“Nay, not I.” Pascal grinned, enjoying the touch of her hands on his bruises. “Look to your fiancé, if you must aid one who suffers.”
“Him?” Flaminia turned and kicked the inert fighter, hard. “He is no fiancé of mine, and I have told him that! How I hope he does suffer, for he has deserved every blow you gave him, and ten more for each!”
“Oh, I think he’ll be aching aplenty when he comes to.” Matt knelt beside Volio and checked his pulse, just to make sure. “No permanent harm done.” Of course not-neither of them knew thefirst thing about unarmed combat. There might have been accidents, sure, but barring that, there had been no danger. “Count yourself revenged, damsel-as much as a woman can be.” Matt looked up. “But he might have friends. I suggest that when he does come to, the two of you might be smart to be a mile or so away?”
“Yes!” Flaminia whirled to Pascal, eyes wide with fright. “You did not know! He is the son of a knight, one who lives not ten miles from here! When that one discovers how his son has been hurt, he is sure to send his men after you!”
Pascal registered alarm, but said gallantly, “I shall not go unless I guard you as I do.”
Matt was nodding. “The son of a knight and the son of a squire? No wonder you were both fighting the same way-you were both trained in swordplay!”
“Of course,” Pascal said, surprised.
“But this time, the squire’s son won out, because he hadn’t been worried about lowering himself to learn wrestling from the peasants. I guess you had a good education after all, Pascal.”
“You must flee!” Flaminia cried. “If they catch you, they will flog you within an inch of your life-or beyond!”
Pascal seemed shaken by that, but he still spoke gallantly. “If die I must, then die I will, so long as it saves you from that lecher’s paws!”
Flaminia almost melted-right into Pascal’s arms. For a moment their bodies were twined tightly together as she reached up to give him a long, steadily deepening kiss. Pascal’s hands stuck out behind her back, taken by surprise, as if they didn’t know what to do-but they learned quickly, cradling Flaminia’s waist and shoulders, then tightening and beginning to caress. Matt looked away, whistling cheerfully. Finally, Flaminia broke the kiss, breathing, “Oh, you are the bravest and most noble of squires! But you must not risk yourself for me!” Pascal started to object, but she laid a finger across his lips. “Fear not-I shall not turn back to that oaf Volio. I shall run away to the greenwood instead, and join a band of outlaws!”
“That doesn’t exactly sound like all that safe an alternative,” Matt warned. “Not unless I run away with her,” Pascal said stoutly. “Come, Flaminia! Shall we turn outlaw together?”
Flaminia hesitated, torn between a gush of gratitude and a draught of fear for him.
‘Take him up on it,“ Matt advised. ”You can change your minds about your destination once you’re on the road-but for now, you would definitely both find it healthier someplace else.“
“I shall not go if you do not,” Pascal warned. “No woman is safe without an escort in this land.”
Flaminia gave him a slow and sultry smile as she swayed back into his arms again. “Why, then, I shall go with you, or you with me-but I enjoin you to tell me if you tire of my company, and tell me straightaway, not by little hints and slights! Promise me that!”
“Why, then, I promise,” Pascal said slowly, “but how if I do not tire of you?”
“Why, then, do not tell me,” she said merrily, and gave him a quick but very sound kiss, then pirouetted out of his arms, though still holding onto one hand. She looked back over her shoulder at Matt. “Will you wander with us, minstrel?”
“Yes, I think I will,” Matt said slowly. “After all, I’m traveling your way.”
But they hadn’t even heard the end of his sentence-they were both gazing into each other’s eyes, laughing, a little breathlessly, as they set out toward the road. On the road, they passed small groups of young folk, with one or two of their elders, heading back north, looking wan and washed-out, or grim and morose. For them, at least, the party had come to an end before they reached Venarra. Matt wondered if they might not turn out to be the lucky ones-especially when they passed by an acre or so of chewed-up ground that had obviously been the camping place of a group that had gone before them. Off at the side, near the trees, were five rectangular mounds of earth with small pieces of board at one end of each. No crosses, not in a country that was only just beginning to think about bringing religion out into the open again-just pieces of board. Matt took a quick detour from Pascal and Flaminia to see if there were any words carved on the improvised headstones. There were-all variations on, “Here lies the body of a youth who left home to seek fame and fortune in the king’s town.” Just that-no injunction to pray for the soul, of course, and, thank Heaven, no stern moral lesson about their fates. But no names, either. These kids-and maybe some midlife-crisis cases, too-had been buried by the local villagers, the few who had stayed at home. Their road companions hadn’t even cared enough to stay around to give them a funeral. Matt was very glad to catch up with Pascal and Flaminia again. With the resiliency of youth, the two were laughing at one another’s jokes as they argued with mock earnestness over the comparative merits of line dances and circle dances. Within minutes the topic had changed to the color of the stream they were passing over-whether it was grayish-blue or bluish-gray. They debated the case with great seriousness, each one coming up with a reason that was more ludicrous than the other’s for about three rounds, before Flaminia began to break up into giggles and Pascal burst into laughter. Matt followed along behind, letting the smile grow, and letting their humor and camaraderie warm the chilly spot within him.
Chapter 15
The sun peeked over the horizon, the huge gates opened, and the crowd of runaways poured through into Venarra with a delighted shriek. It was echoed by a collective hum from the crowd waiting inside the gates; it sounded suspiciously like “Yum!”
Each of the mature men was instantly visited by a prosperous-looking, if flashy, city man or woman; each mature woman was accosted, too. If couples tried to stay together, the city folk wheeled and cajoled and showered them with flattery that gradually pulled them apart. That happened with the young folk, too, though much more quickly. Girls with shining eyes were listening, entranced, to the blandishments of older, motherly looking women-and if the paint on their faces was a little too thick or too flashy, well, wasn’t that the way all city women looked? Matt picked up a few odd sentences as he hustled his two charges through the ring of human sharks, firmly keeping them in hand. “Yes, dear, a place to stay till you’ve learned your way around Venarra,” one grandmotherly sort was saying. “Clean sheets, and a way to earn some money-sisters to show you how things are done-and ever such handsome gentlemen to come calling!”
“But why are you willing to help us so?” a starry-eyed girl was asking another woman decked in costume jewelry. “Why, bless you, child, welcoming newcomers is my pastime,” the woman gushed. “It is my charity!”
The clamor of promises of glamorous living even caught Flaminia’s ear. She twisted about to try to watch the beldame who was professing altruism. “Why, how good of them! Why do I not go to her house, friend Matthew?”
“Because once you’re in, she’ll never let you out until you’re well and truly corrupted,” Matt said grimly. “The charity she has in mind is for you to give her every penny the handsome men give to you in return for your sexual favors-and most of them won’t be terribly handsome, or very young, either. It’s a business doing pleasure with her.”