boy Hen—not a bad shot, too brave for his own good." Harald fell silent a moment.
"And you."
"And me. Held them."
"How many?"
"I saw maybe fifteen, twenty, but there were more shooting from the woods. Three decades, four?"
Stephen sat thinking a while, then shoved his chair back, stood up.
"I'll have to send to the King. Thorvald to Forest Keep, three decades to keep him company, he's a careful man. I'll follow with more tomorrow. You'll want some rest. I'll have them send more food later. See you in the morning before I leave."
He looked straight at Harald for a moment. Harald looked back, nodded. Stephen went out.
By the time Harald woke it was almost dark. The table was spread with a cloth, on that a platter, on that an assortment of sausage, dried meat, dried fruit, cheese, bread—much of it hard baked biscuit. Dinner enough for three men. Harald ate some of the bread and cheese while he was putting on his armor, dumped the rest of the platter's contents onto the cloth. A minute later he was out of the room, the bundle of food concealed by his cloak.
In the stable he found the mare, rubbed down, fed and rested. He saddled her with the help of a curious stable boy.
"A little exercise before night time, good for both of us. Can you take a message to your lord?"
The boy looked up curiously.
"Lord Stephen is sending a messenger. I would like him to carry a brief message from me as well."
The boy waited expectantly.
"The message is that Harald regrets having had to depart in haste, and hopes to visit again shortly. Do you have that?"
"Harald regrets having had to depart in haste, hopes to visit again shortly."
"That's right. Tell Stephen you have to