Prentice Ash (Rage of Lions Book 1) by Matt Barron

Author:Matt Barron [Barron, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blade of Truth Publishing
Published: 2022-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

The next two days, Prentice marched with Turley and the rogues. The army was late to leave each morning and early to stop. Talk quickly spread that the Prince of Rhales was to blame. The nobility would not dare to openly question the crown prince, but whispers were common among the lower orders. For some, the story was that he was old and uncomfortable, unable to bear the march. For others who were more hateful or less polite, they imagined that the prince was growing cowardly in his dotage and was afraid to confront the enemy. Other tales circulated as well.

Watching the march, Prentice noticed that when the army stopped in the mid-afternoon, foraging parties quickly made haste into the surrounding lands and returned hours later with livestock and wagons loaded with produce. It took massive amounts of food to feed an army of this size. Prentice wondered if the prince was calling an early rest each day to allow the army this time to forage. In spite of the duchess’s plan to supply them from her own herds and flocks, Prince Mercad’s force seemed intent on stripping the near countryside of every possible resource. One group of squires even returned with a string of farmers, dressed in coarse shifts with jute belts, tied by their wrists, jogging behind the horses.

The bound men were handed to the overseers with the explanation that they were guilty of fleeing the King’s Law. The half dozen men claimed they were only fleeing from the invaders in the north, but the squires countered that serfs had no right to leave their lord’s lands, regardless of circumstance. Some tried to protest that such law did not apply in the Reach and that they were yeomen, but the squires only rode away, leaving the overseers to chain the miserable fellows to the ends of the gangs.

How many more refugees might they find from the north?

As the sun set, Prentice made his way to talk with the men. At first they were eager to speak with him, hopeful that he might be able to secure their release. But once they realized he was just a convict, most of them tried to shun him, maintaining the yeoman’s disdain for rogues. The other convicts hissed in the twilight at the newcomers’ pride, and some whispered mocking comments.

“You’ll not last long on this march if you hold to this disdain,” Prentice told them quietly.

“I don’t intend to be long on this march,” one of them snarled, and others nodded.

“Really? Well, that’s excellent news,” Prentice mocked. “I don’t know what plan you have for escaping, but I wish you well for it. Every man here has dreamed of escape for years, and none of us has managed it.”

“We don’t need to escape,” the man replied. In the dim light, his expression seemed disgusted, as if he were upset at being drawn into a conversation with a man he would much rather just disdain with silence. “We don’t belong here!”

“Oh, well, of course.

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