"Haul those brats away!" the eldest shouted, and four other men hoisted the children.
Fess wheeled from one attacker, back toward the man holding Geoffrey, then pivoted toward the one holding Cordelia. While he did, a soldier stabbed upward with a pike. The point rang against the steel under Fess's horsehair, and the black stallion turned back toward him—but his movements had slowed. The children heard his voice in their heads: Sollldierzz… musst not take… children…
Abruptly, Fess's legs went stiff, and his head dropped down, swinging loosely from the neck, nose almost grazing the ground.
He hath had a seizure! Cordelia thought.
I shall be revenged upon these scum who have hurt him! Geoffrey's thoughts were dark with anger.
The soldiers braced themselves, eyeing the stilled horse with trepidation. Then one reached out and thrust against Fess's shoulder. When the horse didn't respond, he thrust harder. Fess rocked back, but made no reaction. "Is it dead, then?' the soldier asked.
"We'll make it so." The other soldier swung his pike up to chop with the axe-blade.
"Away!" barked the oldest man. "'Tis a witch horse; leave it. Dost thou wish to have its ghost pursue thee?"
The soldier leaped back and crossed himself quickly.
The oldest man looked about the clearing to make sure everything was under control. He was a grizzled bear of a man in his fifties. "Dost thou have them, Grobin?" he called.
"Aye, Auncient! Though they have struggled some." Gro-bin came up, holding Geoffrey and Magnus kicking and squalling one under each arm. He chuckled. "Eh, they are mettlesome lads!"
"What shall I do with this one?" A hulking man in a steel cap and breastplate came up, tossing Gregory like a ball. The child wailed in terror.
Cordelia, Geoffrey, and Magnus's gazes snapped to the thug, and he came within a hairsbreadth of death that moment.
But he never knew it, for the grizzled bear of a man they called "Auncient" said, "Why, take him to Milord Count, even as these others. Come!"
The soldiers slung the children over their shoulders as though they were bags of potatoes. Their steel-clad joints knocked the wind out of the children, but even as Geoffrey struggled for breath, his face hardened and his eyes lost focus. Magnus's thought echoed in his mind: Nay! They've done naught to merit death!
Geoffrey glared at him; but he held himself back.
Wherefore hath Puck not driven away these clods? Geoffrey demanded.
He must not see need enough, Magnus answered.
'Tis true… We are not harmed… But Geoffrey's thoughts were dark.
Peace, brother, Magnus consoled him. Thou wilt have free rein to work havoc, when we're sure these men work evil.
The soldiers trooped through patches of moonlight into a larger clearing nearby and brought the children up to a knot of horsemen. At their head sat a man in full armor, on a huge mount. As the soldiers came up, he lifted his visor. "Well done, Auncient."
"I thank you, Milord." The auncient touched his forelock in respect. "'Twas easily done, of course."
"What was that scream, and the shouting that followed it?"
"A war-horse sprang upon us—but he froze of a sudden, as though he'd been cursed." The auncient crossed himself. "Are there sorcerers in this wood, Milord?"
" 'Tis no matter, an they side with us." The nobleman was frowning down at the children. "What wast thou about, babes in the woods? How came ye here alone?"
A soldier shoved Magnus. He glared up at the nobleman. "We search for our parents."
A fist slammed into his ear, shooting pain with a loud crack. Through the ringing that followed it, he heard the auncient growl, "Speak with respect! Thou dost address the Count of Drosz!"
Magnus fought hard to control his temper and keep from hurling the knight off his horse with an unseen hand. It helped to promise himself that someday, the auncient would pay for that box on the ear—but it helped more to wonder at the nobleman's identity. "Drosz? But we are in the County of Glynn!"
"Well enough," Drosz said, with a grim smile. "He doth know his place in the countryside, if not in his rank."
"Wherefore hast thou come?" Geoffrey's gag had been removed, too.
"Why, to conquer Glynn's county." Drosz turned to Geoffrey with a contemptuous smile. "Why else would a nobleman be abroad in another's demesne?"
"But thy county is within Duke Hapsburg's lands, and we stand now within Earl Tudor's feif! Will not thy Duke bid thee hold, ere thou canst come to Glynn's castle?"
Drosz laughed. "Nay, foolish bairn! I am Hapsburg's vas-sal. Thus any land that I seize will enlarge his demesne!"
"Yet Tudor must needs then declare war on Duke Haps-burg," Geoffrey pointed out.
"And if he doth?" The count shrugged. "What matter?"
"Why, there will be battle!" Cordelia cried.
The count nodded. "There will."
The children stared at him, unnerved. He cares not a whit if he doth plunge two whole provinces into civil war! Cordelia thought.
Aye, not a whit. Magnus glowered up at the count. Surely he doth know the death and suffering he will cause!
That matters naught, to him, Geoffrey explained. Naught, against the prospect of glory and power. Aloud, he said, "Surely Glynn left a home guard. Doth none oppose thee?"
"None," the count confirmed. "'Tis as though he hath disappeared from the face of the earth, and his family with him; and his knights, not knowing what to do, have lain down their arms."
Geoffrey stared, outraged. "Assuredly he would have given commands to defend!"
"Defend what? He is gone, and his wife and bairns with him! His knights have none to turn to for direction—and they have not the rank to deny another nobleman's commands. Nay, they do not oppose me, save one or two." He dismissed them with a wave of his gauntlet—which he had probably done.
"Then thou art master of this county, also," Magnus said. "Why hast thou wasted time seizing mere children?"
"Credit me with some sense, young one." The count's smile was brittle. "There's not a nobleman in the land that doth not know the faces of the High Warlock's children."
The children were silent. The count chuckled, gloating,
looking from one little face to another.
"Then!" Magnus spoke with anger. "Then an thou dost know our rank, wherefore hast thou permitted thy minion to strike me!"
"Why, for that thou art my prisoners now, and subject to me." The count lounged back in his saddle with a toothy grin.
Magnus's eyes narrowed. He wondered if the nobleman was only stupid, or really so rude and arrogant as to treat another nobleman's children with contempt. "Well, then, we are thy prisoners." But the tone of his voice did not really acknowledge it. "What purpose can we serve in thy conquest?"
"Why, thou art hostages, ignorant child! And while I do hold thee, neither Earl Tudor, nor Duke Hapsburg, nor even King Tuan himself will dare to attack me, for fear of the powers of the High Warlock's brood!"
Magnus was silent, glaring at him. Then, just as Geoffrey started to speak, 'he said, "Thou mayest hold our bodies—but thou dost not command our powers."
The fist exploded against his ear again, and his head filled with the rough mocking laughter of the soldiers. Through the ringing, he heard the count gloating, "Thou wilt do as thou art bid, boy!"
Magnus just barely managed to hold onto his temper—and that, only because he could tell Geoffrey was about to erupt. Nay! he thought. There are too many of them! We cannot fight a whole army alone!
We cannot submit without fighting, either! his brother thought back in boiling rage.
Nor will we! Yet save thy power for the moment when it will suffice to topple them, the whiles they fight another army!