Fact of the matter might be, Eric considered, that with money in hand his best course would be to make for the gates of the castle at once. Following the princess and young William down from Ravenna's tower, it had seemed to him in that instant he first saw that open gate, that now might be the time to simply to make his way through the crowd and be gone. No trouble at all. Once the others had turned their backs, he need only pass down the steps and be out in the bright spring sunshine, on his way back up the ridge onto the road leading into town.

Instead, he'd spoken up as he had, and the rest had followed.

He might even yet have managed it on separating from them at the treasury doors: cut back across the yard toward Beith and his men, traded an insult or two in passing, then been out through the gates past the granary at the south end of this court, and on through to freedom again.

Instead, this time he'd given way before the promise of an opportunity to get cleaned up first. With, beyond it, the chances of a meal later, and the possibility of having the gash in his side dressed again, by anyone better able to get to it than himself. For preference no one Her Highness might be having words with, before or after. She might be rattling a little, facing her future as queen, but whether he called her dead or spellbound, there was an edge to her since her miraculous rising, that even at a distance he found it a touch less than easy to face, and that edge, with an interest in him, might be harder to dislodge than he liked. Which was, when he thought about it, all the more reason to be careful about choosing his time to leave. Too hasty, and he might end by having difficulty being nonchalant, in the event of her sending anyone after him.

Pulling his coat out flat on one of the worktables that lined the back wall of the laundry, he folded it so as to hide the purse now buried deep in its pocket, and set about rolling it with practiced care into a snug bundle. Best concealment for that, for now, he thought, binding the whole firmly together, and sliding his two smaller axes in under the bindings as well. His companions being certain of his having nothing, he could likely trust them to leave that and the rest of his clothes untouched while he was occupied in the bath-house later. A tidy exchange for his keeping an eye on the bundle of towelling that now held their valuables, while they scrubbed themselves in one of the two shallow stone basins that served the the castle laundry. Their clothes and boots were being soaked out and scrubbed by three aged but muscular laundresses working over smaller wooden tubs nearby, while others set out racks near the fire, ready to receive the wet clothes when they were done.

Having rinsed the worst of the mess from his own shoes and gaiters with a bucket of water from the well, there was nothing more to be done with them until the leather dried, but he could spend the time well enough restoring the rest of his gear. Or, at least as much as he could work on comfortably at present. Past the first rush and excitement of battle, he was beginning to feel the strain of the morning's work. With his earlier wounds stiffening, it had already been uncomfortable enough getting free of his leather jerkin, and unbuckling the bracers from his arms. The latter, had he left them much longer, promised to have been a deal harder to free on his good side, working from the injured one.

Taking up one of the rags given him, along with his jerkin and the saddle soap from his pouch of leather cleaning kit, he went to sit on the broad edge of the washing basin, soaked and wrung out the rag, and began sponging the worst of the bloodstains from its inner side. Those removed, working in the soap before the whole works had dried stiff would be the thing he'd most regret later, if he were to neglect it now.

He glanced up as another burly laundress pushed past him, thumping a basket of washing onto the next table from where he'd left his gear, then swung back to study him suspiciously.

"Eh! I know you, don't I?" she said. "It's Eric Huntsman, isn't it?"

He returned her look in mild surprise. "So some've called me, though not so much lately."

"No, as you've spent more these past two years being either mad or drunk, since your Sara died," she said, "and now, y'need not look so grim at me, lad! She was both your wife and my first cousin's daughter's girl, so in a manner of speaking we're related, and I mean you no ill, you understand me?"

"I think so," he said, "but forgive me, I don't know you, I don't think."

"That's because you'll not have seen me since your wedding five years' past, and there's no man in his right mind notices the grannies gossiping in the corners, at such a time." She considered him thoughtfully. "I'm Goody Coyle. I and my man Alfred keep the laundry here, and the bath-house. As that leaves little enough time for doing business in town or tavern after, I'd not be surprised if ye've never seen either of us since."

"Forgive me, I'd as soon not speak of that past. Although," he added, "it may be now there is something to be said. I know now, who murdered my Sara. He came near enough to killing me also, but as he was fool enough to tell me, he's the one now dead."

"Say you so!" She pushed her basket aside and leaned on the edge of the table. "Anyone I'd be knowing?

"That Finn, as was your late queen's brother."

"Or so they claimed." She folded her arms, and stared. "Indeed! Well, y'know, that's not bad news," she said. "He'd always a nasty eye for the girls his men brought through here."

"And more than that it seems, for those who fought him, like my Sara." His jaw set. "From his bragging before I killed him, it seems we can count more than one woman's death against him."

"Then the killing will stop with him." She tilted her head. "That's good. Would this have been about a sennight ago?"

He considered it, nodded. "Six days back."

"Sometime in the morning." He looked up, and she smiled at his expression. "They could hear her crying out from her tower, all the way through the forecourt. Then when she came down again later, her dress was all marked as though she'd been wiggling on the floor, and I'm told she looked older than me."

"Which would be nothing so old, me old girl," said Beith, sliding around in the tub, to lounge on the rim next to Eric. "Now, you say you keep this place, and that raises the question of a wee problem I and my lads will soon be having, that it strikes me you and yours may also be able to help us with."

Goody Coyle drew herself up, and regarded him dubiously. "And what would that be, little man? For if I am 'old girl' to you, laddie," she added, "that's the best you may expect of me!"

Beith grinned. "Forgive me then, Goodwife Coyle! You are clearly a woman of parts, and I would wish to be on good terms with you."

"What is this problem of yours, then?"

"Well, I can tell you that after the morning we've had, getting a soak in your laundry basin is a grand thing," he said, "but the problem arises when we get out of it. Even with the kindness of your ladies soaking the crap off our boots, and having our kit hung to dry by the fire, it'll be most of the day before any of it's fit to wear. So, speaking with you as the mistress of this place, would there be any place about where we might scrounge clean shirts and breeks to be goin' on with, in the meantime?"

"Eh," she said, "enough towels, and we can do ye up like a party of Romans."

"Indeed ye might," he said, "but then picture this lot next getting drunk as Romans at Saturnalia, in celebration of the day's events..."

"An' that's likely to happen, an' they get any chance!" said Eric. He grinned at Beith's dirty look and the brisk one-fingered salute that followed it.

"...an' I promise you," the dwarf continued, "in no more than towel togas, it won't be pretty!"

"Heh," said the old woman, "I'll give you that." She stood forward, rubbed her chin, and looked around her. "A'right, here's an idea for you, as I'm told you are favoured by the princess an' all." She looked to Eric. "You tell me that wretch Finn is dead? You sure?"

"Aye," he said.

"Then we'll raid his store of the linens. Like all the great ones, he keeps shirts and the like to last three months...an' as we just did a Great Wash day here, the week gone, that cupboard's full at the present." She nodded. "Aye, that'll do." She turned, waving to one of the women, and bawled, "Maggie! Come 'ere, I've an errand for ye."

"Fetch me a dozen or so each of shirts and breeks from Lord Finn's linen closet," she told the other, "an' a couple of nightshirts. Then stop in the storeroom on your way back, and bring me my sewing box as well." She favoured the dwarves with a measuring stare. "We'll need a handspan or so off the bottom of each shirt, but that's fine, the trimmings will do for the bandages we'll need later."

"Eh, there's only the seven of us," said Beith. "Or are you planning to outfit yourself and the tallster, here, too?"

"Ergh, no, she's not," said Eric, with a grimace.

"Oh, belike I am," said Goody Coyle. "At least one of those nighties is going to be mine, as fee for my services as seamstress, and the other's my old man's, and if I'm setting up these little reprobates, there's no reason he and you shouldn't have a clean shirt or two into the bargain."

"I'd not be wearing a murderer's clothes! Did you not just hear what I told you?"

"Ye'd not," she said, "except that any good Christian would say ye already do, and there's days when I wonder if there's much to choose between any of you. For all that I'd call Lord Finn a surpassing nasty bit of work," she reached out to pat his cheek lightly. "Good linen remains good linen, lad, and that's enough of your nonsense."

"It's no' nonsense," he said, but subsided under her stare.

"'Tis, though, in these times," she replied. "Not to mention we've still to soak you out of that mess you're wearing, and while I don't doubt you're as much a mess beneath it..." She gave him an appraising look. "I promise you, that you roaming about here shirtless would be far too much distraction even for my old girls." She tapped him briskly on the chest, ignoring his wince, and turned away to pull her basket from the worktable. "You just bear with us, and we shall make all well."

Beith snorted and caught up the soap as Gort laid it on the edge of the tub between them. "Best you do as she tells you, I think, Huntsman. I'd say there goes a woman of fine understanding."

"Second time today I've heard the likes of that from someone." Eric said, under his breath, "and I'd sooner decide for myself, if there's anyone about that doesn't mind!"


The next shock came when Beith herded them all out of the laundry some while later, him in a fresh shirt and the rest of the dwarves in fresh shirts and breeks and towel togas, and he was hailed by one of the Duke's armsmen, guiding a party of green-clad and veiled fen village women towards the inner court. The whole group was hung about with bags and baskets and chattering apace, but at the sight of him, or more likely his companions in their draperies, they all stopped short, and for a moment were silent.

Then one of taller ladies passed her burden to the girl next to her, and came forward to meet him, holding out her arms. "Huntsman!" She pulled down the red scarf veiling her face, and beamed at him. "Oh, Eric, love, you did it! You got our princess here!" She caught his arms and hugged him at arms-length, not able to catch him more closely past the bundle he carried, then reached up to catch him at the back of the neck, and pulled him down to kiss his cheek. "I knew that you would, that you must!"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "Anna! How on Earth did you come here so quickly?"

"We followed Hammond's supply train," she said. "When his scouts came through, following the smoke from the village, and told us what was afoot, I and the rest of us with husbands packed up our gear and came after."

"But the rest of you, and your daughter?"

"All safe and well at home," she said. She patted his arm. "It's all well enough, Eric. I know, it looked terrible with all that fire in the night, but only four houses burned of the nine, and only one of the dipping nets over the fish traps. We've all lived, not much the worse for wear, and Lily's fine with her aunties."

"That's good to know." He looked down at the things he held, avoiding her gaze. "I'm sorry! If I'd not left as I did—"

"There'd be nothing different, except more chance of you having been surprised with the rest of us." She gave him a warm little hug about the waist, and rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "But how have you fared? I would hope that gash on your chest is at least a little better, but Lord William said you were hurt again, and your colour's not as good as I might wish."

"It's nothin' much." He shifted his bundled clothing to let her check his now freshly bandaged side, and drew in a sharp breath when she immediately pressed a hand over the wound. "I was in a worse fight the day after Her Highness and I ran from your place, and it's been busy times since. But I've mostly had these bound up, last time by the Duke's infirmarer. Just now by the woman who runs the laundry. It turns out she's a great-cousin of sorts, to my late wife."

"It looks solid enough to do for the moment." She straightened, still holding his arm. "I'll find you later, once we've had use of the kitchen a while, and we'll see about adding a comfrey dressing to it. For now, I want to get on and let the princess know we're here, and then most of us will be back in the great hall, to help with the wounded."

"And if you will, Huntsman, and—er, gentlemen," The armsman standing by them raised a hand. "Lord William asked me to say, if I met you, that when you're ready to seek lodging for the night, room has been made for you in the Duke's quarters, in the apartments just to the right of this gateway, off the inner court. They were the Duke's when he was castellan here in his youth, and he has reclaimed them for the time being. We've got a couple of great low truckle-beds pulled out in one chamber for you and yours, Master Beith, and—" looking at Eric, "there will be room enough for you to stay with His Grace's personal guard."

"Ahh, no, I'll not be doing that." Eric flipped a thumb over his shoulder, towards the laundry door. "As I said, Goodwife Coyle here at the laundry turns out to be a relative of my late wife's, and there's no arrangement with her that I'd see it safe to break. But I will be by the great hall later, Anna, so most likely I'll see you there."

"An' for all there may not have been an untrue word in any of that, Huntsman," said Beith, when the party had moved on. "I'd call that a pack of lies worthy of you." He raised an eyebrow. "My question is, now, what's possessing you to bother?"