The Crown Conspiracy

The moment the boat entered the shallows hidden archers launched a rain of arrows from the bank. One struck the gunwale with a thud. A second and third found their target in the royal falcon insignia emblazoned on the back of the prince’s robe. The figure in the robe fell from view into the bottom of the boat. More arrows found their marks in the chest of the tiller man, who dropped into the water, and the pole man, who merely slumped to one side.

From behind the screen of bushes and willows, six men emerged dressed in browns, dirty greens, and autumn golds. They entered the river, waded out, and caught the still drifting boat.

“It’s official, we’re dead,” Royce declared comically. “Interestingly enough, the first arrows hit Alric.”

The three of them were lying concealed in the tall field grass atop the eastern hill overlooking the river upstream of the ford. Less than a hundred yards to their right lay the Westfield road. From there, the road ran along the riverbank all the way to Roe, where the river joined the sea.

“Now do you believe me?” the prince asked.

“It only proves that someone is indeed trying to kill you and that they are not us. They’re not soldiers either, or at least they aren’t in uniform, so they could be anyone,” Royce told them.

“How can he see so much—the arrows, their clothing—I can only see movement and color from this distance?” Alric asked.

Hadrian shrugged.

The prince was now dressed in the clothes of the steward’s son: a loose-fitting gray tunic, worn and faded wool knee-length britches, brown stockings, and a tattered, stained wool cloak which was too long. On his feet, he wore a pair of shoes that were little more than soft leather bags tied at his ankles. Although no longer bound, Hadrian kept hold of a rope tethered around the prince’s waist. Hadrian also carried the prince’s sword for him.

“They’re moving in on the boat,” Royce announced.

All Hadrian could really see were shadowy movements under the trees until one of the men stepped out into the sunlight to grab the bow of the boat.

“It won’t be long before they discover they’ve only killed three bushels of thickets wrapped in old clothes,” Hadrian told Royce. “So I’d be quick.”

Royce nodded and promptly trotted down the slope toward the stock shelter.

“What’s he doing?” Alric asked in shock. “He’ll get himself killed and us as well!”

“That’s one opinion,” Hadrian said. “Just sit tight.”

Royce slipped into the shade of the trees, and Hadrian immediately lost sight of him. “Where’d he go?” the prince asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Once more Hadrian shrugged.

Below them, the men converged on the boat, and Hadrian heard a distant shout. He could not make out the words, but he saw someone holding up the Alric-bush complete with arrows. Two of the men remained with the boat while the others waded toward the bank. Just then, Hadrian caught sight of movement in the trees, a train of tethered horses trotting up the slope toward them. From the bank came shouts of alarm and cursing as the distant figures struggled to race across the field and up the hill.

When the horses drew nearer, he spotted Royce crouched down, hanging between the two foremost animals. Hadrian caught two of the horses, pulled the bridle off one, and quickly tied a lead line to the other horse’s halter. He ordered Alric to mount. Angry shouts erupted as the archers spotted them. Two or three stopped to fit arrows but their uphill shots fell short. Before they could close the distance, the three mounted and galloped toward the road.

Royce led them a mile northwest to where the Westfield and Stonemill roads intersected. Here Hadrian, and by default Alric, rode west. Royce, leading the train of captured horses, stayed behind to cloud their tracks and then rode north. An hour later Royce, with only the horse he rode, caught up with them. They turned off the road into an open field and headed away from the river, but still moved generally westward.

The horses had built up a solid sweat and were puffing for air. When they reached the hedgerow lands, they slowed their pace. Eventually they reached the thickets, and there they stopped and dismounted. Alric found a spot clear of thorn bushes and sat down fussing with his tunic, which did not hang on him quite right. Royce and Hadrian took the opportunity to search the animals. There were no markings, symbols, parchments, or emblems of any kind to identify the attackers. Moreover, except for a spare crossbow and a handful of bolts left on Hadrian’s mount, they wore only saddles.

“You’d think they would have some bread at least. Who travels without water?” Hadrian complained.

“They clearly didn’t expect to be out long.”

“Why do you still have me tethered?” the prince asked irritated. “This is extremely humiliating.”

“I don’t want you getting lost,” Hadrian replied with a grin.