The Lady at the River's Edge

23 - Escape

They left the road as soon as dawn allowed, as they had no torch to light their way. From the southern gate, the path skirted the castle town and came quickly out to the westward road, but even that was too risky for their flight–or at least, Janos deemed it so. Erzsebet would have gladly risked the road, rather than tramp across ditches and dells, fighting through shin-high grasses and boggy mud patches. Alas, her loyal knight had yet to join her in casting fear aside. Tiring as the trek was, it was better than arguing with the stubborn, overly serious man.

So they avoided all comfort, all ease, cutting across farmers' fields and unfenced pastures. As morning rose they saw sheep and cattle grazing–always from a distance, for fear that a herdsman might see them. Keeping wide of any settled land, they made a slow arc towards the west and south, in fits and starts as exhaustion demanded.

"How much longer?" Erszebet complained, settling against a beech's trunk for their third break since setting out. She scowled against the glare of the midmorning sun, still low enough to shine beneath the leafy branches. "We've been running all through the night. I'll not get much further on ten-minute breaks." She rubbed her feet gently, wincing, daring not to remove her shoes to see the damage.

Janos kept standing as ever, peering back the way they'd come, then swinging about to judge the way ahead–looking everywhere but at her. The grove they had chosen was small, hidden from the north by a stand of trees and from the south by gentle curving hills. They were as safe as could be hoped, and yet the knight couldn't help but fret.

"How much longer, Janos?" she repeated, raising her voice just enough to gain his full attention.

He grimaced at her volume, at last turning to her. "These hours are vital, my lady," he explained. "Once the palatine knows you've escaped the castle, he'll send parties in pursuit. Men on horseback, men with tracking hounds. Every league between us and the fortress widens their search dramatically."

"How. Much. Longer?"

The knight sighed, again swinging his gaze around before answering. "I had hoped we would keep going until nightfall, but the chance of that seems to be–"

"Ha!" She scoffed. "Nightfall–I never knew you to be such a jester."

"It is no jest, my lady. We may be free of the castle, but we are by no means free of danger. For the sake of those we left behind, we cannot be captured now. Your mother put her trust in us, Mihaly–"

"You dare?" Erzsebet cried, a sudden pique filling her chest, drawing her to sit upright. "You dare invoke my family to–to goad me on, like a workhorse at the plow? After all I've suffered, you would turn my grief to your own ends?"

"They are your ends as well as mine!" His fists clenched against shaking as he struggled to keep his voice low–though it looked rather less intimidating, with his left arm cradled in his makeshift sling. He made to speak again, but caught himself. Instead he took a deep breath, his hands easing open. With a softer voice and a softer look he went on: "Your wellbeing is the sum of my concern, my lady."

"Currently," she countered, "my wellbeing depends entirely upon how much further I must go before I can sleep–and not in a ditch, mind you. A proper bed!" She crossed her arms, leaning against the tree trunk, glaring her challenge up at the knight. "If you are truly concerned for me, that should be your focus–not dredging up my guilt."

Janos rubbed his face, sighing again. Some part of her knew she was being unfair to him, but before that part gained any ground on her will, the knight began untying his sword-belt, the sight of which drew all her disparate thoughts to a halt. He set the belt and sheath gently down a couple strides from her. Next he pulled off his coif, then began struggling with his hauberk, trying to work the mail shirt off without unslinging his arm.