Roo thought about lying, but Erik said, “Yes.”
Roo said, “Baron’s men, really.”
“Same thing. Soldiers.” She spat the last word. “Well, you’d better hide.” She motioned for them to enter the tiny hut. “They won’t find you in there.”
Roo helped Erik into the hut and gagged at the stench. Erik’s eyes watered and he gasped, “I thought Tyndal’s room was bad.”
Roo said, “Try breathing through your mouth.”
Gert knelt down next to Erik and said, “Let me look at that,” motioning to his bloodstained shoulder.
Erik pulled aside his tunic and the rags. The rags pulled the skin where blood had dried and he gasped in pain. Gert probed at the wound with a filthy finger and said, “Sword wound. Seen a hundred of them. Swollen around it. Got the hot sickness in it. Going to kill you, boy, if we don’t clean it out. You got a strong stomach?” she asked Roo.
He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m here and haven’t thrown up yet, haven’t I?”
“Ha!” She almost cackled as she laughed. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Roo Avery.” She rose up as high as the low floor permitted and said, “I have just the thing to put you right. Be back in a jiffy.”
Roo lay back, glad to be resting despite the stench of the hut. He glanced around; enough gaps in the wall permitted light to enter, and he saw what looked to be a water jar with a long neck. He moved the clay vessel and heard a promising sound of liquid. Pulling the cork, he sniffed and got no odor. He sipped and was rewarded with fresh water. Drinking a huge mouthful, he suddenly realized he was ignoring his sick friend.
He put the neck of the jar to Erik’s lips and he drank several mouthfuls, then sank back into the pile of rags. A fly began to buzz around Roo’s head and he absently swatted at it.
Erik drifted off into a difficult slumber, his fatigue overwhelming his fear. His breathing came heavily, and perspiration continued to pour off his brow.
Roo tried to relax, wondering if they could trust this strange old woman but knowing that further flight was next to hopeless. Then suddenly there was the sound of barking nearby, and Gert’s shriek cut the air.
Erik came awake with a start at the sound. “What . . . ?” he began, but Roo grabbed his arm.
Dogs could be heard barking nearby and Gert shouted, “Shoo! Away with you!”
Then horses approached and the boys heard Gert shout, “Get these miserable curs away! They’ll be bitin’ old Gert in a minute.”
A commanding voice said, “Have you seen two men, one large and blond, the other short and dark?”
“And if I did, what’s it to you?”
“They’re wanted for murder.”
“Murder, is it?” There was a long pause, punctuated by the sounds of the dogs sniffing the area and the occasional odd yelp of inquiry. “What’s the reward?”
Erik felt Roo’s hand tighten on his arm at that, and the answer was, “The Baron’s offered one hundred golden sovereigns for their arrest.”
“That’s a tidy bit, isn’t it?” said Gert. “Well, I haven’t seen them, but if I do, I’ll want the gold.”
“Check inside the hut,” ordered the leader.
“Here, now!” Gert began to protest.
“Stand aside, old woman.”
Erik backed away, trying as hard as he could to push himself backward through the dirt wall, while Roo drew the ragged, filthy blankets up below his chin.
The leather door was swept aside, and the light was almost blinding after the darkness. “What a stench!” said the soldier, drawing back.
“Go on,” commanded the leader of the troop.
The soldier stuck his head back inside and blinked against the darkness, then looked directly at Roo and Erik. He looked to one side and then the other, and at last pulled his head back out. “Nothing in there but filthy rags and some pots, Captain.”
Roo and Erik exchanged glances of wonder in the gloom. What magic was this?
“What’s the matter with the dogs?” asked the captain.
The man who must have been the Houndmaster said, “They seem to have lost the scent. The charcoal must be confusing them.”
“Then let us go back to the last place you know they had it, and begin again. Lord Manfred will have our ears if those murderers escape.”
The dogs began to bark as the Houndmaster blew his whistle, commanding them to follow. The horses rode away, and Roo let out his breath, held since the soldier stuck his face into the hut.
“What caused that?” asked Roo.
Erik said, “I don’t know. Maybe it was too dark to see.”
“No, it was a spell. This Gert is a witch of some sort.”
Erik said, “The captain said ‘Lord Manfred.’ My father is dead.”