“Ten prisoners in all, you said,” she continued. “You’d need a pretty big cave to keep them all comfortable. And most caves tend to be small.”
The last prisoner was shoved roughly into the cave, then the barred door was slammed shut behind him and locked. From their vantage point on the clifftop, they could hear the rattle of the heavy key. One of the three who had been guarding the prisoners en route to the cove gathered up the heavy rope and leather collars. The man with the keys, Donald, returned to the central area of the camp, replacing the big key ring on the post whence he had taken it.
“Get some food ready,” Ruhl ordered.
Obviously Donald and the other man, Thomas, were detailed to look after the menial work around the camp site. Will filed that information away. If it came to a fight, they could be left till last. They were unlikely to be particularly aggressive or quick witted. Men like them did as they were told. They rarely thought for themselves. And, from what Will had seen of Ruhl so far, he seemed to be a man who would discourage individual thinking among his subordinates.
The camp settled into what seemed its normal routine. Around seven in the evening, the man Ruhl had called Thomas took food and water to the cave. Donald accompanied him, unlocking the barred door and making sure none of the occupants tried to escape. The tide had turned and was beginning to run in once more, creeping slowly up the beach and covering the wide expanse of rippled sand that had been exposed by the low tide.
Maddie and Will remained watching until the bearded Ranger touched her shoulder and jerked a thumb back towards the small stand of trees where they had left the horses.
“Looks like they’ve settled in for the night. We might as well get some rest ourselves. We’ll come back before dawn and figure a way to get the kids out.”
“Just us, against eleven men?” Maddie asked.
Will gave her a long, grave look, then nodded. “Just us, against eleven men.”
They crept back to the copse of trees, although there was really no need for stealth. The slavers were all asleep in their tents and the beach was at least twenty metres lower than the ground on which they stood. They watered the horses and unsaddled them. Then they had a cold meal of dried beef, fruit and flat bread. Maddie lifted the battered old coffee pot and raised an eyebrow at Will. But he shook his head.
“No fire,” he said briefly. “They might smell the smoke. Or they might decide to have a look around the area.”
They drank water from their canteens. There was no running water in the vicinity and the small pond they had passed was slime-covered and stagnant. They rolled out their blankets. Maddie looked at Will.
“Should we set a watch?” she asked and he nodded.
“We should keep an eye on the beach to see if anything happens,” he said. “I’ll take the first four hours.”
She calculated quickly. That meant that Will would be standing watch twice during the night, to her once. She shrugged. That was only fair, she thought, as she crawled into her blankets.
She watched his dark figure ghost away into the night. A few minutes later she was asleep. She wasn’t concerned about anyone catching her unawares. Bumper and Tug would give adequate warning if someone approached the little camp.
But just to be on the safe side, she slept with her sling twined around her right hand and her shot bag beside her head.
Forty-four
Maddie awoke just before dawn. She glanced at Will’s bedroll but saw that it was empty. He was still at the cliff, on watch over the cove. She threw off her own blankets, dashed cold water over her face from her canteen and pulled on her boots.
Bumper saw her moving and gave a low rumble of noise. She looked at him and his ears pricked up. He sensed that she was going somewhere and wanted to go with her. She shook her head and put her finger to her lips.
“Not now, boy. And keep silent.”
He shook his mane and lowered his head again, going back to cropping the short grass. She thought he looked a little disappointed, then wondered if she was being fanciful. Could a horse express disappointment, she wondered. Then she dismissed the thought, realising she could be here all day debating it and never get a satisfactory answer.
She strung her bow then donned her belt, heavy with the double scabbard for her saxe and her throwing knife. The weight of the knives was counterbalanced by the pouch of lead shot on her other hip. Finally, she slipped her quiver over her head, adjusting it so that the arrows lay easy to hand over her right shoulder. Then she donned her cape, opening the small flap on the right shoulder that allowed access to the arrows.
She moved to the edge of the copse of trees, paused and sank to one knee while she scanned the ground around her. She did it as Will had taught her: first taking a wide overview, then searching one small part at a time, until she was sure there was nobody in sight.
Staying in a crouch. she planned her path where the scrubby ground cover was highest, and headed for the clifftop, where Will was keeping watch.
She moved slowly and smoothly, placing each foot carefully, testing the ground underfoot before she put her full weight on it. If she felt a twig or a branch, she would carefully move her foot to a clear spot, then proceed.
Speed is the enemy of stealth, Will had told her. You’re better to move slowly and silently than to rush about making noise.
She saw the tall grass moving to her left. The pre-dawn air was still, with no sign of a breeze. Instantly, she froze in place.
Trust the cloak, she thought. That and stay completely still were the two principal mantras of unseen movement in the Ranger Corps.
She didn’t even turn her head, swivelling her eyes instead to focus on the spot where she had seen movement. After some thirty seconds, a large fox slipped out of the long grass and padded away, belly low to the ground, long bushy tail streaming behind him. He hadn’t even noticed her.
“I must be getting better at this,” she said to herself. She wished Will could have seen how the fox was unaware of her presence. She could tell him about it, of course. But that wasn’t the same. It would seem like boasting.
It is boasting, she realised.
When she was forty metres from the cliff edge, she dropped silently to her hands and knees, staying below the tall grass. Even though she knew where Will was keeping watch, she could make out no sign of him. She raised her head to scan the terrain ahead of her. As she did so, she incautiously placed her hand on a clump of stiff, dry grass, causing a slight, rustling snap! as it broke.
She paused. The sound had been so small that she was sure nobody would have noticed it. Then, ten metres away, in the spot where she knew Will was keeping watch, she saw his hand rise briefly above the top of the grass.
He’d heard her. He knew she was coming. And he’d signalled her to let her know.
She crawled forward, careful to make no more unnecessary noises. When she was two metres from Will’s position, she was able to discern the mottled cloak that covered him. He turned and she could see his bearded face in the shadow of his cowl. It was uncanny how still he could remain, she thought. If she hadn’t known to look for the cloak, she would probably never have seen him, even as close as she was.
“Anything happening?” she whispered.
“Aside from you blundering about like a lost elephant?” he asked, in the same low tone.
She nodded, accepting the rebuke. “Aside from that.”
He tilted his head towards the rim of the cliff, a metre or so away from them. “Take a look,” he said. Then he added, unnecessarily, she thought, “Carefully.”
She checked the direction of the sun. It was low and out to sea and a little to her left. She pulled her cowl forward to make sure her face was well in its shadow, then inched toward the cliff edge. Keeping her head below the level of the surrounding grass, she carefully parted several strands and peered through.