“Any more questions, sir?” Ned asked with another carnivorous grin.

“Enough!” That wasn’t Thraxton. He said nothing, reckoning Ned of the Forest would not listen to him if he did. But Dan of Rabbit Hill’s voice commanded attention. Then Dan said, “Enough, the both of you.”

“Sir?” Thraxton sounded winter-cold, the cold of a bad winter. “Do you presume to include me?”

“I do,” Dan said stubbornly. “If you get people quarreling with you-if we quarrel among ourselves-who wins? Avram the serf-stealer and the stinking southrons, that’s who. Nobody else but.”

“You’re right,” Ned said at once. “I’ll let it lay where it’s at. Count?”

“Very well.” But Thraxton’s voice remained frigid. It might not have, had Dan phrased his request a little differently. King Avram was the worst foe, true. But that did not mean no wretches, no enemies, marched behind King Geoffrey. And now Dan of Rabbit Hill had chosen to add himself to that list. Your time will come, Dan, Thraxton thought, yours and Ned’s and everyone’s.

“Up, you lazy sons of bitches!” somebody shouted. “Think you’re going to sleep all bloody day? Not bloody likely, let me tell you.”

Rollant’s eyes flew open in something close to panic. For a horrid moment, he thought he was back on the indigo plantation outside of Karlsburg, and that the overseer would stick a boot in his ribs if he didn’t head out for the swampy fields on the dead run.

Then the escaped serf let out a sigh of relief as full awareness returned. His pantaloons and tunic were dyed gray, not the blue of the indigo he’d slaved to grow. The traitors wore blue, not King Avram’s men. And that wasn’t the overseer screaming at him, only his sergeant. As a matter of fact, Sergeant Joram had more power over him than the overseer ever had, but Rollant didn’t mind. When he joined Avram’s host, he’d chosen to come under the rule of men like Joram. He’d never chosen to do as his one-time northern liege lord and overseer told him to do. He’d expressed his opinion of that relationship by fleeing to the south the first chance he got-and then again, after the serfcatchers ran him down with dogs and hauled him back to his liege lord’s estate.