“Stuffed peacock is my favorite dish, brother. I thought it was delightful.” She could play the game, too.

  His lip curled into a snarl. “And how was your dining companion? Did you find him to your liking?”

  “He seemed to enjoy the food very much.”

  “What about your company? Did he enjoy that?”

  She shrugged. “We didn’t talk much.”

  In two steps Herrick was standing before her, the key to her room held close to her face. “Make sure you talk at the next meal. You may as well get to know him better since he is working out your betrothal with Father as we speak.”

  Finally, the words were spoken and hanging in the air. She waited for Herrick to stake his claim.

  He paced, slowly and assuredly around her room. “Now, sister, I wouldn’t want to see you married to someone whose company you couldn’t tolerate. Perhaps I could put in a word for you. Convince father that Ulf is not a worthy match for you.”

  Still, she waited.

  “You have something I want. I have something you want. A simple exchange.” He drew in his hands between them. “Tell me the secrets of the Dividing Wall. I know you go in there. Show me the way. That is all.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  His lips clamped shut. He spun on his heel, slammed the door, and locked it.

  Gressa collapsed on her bed. The sooner she escaped, the better.

  CHAPTER 26

  M anny was exhausted. For serving only one man, there certainly was a lot to do. Apparently, Sir Fletcher’s methods of training a squire consisted of making the squire do absolutely everything. From preparing the fire and campsite when they were between manor houses, to washing their clothes in any streams that came by and also catching fish. Seems the only thing Sir Fletcher was willing to do on his own was hunt for game. He said he needed to keep his killing eye sharp.

  Presently, Sir Fletcher came out of the woods, holding a fowl upside down by the legs. He thrust the bird into Manny’s hands. “Clean it up.”

  Manny looked back at the fire he had just barely gotten started. They’d had a wet day, and he was lucky to find any dry kindling at all. “Could you at least keep the fire going while I clean your bird?” Then he remembered to add “Sir Fletcher.”

  Sir Fletcher smirked. “Of course. Squire.”

  Face warm, Manny took the bird away from their camp. He plucked the feathers, releasing his irritation. This was likely part of his training, to be tested beyond his limits, and he had started to let his temper get the best of him with Sir Fletcher. He must do better.

  When Manny returned with the bird on a spit ready to roast, Sir Fletcher was in a talkative mood.

  “I’m finding our visits curious,” he said.

  “How so?” Manny set the bird above the flames. He’d been fortunate to find two strong sticks with a Y to use for his spit, and he’d packed them on his horse from camp to camp. These past few weeks they had traipsed up and down the south side of the kingdom, talking with all the wealthy landowners and some of the peasants, too. They’d been welcomed into manors and peasant cottages alike and been shown acres of fieldwork. Beside many a hearth fire they’d been entertained with folk stories and music. Last night, in fact, the family they stayed with were accomplished singers, singing in harmony right down to the youngest, a precocious five-year old girl with a drippy nose.

  “The people are too content. There is no talk of unrest. The split kingdom remains at peace. The further we go away from the castle, the more at peace the people appear to be. They seem to be happy to be away from any day-to-day nit-pickiness of the kings.”

  Manny listened as he rotated the spit using the positioning sticks like Sir Fletcher had taught him. It was quite clever, actually. The way Manny first set up the spit, the heavy weight of the animal always made it hang upside down over the flame, but Sir Fletcher’s method controlled the spit’s rotation.

  When Sir Fletcher grew quiet, Manny glanced up. Was the knight asking for advice or merely talking aloud? Sir Fletcher stared into the flames, and Manny sat back, waiting.

  He hoped they would continue with their travels, since he hadn’t found his land yet. What he had found was a greater appreciation for South Morlaix and its people. The land was fertile, growing any manner of grains in a patchwork of fields. The people were adept farmers, producing gardens filled with tomatoes, cucumbers, peas. And they were a happy people, enjoying one another’s company, coming together to feast and entertain Sir Fletcher and himself. The only site to mar the land was the ugly wall. Always, there was the wall. A constant reminder of what had been and what had been lost.

  “So, unless the people are good at hiding their upcoming revolt, where have these rumors come from?” Sir Fletcher stood and paced around the fire. “I find no evidence that the Panther has been stirring up the people on our side. Maybe the people in North Morlaix, but that is not new news. We hear them shouting at our wall after training. Taunting us.” He stopped pacing. “Our people seem as content as ever with Simon as their king. They show not the slightest desire to launch a revolt, nor to risk having that twit Nigel become king.”

  “No sir.” Drippings from the bird sizzled as they hit the flames, and the aroma of cooking fowl made Manny’s mouth water. He missed the regular meals he received at the castle. Not that he wanted to get soft, like Nigel. No, he’d rather feast off nuts and berries than turn out like Nigel.

  Sir Fletcher sat back on his haunches, poking a stick into the embers. “We’re missing something, squire. Where there is smoke, there is fire. We’ve seen the smoke, but I can’t find the fire.”

  Manny thought for a moment. “Rain can put out a fire so that by the time you get there, there is no flame. What if they were discontent, but have gotten over it?”

  “Possible, but we should still find evidence of the fire being there. Charred wood. Something. But everyone seems genuinely surprised to see me. Genuinely surprised that I am testing their allegiance.”

  Smoke from the actual fire in front of them swirled and then blew directly into Manny’s face. He coughed. “Wind can blow smoke in a different direction.”

  Sir Fletcher looked up at him. “Different direction?”

  “Like a smoke screen. Maybe the Panther was trying to get you away from the castle.” Manny removed the spit from the fire and slid the cooked meat onto a bed of fresh leaves he had prepared.

  All this talk of the Panther and the kingdom brought Manny’s thoughts to Gressa. He didn’t like not being able to say goodbye to her. He snorted. Distracted by a girl. He never thought he’d see the day he’d start acting like Hoxham.

  “You might have something there, Squire.” Sir Fletcher took the cooked bird and divided it between their plates. His plate received the most. “New plan. Tomorrow we return to South Morlaix Castle.”

  CHAPTER 27

  A t the first blush of day, Manny and Sir Fletcher set out to return to the kingdom. The horses sensed their return and seemed happy to be going back, too. When the sun was at its peak, they reached the Ranger’s Forest.

  Here, the trees grew so thick they blocked out the strong noonday sun so that it appeared as if it were evening time. Fleetfoot snorted and danced a little sidestep. Manny patted him soothingly. “It’s okay, boy. Nothing to get spooked about. You probably heard a rabbit.” Though the trees lined up like a palisade, Manny tried searching through the branches for a larger animal such as a cougar that might be stalking them. Unusual behavior, but not unheard of.

  Sir Fletcher rode on ahead, his horse riding strong and true.

  Manny’s horse continued having a hard time staying to the path. He kept trying to veer off and turn around.

  “Sir Fletcher!” Manny called out. He didn’t want the knight to think he didn’t know how to handle a horse, but he also didn’t want to get left behind. Sir Fletcher either didn’t hear him, or he kept going.

  “Come on, Fleetfoot.” Manny dug his heels into the horse. The beast refused to move.

  Then Manny heard a scuffle ahead. War cries. “He-yaw!” Manny said to his horse. He kicked him hard. The horse finally obeyed. They arrived on a scene that sent Manny’s heart into his throat. Ambush.

  Sir Fletcher was off his horse in hand-to-hand combat with three burly men. Manny pulled out his small sword, wishing he was further along in his training. He pulled his horse to a stop. The men hadn’t noticed him yet, as the noise from their own fighting had covered his horse’s approaching hoof steps. He paused to assess the situation.

  The three men appeared to be taking turns attacking Sir Fletcher. The skilled knight was easily able to deflect the blows of one man at a time. If they all attacked him at once, it would put him under.

  Manny was skilled for a squire, but these were all fighting men. He had to be clever if he were to be of any assistance.

  Forming a plan, Manny charged forward, thwacking a man’s head as he rode past.

  “Aaaargh,” yelled the hairy man. He took off after Manny, but Manny was too quick on his horse. The man retreated to the forest and came out with his own war horse. A giant of a beast.

  Manny’s plan was working. At least as much as he had thought it through. He was hoping that, by picking off one attacker, Sir Fletcher would be able to overcome the other two, then come to Manny’s rescue if he should need it.

  What Manny didn’t expect was what happened next. The hairy man that was following him called back to the others. “Get the boy. Here he is.”

  The boy? Him? Why would they want him? The fear that gripped his heart made him push on even faster. Poor Fleetfoot must have felt as scared as he did because the beast ran faster than Manny thought a horse was capable of running, foam and sweat pouring off.

  The hairy man’s horse was bearing down. Manny veered off the path and into the thick of the forest. “Sorry, boy, but you’re smaller than their horses. Maybe we can shake them in here.”

  Manny’s heart pounded against his rib cage. In the forest, they could no longer run and the going was slow. If the man carried a bow and arrow, Manny could be done for. Thankfully, Fleetfoot was also surefooted and easily picked his way through the underbrush. Several times Manny had to duck or risk being scraped off his horse’s back.

  The man cursed as he tried to follow. His horse was too big and he had to double back to the roadway. Now Manny had a new problem. What to do about finding Sir Fletcher? A squire couldn’t abandon his knight any more than a knight would abandon his squire.

  Manny and Fleetfoot picked their way back to where Sir Fletcher had let off his horse. Maybe they could find Tannin and still meet up with Sir Fletcher. He tread carefully in case others waited nearby.

  When he got near the roadway, Manny tethered Fleetfoot in a dense place in the forest, and then stealthily crept forward. The fir trees kept him well hidden and the thick underbrush smothered the sound of his footsteps. He walked half a mile in each direction, finding nothing. Two birds in separate trees twittered at each other. All else was eerily silent in the forest.

  Manny decided to return to Fleetfoot and take his chances on the road. He had to find Sir Fletcher before those men could regroup and come up with a new plan.

  A snap of a twig was Manny’s only warning. Before he could defend himself, a hand was clasped over his mouth and a strong arm pinned him down.

  “Don’t make a sound,” came the whisper.

  Adrenaline shot through Manny and he twisted free, turning to see that his captor was Sir Fletcher, holding his forefinger to his lips. Blood was beginning to crust on Sir Fletcher’s knuckles and a cut over his eye looked painful.

  “What happened?” Manny mouthed silently.

  Sir Fletcher pointed to the road. The three men passed by, one in the center on horseback with the other two walking along, poking into the edges of the forest. When they were out of sight, Sir Fletcher untied Fleetfoot and held him while Manny swung up onto the saddle.

  “They will double back shortly. Meanwhile we’ll have to make our way through the forest and return to the castle as quick as we can. Tannin was spooked,” said Sir Fletcher as he mounted Fleetfoot behind Manny and took the reins.

  Manny felt as he did when he was first learning to ride a horse. He hoped they still wouldn’t be riding like this when they made it back to the castle.

  “They were after both of us, Squire. Perhaps you even more than me. What have you done?”

  Manny shook his head. “Nothing.” Except enter the Dividing Wall. Could someone know about that?

  Sir Fletcher grunted. “Who else knew of our trip?”

  “You told me to say my goodbyes,” said Manny defensively.

  “To whom?”

  “My father.” And the Princess of North Morlaix. “My father’s apprentice. No one else.”

  Manny sensed Sir Fletcher’s disapproval in the shift of his muscles. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know why they would want me.” He was as bewildered as Sir Fletcher. “I’m nobody.”

  CHAPTER 28

  G ressa woke in the dim light, groggy after having cried herself to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. She pushed herself to a seated position. “Old Anne, is that you?” A figure was bustling around her room, flitting from one side to the other. “Is it time for dinner already?” She stretched and yawned. “I’m not hungry. I won’t go down.”

  “I will tell your family.” Old Anne helped Gressa to her feet. “But now, you haven’t much time. Put on this outfit.” She held out a strange frock. A peasant’s outfit that was green, not brown, like those popular in North Morlaix, and with an apron overlay that was entirely too large and a polka dot kerchief that Old Anne was tying around Gressa’s hair.

  “What? Why? It’s not very pretty.” Gressa tried to duck away from the kerchief.

  Old Anne smiled. “It is what they wear in South Morlaix.”

  “South Morlaix?” Gressa thumped back onto her bed.

  “You do not intend to stay here, do you? There are secret places you can go…if you can find them.” Old Anne placed the peasant outfit on the bed.

  Gressa looked at Old Anne curiously. “What secret places?”

  Old Anne glanced out the window. “Where your brother, the Panther wants to go.”

  “How do you—? Have you seen—? What do you mean?” sputtered Gressa.

  “Dress quickly. It might take you more time than you have to find the door.”

  Gressa didn’t hide the shock from her face. “I know where the door is. But what do I do when I get there? There’s no food. I can’t live there by myself forever, and the other side doesn’t open up for me.”

  Old Anne shook her head. “Not that door. There is another.”

  “Another?” Gressa pulled the peasant dress over her head. Old Anne helped her with the ties. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know. You have to find it. We think it is somewhere in the castle. If it exists.”

  “We? Who is we?”

  “Never you mind. Focus on getting out of here. I fear your brother will do something worse than marry you off to an old Viking. He means to break you, tonight, however he can.”

  Old Anne shoved her out the bedroom door and locked it behind them.

  Gressa looked at the lock. “How did you get a key?”

  Old Anne just smiled and guided Gressa down the circular stair, which led to the back part of the castle where the divided hallway was.

  Gressa’s heart pounded so hard that it felt like it was in her throat. She was scared she would get caught escaping. She was scared she would find the other door and have to face whatever lay on the other side in South Morlaix.

  “Won’t I be hanged if they find me in their castle?”

  “Don’t let them catch you.”

  Old Anne led Gressa to the little-used hallway. “I must leave you here so no one gets suspicious. I cannot tell you how to find the door. I don’t know how. But since you were able to find one, we hope that you can find another.”

  Gressa was desperate to hold on to Old Anne. “Can’t you come with me?”

  “No, child. My business is on this side.”

  Gressa looked at her curiously. Her business was taking care of the king’s daughter. Shouldn’t she carry that through the Dividing Wall?

  Old Anne pulled a small wrapped package out from her pocket. “Almost forgot. Here is some bread and cheese to see you through. Be quick on your feet when you get there. Hide first, then figure out where you are. The tournaments are starting soon, but whatever you do, do not attend their tournament. You would surely be caught. Look for the village healing woman; she will help you.”

  Gressa’s lips began to tremble. “How will I find her if I must stay hidden? And I haven’t said goodbye to my mother. She will be frantic. Or to Siguard. Surely I can speak with my brother at the chapel.”

  “There is more unity than you know of. Look for this symbol.” Old Anne pointed to the leaf on her necklace. “Those who wear the rowan leaf do not want a divided kingdom. They will help you.”

  Gressa fingered the necklace. She had seen this emblem elsewhere in North Morlaix. She thought it only a pretty decoration. A remembrance of the old rowan groves. Surely the daughter of the king should know more about what goes on in her kingdom than she did. What must her people think of her? No wonder they talked about her.

  Old Anne hugged her tight. “You are young, but now is the time for you to grow up. You have been sheltered far too long. God be with you.” Old Anne turned and trod whisper-quiet down the corridor and around the corner.

  Gressa noticed for the first time how dark this part of the castle was. The Dividing Wall had closed off most of the windows, making the passage dark and the air stale. How was she to find a hidden door? The door to the meadow she found by noticing a shadow. Here, everything was shadow.

  Perhaps the magic in the Dividing Wall knew she needed the meadow and so it opened up to her. By necessity. She needed a new opening now by even greater necessity. “Well, Dividing Wall? Here I am, but I don’t know where your opening is.” Gressa felt foolish talking to a wall. She ran her hand down the length of the wall in the passage. High, low. It didn’t matter. The rock wall was solid. She began to understand a little bit of Herrick’s frustration and why he paced back and forth in front of the Dividing Wall, examining it as a potter examines a pot for cracks.

 

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