Anthanasius, Luke, and Ulric rode on amongst the trees in better spirits at having taken some light refreshment at the inn.


    The sun’s light only began to break over the eastern horizon and soon seemed to spread  brighter colours blazing across the sky. Fighting for their lives affected Anthanasius and Luke little, for these were rough times and, since they received little in the way of hurt, it hardly remained in their minds. True, all received wounds; some severe, and one they left dead, but everyone who fell did so only by his own willingness to cut another’s throat for pride and drink.


    The sun seemed to reflect this new cleansing of the world as the yellow star flamed into view with more grand majesty than usual.


    The three rode quickly at first to distance themselves from the inn, but the horses tired easily and soon slowed to a trot.


    Anthanasius broke their silence first with the most necessary question all considered, “Tell me Ulric, where do you mean to go now you are an enemy of the king?”


    Ulric scratched his head, “I’ve been thinking of that for a couple months. I’ve no kin in these parts; perhaps that’s best, but I have a brother by Tunmost far to the northwest I could bide with for a bit. Then I could take to a new trade and maybe even find me a wife. I haven’t met many lasses as the king’s jailor.”


    “Luke and I are heading to Echo Slope. We…” Anthanasius started, but Ulric cut in.


    “What madness makes ye go there! Don’t you know that was King Hugh’s second home?”


    “The circumstances of our arrest were completely unfounded. I hope the king will drop the charges. And if not,” he said, falling into a brooding silence, “if not, then I hope to reach Echo Slope before news of our arrest does.”


    Ulric broke the silence after a few more miles once their horses were sufficiently rested, “By my sword, that scoundrel Cyran saw us coming a mile away; he said he only had these three horses but when I went ‘round with him there were five. Of course he rode off with the best two as soon as I paid him.”


    “In sooth,” Anthanasius replied, turning around in his saddle, “these horses aren’t anything special, but I more expected them to be small and starving.”


    “We overpaid what they were worth, but to us moving quickly is worth whatever we have.” Luke said and kicked his horse in the sides to start into a canter with his friends following.


    They rode all day and woke early the next morning. After a few hours’ riding between canter, trot, and walk, Ulric slowed and his new friends followed suit. They pulled on the reins of their horses to spin around and looked at Ulric; knowing, but not speaking for a space.


    He looked from one to the other and finally spoke, “If you’re ever up by Tunmost, my brother’s name is Guerric. I don’t know if I’ll take a new name, but he’ll surely know of you. And by my sword you two are the stoutest fighters my eyes ever saw; you saved me the trouble of dismounting to help you.”


    Anthanasius tossed a leather pouch onto the man’s lap. It jingled when it landed. Ulric said, “No, friend, I’ve not much but you already bought me this horse. I couldn’t take more.”


    He tried to hand the pouch back but Anthanasius kept one hand on his leg and the other holding his reins.


    “We value our freedom more than those coins,” he began. “You’ll need them while starting a new life in Tunmost.”


    Ulric looked down gratefully and nodded his thanks. Luke rode closer and said, “I pray we’ll meet again this side of paradise.” Continuing with a twinkle in his eye he said, “And I hope, Ulric, that you took no offense at us breaking from prison and holding you at knifepoint to escape.”


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The light flashed even brighter in Ulric’s eyes as he fabricated more of his story, “You did make things look rather bad for me so I can’t go back, but by my sword you can’t be all bad to have released me.”


    They all laughed at this and embraced roughly from the saddles. Then Ulric turned his horse’s head to a different path and galloped away through the thinning woods, turning around and waving his cap before vanishing from sight.


    Anthanasius and Luke rode on through the warming morning. They met a few people here and there over the next three days and more once they joined onto a more frequented path that would lead them to Echo Slope. Most groups they met paid them little heed as they passed on the dusty road, but an occasional passerby would watch them over his shoulder and wonder to his companions about the two men with ragged horses.


    They trotted their horses when they could, but those times became more intermittent as the day warmed. Occasional dirt paths wove through fields of young wheat and rye before widening out at last at a distant farmplace.


    Luke turned to Anthanasius and asked, “Tell me Anthanasius, what protection will Lord Marillac offer us fearing wrath from the king? It concerns me much as it is my head concerned the same as yours.”


    “Lord Marillac offered me,” he began slowly, “or rather craved of me, to partake in a tournament later this month. If I can gain his word of honor to let us partake in it; I believe he would hold true.”


    “And if the king ordered him to hand us over?” Luke pressed him.


    “I’d doubt he truly ordered it.” Anthanasius said simply and suddenly reined his horse onto its back legs and spun a quick circle on the path to the amazement of passersby. As soon as the horse’s hooves touched down he reined back up but this time the exhausted animal collapsed towards its back. Anthanasius instantly slipped from the stirrups and landed safely next to the kicking legs as he sought to calm it.


    Luke stopped and laughed, “Your opinion won’t matter much if you’re in a dungeon.”


    Anthanasius smiled at Luke, urged his horse to its feet and, still holding the bridle, started again.


    The two crossed over a muddy puddle between two hills when they heard a shout from behind the further hill. Looking to the sky, they saw a small white speck rising higher and higher into the cloudless sky. They recognized the speck as a falcon and hurried their horses to the top of the hill to watch.


    As the falcon spotted a target a half mile below, it rolled onto its back and swooped into a dive. A group of ducks at the edge of a pond in the distance fluttered and took to flight, but too late; the bird of prey chose its target and closed in at over two hundred miles per hour.


    It pulled up and skimmed the top of the duck, driving it’s beak into the bird’s back so rapidly the onlookers only saw it fall as the falcon passed overhead. The three friends heard the hunting party cheer again as it fell and saw it for the first time as the gaily dressed men and women rode towards the fallen bird seeking to reclaim their falcon and its prey.


    Anthanasius and Luke walked slowly through a meadow to reach the happy party and recognized Lord Marillac before they got close. He wore a heavy leather glove on his left hand to hold his prized animal. Aside from practical ware, they noted he wore a dark green jerkin and an ornamental hat, and sat upon a large white horse, richly decorated.


    “Why hello, my friends,” he cried as they rode up. “I didn’t expect to see you back before the feast of Firstwinter,” he continued, jumping from his horse and striving to reclaim his bird.


    He let it eat a bit of the duck it hunted before placing it back on his gloved wrist and tying the leather strap to its leg. His falcon secured, he stood up and walked over to the two newcomers to give them a proper welcome.


    He obviously expected nothing.


    “Halloa, Luke. And you Anthanasius, have you come to partake in my tournament after all?” he laughed, beaming as Luke dismounted.


    “I have.” Anthanasius answered, “Indeed I need some time away from the wars. A tournament will be just the thing.”


    “I crave your word that I may participate as well, mylord,” Luke said, bowing.


    “Certainly you shall,” Lord Marillac responded. He then dropped his wrist down and a young boy standing nearby secured a hood over the falcon’s head. A plume in the same rich colors as Lord Marillac’s horse ornamented the hood. The falcon flapped its powerful wings a few times, pulling his arm up and ringing the bell attached to its foot before calming.


    “A peregrine falcon, I believe?” Luke asked.


    “Quite so, and one of my best.”


    The boy, having finished his task, walked a few paces away.


    “And now, what happened to your horses? They look all but spoiled,” he chided them.


    Anthanasius hesitantly answered after a moment’s pause. “That may be better... answered in private.”


    Lord Marillac looked seriously at Anthanasius and nodded once before turning abruptly back to his waiting mount.