“Quiet!” She eased it open and—after a brief survey—crept out into the yard.
It was serene outside, but the distant clatter of men on the pitch. They were boys playing out after dark and too invested in their quarrel to notice the unattended wagon.
“Where is the driver?” asked the druid.
“Not here, ’n thank the spirits! We’ve got to get ye up ’n settled before he sees!”
On the back of the wagon were wooden crates covered with a dirty sheet. Halla tugged and pulled at it, and the druid’s brows knit.
“This is your plan? Conceal me amongst boxes of vegetables?" He couldn’t fathom she would put herself at risk for such a ridiculous idea.
“Yer a wee thing, no one will notice ye,” she said. “Now, come along!”
Everything told him not to continue, yet a part of him wanted to believe.
Maybe it could work.
The cart creaked as he climbed into the back. He tucked himself between the heaps of crates. It was cramped—his limbs endlessly prodded by stray twigs. He had barely settled when more voices echoed inside the pantry.
“Hurry!” Halla yelped. “They’ll beat my back bare if they see what I’ve done!”
“At least let me say farewell—”
“No time for that!” She tugged the sheet over his head. “Goodbye ’n good luck!”
A man’s voice carried over. “Something the matter, Missus?”
“Aye no!” said Halla. “Was checkin’ that it’s all been carried in, ’n it has. Ye be good to go now, maister!”
The man cleared his throat. “Perhaps another look—”
“No!” the old maid bleated. “Away with ye! We’ve another shipment before end of night!”
“Very well, very well…”
A bead of sweat slipped down the druid’s back. Outwardly, he remained steady, but inside, he writhed. He longed for the open road. Yet he was stuck there, as if pressed within a bell jar, forced to batter the glass like a jilted moth.
The druid jostled about as the wagon started off, bumping and jerking over the path.
He counted his breaths. What would happen once the wagon stopped? Would it take him to Hornheil? The druid had never been there. Navigating eastward was of no concern to him, but there was nothing to say he would be welcomed at whatever roost they made rest at first.
“Whoa!” The cart shuddered to a stop. The druid could see little from his position—the planks of the wagonside afforded him no clear line of sight. Night was thick around them, and from the sounds of it, they had reached the castle gate. The smells of the city were just beyond. He was nearly there, and it had almost been easy…
“Headed out?” said another man. A guard, the druid guessed.
“Aye,” said the driver, “I willnae hold ye up.”
“Onwards, then,” said the guard, and the grind of iron followed.
They were lifting the portcullis.
The druid’s heart beat harder. He could nearly taste the free air. The horse whinnied.
“Halt!”
A second guard approached. “All wagons have been ordered to wait at the gate for detailed inspection.”
“On whose orders?” asked the first.
