"Do you know what my husband will do to you?" Aelis said grimly. "And my father in Barbentain? Have you any idea?"

"I do, actually," the masked man said. Besides him, the one she had wounded was still clutching his shoulder; there was blood on his hand. "And it has rather a lot to do with money, my lady. Rather a lot of money, actually."

"You are a very great fool!" Aelis snapped. They had surrounded her horse now, but no one, as yet, had reached for the reins. There seemed to be about fifteen of them—an extraordinary number for an outlaw band, so near the two castles. "Do you expect to live to spend anything they give you? Don't you know how you will be pursued?"

"These are indeed worrisome matters," the man in front of her said, not sounding greatly worried. "I don't expect you to have given them much thought. I have." His voice sharpened. "I do expect you to co-operate, though, or people will start being hurt, and I'm afraid that might include the girl. I don't have unlimited time, Lady Aelis, or patience. Drop the bow!"

There was a crack of command in the last sentence that actually made Aelis jump. She looked over at Ariane; the girl was big-eyed, trembling with fear. Riquier lay face down on the grass. He seemed to be unconscious, but there was no blade wound she could see.

"The others will not be hurt?" she said.

"I said that. I don't like repeating myself." The voice was muffled by the festive mask, but the arrogance came through clearly.

Aelis dropped her bow. Without another word the leader turned and nodded his head. From behind the arch, having been hidden by its massive shape, another man stepped out leading two horses. The leader swung himself up on a big grey, and beside him the wounded man awkwardly mounted a black mare. No one else moved. The others were clearly going to stay and deal with the corans.