[Envinyatar]

Once the meeting in the Inn was done, Aldwulf took the horse his brother had left him and made a speedy trip back to his family’s holding, slipping into the stable with only a wag of the tail from the family dog. ‘So, this is how you guard your charges is it, Cheorl,’ he said to the grey muzzled hound, who rolled back on his side and went promptly to sleep.

He stabled Osric’s horse, and brought out his own, as well as the two grey draft horses that pulled the haywagon. Hitching them to a smaller transport wagon in the yard, he set about putting a small load of hay and several old blankets in the wagon’s bed.

A stealthy trip to his room, and he made for the door, rucksack in hand with a change of clothes, a small purse of coins, and his shortsword, knife, buckler, and helm. As luck would have it, his brother roused from the other bed, and looked up blearily at him. “Good luck,’ he mumbled, seeing what Aldwulf carried. ‘I’ll say naught to the family except that you were called away on the King’s business.’ He raised up and looked out the window to the yard. ‘Though what the King would need with a wagon and two of our big geldings will be hard to explain.’ Osric waved him off and returned to the comforts of his warm bed.

Aldwulf stowed his gear and weapons beneath the seat of the wagon, along with four coils of stout rope. He planned to spend the next day seeing old friends in the city, and retrieving what information he could about the passage west. Tying his mount and an extra one for Heldór to the wagon, he climbed up to the seat and clucked at the greys. They pulled in tandem against the harness, setting the iron rimmed wheels clattering down the road east to Edoras.

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The day flew by quickly. Aldwulf spoke with a few of his companions and had a meal with in the Inn with several of them. Some of them had been as far as Sarn Ford and regaled him with tales of the Trade Inn there, and the exotic customers who passed through it with their goods. None had actually been any further north and west than that, but one of them recalled his Da talking about someone he knew who’d traveled through there, and that the Inn served some very fine brew.

The evening passed in a pleasant manner, and it was quite late when the party broke up. Aldwulf was the last one out, waiting long enough that none of his friends lingered to say one last word to him. He bought two skins of ale from the pretty barmaid, and stowing them safely under the seat made his way up toward the Golden Hall, giving its grounds a wide berth. Judging from the angle of the moon, it was nearly time for Rochil to appear.

The guards at the main gate had been surprised when the hostler approached them with his wagon. It was late night and most of the citizenry were tucked safely in their beds.

'You comin' in?' one of them asked, recognizing Aldwulf. 'Wotcher doin' up there at the Hall. Had some late night business or somethin'?'

The two of them were very young men, who had drawn the least liked duty - that of guarding the entry way to the Hall's grounds for the night watch. The chance to have some sort of conversation livened their night a little, and they latched onto the opportunity like pups to their mother.

Aldwulf smiled engagingly at them, and clapped them on the shoulders, calling them his comrades. Yes, he said he had late night business with the Hall. Something they needed doing right away for the horses he had brought in just last week to the stabler.

'Ordinary sods like us are at their beck and call, ain't we?' He scratched his head and yawned. 'Much rather be in bed with summat soft and pretty than standin' here waitin' on the King's business.' The two guards nodded their heads and sympathised, grumbling out their own list of injustices.

'Not much happenin' tonight, is there?' The yard was dark and quiet, and the night breeze had sprung up, bringing in a little chill. 'No use you just standing here gettin' cold, doin' nothin.' He pulled out the two skins of ale he had stowed beneath the wagon's seat. 'Might as well warm up with a little of this.' He tipped the skin to his lips and took a pull at it, then handed it and its fellow to the men.

'You keep it,' he said, glancing up toward the Hall as if something had caught his eye. 'Looks like they'll be wanting me soon, up there, to take out the goods they're wanting transported.'

He left them seated to one side of the gate, working on the first of skins, the other tucked close in reserve. They were toasting him, calling him a good fellow, drinking to his health, and the health of each of his family members.

Aldwulf, waved at them as he climbed back on the wagon, smiling as he heard the chorus of loud belches behind him.

He pulled the wagon into the shadow of a great oak that stood facing the barred window in the southern wall of the cell block. Hidden in the shadows of the spreading branches, he looked up to where Heldor was being kept. The dim lights from the lanterns within threw tall shadows in what little of the room he could see.

‘One of those should be Brytta, and one Liol,’ he thought to himself. For a brief moment he wondered what unlucky sod had pulled guard duty tonight. He reached into the bed of the wagon and brought the ropes into easy access. Hearing the clip clop of hooves on the path near him, he dared a look. It was Rochil, drawing near.

Aldwulf walked quietly to the head of the nearest horse, and taking hold of the bridle, brought the horses and wagon round to a space below the window. He had greased the axles well earlier in the day, and had wrapped leather about the metal parts of the harness and bridle so they made only small muffled sounds as they swayed and moved with the motion of the horses.

Rochil drew near, and Aldwulf waved him closer, handing him two of the coiled ropes, while he took the other two . . .

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]