The Hidden Keystone by Nathan Burrage

Author:Nathan Burrage
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: IFWG Publishing International
Published: 2023-03-12T04:21:52+00:00

CHAPTER 24

18 October 1307

The Poacher’s Hut

The hut was exactly where Salome had predicted. Built in the shadow of an enormous elm, the rough timbers were stained with age and moss covered the bottom of each plank. Some of the thatch in the roof had collapsed, although the dirt floor was only damp thanks to the elm’s branches.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” Salome said. “We can decide what to do in the morning.”

Bertrand shivered. The temperature was dropping as night fell and his padded tunic and breeches were saturated from the rain. They needed a fire.

“If we’re lucky,” Rémi said, “they’ll have left some dry wood inside.” He ducked under the low eaves of the hovel and disappeared inside.

Salome placed a hand on Bertrand’s arm. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

“How did you do that back there?” The feeling of their merging had become a vague, confused memory.

“Bertrand, you need rest.” Salome guided him into the hut and helped him out of his armour. Water dribbled from his boots when he upended them.

Rémi stacked the pieces of kindling that he had collected from the barrow mound over some precious char-cloth. A pile of old, dry branches had been left stacked in one corner of the hut. Producing a dark grey flint from his tinderbox, Rémi struck it against the piece of fire-steel. It took him a few attempts to draw sparks in the damp air. Eventually, one caught in the char-cloth. Rémi blew gently until the spark took hold in the twigs.

While Rémi built up the fire, Salome filled a pewter bowl with rain­water. She searched through the supplies Rémi had gathered from the barrow and doled out portions of hard bread, now damp from the rain. Not much of the cheese remained. Bertrand’s stomach growled as he ate slowly.

“I’ll save the salted lamb for tomorrow,” Salome said, removing her cloak. Underneath she wore a dark grey woollen dress divided on either side for riding. The damp wool clung to her willowy figure, especially around her hips where a leather ceinture, about three fingers thick, wrapped around her waist. Lean muscles shifted across her arms and back as she moved about.

No wonder she had been able to walk all day almost without rest. Bertrand wondered whether the rest of her body was covered in scars and belatedly realised he was staring. “What are you doing?” he asked around a mouthful of bread. She had opened a pouch that hung from her belt and was sorting through small cloth sachets.

“Making an infusion.” Using the tip of her belt knife, Salome slit the thread of the sachet on one side and tipped the contents into the bowl of water. Dried herbs and withered flowers by the look of it.

“What’s it for?” The fire glittered in Rémi’s eyes as he watched Salome’s preparations.

“It’ll help you sleep and give you energy for the morrow.” Salome tossed the empty sachet into the fire and stirred the water with one finger. Once satisfied the herbs were fully immersed, she pushed the bowl close to the fire.

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