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Brodda drew his horse in, barely bringing his horse to a stop before running into the old man. Thorn did not budge, although his head turned slightly to one side to avoid being hit when Brodda's mount tossed his head in protest to the tight reins.
For a moment, Brodda sat and looked down at the man. What did Uldor want with such an old, poor, shriveled man? What good would he be for their goal? It wasn’t his business to question the actions and wishes of the lords.
"You're under arrest, by order of Lord Uldor,” he said roughly. “Will you come quietly? Or do I need to knock you over the head?”
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