That night the old women made flat bread on the hearthstones, and stewed bacon in ale; they then wrapped the strips of meat in the bread and gave them to us to eat like that. It was simple fare, but good and filling, and we slept that night without the gnawing ache in our stomachs-except for Roupen, whose unsteady stomach could not abide such rough food. He ate with us, but paid the price with pains and bloaty farting which kept him wakeful and miserable all night. Early the next morning, while the others slept, Padraig and I set off for the mill on the Sa6ne.

I had decided that our best hope lay in getting to the river head as soon as possible. If we were lucky, we might persuade one of the hauliers to leave the river and return with us to retrieve our boat. How to pay for this service was a vexing problem, but inasmuch as we had, according to Dodu, at least a three-day walk ahead of us, I was confident we would think of something along the way.

In any event, it was abundantly clear there was no help for us at the settlement. They were poor farmers, made all the poorer by the cruel robbery of their livestock and few pitiful belongings; even to stay with them put that much more strain on their already fragile resources. Indeed, it would be enough of a hardship feeding those who remained behind: Sarn and Dodu, to guard the boat, and Roupen to rest and strengthen himself.

At least Sarn and Dodu would work for their food, for I had promised the farmer while we were away the two men would repair the damage done to their little house. Roupen, however, I advised to take his ease. On the evidence of his indigestion the previous night, it was clear that he was far from fully recovered from the illness that had taken the lives of his friends. What little strength he had gained while on the river had been spent in dragging the boat up and down the hills. I thought a few days' idleness would stand him in good stead.

He had other ideas, however, which I discovered when Padraig and I stopped to rest at midday. The old wives had sent us off with a bag of bread, and two skins of water. After walking briskly through the morning, pausing only once for water, we stopped beside the road for a bite to eat. We were sharing a bit of bread and talking, when Roupen suddenly came into view on the road behind us. As soon as he came close enough for speech, I stood, and said, 'I thought we agreed you would stay with the others. Is something wrong?' 'No, lord,' he said. 'I thought you might be needing my help.' I thanked him for the thought, and said, 'As it is, Padraig and I are perfectly capable of dealing with the hauliers. You may as well rest and take your ease for the journey to come.'

'No doubt your powers of persuasion rival those of Great Moses himself,' replied the young lord. 'But unless the hauliers of the Saone are very different from those we have seen so far,' he replied, 'I think it unlikely you will convince them to work for you without pay.'

I allowed that this was true, and pointed out that he had lost his purse to the bandits as well. 'Since you have no money, I cannot see how you mean to help in the matter.'

The thin young man smiled at this, and raised his fist in the air. He came forwards until his hand was before my eyes; then he opened his fingers to reveal the large gold ring he had been wearing on his thumb the night we were robbed.

'I thought they took everything from you,' I said. 'I saw them search you.'

'I hid it in my mouth the moment Padraig wakened me.' He smiled suddenly, and I saw a boldness in him I had not seen before. 'And if they had searched me better, I would have swallowed it.'

It came into my mind that here was a young man who, perhaps for the first time in his life, was truly enjoying himself. Content no longer to be left behind, he had followed us half the day just to take part in whatever would happen next. Sending him back would be a rejection not easily forgiven. Since it obviously meant so much to him, I relented.

'Come along, then,' I said, passing him my waterskin and a piece of bread. 'We will be glad of the company.'

So it was that three of us entered the little mill town on the Saone three days later. The settlement was well placed at a bend in the river, with the mill up river of the town. Above the mill, the stream coursed over the stones of a narrow, rocky ford, too rough and shallow for boats; below the settlement, however, it widened into a navigable stream once more. Looking down into the valley from the hillside, we could see several boats in the water. Although whether these were arriving or departing, we could not tell.

I determined to waste no time, but to get down to the water straightaway and talk to the hauliers to see how matters stood. The road led first to the mill, so we passed by quickly and on towards the settlement. As we hurried past, Roupen halted in the road and turned around.

Padraig and I walked on a few paces before realizing he was no longer with us. I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw him standing stock still, and staring into the field beside the mill where the miller kept his oxen and cattle. The field was small, and surrounded by a low stone wall; two cows and a pair of oxen stood at the end nearest the mill. I called to Roupen, and when he made no answer, Padraig said, 'He has seen something.'

Still anxious to hasten on and speak to the hauliers, I resented having to stop with our destination so near. 'What is it?' I demanded irritably.

Without taking his eyes from the field, he raised a hand and pointed to the cattle. 'Those are Dodu's oxen,' the young lord said.

I looked across at the two big animals standing in the field, and said, 'Let us not judge hastily. After all, one ox looks very much like another.'

'They are,' Roupen insisted. 'I walked behind them long enough to know.' Pointing to the two milk cows, he added, 'And I suspect those cows belong to the farmer.'

I glanced at Padraig, who shrugged unhelpfully, and said, 'Even if what you say is true, I cannot see what we can do about it. We have other -'

Before I could finish, there came a prodigious squealing from somewhere behind the mill. Roupen started towards the sound. 'Someone is being killed,' he said.

'Aye,' agreed Padraig mildly, 'a pig.'

The squeal came again, more frenzied, more terrible. The unfortunate creature was suffering dreadfully, and still its agonies were not cut short.

'For a slaughtering,' I remarked, 'it is poorly done. And unless they do things differently here, it is very early in the year to butcher your pigs.'

'Unless,' added Roupen, 'they are not your pigs.'

With that, we started back along the road towards the mill-a huge wooden structure of hewn oak beams in-filled with river stone set in mortar. A great wooden water wheel turned slowly in the stream gushing from the rocky ford. The yard was wide and covered with flagstone so the fully-laden wagons would not become enmired when it rained.

That stone paving, however, was the solitary gesture towards order or cleanliness. As we drew closer the stink of the place hit us full in the face: dung and rancid straw stood in mucky heaps either side of the low barn adjoining the house, filling the air with a sour stench to make the eyes water and the gorge rise. Mounds of human excrement were piled on the ground beneath the upper windows of the millhouse, and dog dirt was scattered over the yard-along with horse manure left where the dray animals had dropped it.

'Our miller is a very earthy fellow,' observed Padraig.

The house itself was in need of repair; the roof had once been handsome red tiles, but many of these were missing-and indeed quite a few lay smashed in the yard-though some had been replaced with ill-fitting chunks of flat stone. The mill wheel was green with moss, which clung in dripping slimy beards from the spokes and paddles.