Page 27 of The Huntsman's Heart
There’s a muttering from the crowd, but people are turning away from the men toward their work when a young girl steps forward. A woman tries to catch her arm but misses, chasing her through the crowd of people, until the girl slips between two sour-faced men.
She stands directly in front of the guards on horseback and plants her hands on her hips. “No! We are sad because the king is dead! We should not have to go back to work.”
The frightened woman finally reaches her and claps a hand across the girl’s mouth, but it’s too late. The guard with the horn dismounts and strides across the square. “How old is this child?”
“She didn’t mean it,” pleads the woman.
“How old?”
“Ten, sir.”
The guard grabs a handful of the girl’s hair and drags her away from her mother, screaming.
“Please, sir. She didn’t mean no harm.”
The guard pulls the girl onto his horse. Up until now, I have been watching from the edge of the crowd. Now I turn Tharrok and spur him back to intercept the guards. “Stay!”
“Sir Alaric!” The first guard starts. “We have orders from the queen.”
“To arrest children?”
“She defied the royal decree.”
I almost let loose the sigh that has built in my chest. “She’s a child. Let her be. I will answer to the queen.”
He looks dubious. The second guard is still wrestling with the struggling child. Her mother wrings her hands and others gather around. This could turn ugly.
“Set the child down.”
The first guard’s red brows draw down across his eyes. “She is old enough to know better.”
“And what will you do with her if you take her into the keep? She will only be an inconvenience. Think logically.”
This gives him pause. He turns to the child’s mother. “Will you return to work if the child goes free?”
“Yes, sir. Right away. We’re not trying to cause trouble, I promise you. It’s just that the old king was so well loved.”
And the queen is doing herself no favors by treating the people like this. They are loyal enough. “There,” I tell the guards. “You have done your duty. The queen will be satisfied.”
The first man shakes his head, but the second seems eager enough to put the squirming girl down. She runs straight into her mother’s arms.
The guards issue one more stern warning to the people and hurry away, casting glances back at me. The woman gets to her knees. “Bless you, Sir Alaric. May the gods look well on you. I don’t care what anyone says about you; you are a good man.”
I scoff. “I would not speak so soon if I were you.” Putting my heel into Tharrok’s side, I leave without a backward look. Let this woman say whatever she pleases, the truth is worse than all the rumors.
My mood is sour as I meet the small group of hunters I handpicked for today’s excursion. Today we must be swift and return quickly. The queen demands blood.
Last time I was in the woods, I spotted traces of a dornschwein, and once we’re out of the gates, I lead the men in that direction.
My men are well trained. They move in silence through the woods, eyes roving, on the lookout for danger. Their weapons are near to hand, and they are ready for combat.
The giant boars burrow with their long front fangs and hooves, and once rooted in they are very hard to dislodge. They’re even more dangerous once you have them out in the open, though. The trick is not to let one charge.
As we near the place I saw the overturned earth, I signal to the men to split up. Silently, they divide and slide between ghostly birch trees until there is only the soft tread of horses’ hooves and the occasional snort of hot air as our steeds grow nervous.
I run a hand along Tharrok’s neck, though he’s calmer than most of the others. The horses are seasoned, but the Gloamwald has that effect.
Suddenly an angry squeal tears through the quiet, making Tharrok start. He keeps his head, and I turn him through thetrees, hurrying him into a trot as I lean forward, trying to make out where the beast is through the fog.
