Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [47]
A startled Troth looked around. I also turned, but while I had no idea what Dudley meant—even as I urgently wanted to know—I dared not speak. I glanced at Bear, but he would not return my questioning look. Instead, he tried to gain more knowledge, but Richard Dudley provided nothing more. He said, “Master Bear, it would be better for you to join us willingly. But one way or another, your ugly daughter will take part.” That said, he spurred his horse and trotted on ahead. When he did so, the other two horsemen pressed in close. There was to be no escaping.
Troth’s trembling hand reached out to me. I squeezed it back.
We continued on—no one speaking—but soon turned away from cliff and coast, and headed inland. We followed no road—but what seemed more like a path. The pace was slow and under the warm sun, almost pleasing. The green land became hilly, with scattered clumps of trees. Now and again, we passed a stream. We saw no other people. Once, twice, we went by what must have been houses—save that they had been destroyed. One had been tumbled, the other burned. I thought of Rye. Who, I wondered, had done this destruction? I recalled what Bear had once said of France, that it was full of wars—“Satan’s playing fields.” And here we were, marching with soldiers intent upon a private war, and who demanded we take part.
For the rest of the day, we went on without exchanging further words with the captain. At some point, we came upon a well-marked road and began to follow that. Bear marched along with slow steps and deep breaths. Now and again, he grunted so that I could see he had yet to recover from the voyage.
Twice we paused at small streams where the men and horses drank. Their cook—a small, skinny, and older man hardly bigger than I, with beaky nose and squinty eyes, who watched us with great interest, passed bread about, and we received a share. Ravenous, I bolted it. I had not eaten in three days.
I wanted to ask Bear many questions, but when I managed one, he only reached out and tousled my head—as much as to say, “Not yet.”
That night, the captain chose to make his camp atop a hill shielded by a cap of trees. The soldiers lay about a central fire. The cook brought round a large three-legged pot and set it upon a flame. Water was fetched from a nearby stream. Dried meat, cabbage, onions, and barley—taken from the cart—were thrown in. While the cooking smells made my mouth water, my stomach spoke its appetite.
We three sat among the soldiers, for it was clear they wished us enclosed. They asked Bear about the Black Prince and his campaigns. Once again, he was nothing loath to entertain them with his tales: accounts of bloody battle and slaughter.
I listened again in stunned surprise, for he told his harsh stories with much delight and laughter. I began to wonder: were these things that Bear had actually done? The things he needed to confess? That he would not speak to me? I could not believe it was the Bear I knew.
Then at one point, Richard Dudley called out, “Master Bear! You claim you are a juggler! Entertain us!”
Only then did I recall that we had lost Bear’s recorder—washed over during the storm. After hesitating momentarily, Bear stood up, called for some stones, and then, by the light of the flames, proceeded to juggle. The men who looked on were amused, but Bear was hardly his best. Laboring hard, he twice missed the stones. Oaflike. I was embarrassed for him. When he sat down, he was panting heavily. And he would not look at me.
I thought—with a pang—how not only had Bear’s possessions been stripped away, but he had also lost his bulk, his health, and as I began to think, his dignity. When I shifted about, I saw that Troth’s eyes were fixed on Bear, too. Her look was full of pain.
Before we were allowed to sleep, Dudley made sure we knew he’d posted sentries all around—no doubt meant to protect his force, but also to keep us close.
Bear set us so that we lay with our faces close, and we could talk without being overheard.
Troth put a hand to Bear’s face. “There’s too much warmth,