“Best to travel as one group,” said Captain Ulric as they waited for the baggage train to arrive. “We might split into many smaller groups and hope to reach Lavas County undetected, but every small group will therefore be more vulnerable. Our trail is easily followed if we travel together, but we are also protected by our numbers. Lady Sabella will have to hear of our journey, and our road, and raise a large enough force to meet us without fear of being defeated by our numbers. That will take time and forethought, and may give us the advantage we need. Yet we must also consider, Your Grace, what we will do once we reach Lavas County. Of a certainty, Lady Sabella or Duke Conrad will send an army to drive us out.”

“As we travel, we will discuss what choices we have,” Constance agreed. She paused and turned her head as though seeking something.

The soft light cast its muted glamour over the clearing. Horses grazed at the sparse grass. They were being led in groups to water at the nearby stream, heard as a quiet laughter beneath the constant noise of men walking, talking, hammering a stronger axle into one of the carts, and, here and there, singing.

“I woke at midnight in the deep wood

I woke at midnight when the moon was new

There I saw a kindling fire

A bright fire!

Truth rises with the phoenix.

So spoke the holy one:

Truth rises with the phoenix.”

“What song is this?” Ivar whispered to Sigfrid, who sat crosslegged beside him with his bony hands folded in his lap and his thin face composed and calm.

“I’ve not heard those words before,” said Sigfrid, “but I know the melody well enough.” He hummed along, picking up the refrain at once.

“Truth rises with the phoenix,” echoed Ivar. Wind rippled, bringing a spatter of rain. He wiped his eyes as the mizzle shushed away into the trees. Above the chatter of men and the clatter of branches, he heard the tramp and rumble of an approaching procession.

Naturally, Baldwin rode at the front on a handsome roan mare. His seat was matchless. Even his clerical robes, cut for riding, fell in pleasing folds and layers about his legs and was swept up in back to cover his mount’s flanks. A well-dressed girl of about fourteen rode beside him on a sturdy gelding. She was so dazzled by Baldwin’s attention to her that she did not notice the captain approaching with a frown on his face.

“Louisa! Come at once to pay your respects to the holy biscop.”

Her eyes widened. She startled and touched the linen scarf that mostly covered her dark hair. “Yes, Father. I pray you, Brother Baldwin, excuse me.”

He smiled at her, and she flushed.

“Shameless!” muttered Ivar.

Beside him, Sigfrid chuckled. “You are no different than any of us. Poor Baldwin. Do we truly love him, or only his beauty? Yet he looks well.”