Company of Liars by Karen Maitland Page A

was still just enough light to make out a woman sitting on the stump of a tree, her cloak wrapped tightly about her against the rain.
    ‘My wife,’ the young man began again. ‘She can't walk any further tonight. She's pregnant.’
    ‘So,’ growled Zophiel, ‘what are you telling me for? I didn't father her child.’
    ‘I thought you might let her ride in your wagon. Not me, of course, I can walk. I don't mind walking, I'm used to it, but Adela, she –’
    ‘Are you even more stupid than you appear? Does it look as if this wagon is going anywhere? Clear off.’
    Zophiel walked around the wagon to his horse and began pulling on the halter, using his whip freely in a vain effort to get the poor beast to move forward. The boy followed him, keeping a safe distance from the whip.
    ‘Please, she can't spend the night in the open in this rain. I'll help you lift the wheel out, if you'll –’
    ‘You,’ Zophiel spat, ‘you couldn't lift the skin off a roast chicken.’
    ‘But we could,’ Rodrigo said, stepping forward.
    The dagger was in Zophiel's hand again and he backed nervously up against the solid side of the wagon, his eyes darting all around, trying to see if there were any more of us hiding in the shadows. Jofre giggled. He was enjoying every minute of this.
    Rodrigo gave his most courtly bow. ‘The minstrel Rodrigo at your service, signore. My pupil, Jofre, and our companion, a camelot.’
    Zophiel peered closely at us.
    ‘You!’ he said, as his gaze alighted on Jofre. He swiftly backed away, his dagger sweeping from side to side in frontof him as if he were preparing to take us all on. ‘If you think you're going to get the boy's money back, you are mistaken, my friend. He was –’
    ‘Money?’ Rodrigo looked puzzled.
    Jofre was carefully studying his mud-caked boots.
    ‘The price to see the merchild,’ I explained quickly.
    Rodrigo nodded, apparently satisfied, then turned back to Zophiel and held his hands up in imitation of the young man. ‘Rest assured, signore , we have no intention of robbing you of your money. We were about to offer our help, one traveller to another, when this gentleman approached. But now he is here, between us we will soon get your wagon on the move.’
    Zophiel continued to eye us suspiciously. ‘And how much do you want for your help?’
    I answered for him. ‘These lads will shift the wagon, if you'll agree to give a ride to this man's wife.’ I looked around. Rain was streaming down our faces. We were so wet and muddy that we might have been dragged out of a river. ‘It's my guess that we're all in need of dry shelter tonight. There are no inns on this road, but I do know of a place that'll keep out the rain, if it's not already occupied.’
    Zophiel glanced over to where, in the semi-darkness, we could just make out the smudge of the woman still huddled on the tree stump. ‘If I put her on the wagon, it will weigh it down into the mud again. Besides,’ he added petulantly, ‘there's no room, the wagon's full.’
    ‘Then let her ride where you sit. She can't weigh more than you. You walk and lead the horse. In the dark that would, in any case, be the safest course unless you want to end up overturned.’
    ‘And why should I walk when a woman rides? If herhusband drags her on some fool journey on foot in her condition, he only has himself to blame.’
    The wind was getting up and lashing the rain against our faces, burning the skin already raw from wet and cold.
    ‘Come now, Zophiel,’ I said. ‘None of us would be on the road this night unless we were forced to be. Let's not waste any more time. We're all getting soaked to the skin and your wheels are settling deeper in the mud. It seems to me you have a simple choice: stay here all night in the rain with your wagon stuck fast and you prey to any cut-throat that comes along, or give the woman a ride and let us help you on your way. We'll all walk alongside you and put our shoulders to the wheel each time