Pug shouted back with laughter in his voice, “My apologies, Mastercook!”
Alfan gave him a good-natured wave as Pug vanished through the outside door and around the corner to where Tomas was waiting. Tomas turned toward the gate as soon as he saw his friend.
Pug grabbed his arm. “Wait. Has anyone from the court been told?”
“I don’t know. Word just came from the fishing village a moment ago,” Tomas said impatiently. “Come on, or the villagers will pick the wreck clean.” It was commonly held that salvage could be legally carried away before any of the Duke’s court arrived. As a result, the villagers and townsfolk were less than timely in informing the authorities of such occurrences. There was also a risk of bloodshed, should the beached ship still be manned by sailors determined to keep their master’s cargo intact so that they would get their fair sailing bonus. Violent confrontation, and even death, had been the result of such dispute. Only the presence of men-at-arms could guarantee no commoner would come to harm from lingering mariners.
“Oh, no,” said Pug. “If there is any trouble down there and the Duke finds out I didn’t tell someone else, I’ll be in for it.”
“Look, Pug. Do you think with all these people rushing about, the Duke will be long in hearing of it?” Tomas ran his hand through his hair. “Someone is probably in the great hall right now, telling him the news. Master Fannon is away on patrol, and Kulgan won’t be back awhile yet.” Kulgan was due back later that day from his cottage in the forest, where he and Meecham had spent the last week. “It may be our only chance to see a shipwreck.” A look of sudden inspiration came over his face. “Pug, I have it! You’re a member of the court now. Come along, and when we get there, you declare for the Duke.” A calculating expression crossed his face. “And if we find a rich bauble or two, who’s to know?”
“I would know.” Pug thought a moment. “I can’t properly declare for the Duke, then take something for myself . . .” He fixed Tomas with a disapproving expression. “. . . or let one of his men-at-arms take something either.” As Tomas’s face showed his embarrassment, Pug said, “But we can still see the wreck! Come one!”
Pug was suddenly taken with the idea of using his new office, and if he could get there before too much was earned away or someone was hurt, the Duke would be pleased with him. “All right,” he said, “I’ll saddle a horse and we can ride down there before everything is stolen.” Pug turned and ran for the stable Tomas caught up with him as he opened the large wooden doors. “But, Pug, I have never been on a horse in my life. I don’t know how.”
“It’s simple,” Pug said, taking a bridle and saddle from the tack room. He spied the large grey he had ridden the day he and the Princess had their adventure. “I’ll ride and you sit behind me. Just keep your arms around my waist, and you won’t fall off.”
Tomas looked doubtful. “I’m to depend on you?” He shook his head “After all, who has looked after you all these years?”
Pug threw him a wicked smile. “Your mother. Now fetch a sword from the armory in case there’s trouble. You may get to play soldier yet.”
Tomas looked pleased at the prospect and ran out the door. A few minutes later the large grey with the two boys mounted on her back lumbered out the main gate, heading down the road toward Sailor’s Grief.
The surf was pounding as the boys came in sight of the wreckage. Only a few villagers were approaching the site, and they scattered as soon as a horse and rider appeared, for it could only be a noble from the court to declare the wreck’s salvage for the Duke. By the time Pug reined in, no one was about.
Pug said, “Come on. We’ve got a few minutes to look around before anyone else gets here.”
Dismounting, the boys left the mare to graze in a little stand of grass only fifty yards from the rocks Running through the sand, the boys laughed, with Tomas raising the sword aloft, trying to sound fierce as he yelled old war cries learned from the sagas. Not that he had any delusions about his ability to use it, but it might make someone think twice about attacking them—at least long enough for castle guards to arrive.
As they neared the wreck, Tomas whistled a low note. “This ship didn’t just run on the rocks, Pug. It looks like it was driven by a storm.”
Pug said, “There certainly isn’t much left, is there?”
Tomas scratched behind his right ear. “No, just a section of the bow. I don’t understand. There wasn’t any storm last night, just a strong wind. How could the ship be broken up so badly?”