Part Seven

Betia left the inn via the kitchen door. As she stepped outside she heard the thunder of hooves coming down the road. It had to be the Willimites. Sneaking to a corner, she peered around to see the king's soldiers heading into the village from the south road. Totally surprised by the appearance of the soldiers, she pulled her head back behind the inn to keep from being seen and wondering what she should do. The soldiers stopped their horses in front of the inn. The sergeant was barking out orders but she could not make out exactly what he was saying.

Betia rolled her eyes heavenward, took a silent breath, then taking a chance, she again peered around the corner of the inn. Renshaw was walking straightway toward the sergeant. As he approached, Renshaw became very animated.

"It's about time!" he exclaimed waving his arms about.

"Who are you?" the sergeant bellowed.

"My name is Renshaw, I am the ostler in this village," he replied with a bow. "I am at your service."

"We are looking for the Willimites that are seen to be around these parts. Do you know where they are?"

"No," Renshaw answered. "But I know who does."

"And that would be?" the sergeant yelled becoming impatient.

"The innkeeper of this fine establishment."

Betia knew that the soldiers would descend on the inn forthwith from all sides and she had to move quickly to keep from being caught. She ran to the building just beyond the inn hiding among the trees behind it. Silently she held her breath as five soldiers ran to the kitchen door. If they found Walby on the floor of his kitchen they would know something was amiss. She moved further into the grove of trees away from their line of sight.

"Sergeant, here he is!" a soldier exclaimed coming from the kitchen door.

The sergeant, still on his horse, rode briskly to the back side of the inn. "Bring him out!" he ordered.

Two men had the innkeeper's body between them as they carried him out. "He is out cold," the soldier on the left of the innkeeper's body said.

"Throw water on his face to wake him up. We do not have time to quibble over this man!" he yelled.

One of the other soldiers went into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of water. Throwing onto the face of the innkeeper, he coughed and spewed a moment before he realized he was in the custody of the king's soldiers.

"If you know the whereabouts of the Willimite camp, now is the time to tell us before we have to beat it out of you!" the sergeant said as he dismounted from his horse with a flair.

The innkeeper was scared. He immediately realized his predicament. "Just outside of town there is a hidden trail. If you follow it to the end they will be in the clearing about not far from there. Please don't kill me!" the man begged.

"You pitiful man! Let him go, there is nothing to fear from him. Mount up! he commanded. "Which end of the village is the trail?"

"North," he said pointing to the other end of town.

Betia watched the soldiers gallop toward the north. She had to follow, she had to make sure the murderers did not get away. The king's soldiers were just as good as any to kill the murderers of Rannulf. They just did not know that was what they were doing. She emerged from the grove of trees to run after the soldiers.

The innkeeper had fallen to the ground as the soldiers let him go. Betia saw the fear in his eyes as she ran past him. Then paying him no mind, she ran onto the road in front of the inn. She could not keep up with the soldiers so she slowed down. Besides her aging body could not take the fast pace that was intended for a younger body. She could see where the soldiers had disappeared into forest leaving a wide swath of fallen underbrush.

As she approached the place where the soldiers entered the forest, she hesitated. She could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. Swords clanging against shields, orders barked from the sergeant, and screams of pain. Unsure of her haste to an unknown situation, she paused beside a tree for a moment. Battle was no place for a woman. There was nothing she could offer as a help to the situation except her Deryni-ness. And offering that kind of help would cause her more trouble than it was worth.

Yet, more innocent people were going to be hung tomorrow, the next day, and even for several days after. She couldn't live with herself if she did not try her hardest to set her friends free. Steeling herself for the bloody scene that was before her, she pressed on. The sounds of battle were fewer. She no longer heard the sergeant yelling orders or the clang of swords against shields.

The path the soldiers had taken was easily seen. Small bushes and trees bent form the weight of passing soldiers had yet to spring back to their upright position. Betia carefully wound her way through the mass of tangled limbs and crushed branches. Riderless horses were seen milling about the closer she came to the battle scene. Stepping away from the soldiers path of bent trees and bushes, she noticed the horses were not just from the king's men, but the Willimites as well.

"No need to look for the horse I touched," she said out loud.

The forest floor was littered about with blood. She saw a body to her right. It appeared to be a Willimite. From the direction the body was laying, it appeared as though the man had been trying to get away before he was killed. Steering clear of the body, she walked onward toward where the conflict occurred. No noise now penetrated the forest of a battle. Another man was sitting propped against a tree. She hurried to the man hoping he was still alive. Before she bent down, she realized he wasn't breathing. Betia crossed herself.

She stepped out of the forest into the clearing where the Willimites had been camped. Bodies were every where, Willimites and soldiers alike. She saw no one alive. This was more death than anyone person should see, yet she continued on looking for the leader of the Willimites amongst the dead bodies. Some of the men she had to turn over to see their faces. She was puzzled when she turned several bodies over and their bodies were burnt. Only the soldiers had been burnt though. At first she was not sure of the origin of their death, then she realized these soldiers had been killed by magic.

Apparently the leader had killed these men with a fireball. She continued looking for the leader among the bodies. The soldiers were much more recognizable with their armor on. She left the soldiers alone as she moved from one Willimite body to the next. Shaking her head, the leader was not among the dead. He had escaped. She looked back over the body strewn clearing. There were at least forty dead men here and the one who was responsible for the death of Rannulf and who knows how any others had gotten away.