They pitched their tents in a meadow close to Too Small To Have A Name, relieved to be sleeping off the long journey at last. Elaine had a tent to herself, within screaming distance, as Conrad put it, of Humphrey and his squire’s – ‘That’s not exactly reassuring, Conrad,’ she said. Jemima slept in front of Elaine’s tent flap, though, which made her feel less vulnerable. Conrad and Humphrey shared a tent – ‘Within snoring distance,’ Elaine retorted later. (She assumed the giant-sized snorts she’d heard coming from their tent were from Conrad’s epic nose, but in fact they emanated from Humphrey, while Conrad snoozed as quietly as a baby lamb.)
Conrad got up early the next day and went to buy them a meat pie for their breakfast, from a stall in the village that Tony the Outlaw had recommended. On the way back he passed a reasonably sanitary-looking midden and pinched a handful of vegetable scraps for Jemima. By the time he got back to camp, Elaine had emerged from her tent and was rubbing herbs on her teeth to clean them. There was no sign of Humphrey. Conrad went over to the tent and held the flap open so that sunlight shone directly into his master’s face. Humphrey dragged his head out of the glare and opened his eyes.
‘Good morning!’ said Conrad.
‘Morning? Since when do we get up in the morning?’
Conrad lifted the tent flap further up, so that Humphrey’s face was in the sunbeam again. After a moment or two, Humphrey gave in and pushed himself up to a seated position. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve slept on a bedroll,’ he said. ‘Are you sure I didn’t lose that joust yesterday? Bloody hell.’
He hauled himself out from under the blankets, feeling a familiar stab of pain in his right knee, which no longer pointed in the same direction as his left thanks to a Saracen with a long lance and a short temper who’d knocked him off his horse many years ago. That was only to be expected. What had started to bother him lately were the other, newer pains which had never troubled him as a younger man. His feet felt uneven on the ground and his shins protested as he walked. His back seemed to be made of one resisting piece that refused on any account to bend. He was sure that one of his shoulders had lodged itself inches higher than the other. And why did the joints of his fingers hurt? That didn’t even make sense.
He splashed some water onto his face in an effort to make himself presentable, pulled on his leggings and shirt, and went outside into the unexpectedly warm caress of the day. Despite himself, he smiled. He’d forgotten how much he liked being out of doors.
In the space beside the tents, Elaine was sitting on her saddlebag, holding a pewter plate with a slice of pie on it, which she was looking at with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
‘What’s the matter? Isn’t it good?’ asked Conrad, who had taken half the pie for himself. He tended to lean towards quantity rather than quality when it came to food.
‘It’s delicious, thank you,’ said Elaine. There was no evidence to suggest that she’d actually tasted the pie. ‘Good morning, Sir Humphrey.’
‘Morning,’ said Humphrey, wondering what he’d done to be busted back to ‘Sir’. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Elaine. ‘It’s just …’ She paused, then carried on in a rush. ‘Excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn,’ she said. ‘Obviously, I’m not a knight. And you’re the one running the quest. But it seems to me, I’m not sure how efficient it is, to be going one by one to all the blacksmiths in Tuft, bribing them to tell us who they’ve made black armour for recently. If every village has a forge, it could take months to visit them all, and goodness knows what will have happened to Sir Alistair by the time we find him. If we find him. We don’t even know that the kidnapper used a forge to get the armour made. He might have a private armourer, a lot of the good families do. And there might be secret armourers who only service the criminal fraternity and aren’t to be found shoeing horses in little Tuft villages.’
Humphrey and Conrad stared at her.
‘Did you sleep well?’ said Humphrey.
‘Not really,’ said Elaine.
Humphrey took his slice of pie and sat down on the grass, which was still damp from dew.
‘I’m sorry that you’re not happy with my strategy,’ he said carefully. ‘Is there another approach that you’d like to suggest?’
‘Well, I don’t want to tread on any toes,’ said Elaine, ‘but I would imagine that the kidnapper targeted Sir Alistair either as an attack on my family, or as an attack on Sir Alistair or his family. Or, possibly, it has something to do with him being one of King Leo’s knights. Those are the main theories I’m working with. I think we’ve probably ruled out it being anything to do with my family, otherwise we’d have received a ransom demand, or a message of triumph at the very least. So, if it were my quest, which it sort of is, I would head either to King Leo’s castle, or to Sir Alistair’s family seat, to find out whether there is any kind of motive for the crime. But I don’t really know what I’m talking about.’
Humphrey nodded slowly, chewing on his pie. There wasn’t a lot to chew, but it gave his mouth something to do while his brain worked. Conrad watched Humphrey’s face, trying and failing to read his mood.
‘Thank you for your thoughts,’ Humphrey said at last. ‘Given your concerns, what I propose is that we plot a course in the direction of Sir Alistair’s home town, but we continue to stop at the forges we pass on the way, in case they have any information that may be useful to us. If that’s acceptable to you?’
Elaine nodded, but after a couple of nods her head started to go into a shake. ‘It’s just, I’m in an awful hurry to find him,’ she said.
‘I’m aware of that,’ said Humphrey.
‘We’re supposed to be getting married in less than a fortnight.’
‘I’m sure, under the circumstances, that the priest won’t mind postponing.’
‘And I don’t have unlimited funds. If you spend all our money on bribes, we’re not going to have any left for food.’
‘We can hunt for food,’ said Humphrey. ‘I brought my bow and arrows.’
‘If you’re sure …’ said Elaine reluctantly.
‘Trust me,’ said Humphrey.
‘Very well.’ But Elaine didn’t look happy. She handed her plate to Conrad and stood up. ‘You can have mine if you like,’ she said. ‘I’m not very hungry. I’m going to …’ She struggled to find an elegant turn of phrase. ‘Perform my ablutions. Please don’t come behind the tent.’
‘She’s not wrong, is she?’ said Conrad to Humphrey, as Elaine disappeared around the side of her tent.
‘No,’ said Humphrey, his eyes on the space where she had been a moment ago. ‘She’s not.’