While they had been talking, he had taken advantage of the noise they made to rise and slip closer to them. He wasn't concerned that he'd be seen by either man – his cloak and the surrounding darkness made sure of that. Now he was barely three metres from the new sentry, his face shadowed by the cowl of his cloak and a striker grasped in his right hand. In moving closer, he had. gone in an arc, so that he was behind the sentry. He waited, flattened against a tree, until the departing guard's footsteps had faded away. As he had expected, the new sentry began to make himself comfortable, setting down his gear and checking his sightlines.

The time was now, Will thought, before he had a chance to settle in, while his mind was still distracted by the recent conversation. He risked a glance around the tree. The man was standing with his back to Will. He was armed with a spear and a spiked mace hung at his belt. His cloak was bundled on the ground beside him – presumably he'd don it when the night became colder – and a flask and mug were placed on the ground at the base of a flat rock that stood about a metre high. As Will slipped forward, the man leaned back, resting on the flat rock, his spear in his right hand. He sighed quietly – the sound of a man resigned to four hours of boredom and mild discomfort.

Will hit him hard behind the ear with the striker. The sigh, barely finished, turned to a strangled grunt and the man collapsed sideways off the rock, unconscious. His grasp on the spear was relaxed and it fell in the opposite direction, making barely any noise on the forest floor.

Will stood over the sprawled form for a few seconds, the striker poised, ready for another blow if needed.

But the man was well and truly out. His arms and legs lay at odd angles, indicating a total lack of tension in hismuscles. He should remain this way for at least an hour, Will thought. That should be ample time for him to scout around the camp. He rolled the man over onto his back and, seizing him by the shoulders of his jacket, dragged the lifeless form to a tree. As ever, he marvelled at how heavy a human body could become when it was completely limp like this. He propped the man into a semi-reclining position against the tree, arranged his arms and legs to look as if he were sleeping, then poured the brandy over the front of his jerkin. For good measure, he pried the man's lips apart and sloshed some of the spirit inside his mouth.

He stepped back, eyeing his handiwork. Now, even if the man regained consciousness and raised the alarm, the spilt liquor would tell its own story to his superiors. Tossing the flask down beside the recumbent form, Will gathered his cloak about him and slipped out of the trees into the open space leading to the camp site.

He dropped to the ground and moved in a rapid crawl, dragging himself with his elbows, driving himself forward with his knees. Once he reached the tent lines, he continued to crawl until he was past the first few rows. Then, in the shadowed area between two tents, he rose carefully to his feet and waited for a few seconds.

There was no indication that anyone had noticed him. He slipped back the cowl from his face, stepped out of the shadows and walked casually through the camp towards the large central tent. Noticing a bucket full of water standing outside one tent, he glanced around to see if anyone were observing him. Satisfied that he had aroused no attention, he hastily grabbed the bucket and continued on his way.

A few metres on, he passed three men. Seeing the bucket, they assumed he had gone to fetch water. Always seem to have a purpose, Halt had taught him years ago. If people think there's a reason you're in a place, odds are they won't bother to challenge you.

`Right again, Halt,' he muttered to himself, and continued to make his way further into the camp.

Chapter 21

From his vantage point above the camp, Will had taken note of several of its key features. The cooking area was in the centre of the untidy cluster of tents. That was only to be expected. If the cook fires were placed to one side in a large camp like this, some of the men would have to traverse the entire area to get their food. This was the most convenient position for everyone. The luckiest, of course, would be those closest to the cooks. Being just minutes from the cook fires, they'd enjoy hot meals. So the more senior members of the band had placed their tents towards the middle. People on the fringes of the camp would find their meals lukewarm by the time they brought them back to their tents. The lower your rank, the further from the cook fires you were.

Which also dictated the position of the commander's tent. It was close enough to the cooking fires so that the leader's food would be hot and fresh, but just far enough away to be clear of the noise and the smoke.

Will headed now for the cook fires. It wasn't hard to get a bearing on them. Fires to provide for the needs of over a hundred men would need to be big and numerous. The leaping sparks whirled up into the sky above them and the glow of the flames was visible from anywhere in the camp.

He walked into the clear space around them. Men were bustling about, preparing the meal. As the sentry had stated, there were several deer carcasses turning on spits. Another smaller fire had a brace of geese turning slowly, dripping fat with each revolution so that the flames leapt and spluttered. In addition, there were large cookpots set over several smaller fires. As he watched, a sweating attendant, his face livid in the firelight, dumped a bucket full of peeled potatoes into one, leaping back hurriedly to avoid the splash of boiling water.

Will knew it was important that he keep moving. If he were to stand around gaping, sooner or later someone would challenge his presence and want to know who he was. He had the cowl on his cloak thrown back, of course, and in the uncertain firelight the cloak's camouflage pattern wasn't really noticeable. He had left his bow and quiver with Tug and was armed only with his two knives. To all intents and purposes, he looked like anyone else in the camp. Except none of them were standing still, looking at what was going on around them. He moved forward towards the man who'd just dumped the potatoes into boiling water. The cook looked up at him, a scowl on his face.

`We'll tell you when the food's ready,' he said unpleasantly. Cooks were used to being harassed by the men. Either the food wasn't ready on time or, if it were, it wastoo cold. Or overcooked. Or undercooked. Or just generally not good enough.

Will made a negative gesture with his free hand, indicating he wasn't trying to jump the queue. He held up the bucket of water.

`John said to bring you this water,' he said.

Two things he was sure of. In a camp this large, there would be half a dozen people named John. And cooks were always in need of water. The cook frowned now.

`Don't remember as I asked him,' he said. Will shrugged and turned away, still with the bucket in his hand.

`Suit yourself,' he said. But the cook stopped him quickly. He might not have asked for water but he'd need it sooner or later and it would save him the trouble of fetching it.

`Put it by here, then. Might as well have it if you've brought it.'

`Fine.' Will set the bucket down. The cook nodded a reluctant acknowledgment.

`Tell John thanks,' he said and Will snorted.

`Wasn't John who had to lug it here across the camp, was it?' he said archly.

`True enough.' The cook understood the implied message. 'See me when we're serving. There'll be some extra for your plate.'

Will touched his forehead. 'Grateful to you,' he said, and moved away. He glanced back after a few paces but the cook had already lost interest in him. Will moved away, his pace brisk, heading for the central command pavilion. It was less than thirty metres away and he could see it clearly. It stood a little apart from its neighbours, at the top of a slight slope, with a large fire in front of it. There were two sentries placed either side of the entrance and as he watched, three men approached, waited to be recognised, and headed inside. Shortly after, a servant appeared with a tray bearing thick glass tankards and a wine flagon. He went inside and reappeared a minute or so later.