He argued, of course, but in the end—rather to her surprise-he gave the oars to her, shifting position with her in the boat. Evelina didn’t do a bad job of rowing, once she got the hang of it. She could do most things she set her mind to; a characteristic that had carried her stubbornly through life.

Fortunately, she didn’t have far to go before she steered them out of the tributary that flowed past the cave and entered the main body of the river, Aston. Here, she was rowing with the current, not against it, since the river flowed south, carrying them in the direction they wanted to go.

“We should find a place to stop,” Marcus had told her before he’d fallen asleep. “It’s dangerous traveling the river in the dark.”

Evelina was in hearty agreement. She had no intention of spoiling her hands the way Marcus had spoiled his, and she could feel them starting to blister. Her back and shoulders ached, as did her buttocks, from the hard seat. When she saw lights ahead, bobbing up and down in the darkness, Evelina would have thanked God, had she known Him well enough to take the liberty.

The lights belonged to fishermen setting out from their small village for some night fishing. They used lantern light to lure the fish to their nets, and it was these lights that Evelina saw. She woke Marcus with a kick of her foot.

The fishermen were naturally quite astonished when a young woman rowed a boat into their midst and more astonished yet to find that she had a monk with bandaged hands for a passenger. Their confusion was cleared up when Marcus explained who he was. He didn’t expect them to believe him, for he had no way to prove his identity. To his astonishment, he was greeted with smiles and good cheer and enthusiasm. The king’s men, it seemed, had been here only two days before, telling the people that the prince had been lost on the river during a fishing expedition and asking them to keep a watch out for him. Not only were his people pleased to see their prince, there was a handsome reward being offered for his safe return.

“Yer Majesty,” said one of the fishermen, clapping Marcus on the shoulder. “Yer the best catch we’ve made all year. Beggin’ Yer Majesty’s pardon.”

The fact that he was wearing monk’s robes was quickly explained by a hastily made-up tale of falling into the river and being rescued by a passing monk, who gave him dry clothes. Marcus was more vague concerning Evelina, saying confusedly something to the effect that she had found him and nursed him. The fishermen received this information with straight faces. He was, after all, their prince.