Magnus laughed at that, a low rumbling sound that echoed through the vast expanse of the moors. “Is that what ye were? I’m not so sure. I reckon it might have beenyerescuingme. Without Snaffles’ help, I might never have found the trail of those outlaws.”
At the mention of his name, Snaffles’ head came up, ears erect and tail wagging. He came bounding over and slammed into Isabelle, knocking her flat on her back in the heather. He slurped his tongue along her face in triumph, then bounded off again, eager to check out some new scent that had caught his attention.
Isabelle made no attempt to get up. She lay in the heather, limbs spread-eagled, staring at the sky. “That bloody dog!” she cried. “No wonder he’s been at the rescue center so long! One of these days I’m going to knockhimflying then slobber all overhim! See how he likes it!”
She sat up, wiping her face. Magnus stifled a laugh and held out his hand to help her up. With a sigh and a little half-laugh, she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“Thanks.”
Reluctantly, Magnus released her hand and stepped back. “Ye are welcome.”
Suddenly, Magnus’s stomach gave a rumbling growl. He felt his face flush and was relieved when he heard Isabelle’s light laughter. “I think that’s a sign we should stop for lunch,” she suggested, pointing to an inviting cluster of mossy rocks bathed in the glow of the noonday sun. It was a perfect spot for them to rest and eat.
Magnus nodded. They had not made as good time as he’d hoped and he guessed they were only a little over halfway to Hodwell. He gently pulled at the halter, steering the horse towards the rocks Isabelle had pointed out. Once there, he took off the saddlebag and began brushing the horse down before leading her to a burn to drink.
Isabelle rummaged in one of the saddlebags, pulling out bread, cheese, and some smoked meat before walking over to the burn to refill their canteens.
Magnus found himself watching her. There was a quiet confidence in the way she moved, a focus that spoke of an inner strength he had only begun to glimpse. She looked up then, catching him staring. Magnus quickly looked away, feigning interest in the horse’s halter, before leading her back to their resting spot.
Returning to where Magnus was sitting, Isabelle handed him a canteen then proceeded to distribute the food between them. They ate in silence.
“Do you ever regret it?” Isabelle asked.
“Regret what?” He’d been lost in his thoughts and taken by surprise by her sudden question.
She shrugged. “Leaving the monastery, joining the Order of the Osprey?”
Magnus chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread before answering. He considered his past; from the streets to the monastery to Eamon’s household.
There was much he regretted. There were many things he would change if he could have his time over, but joining the Order of the Osprey was not one of them.
“Nay,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I regret many things. But not that. The Order gave me purpose when nothing else could.”
Isabelle nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. She glanced towards the horizon. What was she thinking about? Her home? How desperately she wanted to get back there?
She stood abruptly. “We should get moving,” she said, repacking the saddlebags. She suddenly seemed agitated, eager to get on.
He stood, dusted off his plaid, and set to preparing their horse once more for travel. Gradually, as the day wore on, the landscape changed, becoming more cultivated, with fields of winter crops like turnips and kale blanketing the road as they drew closer to Hodwell.
Magnus found his thoughts turning to his mission. He ran his fingers over the hilt of the broken sword tucked into his belt, wondering if it would indeed prove to be the evidence he needed. And if it did? Would he really take it to the king? Would he really commit this final act of betrayal and break a vow he had made so long ago?
The images of the angry villager came back to him. Face twisted with fury and loss, despair in his voice as he shouted at Magnus.Ye! It was yer fault! Ye should have protected us!
His resolve tightened.Aye, he answered himself.I will commit the final betrayal. Because a deeper vow binds me now.
Perhaps half an hour later, Hodwell came into view. The town was a composition of crooked half-timbered buildings huddled together, punctuated by the occasional stone-built hall or merchant’s house. Around the edges of the settlement, the beginnings of town walls were going up and these hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. Aye, Hodwell was prospering indeed.
His gaze moved east, to the large complex of buildings that sat perhaps a mile from the edge of Hodwell. Saint Bartholomew’s Monastery was a collection of stone buildings grander than most in Hodwell itself. With its arched windows and tall bell tower that stood against the afternoon sky, it was the monastery that had really brought Hodwell its prosperity, with the settlement expanding in order to serve the monastic community and then branching out into trade in iron goods.
“So that’s it?” Isabelle asked, looking down. “Hodwell?”
“Aye,” he muttered. “Come on. Let’s find this blacksmith then be on our way to Dun Saith.”
IZZY FELT THAT FLUTTERINGof fear in her belly again. It had been absent during the journey when it had only been herself, Magnus and Snaffles, but now, with the settlement of Hodwell looming ahead of them, it returned with a vengeance.
How was she supposed to pass as a fifteenth century woman? And how was she supposed to get through thiswhole ordeal without doing something stupid and giving herself away? Oh heck. What had she been thinking in agreeing to this?
“All will be well, lass,” Magnus said, as if reading her thoughts. “I promise.”
