Part Four

The road was much more demanding than the road before. Betia rested well the night before even if it was in the hay. The covering had kept her warm. She had snuggled deep into the hay, the cover over her entire body, head included. Sleep came quickly for she was exhausted. Traveling was not easy on her body, old age or not.

Betia had awakened with the dawn. She was awake at once. She pulled single pieces of hay from her hair as she rose. After she finished, she folded the cover and left it on the hay for Elethia. The thought of her new Deryni friend worried her. She hoped Elethia would stay hidden from the Willimites and the king's men. It was not a good time to be proclaiming the use of her Deryni powers despite being a Healer.

The cottage was quiet as she left the small farm. Apparently they were not awake or either they were already busy doing their work. She made it to the road with any difficulty or stepping in any of the mud puddles. Stopping, Betia cast one long look over her shoulder at the cottage before she moved on.

It was time to move on. Thoughts of two more of her villagers hanging from the gibbets hurried her step She tried not to think of the identities of her friends. Her mind, instead mulled over the chances she would find Rannulf's killers. Even if she did find them, how would she be able to get word to the king to stop the killing? She pondered on this question as she walked north. Somehow, if she found the culprits, she would get word to the king or one of his intermediaries that the murderer had been found. But knowing Imre's disposition, he would have the peasants killed anyway. That thought did not rest well with her.

The weather was much more bearable this morning. A few clouds drifted in the sky hiding he morning sun every now and then. Betia felt as though she were out for a leisurely stroll. She found a branch alongside the road she could use as a walking stick and a weapon if necessary. Hopefully, a weapon would not be needed. The Willimites were known to do their work in secret, so she did not expect to be accosted during the daylight hours. For all anyone knew, she was just traveling north to see family. The lie she had told Allard and Elethia was convenient, but she could not tell them the real reason she was traveling.

The morning went without incident. Actually, she had enjoyed the walk. The leaves of the trees were changing colors. Betia let her energies focus on the autumn around her instead of the agony of the villagers for a little while. She felt guilty because she was enjoying herself while her friends were about to die. Her feelings were not the issue, saving her friends was paramount over her feelings.

It was nearing midday when she heard the voices. Somewhere off the road and ahead of her she heard several voices. Taking to the trees, Betia approached the voices with great stealth. After maneuvering around trees and bushes, she found herself at the edge of a clearing. The clearing was large enough to hold twenty men, but there were only five. Thankful that there were only five rather than twenty, she tried to identify the men.

The men were sitting around a doused campfire. Two of the men were facing her while the others had their backs to her . She could make out their faces through the undergrowth, but they could not see her. She did not recognize either of the two men although she did recognize the livery the men wore. They were soldiers of the king. Instead of moving about to catch a glimpse of the other three men in hopes to identify them, she decided that listening to their conversation would be the better part of secrecy.

"... Taggart has gone and found him a maid to marry, has he?" one of the men with his back to Betia said.

The youngest looking of the two men facing her dipped his head in embarrassment. "She is a pretty maid," he said raising his head with his cheeks red.

The men laughed at the comment. A slap on the back from the man sitting next to him made him laugh a little. "Can ye take a bit of teasing, Taggart?"

"Aye, I can," he said with confidence.

"I'll be glad to be done with this patrol," the man on her far right bellowed changing the subject.

"Aye, Cowan. 'Tis a chore to be chasing after the wind."

"Sergeant, how soon to Valoret?" Taggart asked the man opposite him.

Taggart had to be about twenty years of age Betia guessed. She sat back within the bush realizing the men were eating. From the other side of the clearing, a horse neighed. A patrol returning to Valoret, she thought relaxing.

The sergeant stood at the horse's neigh. "To arms men!" he commanded drawing his sword as he did.

The men stood at the command drawing their own swords on the alert. Immediately the clearing filled with at least twenty men surrounding the five soldiers. the soldiers stood ready to defend themselves. No one said a word as the larger group of men circled around the soldiers. The twenty or so men wore no livery, but ragged brown clothes. The soldiers kept them at bay with by dropping and quickly lifting the tips of their swords. Taggart made a feint as if to lunge at the attackers.

"Hold, Taggart," the sergeant commanded.

Then the trees parted allowing for another three men to enter the clearing. One of the men was slightly ahead of the other two. The men looked as if they were in charge of the group. They were wearing the same type of clothing except they had an air about them, an air of command. She recognized the leader as the man from Claret's memory. He was the Deryni that had made her forget of the incident at her cottage that night.

"Gentlemen, throw your weapons down and we will let you be," the leader said to the soldiers in a voice that crackled with experience and authority. "We will allow you to pass if you will give your weapons up."

"Why bother us at all?" the sergeant asked letting the tip of his sword drop toward the ground but not relinquishing his hold.

"Ah, my good man," the man to the right of the leader said stepping toward the circled soldiers. "We need your swords," he replied with a glimmer in his eyes.

"Aye, we will take your swords and let you return to your Deryni king," the leader declared. He had his hands in an open gesture of peace.

The sergeant glanced to his men with a look of uncertainty. Betia watched as the men gave their sergeant a quiet nod of assurance. A moment of silence passed between the sergeant and his men. The sergeant was the first to drop his sword to the ground, then Taggart and then, the others. The brown-robed men took each sword from the ground one by one. Once the swords had been gathered by the men, the soldiers stood at attention.

"Kill them," the leader said turning his back on them, then disappearing into the trees with his two friends following him.

Betia could see the look of horror on the sergeant's face. "You said we could pass!" he shouted at the disappearing figure.

The other man who had spoken turned and said, "But not alive." Tapping one of the brown-robed men on the shoulder, he voiced, "When you are finished with them, take their horses, they will be needed."

Betia could not watch the slaughter of the unarmed men. She covered her eyes with her hands as she heard the soldiers fight back. Silently she screamed, she dared not give herself away to the men. The battle did not last long. Betia uncovered her eyes to see bloody bodies lying on the ground. Seven bodies were strewn across the clearing. She was surprised to see seven bodies. The remaining men stood in amazement at the dead bodies of their friends. Apparently the sergeant had been able to disarm one of the men and use the sword to kill two of the men. Shaking their heads in disbelief, a few men dragged the bodies of their dead comrades from the clearing. One man took the sword from the sergeant's hand, wiped the blood on the blade on the sergeant's livery, and walked away from the dead men with a downcast face.

Betia was not sure she wanted to continue after hearing the fracas, but she also knew that the one lead she had would get away if she did not do something, and quick. Quietly as possible Betia moved from her hiding spot to pursue the man who took the sword from the sergeant. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the clearing, keeping an eye out for any who might have lagged behind. From a short distance she could see the man just mounting one of the horses.

Closing her eyes, she reached across the short distance with her mind to touch the animal. The horse reared at the touch throwing the man from its back. It nearly bolted, but the other men were able to keep it from going anywhere by closing in on it from all sides with the other four horses.

"Problems, Sewell," the man closest to the unhorsed man said laughing.

"I'll be fine, Gilpin,' the man replied dusting himself off as he returned to his feet.

Betia ignored the rest of the conversation between the two men and concentrated on the horse. Gentler this time, she again touched the animal with her mind as to make rapport with the horse. It settled as she caressed the horse with her psychic touch. The next time she made contact with the horse, it would know her. Sighing with a whisper, she released the enraptured horse. Opening her eyes, the man was again saddled, but galloping away. The horse was her only hope of freedom for her friends.