Come Twilight by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online Page A

said Sanct’ Germain, recalling the many accounts he had heard from Legion officers of battles with the various tribes of Hispania. “Nor of one another.”
    “Then we will find shelter for the night,” Wamba said, glancing back at the fading light. “We haven’t much longer until it is full dark.”
    “Shouldn’t the monastery have a travelers’ light?” asked Egica. He, too, held a lead. “I can’t see one.”
    “Let us keep moving,” Leovigild said, urging his horse to a jog-trot. “It won’t take long to reach the trees if we don’t dawdle. Wamba. Sit up, man. And keep a grip on the lead. The mules could get away.”
    Wamba righted himself, gathering up his mount’s reins and doing his best to look prepared for a long ride. “I am not myself, sartrium.”
    “All the more reason to be alert,” said Leovigild, and brought his horse alongside Wamba’s. “This will be over soon.”
    Childric grumbled, but fell in just ahead of Sanct’ Germain. “I can’t see very much,” he warned. “If there is no travelers’ light . . .”
    Sanct’ Germain waited a moment, then said, “I see fairly well in the dark; those of my blood have such talent.” In fact, he saw almost as well at night as he did in the day, but he knew such an admission would bring suspicion upon him. “I can make out the road, and if there is a travelers’ light, I will not miss it.”
    “If you say so,” said Leovigild, apparently reserving judgment. “Keep a keen watch, then. It is going to rain tonight, or snow.”
    “Yes, it is,” said Sanct’ Germain. “And the wind will get keener.”
    Leovigild pulled his mantel more tightly around him. “In the morning, we will need pluvials.” This was a concession, for it was rare for any man-at-arms would admit that any man not a soldier could reckon such things; not even peasants were thought to know anything about weather.
    Rogerian pulled on the lead again. “The mules are getting restive.”
    “They are taking it from our escort,” said Sanct’ Germain, and once more looked toward the trees. “There!” he said. “A travelers’ light.”
    Leovigild checked his horse. “Where?”
    “Just there,” said Sanct’ Germain. “It’s deep in the trees and not easily seen, but—there it is again.” He pointed, and hoped that Leovigild’s eyes were able to make it out.
    “A flash,” Leovigild conceded. “Are you certain?”
    “Yes,” said Sanct’ Germain. “No peasant puts a lamp on the roof.”
    “True enough.” Leovigild hesitated. “Might it be a trap? Wouldn’t robbers try such a ruse?”
    “Perhaps, but I doubt it, not on a main road, and not at this time of year.” He looked about at the others. “If there are robbers, we are armed, and they would be fools to attack us.”
    The men gave half-hearted agreement, and Rogerian made a warning signal to Sanct’ Germain.
    “There has been fighting in the mountains, they say,” Wamba muttered.
    Sanct’ Germain shook his head. “If you have to fight anyone tonight, I will pay three Byzantine Emperors to each of you, beyond the fee we have agreed upon. My Word on it.”
    Childric grinned, the wind whipping his hair about his face as if he were one of the ancient storm gods; he drew his sword from its scabbard. “Well and good. Let us be about it, then.” He tightened his seat on his horse and picked up the pace to a fast trot. This gained the attention of all the men-at-arms and they, too, readied themselves for a skirmish.
    “No faster!” shouted Leovigild. “Think of your horses. No faster! If your horse goes down, you ride a mule!”
    This disgraceful prospect curbed the men to a jog-trot once more, and the mules on leads did their best to slow the pace to a walk.
    “We will be there soon enough,” said Childric, still showing his enthusiasm for battle by waving his sword. “Any robbers would be wise to flee while they may.”
    “Do not distress the monks!” Sanct’ Germain ordered. “They