*
The wagon came around the bend of the road, just as Anna had anticipated. The party did not ride as tightly together as they should have done, which would make matters simpler.
They would be easy to divide. She eased from behind the tree with her loaded crossbow. Edgar did the same, though he was not so good a shot as she. She saw his nod, then Norton and Piers erupted from the forest. The boys leapt for the backs of the horses pulling the wagon even as the men guarding the load cried out.
She and Edgar both let their bolts fly.
Anna’s hit the lead knight in the throat. He fell from his steed to bleed in the road and did not rise again. His destrier reared, whinnied in fear, and galloped down the road, his reins trailing. The steed of the other knight ahead of the wagon bolted in terror, despite his rider’s efforts to hold him back.
Edgar’s bolt struck the driver of the wagon in the shoulder. That man had moved in the last moment, startled by boys’ appearance, and he wrestled with the shaft of the bolt even as he tried to hold back the horses. The boys beat the rumps of the horses pulling the wagon and they were only too glad to gallop after their fellows.
Anna saw the larger man from the back of the wagon move forward, undoubtedly to help his companion, just as the remaining warriors charged the forest. Stewart sliced down the first of them with his blade, the other village men dropping from trees and throwing rocks to halt their attack.
Anna fled through the forest, intending to cut off the wagon at the next curve. She burst from the trees just as it was rolling past and leapt on to the wagon. She struck the smaller guard in the back, who was a squire, then kicked him off the wagon. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the keep, and Anna swore that he was out of her range. She hoped Edgar would stop him.
The guard from the back of the wagon had reached the front. To her astonishment, he seized the reins from the driver, then punched that man in the face.
The driver tumbled into the road.
Anna shot him in the throat before he could get to his feet. She then leapt for the guard who now held the reins and got one arm around his throat.
“Norton and Piers!” he bellowed. “Slow the horses!”
The fiend knew the boys’ names! She tipped up his helmet to better slit his throat and he swore when his vision was obscured. The cart began to lurch toward the ditch. She held fast to his neck and reached for her knife. He jabbed her in the ribs, twisting in her grip as he swore with greater vehemence.
“This is not the time, Anna!” he growled and she froze at the familiarity of his voice.
“Bartholomew?” she asked in astonishment. “But you are dead!”
“Not quite yet,” that knight muttered. “Though it appears you would see the matter changed.” He pulled hard on the reins even as Anna tried to accept this happy news. The horses slowed, but the wagon was too close to the side of the road. It rolled to a halt but one wheel went into the ditch. The wagon tipped so that the trunks in the back slid to one side. The shifting weight made the cart tumble to one side and Anna leapt from it with Bartholomew as the trunks spilled into the dirt.
The others were gone, and she did not doubt that lead knight would return. “Tell me, Anna, what did I do to earn such a greeting?” Bartholomew demanded, that familiar thread of humor in his tone, when they stood in the forest. “I thought you liked me.” He winked and soothed the horses.
Anna laughed in her relief, unable to believe her ears. He cast off the helm and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, and she flung herself into his embrace with relief. “I thought you dead!”
“I have felt more hale in my time, to be sure,” he said and kissed her quickly. His eye was blackened and his face was cut, but she thought he looked as rakish and handsome as ever. He broke their kiss all too soon and flicked a glance at the forest. “Where are the others? There were two guards behind and one yet ahead…”
A growl emitted from the undergrowth and they turned as one to see Cenric, his teeth bared and his hackles raised. He looked down the road and Anna spun to see that other lead knight approaching.
She had no more bolts.
Bartholomew had seized the driver’s crossbow from the wagon, though, and loaded a bolt from the quiver there. He fired, then pushed her head down. Anna smiled at the sound of the knight falling from his stallion’s saddle. The horse trotted toward them, its ears flicking, and at Bartholomew’s glance, the boys seized its reins and soothed it to a walk.
“What about the gold?” Norton demanded, reaching for the trunks that had fallen into the dirt.
“There is none, not on this wagon,” Bartholomew said. Norton had opened a trunk as Bartholomew replied, revealing a collection of rocks inside. Anna gasped. “Let us find the others before I explain.”
With some effort, they got the wagon back on the road. They stacked the trunks much as they had been. Bartholomew turned the wagon around and they soon came upon Edgar and the others. One of Royce’s warriors was dead and the surviving man-at-arms was bound. The squire, it seemed, had seized a horse and evaded them all. The group milled around the cart, disappointed at the sight of all the stones.
“Royce sends us an arsenal,” Bartholomew said. “And a means to return to the keep.”
“Your bold ploy is for naught,” the man-at-arms said with a sneer. “Sir Royce is not the fool you believe him to be. He fully expects you to return.”
“I have been there already and evaded him,” Bartholomew said. “I even spoke to him directly. I think you over-estimate the wit of your lord baron.”
“The boy will warn him,” Edgar said, his manner dour.
“What of the reliquary?” Anna demanded of the man-at-arms.
