"I have a mind," said Robin, "to go and get a gourd of it for us. In a moment I'd be back."

"The Reaver would take the ears off you if you left your post."

"The Reaver, whatever else you may say of him," protested Robin, "is a reasonable man and not one to exact undue suffering from his men. If I went and spoke to him of it, he might send out someone to take our place. He's simply forgotten how long he's had us out here."

"But the prisoners!"

"Not a one of them has stirred in the last hour. There's naught to fear from them."

"I still don't like the sound of it," said Einer.

"I'm going to get that wine," said Robin. "It's not fair to keep us out here while they lie guzzling. I'll be back in the shake of a wee lamb's tail. They all may be so sodden they'll take no notice of me."

"If there's any wine left."

"There should be. There were three casks of it."

"Well, if you're determined, then. But hurry. I still think it is a foolish thing to do."

"I'll be right back," said Robin.

He wheeled about and disappeared, moving hurriedly, blotted from Duncan's sight by the clump of willows.

Wine, thought Duncan. Who could they have encountered who would give them wine?

A faint rustling came from the willows. The fox, or whatever it might be, was still there, or had come back again.

Einer, who must have heard the rustling, started to turn, but the figure that rose out of the willows moved too fast for him. An arm went around his throat and metal flashed briefly before it disappeared with a thud, sinking into Elner's chest. The guard straightened momentarily, gurgling, then slumped and fell, to lie huddled on the sand. One foot jerked spasmodically, kicking at the earth.

The man who had risen from the willows ran toward Duncan and knelt beside him. In the light of the moon, Duncan caught a glimpse of his face.

"Cedric!" he whispered.

"As I told you once before," Cedric whispered back, "a small stroke here and there."

The knife in his hand sliced through the bonds that held Duncan's hands, then he turned to the feet and slashed the rope that held the ankles. He thrust the knife toward Duncan.

"Here," he said, "take this. You'll have need of it."

The old bee master rose and started for the willows.

"Wait, man!" whispered Duncan. "Stay and go with us. If the Reaver finds you out…"

"Nay. My bees. The bees still have need of me. They would be lost without me. And no one will notice. They all lie as if dead, badly in their cups."

Duncan surged to his feet. His legs seemed dead beneath him, numb from being bound so long. Old Cedric was already gone, vanishing in the willows.

Duncan ran to Conrad, pushed at him so he could reach his arms.

"What goes on, m" lord?"

"Quiet," Duncan whispered.

He cut the cords that bound Conrad's arms and handed him the knife.

"Free your legs," he said, "then cut loose the others. The second guard is coming back. I'll take care of him."

Conrad grabbed the knife. "Thank dear God," he said.

As he ran toward the willows, Duncan could hear the shuffling tread of Robin returning, floundering through the sand. Duncan stooped to scoop up the claymore that Einer had dropped. It was an awkward, heavy weapon that did not fit his fist. His numbed fingers had some difficulty grasping it, but finally he managed to get a good grip on it.

Robin began talking to Einer even before he rounded the willows. "I took an unbroached cask of it," he crowed triumphantly. "No one noticed. Or I don't think they did. All of them are slobbered."

He grunted, shifting the cask from one shoulder to the other. "We have enough to last out the night," he said. "More than enough to last the night. There'll be some left over we can wash our feet in if we feel the urge."

He came around the corner of the clump of willows, and Duncan stepped swiftly forward. The stroke had no finesse, no fanciness, no swordsmanship. He simply crashed the edge of the claymore down on the top of Robin's head. The skull split with the sound of a ripe melon popping; the rusty iron stopped only when it reached the breast bone. The violence of the iron striking the heavy bone set up a vibration that made Duncan's forearm tingle. Robin made no sound. He fell like a tree before an axe. The cask hit the ground and bounced, rolling for a ways, its contents slopping in it.

Duncan bent over the body, reached for the hilt of Robin's blade and jerked it free. Then he ran for the manuscript, and with the two weapons tucked beneath his armpit, held by the pressure of his arm, he picked up the manuscript, folded it once, unneatly, and thrust it inside his shirt, where it lay against his skin.

Andrew was free, staggering about on unsteady legs, and so also was Meg. Conrad was bending over Tiny, carefully cutting the cords that held the big dog's jaws together. Duncan ran for Daniel, roped between two trees. As he approached, the horse shied away. Duncan spoke to him softly. "It's all right, Daniel. Take it easy, boy." He slashed at the ropes and as they came free, the horse lunged forward, then stood trembling. Beauty, already freed, trotted up, dragging the rope that had been her halter.

Conrad was moving toward Duncan, and Duncan held out one of the claymores toward him. Conrad raised his hand to show he had his club. "They left it lying there beside me." Duncan tossed one of the claymores to one side.

"What the hell's the matter with Andrew?" he asked. The hermit was stumbling about, looking at the ground.

Duncan hurried to him, grasped him by the arm. "Come on," he said. "We must get out of here."

"My staff," gasped Andrew. "I must find my staff."

He made a sudden lurch forward. "Ah, there it is," he said.

He grabbed it up and thumped it on the ground.

"Where to, m" lord?" asked Conrad.

"Back into the hills. We'll have a better chance there."

Conrad sprinted forward, snatched up Meg, threw her on Daniel's back. "Hang on tight," he said. "Stay low so a branch doesn't scrape you off. You'll have to cling with all your might, for you haven't got a saddle. I don't even know where the goddamn saddle is."

16

They halted in the clearing on the top of the rocky ridge where they had stopped the night before to watch the Wild Huntsman careen across the sky. The moon was low in the west and a few birds were beginning to stir and twitter in the woods below them. Meg slid off Daniel, grateful for the halt, and Andrew sat down on a small boulder.

"They're all beat out, the both of them," Duncan told Conrad. "Maybe we should hole in here and wait to see what happens."

Conrad looked around. "Good place," he said. "We could get our backs against those rocks and hold them off, should they come upon us. Better than being caught out in the woods."

He held out his wrists for Duncan to see. They still carried ugly red welts from the bonds and the skin was abraded and bleeding. "I notice yours are the same," he said.

"They tied us tight," said Duncan. "If it hadn't been for Cedric…"

"He should have come along with us. If the Reaver finds him out…"

"Maybe he won't find him out. All of them were dead drunk. Someone had given them three casks of wine. And of course, they'd have to try to drink it up. Who in the world would have given them wine?"

"Maybe they found it. In one of the burned homesteads."

"No. Einer, or was it Robin, said someone had given it to them."

"You asked Old Cedric to come along with us?"

"That's right. He said he couldn't. That his bees had need of him."

"Ghost didn't show up last night."

"Maybe he did and saw what had happened and went tearing off to try to locate Snoopy."

"Had he come down, he would have scared the Jesus out of those two guards. They'd have lit out."