Chapter 26

They took a circuitous route out of Mountshannon. Halt wasn't sure if Tennyson was watching their movements but if he were, the Outsider would have seen them depart to the south-west. Once clear of the village, however, they followed a series of back roads and smaller trails that took them in a giant circle until they were headed due east, to Craikennis.

`What was the name of the fellow who led the false attack?' Halt asked Will at one stage.

`Driscoll,' Will told him.

`Well, we need to make sure that we don't run into him and his scruffy band. Keep your eye on the ground for any sign of tracks.'

Will nodded. They were all aware that Driscoll and his thirty men were heading in the same general direction they were, to rendezvous with Padraig and the main party a few kilometres from Craikennis. But as the afternoon wore on into evening, they saw no sign of them. Halt assumed they had taken a different route.

There was an early moon and they continued riding after dark. To make up for the time they'd lost taking their original detour to the south-west, Halt led them off the road and they cut across country, directly for Craikennis. Around nine in the evening, they saw the lights of the little village across the fields. The three travellers eased their horses to a stop and took stock of the situation. They were on a slightly elevated position and could see the main road leading out of Craikennis – the road down which Padraig and his men were expected to come the next day. There was no traffic on the road now, no sign of the outlaw band. Halt grunted in satisfaction.

`Looks quiet enough,' he said. 'But keep your eyes and ears open.' He touched Abelard with his heel and the little horse trotted forward.

They crossed two more fields then rode out onto the high road. As on their previous visit, the guard post was manned by two watchmen. Halt had hoped that they'd encounter the guards from their previous visit. It would save time identifying themselves. But unfortunately, these were two new men. They stepped out into the road, one of them holding his hand aloft in a signal for the three riders to stop.

`Idiots,' Halt muttered to his companions. 'If we were here to cause trouble, we could simply ride them both down.'

The sentry who had signalled them to stop stepped forward and peered suspiciously at them. These were not run-of-the-mill travellers, he thought. Two of them wore mottled, hooded cloaks, rode small shaggy horses and carried massive longbows. The other rider was taller, and rode a heavyset battlehorse. A long sword hung at his side and there was a round buckler strapped to the saddle ties behind him.

These were fighting men and the sentry was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was outnumbered.

`What do you want?' he called. His uncertainty made him abrupt and more strident than he'd intended.

The leader of the three riders, the bearded one, leaned forward and crossed his forearms over his saddle pommel. `We mean you no harm,' he said. The voice was quiet and reassuring. But that was no guarantee that the words were the truth.

`Don't come any closer!' the sentry called. He wished he'd brought his spear out of the guard shelter. His companion had a spear, but he was armed only with a heavy, long-handled mace.

`We won't,' Halt told him, in a reasonable tone. 'We're content to stay here. But we need to speak to your commander.'

`Our… what?' the sentry asked.

He wasn't a military man, Horace thought.

Halt revised his request. 'Your village head man. Or the senior member of the watch. We need to speak to someone in authority.'

The sentry eyed him suspiciously. If he sent Finneas, the other guard, to fetch the head man, he'd be left here facing these three alone. He didn't like the idea of that. But at least if he called the head man he could hand this problem over to someone else, he thought. He hesitated, then decided.

`The head man's asleep,' he said eventually, not knowing whether he was or not. 'Come back-tomorrow.'

`Dismount, boys,' Halt said and the three of them r, swung down from the saddle, in spite of the guard's shrill orders.

`No! You stay as you are! Turn around and ride away, d'you hear me?'

The sentry's voice trailed off as he realised that the three strangers were taking no notice of him. Their leader spoke again.

'We're setting our weapons down.' He led the way, moving to the side of the road, unstringing his longbow and laying it on the grass verge. The younger bowman followed suit. The tall youth unclipped the scabbard from his belt and the long cavalry sword joined the two longbows on the grass. That done, the three strangers stepped back onto the road, away from their weapons.

`There,' said Halt. 'Now fetch your head man or watch commander.' He paused a few seconds and added emphatically, 'Please.'

The two watchmen exchanged a glance. Finneas raised one shoulder in a shrug. The strangers seemed trustworthy, he thought. He sensed what was troubling his friend.

`You fetch Conal. I'll keep an eye on them.'

The senior man let go an involuntary sigh of relief. Anything to get this problem off his hands. He came to a decision. Then he thought he'd better make it seem as if this was his idea and he was giving the orders.

`All right. You keep them here. I'll get Conal.'

Finneas looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He wasn't fooled by the mock-decisive manner of his companion.

`Yes, we could do it that way instead,' he said sarcastically.

`Could we do it some time before dawn?' Halt asked in an exasperated tone. The watchman took a pace towards him, his hand on the handle of his mace.

`I'll go when I'm good and ready!' he snarled.

`Which is now, right?' Finneas cut across him.

The senior watchman drew himself up, trying to reclaim his dignity. 'Err… yes. Which is now.' He turned about and hurried towards the village. He looked back several times but the three strangers hadn't moved, and Finneas stood at ease, facing them, leaning casually on his spear. He turned and increased his pace a little, until he was half running.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned with Conal. Halt was quietly pleased to see that Conal, who turned out to be the head watchman, was the same man he and Horace had spoken to several nights previously. The man had struck him as sensible and reasonable. He was certainly going to be easier to deal with than the panicky guard who had gone to fetch him.

That wasn't to say that Conal didn't view the three travellers with suspicion. Halt noticed that he had taken the precaution of arming himself. He wore a sword and a long dirk in his belt. As he approached, the nervous senior guardsman darted into the shelter to fetch his spear.

Conal glanced at Finneas, then at the three figures standing by their horses in the road.

`Well, Finneas, what do we have here?' he asked. Finneas was standing facing them, his spear grounded beside his feet. He touched the spear head lightly to his forehead in salute.

`Three travellers, your honour,' he said, grinning. `They've given me no trouble.'

Conal looked more closely at Halt and Horace. 'I know you two,' he said and Halt nodded. Then the watch commander shifted his gaze to Will, his brow furrowing. `And you? Weren't you here the other night as well?' The young man looked familiar, he thought, but he couldn't quite place him.

`He's the singer, Conal,' Finneas put in and Conal nodded slowly as recognition dawned.

`Of course,' he said slowly. 'But you weren't wearing that cloak. Or carrying that bow. What are you up to?'

The question was asked of all three as his gaze shifted from one to the other. There was something suspicious here and in these times, suspicions were not to be disregarded. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. Then he noticed the trio's weapons were laid by the side of the road and he relaxed a little. Just a little. He glared at Halt.