He did not want to have to share the available food with four other robbers, always supposing that they, with their greater strength in numbers, would agree to a sharing and not try to kill him outright for his impertinence and presumption in asking for a share. If he was to go on living through this night and perhaps the day or days that would follow with cold and hunger, Declan could see only one solution to his problem.

He left them talking quietly about all the wonderful, exciting, and depraved things they could do with the tinkers' hoard, but not quietly enough for them to be able to hear the sound of his light, swift footfalls as he turned and ran under the trees in a wide semicircle that would bring him out at the other side of the tinkers' camp.

Declan's approach to the two people at the cooking fire was hidden by the wagon, but he allowed his feet to fall heavily because his intention was to warn the tinkers of his approach rather than frighten and harm them. But by the time he appeared, the thin youth had heard him coming and had run back to the vehicle where he was trying to pull a sword from beneath the driving bench. The weapon was longer than the gladius at his waist, heavy, and with its bronze edges blunted so that it was more of a club than a sword. Declan shook his head and strode quickly to the cloaked figure beside the fire.

"Old man," he said quickly, pointing across the fire toward the darkness under the trees, "listen carefully and do as I say. There is a band of four robbers out there who are going to attack you and the boy within the next few moments. Their purpose is to slay and rob you. Both of you must go to the wagon, place your backs against the lowest and most strongly built part so that they will not be able to take you from the rear while I guard against a frontal or flanking attack… What are you doing, boy?"