be no mercy spoken anywhere in Selig’s steading on my behalf.
"Not so fast," Joscelin said under his breath when we were outside. I had been hurrying. I forced myself to slow to a more measured pace, grateful for his sense.
Selig’s stables, if they could be called such, were merely a long row of lean-tos erected against the wind in a large paddock. The Skaldi do not coddle their animals, reckoning to keep them hardy. A few horses remained in the paddock, huddled together for warmth; my shaggy pony was among them. One of the carls came running, seeing a White Brethren approach.
"The stocks were sent," he said breathlessly, "and we’ve your horse near saddled, sir. Is it true Waldemar Selig is making camp?"
"Selig’s orders," Joscelin repeated brusquely.
"Lord Selig has sent for me as well," I said imperiously. "You will bring my horse and see him saddled."
The carl glanced at Joscelin, who shrugged and nodded. He ran off shouting, and a couple of boys raced into the paddock to round up my pony. The carl returned, touching his forelock.
"Fodder for the horses." I looked at Joscelin. "How many did Lord Selig say? A dozen?"
He gave a glare under the wolf-mask. "Fodder for a dozen," he echoed.
"Yes, sir." The carl gave a nervous bob, and whirled off again. We watched in a kind of shock as Selig’s folk made ready the manner of our escape, loading the horses with supplies. They even led the horses out of the paddock for us. Joscelin secured Selig’s saddle-packs on his mount, lashing them atop the packs already in place. He swung himself into the saddle, snapping his fingers at me. It was a Skaldi gesture, but I saw the steel glint of his vambraces beneath the sleeve of his wool jerkin and held my breath. No one noticed. I mounted and took up the reins. My hands shook. They will put it down to the cold, I thought, waiting for Joscelin until I remembered that he’d no idea which way the hunt had gone. So many small details to give us away! I nudged my pony forward, leaning down to whisper in its ear. "Ride to the north end of the lake, and up the mountain trail," I murmured in D’Angeline.
It was enough. Joscelin gave a curt nod to the carl and said to me in Skaldic, his tone impatient, "Go!" He set heels to his horse, trotting briskly toward the verge of the lake, and I followed.
We had to ride past the tents of the other steading riders, where some few remained; only the favored ones had been invited to the hunt. I was thankful that Harald numbered among them. Alone among those encamped here, he knew Joscelin by sight, maybe well enough to pick out his seat on a horse, to know him in disguise by the glint of steel at his wrists, the twin daggers, the protruding hilt.
But Harald was with Selig, and there was no one else who would see, at a distance, that the White Brethren who rode with me was no Skaldi. A handful of thanes shouted greetings and cheerful obscenities; Joscelin laughed in response, and once responded with an obscene gesture I’d no idea he knew. Gunter’s men used to do it behind my back, and laugh like boys if I caught them out at it.
The day was perishingly cold, and the air made my lungs ache, stiffening my face to a mask. I thought of the night, when the temperature would drop, with terror. We should have procured a tent, I realized. The Skaldi would not have taken them on a hunting party or an overnight raid, but Selig might have sent for one, if he sent for me. If we freeze to death, I thought, it will be my fault.
We made it around the north end of the lake, and picked out the trail leading out of the valley, clearly marked by the passage of mounted men and dogs. It was steep, but at least the horses didn’t have to flounder through unbroken snow. We threaded our way up, both of us listening intently for sounds of Selig’s hunters in the distance. There was nothing but the sound of the forest, occasional birdsong and the faint noise of snowy branches shifting. I turned to look behind us at the top, and Selig’s steading lay far below, the lake like a blue bowl. Joscelin blew on his fingers.
"How shall we do this?" he asked.
I considered the view behind us again. "We’ll follow their trail a little further, until we’re well out of sight from the steading. Then we go west." I drew my fur cloak tighter around me and shivered. "Joscelin, this was as far as my plan went. I know where we are, thanks to Selig’s maps. And I know where home lies. How we get from here to there alive, I’ve no idea, except that we’d best get as much of a start as we can, before they find us gone. And I didn’t think to get a tent."
"You found us a way out. I’ll find us a way home." He gazed around the forest, his blue eyes familiar and strange beneath the hood of a White Brethren. "Remember," he added, "I was raised in the mountains."
I took heart at that, and blew on my hands as he had. "Let’s go, then."
We rode some distance along the hunters' trail, then veered off sharply to the left, heading westward. Joscelin made me wait, holding the reins of his horse, while he retraced our steps through the snow and erased them with a pine broom.
"They’ll not see it if they’re not looking," he said with satisfaction, hurling his pine branch away and remounting. "And not if they ride at dusk. Come on, let’s put some distance between us."
There was only one thing we had forgotten.
It happened not long afterward. We rode in silence, as best we could; only the creaking of leather and the blowing and snorting of the horses gave us away.
Enough for the White Brethren who guarded the boundaries of Selig’s territory to hear.
They are well concealed in snow, with their white pelts. Knud might have known they were there, but we did not, until they sprang up, spears ready to cast, crying out a challenge.
And seeing Joscelin attired at one of their own, fell confused.
"Well met, brother," one called cautiously, lowering his spear. "Where are you bound?"
I do not think Joscelin had any choice in the matter; there was no lie convincing enough to explain our presence here and gain us passage, even if they didn’t penetrate his disguise. I heard him murmur one anguished word, and then his sword was out and he clapped his heels to his mount, charging them.