handful of grain from an open sack near the saddles. This form of bribery, combined with Hugh’s lack of fear, worked quickly. Bit and bridle were slipped in place while the horse nuzzled for the last kernels in his hand. Then Hugh led him to the sack, which occupied him happily while cloth and saddle were swung into place and cinched. This done, it was easy enough to take the stallion outside, where sound was less likely to disturb those in the house, and jab him violently in the ribs so the cinch could be properly tightened.
Grinning from ear to ear, Hugh swung up into the saddle and trotted out of the yard and onto the road. He had often been told that virtue and devotion to duty, being good works that smoothed the path to heaven, were their own reward, but this time the reward was tangible. Hugh was now richer by a very fine horse and all its valuable accoutrements—and all taken from a rich enemy, too, so that he would not need to feel guilty about depriving some other poor man of his means of livelihood.
Fate had another twist for Hugh, however. He did not succeed in escaping unnoticed. By chance, one of the men drinking with Sir William de Summerville in the alewife’s house stepped out to piss just as Hugh was disappearing down the road. The man was somewhat fuddled with drink, but not so fuddled that the sight of a mounted man riding south out of the village did not raise doubts in his mind. He shouted a question and then an order to stop, which, needless to say, Hugh did not obey.
In fact, Hugh kicked his horse into a gallop and kept the pace until he was through the armed camp, staying carefully on the road that ran due south. But when he judged that the sound of pounding hooves could no longer carry back to the camp, Hugh checked the horse and turned west. He knew he would be pursued as soon as Summerville discovered whose horse had been taken, but he would be far away by then and, he hoped, the pursuers would believe he had continued south or would turn east to find protection in Prudhoe or Newcastle.
The thought generated a doubt in his mind. Since King David himself had not come to Wark, doubtless he had other, more important castles to subdue. It was impossible for Hugh to guess which places had been attacked, and he decided that safety lay in avoiding all towns and all fortified places until he was well south in England. That made him think of the great wall that crossed England. He would be much safer once he was south of that. It was a ruin except where it had been repaired, but it was a formidable ruin, as much as ten or twelve feet high wherever it had not been deliberately breached. Hugh frowned. He had no idea where the breaches were, and off the road, with the stars hidden by clouds, he was not even certain of his direction.
Chapter 3
When Hugh thought back on his escape, he was sure Saint Jude or the Blessed Virgin herself had had a hand on his horse’s bridle all the way. With neither moon nor stars to guide him, all he could do was keep the wind, which he remembered as being from the northeast, at his back. Nonetheless, he did not travel in circles; he came to the great wall before dawn—and without seeing or hearing a sign of pursuit.
By daybreak he had found a breach, where the small river that ran along the wall sent a branch southward. He and the destrier drank, then followed the river valley for only a little way before they came on a road. This ran somewhat westward of south, but Hugh took it gladly, for this part of the country was strange to him, and a road meant people. He had reason to doubt the wisdom of his decision all morning, because the country was desolate, but by afternoon he had come to a crossroad that went east and looked better traveled, and late in the day he came to Brough keep, where there was news of King Stephen.
The king was in Westminster, they told him, and directed him south by way of Richmond and Pontefract, grateful for the warning he brought about the
Grinning from ear to ear, Hugh swung up into the saddle and trotted out of the yard and onto the road. He had often been told that virtue and devotion to duty, being good works that smoothed the path to heaven, were their own reward, but this time the reward was tangible. Hugh was now richer by a very fine horse and all its valuable accoutrements—and all taken from a rich enemy, too, so that he would not need to feel guilty about depriving some other poor man of his means of livelihood.
Fate had another twist for Hugh, however. He did not succeed in escaping unnoticed. By chance, one of the men drinking with Sir William de Summerville in the alewife’s house stepped out to piss just as Hugh was disappearing down the road. The man was somewhat fuddled with drink, but not so fuddled that the sight of a mounted man riding south out of the village did not raise doubts in his mind. He shouted a question and then an order to stop, which, needless to say, Hugh did not obey.
In fact, Hugh kicked his horse into a gallop and kept the pace until he was through the armed camp, staying carefully on the road that ran due south. But when he judged that the sound of pounding hooves could no longer carry back to the camp, Hugh checked the horse and turned west. He knew he would be pursued as soon as Summerville discovered whose horse had been taken, but he would be far away by then and, he hoped, the pursuers would believe he had continued south or would turn east to find protection in Prudhoe or Newcastle.
The thought generated a doubt in his mind. Since King David himself had not come to Wark, doubtless he had other, more important castles to subdue. It was impossible for Hugh to guess which places had been attacked, and he decided that safety lay in avoiding all towns and all fortified places until he was well south in England. That made him think of the great wall that crossed England. He would be much safer once he was south of that. It was a ruin except where it had been repaired, but it was a formidable ruin, as much as ten or twelve feet high wherever it had not been deliberately breached. Hugh frowned. He had no idea where the breaches were, and off the road, with the stars hidden by clouds, he was not even certain of his direction.
Chapter 3
When Hugh thought back on his escape, he was sure Saint Jude or the Blessed Virgin herself had had a hand on his horse’s bridle all the way. With neither moon nor stars to guide him, all he could do was keep the wind, which he remembered as being from the northeast, at his back. Nonetheless, he did not travel in circles; he came to the great wall before dawn—and without seeing or hearing a sign of pursuit.
By daybreak he had found a breach, where the small river that ran along the wall sent a branch southward. He and the destrier drank, then followed the river valley for only a little way before they came on a road. This ran somewhat westward of south, but Hugh took it gladly, for this part of the country was strange to him, and a road meant people. He had reason to doubt the wisdom of his decision all morning, because the country was desolate, but by afternoon he had come to a crossroad that went east and looked better traveled, and late in the day he came to Brough keep, where there was news of King Stephen.
The king was in Westminster, they told him, and directed him south by way of Richmond and Pontefract, grateful for the warning he brought about the
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