The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [46]
The troll’s spell broken by her words, the two of them turned their horses and raced back to the bridge. But Newt was nowhere to be seen.
The squire had ridden ahead in a snit, Ailis with him, which was fine with Newt. Let the two of them go ahead together. He needed some time alone anyway. Much of his days had been spent alone; there were others around, but they didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t speak to them, preferring the company of the horses instead, and the dogs before them. Animals made so much more sense. They either liked you or they didn’t, but they were honest about it. None of the game-playing and currying favor and spreading gossip that seemed to occupy so much time in court.
Ailis and Gerard made so much of Camelot, as though it were the greatest—the only—place in all England to live. It was just a place. Quality animals, decent food. But it was just a place. You didn’t get too attached to any one place.
Newt clattered onto the stone bridge, slowing his gelding down enough to look out over the side. There was barely enough water to earn the title of creek, but he could see from the banks where flooding had cut through. He suspected that after heavy rains, the knee-deep trickle might become dangerous.
Then something below shifted, the noise catching his attention.
“Hello?”
A shadow floated on the water and, reacting instinctively, Newt slipped off the horse’s back and onto his own feet. If something wanted to fight, he was going to be where he knew how to fight. Leave tossing each other off horseback for the knights.
There was a heavy thud behind him, then: “Pay to pass.”
Newt, like Gerard, had never heard of a bridge troll. But he knew that anything that demanded payment in that tone of voice was not something he wanted to deal with. You might pass unhurt…or you might not. Arthur could talk all he wanted about might not making right, but the king wasn’t here, and a creature that looked dangerous was.
Backing up and turning around slowly, Newt felt the cool stone of the railing against his back. Putting one hand behind him for balance, he lifted himself over the rail slowly, letting the beast’s attention remain focused on the gelding. Newt would regret losing the animal, but not so much as he would regret losing himself.
And if the creature intended no real harm, then no harm would be done….
Still holding to the railing, Newt dropped over the side of the bridge. His arms straining, he hung there before seeing the ledge underneath where the creature had doubtless been hiding, waiting for unwary travelers. It was a disgusting mess, like the worst kind of magpie’s nest, filled with straw and bits of cloth and small shiny objects.
“Ugh. That smells disgusting.” But something in the midden caught his attention, and he dropped lightly to his feet onto the ledge, intending to reach for it.
“Pay to pass!” that voice insisted again.
Newt heard the sound of his horse’s hooves breaking into a full gallop as it fled across the bridge. Then he felt something heavy hit him between the shoulder blades, and he knew nothing more.
“How much trouble could he have gotten into so quickly?” Ailis wondered out loud as they started back toward the bridge. Gerard just looked at her. He’d only known the stable boy for a few days and already he knew that was a foolish question. Newt’s inability to be respectful of authority was a disaster waiting to happen, even before you began considering his attitude toward magic—which would include, no doubt, a bridge troll.
“You know he’d refuse to pay. Let’s only hope the troll hasn’t eaten him.”
“Oh, a troll wouldn’t do that!” Ailis said. But they were both thinking