Still, it broke his heart to see them: peddlers hawking their wares; beggars holding out gourd cups in hope of a scrap of bread or thin soup; youths hoping to join the famous Lions or just gain a bit of experience fixing wheels or grooming the cart horses; women and boys come to trade favors for food or a trinket. Sometimes a Lion would even shelter a sweetheart on the long march, although that was against the rules. The captains were strict: as long as no one shirked chores or fell behind, they would look the other way.
The cavalry were another story, of course. They moved both faster and more slowly, helped and hindered by their fine horses and their little entourages, a groom, a servant, a concubine, and a camp-boy for the least of them and rather more servants for the greater.
He was digging out the night pits with Folquin when he saw her for the second time, a pale figure in dirty novice’s robes kneeling before a pair of beggars who had swung into the procession three nights before: a brawny man with the face of a frightened child and his companion, a wizened man who had no feet. “Look there.” He nudged Folquin with the butt of his shovel. “Do you see her?” She had poured water into a cup and was offering it to the crippled man.
Folquin had lost his only other tunic at dice last night, and he was in an irritable mood today, jabbing at the dirt with angry grunts. “Huh?” he said, looking up abruptly.
“That woman—” But she was already gone, slipped away into the whores’ makeshift encampment. At this time of the evening, various of the cavalrymen, unencumbered by any work except riding to war, were out strolling in twos or threes, looking for trouble, or a bit of pleasure, or some combination of the two.
“Do you fancy one of them, then?” asked Folquin. “I thought—” Sorrow growled softly, and Folquin struck himself on the head. He was a good soul, if a little reckless, and easy to get along with. “I beg your pardon. It’s nothing to jest about.”
“Nay, don’t mind it.” Alain patted Sorrow on the head reprovingly, and he settled down again beside Rage. “It wasn’t your fault. But I could swear I know her. And if it’s who I think it is, she’s got no business traveling with the army.”
“Who do you think it is?”