Chapter 7: Turtle Haven

Angélique had spent most of the night cuddled against Flora to help keep her warm. Several times she’d dosed Flora with willow bark tea, and swallowed her own healthy doses to fight the muscle aches from the previous day’s strenuous ride. She came awake with the beginning camp noises, carefully rose and visited the latrine to drain her tea. She quickly returned and stirred the coals of both the night’s fires, adding sticks until she had a decent blaze. When she had a small pot warming broth from the evening meal’s soup, she softly shook Flora until she woke.

As soon as Flora was able to sit up, Angélique brought her saddlebags so she could pull out a set of dry smallclothes. When she was ready, Angélique wrapped a blanket around her and assisted the weak woman to the field latrine to do her business. Returning to the lean-to, they found the broth to be warm, and Flora sipped it before attempting to dress further.

With dawn came a swirling mist. Angélique could hardly see the horses grazing only a short distance away. The mist was better than the previous day’s rain, but not by much.

The two additional sets of hands were a blessing. While Heris checked her snares and cleaned her catch, the twins helped saddle the horses. They waxed everyone’s bowstrings, wiped the remaining moisture from the various packs, and with Charlene’s guidance, assisted her in settling each on the proper packhorse.

Heris returned, appearing through the murk with four rabbits that she spitted and placed the two spits low over the coals of the cook fire. Cooking them would add to the time before they could set out, but they’d have something to eat at midday and evening. As the rabbits roasted, the remainder of the soup was dished up and paired with the last of the bread. It was a meager way to break their fast.

When they addressed the straw men, they found the rain had not been kind to them. Their clothes were wet as was their straw filling. Mold was probably only a day away, but mold was not their worry. Stuffing in more grass – wet grasses – was an onerous task, with maybe one exception. Alinor was amused by the concept, and snickered and giggled as she stuffed wads of grass into four sets of leather pants. Then, with Alinor calming at each horse’s head, setting and securing the imitation riders went smoothly.

Heris remained the leader while en route, so she needed to know what skills Alaric and Alinor possessed. Questioned on their competence with their crossbows, both twins asserted better than usual accuracy and showed it with a pair of quarrels hitting designated targets across the clearing. On the other hand, neither had experience or training with sword or knife.

While they sat eating, Heris gave the order of march, “I think the fog will work for and against us. In addition to the obvious treachery of our footing, we’ll not see any assailants until they are upon us. But they won’t see us either. So, we’ll make plenty of noise, and any lurkers will think we are a large party – too large to safely attack – or maybe rich enough to attract interest. We’ll see which, I suppose. At any rate, the straw men will seem immediate targets.”

Heris would remain in the lead scouting position. Alaric would follow and support her. Charlene in the third position would initially carry Flora, then she and Alaric would alternate so that muscle stress like Angélique’s would be minimized. Earle and Alinor would lead the mules and the newly acquired extras. Angélique would bring up the rear with the blocking horses with dummies astride two. At each break, they would assess need and consider changes. They anticipated a slow walk until they passed beyond the muddy stretches of the road. Depending on Flora’s condition, they’d consider riding straight through the night.

It was a miserable journey. The clammy mist surrounded their feet and often rose above their heads. Bows and crossbows were kept under oilcloth to protect their bowstrings from the damp. Their ability to respond to any attack was severely hampered.

For three hours they traveled through mud and puddles – some shallow and others dangerously deep. All colored the horses’ legs and bellies with various shades of brown, and as the day warmed, all coated the horses with drying, irritating scales. Several times, streams rushed beside or crossed the road. They halted for their mid-morning break near one mercifully clear-running stream. They splashed water on the horses and themselves to wash off whatever mud they could. Being wet wasn’t much better than being mud-caked. They pressed on, Flora dozing fitfully in Alaric’s arms.

The fog lifted and the sun broke through – a mixed blessing. When the road was finally free of mud and puddles, the horses’ hooves began to break the dried mud and detritus into dust, bringing a different kind of misery to those in the rear – even those in the middle. Frequently rotating became essential if they were to continue. At their slow pace, the bracketing forest seemed endless. At dusk, the weary travelers needed to ride on, at least until they found a suitable resting place for the night.

Almost midnight, dim starlight revealed a large meadow off to the right. When Heris heard rushing water, she called a halt. It was too dark and too late to unburden the pack animals. Their own horses were unsaddled. All the horses were watered, hobbled, and then allowed to graze. In the morning, they’d be given feedbags when Charlene broke out their carefully hoarded oats.

Minimal chores done, the weary riders ate cold rabbit, drained their bladders, and curled together for an exhausted sleep. Heris took the first watch and patrolled their camp, setting her snares and performing one small chore after another to keep herself awake. Almost hating herself, she woke Alaric for the next watch. She was soon asleep in the warm spot he vacated

Angélique had the pre-dawn watch, and she woke Earle to keep her company. They checked on the horses, gave them their oats, and searched for the fire pit they knew must be in this convenient stopping place. When they found it, there was also a large stack of mostly dry firewood. Earle used his flint and steel to start a fire while Angélique found the mule with their cooking gear. The rabbit was gone as were the rest of their food staples. Earlier, she had almost decided to take the horses’ oats to make mush, but guilt kept her ‘honest.’ Now she regretted her generosity. Maybe Heris’ snares would again be productive. She put water to boil for tea and another pot for whatever, set up two spits, and waited hopefully with Earle for Heris.

Having set her snares so late and on runs seen only by starlight, Heris was pleasantly surprised to have caught anything at all. Every snare had a rabbit! She quickly skinned and gutted her bounty, wrapping the offal in two skins for later burial. Finding spits and a pot already prepared, she spitted four, and quartered the remaining two into the pot of boiling water with a little salt. The resulting broth would be bland, but she hoped to get some into Flora and maybe some tenderized bits of meat. While Earle turned the spits, she found her own horse and saddled him, then decided to give him a rest and changed her saddle to a horse not burdened the previous day. Charlene made a similar decision and soon joined her. To expedite their departure, they continued moving saddles for the remaining travelers.

Angélique was still stiff from her earlier ride with Flora, and sleeping on the cold ground had not helped. She left Earle tending the fire and the cooking rabbits so that she could check on Flora, now sandwiched between Alinor and Alaric, who were sleeping off their middle-of-the-night watches. She gently roused the twins and began to tend to Flora while they visited the woods for their morning needs. When they returned, Alinor helped Angélique support their wounded friend to do the same.