“Bet there are a lot of laws in the ville,” she said aloud. “Tricky ones, real easy to break by mistake.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said suspiciously. “How did you know?”
“Common sense.”
“Besides, the baron has to get his slaves from somewhere,” Clem drawled, hunkering low in his seat. He took out his plug of tobacco, almost took a bite, then tucked it away again. The man desperately wanted a chaw, but spitting might be illegal here. Damn city folks were plum crazy. For a tick, he fiercely wished Bob were here to advise him, then Clem forced away those thoughts and put on his best poker face. Stay loose, stay low, just as if he were hunting a bear.
A cobblestone drawbridge crossed a wide moat. Armed sec men in blue, and some in brown, watched as Brian directed the raiding wag through a barbican, the portcullis of the brick tunnel raised flush into the ceiling to allow easy passage. But Mildred knew the single slice of a sharp knife would send that ton of spiked iron crashing down to seal off any possible invasion. Or escape attempt.
A courtyard spread out before her, hundreds of yards wide and long. Horses were corralled at stables, and a mill was grinding wheat. Loud clanks came from a blacksmith shop, the blazing hearth masked by dense clouds of smoke. Sec men marched by in orderly columns as if on parade, women carried baskets on their heads, children ran by chasing dogs, a man was being whipped at a wooden post, songs came from a tavern, with a gaudy house on the second floor. The sluts leaning over the balconies displaying their wares to potential customers.
From long talks with Ryan, Mildred knew the huge, sprawling fortress was truly a city unto itself. The numerous buildings and structures interconnected via a series of closed arbor and tunnels. An invading force would have hell’s own trouble searching out the defenders, and narrow slits notched every wall to offer perfect firing views for the defenders.
“Park over there,” Brian directed, hopping off the wag while it was still moving.
Nosing in close to a wall, Mildred killed the engine and put on the brake.
“My thanks for the ride. I must report to the duty sergeant immediately, but you can go about your biz,” he said, patting his uniform here and there.
Mildred had seen Ryan and J.B. do the same thing a thousand times. The gestures were the unconscious actions of a battlefield warrior making sure his weapons were in place. This man was not just a mercie in a uniform.
“Good journey,” she said.
“Freedom and duty!” he cried, snapping a stiff-hand salute to his chest.
Awkwardly, with the steering wheel in the way, Mildred returned the gesture. He nodded as if she had done the correct thing, then spun on a boot heel and marched away quickly.
“How did you know about the new salute?” Stephen demanded, sounding annoyed.
Without answering, Mildred opened her door and climbed out, dragging her med kit from behind the seat. “We part company here,” the physician said. “But this is Ryan’s old home, and he has lots of kin here. So mind our bargain.”
“Or else,” Clem added, joining her on the street.
“Deal is a deal,” Stephen said stolidly, trying to smile in a friendly manner and failing miserably.
Just then a horn beeped and a crowd of people quickly separated, allowing the cargo van to pull alongside the truck, sandwiching the people between the wags. Sara set the brake and exited the wag, running around to open the door for Hector, who handed her a wiggling bundle before climbing down from the wag.
“Glad you folks arrived safely,” Mildred said happily, walking closer. “I got worried when the sec men hauled you out of the van. Everybody okay?”
“Certainly,” Sara said, tucking the blanket tighter around the baby. “They checked some papers Stephen had given us, then gave us an escort into the ville as if we were royalty.”
“Whatever is in those boxes,” Hector said, “must be mighty important.”
“Wheat,” Stephen said. “Grains to plant this spring. Just a lot of raw wheat.”
“Sure,” Clem drawled. “Papers?” Mildred asked.