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Head looking down as he checked his horse’s hooves for cracks or any lodged stones, Brand looked for all intents as one absorbed in seeing his horse ready for the journey. Truth was, though, he had already seen to Lady and found her in want of nothing. What did absorb his interest was the little scene playing out between the man, Rædwald, and Meghan.
She was angry; he could tell that from the look on her face. And she had sent him away. And Rædwald, what was in his mind about her? He had gone off willingly enough. But had stopped and turned to look back at her. The man’s face had taken on a considering look and then softened into a look of fondness and regret. What was he to her, Brand wondered. And even more so, he to her.
Brand set Lady’s leg down from where he’d held it against his knee. He stood up straight and looked about the camp. In little groups of twos and threes, the riders were gathered; their horses packed, and only the last few adjustments to packs and such were being done.
He mounted up and walked Lady to where Meghan was waiting astride her little mare. He reached into his small bag that hung from the front of his saddle and fished out one of last night’s oatcakes and a piece of smoked fish. ‘I didn’t see you at our hasty breakfast, Mistress Meghan. May I offer you this to tide your over until we’re well down the river?’
‘Are we ready?’ he called out in a louder voice to the other companions. ‘Who will take the lead for a while this morning? And who will be the rear guard?’
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