Thief By Knight

CHAPTER TEN

As they rode into the foot-hills, the ominous clouds looming on the horizon grew larger and more threatening. By mid-day Grantaire could pick out distant flashes of lightning, followed by a rumble of thunder that barely made itself heard over the steady fall of their horses' hooves. Late afternoon brought the rain, a cold downpour that struck the riders hard in the face with the help of the buffeting wind. Grantaire shivered beneath his cloak and stared reproachfully at the snow-covered mountain peaks that were no longer distant. It would be even colder soon. He wished Armand in the deepest pit of hell for not finding some place warm and sunny to hide.
He glanced behind him, where Enjolras rode straight in the saddle, as if the horrid weather were of no concern. It just wasn't natural. Behind him, Felix was a soggy lump hunched over his gelding's saddle. He looked up under Grantaire's scrutiny and shook his head sadly. Grantaire smiled. At least he wasn't alone in his misery.
When the rain finally stopped, Grantaire looked around with a sense of bewilderment. The down-pour had become like a permanent part of these hills; it was as if the trees had suddenly vanished.
Enjolras reined in Ganelon and looked around, smiling. "Well, this is much better."
Grantaire exchanged a confused look with Felix. It was still cold and windy. More storm clouds loomed on the horizon and only a few hours of daylight remained. Soon it would get colder.
"Enjolras, how exactly is this better?"
"It's much easier to see without the rain. We'll have a better chance of finding the bandits now. Or at least some sign of them."
Grantaire brushed at his bangs, which were dripping water in his eyes. His clothing stuck to him like an extra layer of skin. He would never be dry again.
"That's just great, Enjolras. When you convinced us to ride into this deluge it was because none of the bandits would be out in this weather, and we could get closer to them without being seen. What makes you think we'll see some now?"
"The rain has stopped, Grantaire."
"Enjolras, look at those clouds. It's going to start raining again any minute now. Felix agrees with me. Don't you Felix?"
"Well, I..."
"See. Felix agrees. We should find shelter."
"Grantaire, it's quite possible that someone who had sought cover during the storm would leave it now in search of a more permanent place to spend the night."
"Like the bandits' lair."
"Yes. If Julien's maps are accurate..."
"And if the lair really exists."
"We should be very close."
"You're dreaming."
"I don't thing so, Grantaire. Look." Enjolras pointed.
Turning around, Grantaire saw a lone rider. He was some distance below them, hunched low in the saddle and riding at a good pace.
Grantaire glared at Enjolras. "If you had a tip from God, you could have just said so."
"But I didn't."
"Promise?"
"Yes, Grantaire. We should follow him."
"Right. But not too close. We don't want to be seen. Felix, you stay behind us."
"Happily."
They followed, staying as far back as they dared. Above them, the sky grew dark and thick with clouds. Grantaire kept his eyes on the rider, now a mere silhouette in the fading light.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was going to rain again. Ahead of them, the rider kicked his mount into a gallop.
Enjolras put his spurs to Ganelon and took off after him. Without any urging, Grantaire's mare followed. Her hooves slipped in the wet grass. She stumbled. Grantaire lurched forward, grabbing the pommel. The beast was going to get him killed.
The mare righted herself and strained to catch up to Ganelon. From the corner of his eye, Grantaire could see Felix riding close behind him, his face white with fear.
They followed the rider up a hill. Grantaire leaned forward, praying his mare wouldn't stumble on the steep ground. The rider crested the hill and vanished from sight. The mare struggled, her breath sounding like a bellows.
"Come on girl." Grantaire felt like a fool, but he knew no one could hear him. "You can do it."
They could see the top of the hill now. The mare lunged forward. Slid back. Once again, and they were at the top beside Enjolras. A second later, Felix appeared beside them. Enjolras pointed. The rider galloped along a muddy trail below. It cut past the hill on which they stood and followed along the cliff wall beyond.
Enjolras charged down the hill first, confident on sure-footed Ganelon. Praying for luck, Grantaire leaned back in the saddle and followed him. His mare snorted and shook her head, protesting each step. Ahead of them, Enjolras reached the bottom and charged down the trail.
A horse squealed close behind. The mare danced nervously aside, feet slipping, as Felix's gelding rolled past them. Grantaire pulled at the reins, trying to turn around to look for Felix. The mare jerked the reins from his hands and slid the rest of the way down the hill. At the bottom she stood, trembling. Grantaire vaulted out of the saddle and looked up the hill. Felix lay on the ground half-way up, not moving.
Grantaire looked up the trail, wondering if he dared yell for Enjolras. He had already seen and was riding back towards them. Grantaire scrambled up the hill, using hands and feet for purchase.
Felix lay face down on the muddy ground. Grantaire reached out and shook him. Felix moaned. He was still alive.
"Felix, are you all right?" The gelding had recovered and stood at the bottom of the hill by the mare. Grantaire didn't know if he'd rolled over Felix, or if the priest had fallen clear.
"Felix, answer me."
Enjolras reached them as the priest opened his eyes. "Felix, are you injured?"
"No, no. I'm all right."
"Are you sure?" Enjolras pulled at his wet clothes, trying to search for broken bones. Felix pushed his hands away and sat up.
"Yes, I'm sure. I fell on my rump which, I assure you, is well protected. Was the horse injured?"
"No, I don't believe so."
Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Who cares about the horse? You could have been killed. Tell me, Enjolras, is catching Armand worth Felix's life?"
Lightning flashed in the distance. Grantaire held out a hand and pulled Felix to his feet. The priest looked shaken, but he wasn't hurt.
"Grantaire, don't be so hard on Enjolras. I'm all right."
"You were lucky. Enjolras, hat guy is long gone by now. It's getting dark. We need to rest. So do the horses. Look at them."
The mare and gelding were standing at the bottom of the hill with their heads down, their noses touching as if for comfort. Even Ganelon, standing beside them, looked tired.
Enjolras nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I've been pushing us too hard. We'll find a place to camp up here. I'm afraid we can't risk a fire, though. It might be spotted.
Grantaire shrugged. It was going to rain again anyway. He sighed as he trudged down the hill to fetch the mare. This wasn't going to be a pleasant evening.
Grantaire huddled under the aspen as much as he could, but its leafless branches weren't much protection against the cold drizzle that fell steadily out of the night sky. Shivering, he glanced back in irritation at his companions. They were sleeping soundly, sheltered by a rocky overhang. He could hear Felix snoring from here.
He cursed himself for a fool. It had been his idea to camp as far up as they could, thinking that they would be less visible. He'd forgotten how much colder it would be here. There was no relief from the wind that constantly hammered at them, and the night rain was turning into sleet. As for being visible, he shouldn't have worried. The bandits plainly did not expect to be followed up here. The trail down which the rider had vanished was so obvious they might as well have posted signs. Grantaire figured they had cause to be so careless; no one should be insane enough to wander out here in the middle of nowhere, looking for trouble.
It was useless, really, watching the trail from here. If the night had been clear, he might have been able to see something. As it was, a hundred bandits could be riding down the trail right in front of them, and Grantaire would never see a damn thing. It had been his idea, as well, that the man on watch should sit out here, beyond any shelter, to keep an eye on the trail. He was just full of bright ideas lately. It was desperation to learn something, anything about the bandits' activities that had led him to suggest it. Maybe it was just the gloomy weather, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were riding into more trouble than they could handle.
He heard a nervous whicker from one of the horses. They were tethered at the stand of aspens growing behind his companions' rocky shelter. Felix's bay was rolling its eyes. The mare tossed her head back and forth in what would have seemed like a gesture of violent denial on a human. Even Ganelon was stamping his foot.
It might be a wolf. He cranked a bolt into the crossbow he'd taken from one of constables in Aureville and crept toward the frightened horses. Standing close beside them (though out of range of hooves and teeth), he peered into the trees beyond. Nothing moved among the low-hanging branches, and he heard nothing above the noise of the horses. But the animals were upset for a reason -- something was out there.
A scrabbling noise erupted above him. He looked up into the night-shrouded branches of the tall aspen. He saw eyes. Hundreds of almond-shaped eyes that shone like tarnished gold, almost as if they burned from within. The screechers clung to the branches with their clawed feet and hands, even with their long, prehensile tails. They stared at him with an almost human intelligence, their tufted ears tilted forward. Grantaire felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain creep along his spine. He had never seen so many screechers in one place before.
He tried to shake off his irrational fear. They were just screechers. Pests, hardly bigger than bats. He had heard of packs of them taking down small deer and other domesticated herd animals. But that was just rumor, wasn't it? The fanciful stories of bored farmers. Well, no sense being careless. The horses obviously didn't like them around. He'd better chase them off. He raised his crossbow.
Before he could even aim, one of the animals emitted the long, high-pitched wail for which they had been named. Grantaire winced at the sound, barely resisting the urge to drop his weapon and cover his ears. The bat-like creatures took wing, shaking the branches with the sudden release of their powerful claws. Grantaire took a step closer and fired. His shot sailed harmlessly past the flock and into the trunk of an aspen.
Too late he realized that he'd stepped dangerously close to the frightened horses. It was Ganelon who reared, screaming, to send one powerful hoof into the side of Grantaire's head. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, the pain rattling his skull like a great hammer. His stomach heaved. Someone called his name; they sounded so far away. He thought his eyes were open, but he wasn't sure. He could see flashes of light swirling in the darkness around him, as if some great power were stirring up the stars in the heavens.
Hands pulled him backwards along the ground, then moved to touch his wounded head. The pain sharpened for a second and Grantaire thought he might have screamed. He couldn't seem to hear any more. But then, mercifully the pain began to ease. The darkness stopped its wild dancing, and he realized that his eyes were still open. Enjolras knelt over him, frowning in concern.
"Are you all right?"
Grantaire sat up. He put a hand to the side of his head, where something warm and sticky was mixing the stinging rain.
"Your horse kicked me."
"Yes. I saw that. What happened?"
"Some screechers spooked them. Stupid animals." He watched Enjolras get up and go to the horses. One by one, he calmed and inspected them for signs of injury.
"They seem to be unharmed."
"Gee, I'm glad. I thought my head might have damaged your precious stallion."
"Grantaire, he's only a horse. He didn't mean it."
Standing, he backed away from the animals. He didn't care what Enjolras said -- they were dangerous and not to be trusted. He looked back towards the inviting dry spot of their shelter where Felix still snored.
"I can't believe he slept through that."
"Felix is a very sound sleeper. Perhaps you should join him, Grantaire. I have healed your wound, but you need to rest."
Grantaire wasn't going to argue. He was sore and tired and wanted to rest. But, as he turned around for one last glare at Ganelon, he saw the whites of eyes looking back at him. This time, they belonged to a human.
Realizing he'd been spotted, the man bolted into the shadows. Grantaire ran after him, followed by Enjolras. Grantaire stumbled, tripping over the root of an aspen. It was impossible to see anything. He had to rely on his ears, following the crashing footsteps and muffled curses. They were heading back towards the trail.
The footsteps suddenly stopped. They heard branches breaking, then a long scream. Grantaire ran toward the noise. His feet slipped in the muddy ground. Suddenly, there was only air beneath them.
Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him back. Enjolras held onto him with one hand, as if afraid he might keep running.
"It's at least thirty feet straight down," he said. "I'm afraid he's dead."
Grantaire struggled to catch his breath. That would have been him in another second. "Do you think it was the rider we followed?"
"Most likely."
"What if it wasn't? Enjolras, what if they know we're here?"
"We'll simply have to be more cautious. Come, let us check on Felix. He'll be worried."
"Worried? I don't think he woke up." Grantaire backed away from the precipice and trudged after Enjolras, not at all reassured by his bid for caution. Things were dangerous enough already. If the bandits knew they were coming, they didn't stand a chance.

***

"I would estimate that several dozen riders came this way not more than two days ago. This is wonderful news."
"Wonderful news?" Pulling his feet free of the muddy trail, which protested with a wet squelching noise, Grantaire stepped closer to where Enjolras crouched in the dirt, peering at tracks. He had found a dry spot in the trail that was sheltered by a rocky overhang high on the steep cliff beside them, preserving a few prints.
Enjolras stood and tried to brush the dirt from his trousers. He only succeeded in smearing them with mud. "Why, yes, Grantaire. This is a remote area; the riders could only be bandits. We will catch up to them at last. God has been kind."
"If God had been kind, those rocks up there would have fallen and crushed the bandits when they rode by."
Enjolras frowned at him. "Grantaire, God has chosen us as His instruments to deal with the bandits.
"He would have been better off with the rocks." Grantaire glanced back to where Felix sat by the other side of the trail, where the bordering hillside was not as steep. "Don't you agree, Felix?"
Felix nodded wearily. His exhaustion was evident in his willingness to sit on the wet ground, heedless of the three horses grazing around him.
"Enjolras, have you taken a good look at us lately? Armand has an entire army. What did you get? A tired, old priest and a clever thief. Maybe you should pray for some reinforcements."
"We need not capture all of the bandits, Grantaire. Only Armand."
"That's reassuring."
Enjolras either didn't hear the sarcasm behind the remark or chose to ignore it. "Yes. It seems this trail will lead us to Armand. Our best hope for capturing him is to avoid a confrontation with his men."
"No kidding. How are we supposed to do that?"
"We will simply employ stealth and cunning."
Grantaire studied the man standing before him. Even with his hair still damp from the recent rain and his trousers stained with mud, the six-foot-plus knight was the picture of stiff-spined dignity. He looked about as capable of stealth and cunning as his stallion was of climbing the cliff wall beside them.
"Enjolras, do me a favor. If you want stealth and cunning, leave the planning to me."
"Certainly. What do you suggest?"
Expecting an argument, Grantaire was caught unprepared for Enjolras's ready acceptance. He had no idea what they should do. Now he felt pressured to come up with a good idea. Scratching his neck, he looked around him, hoping for inspiration.
"Well, riding along this trail is a bad idea." Grantaire realized he was stating the obvious, but Enjolras continued to listen politely. "The hills we crossed over are getting a little shy of trees, and they're starting to slope more towards the trail. We'd be seen too easily if we rode up there."
He stepped back to peer up at the cliff beside them. A few hundred feet up, it leveled off to a plateau that should be easy enough for them to navigate. If they stayed far enough from the edge, they would not be visible to anyone on the trail. The only problem was the horses.
"That's our best bet up there," he explained, pointing. "But we'll have to leave the horses behind."
Enjolras frowned and looked back to where Ganelon was still grazing. Grantaire knew what he was asking. Enjolras loved that horse. But there was no other way.
"I'm sorry, Enjolras. I know how you feel about your stallion. Believe me, its not because I don't like horses. I mean, I don't. But I don't like walking either. It's just that we can't afford to be seen. It's a little hard to be inconspicuous on a big, white stallion."
"I understand, Grantaire. I'll simply tell Ganelon to go back home; he can find it easily enough. The others will follow him."
"You talk to your horse?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"You know, if you'd told me that before I agreed to this journey, I don't think I would have come. In fact, I'm sure of it."
"Yes, I know. I'll go break the news to Felix. He abhors walking."
Grantaire grinned wickedly. "I'll wager he likes climbing even less."
Felix looked up tiredly as they walked over to him. Grantaire felt bad for the priest. He had agreed to whatever dangerous plans they had come up with, seldom offering any input or advice, and he hadn't complained once since they left Aureville. He was probably too terrified to think about what they were doing.
Enjolras helped Felix to his feet. "We're going to climb that cliff up there. Grantaire believes it will be the safest place for us to watch the trail. I'm afraid we'll have to send the horses home."
Felix looked up at the cliff, eyes wide with terror. Grantaire shook his head. Enjolras didn't seem to realize just how frightened their friend was. He meant well, but sometimes he could be very tactless.
"Don't worry, Felix. We'll take it slow. It will be all right." Grantaire very much doubted that things would be all right, but it sounded good. Felix seemed to appreciate it.
"What do we have to do?"
"Grow wings," said Grantaire.
Felix stared at him.
"Just kidding."
Enjolras frowned at Grantaire. He began taking their packs off the horses. "Sort through these," he said. "Keep only what we need. We'll hide the rest somewhere. I'm going to send the horses home."
Felix gave Enjolras a confused look.
Grantaire shook his head in warning. "Don't ask."
Felix shrugged and watched Enjolras lead the horses a ways down the trail, where he began talking to them.
"Is he..."
"Talking to the horses. I'm afraid so. Try not to think about it Felix -- we're putting this man on the throne." He dug threw their things and tossed aside the blankets.
"What are you doing?" Felix protested. "We'll need those."
"Where we're going, cold is the last thing we'll need to worry about. We can come back for them." He started to add, if we live, but decided against it. No sense worrying Felix. "Come on, Felix. Help me. The less we have to carry, the easier this will be."
They began tossing aside what they could. Extra clothing, all of it wet, and rations soon joined the blankets. Grantaire found a book of scriptures in Enjolras's pack and tossed it aside. He could recite the whole thing anyway -- what did he need it for? Reluctantly, he tucked his map case inside the blankets, hoping he'd be back for them. There was a lot of work in those maps.
Felix picked up the water skins. "Grantaire, why do you carry two?"
"One of those is ale." He snatched it from Felix's grasp. "Very good ale. I'm not giving it up."
The skin was suddenly pulled out of his hands. He turned to see Enjolras standing behind him, scowling. The horses were nowhere in sight.
"Really, Grantaire, you don't need this." He opened the skin and dumped it. Grantaire could only watch in shock as Brys's best brew trickled onto the already wet ground.
"Liquor is the refuge of the weak-willed. You are a strong person, Grantaire. Leave this behind." Enjolras tossed the empty skin aside. Walking over to the pile of discarded things he picked up the book and shook it at Grantaire.
"This is no way to treat the scriptures."
"That was no way to treat good ale. I can't believe you did that. I was saving that for a special occasion. I pictured us having time for a drink right before we got killed. It would have been poetic."
"Grantaire, don't be so negative. You're scaring Felix. Come, let's pack up our things, and hide the rest of this. There's no time to waste."
Grantaire had to agree with that. Ever since they'd chased off the bandit who'd been spying on them, he'd been nervous, looking everywhere for watching eyes. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they were spotted climbing the cliff. They'd have no chance to defend themselves. They'd best do it in a hurry.

Unfortunately, cliffs were not made to be climbed in a hurry. After the first ten feet, Grantaire knew it was going to take all day. He looked to where Felix lay panting, too tired even to drink from the flask that Enjolras offered him. It was the third time they'd stopped to rest in twenty minutes, on a narrow shelf that seemed to be provided just for that purpose. At least, Felix certainly thought so. Grantaire uncorked his own flask and took a long drink of water. Felix was over-reacting. The cliff wall was steep enough to make even Grantaire a little tired, though he'd never admit it. (Enjolras didn't seem the least bit winded, damn him.) But they couldn't have asked for better hand-holds if they'd had time to carve them into the rock themselves. He and Enjolras could have been at the top by now if they didn't have to stop so often to let Felix rest. He sighed. Fear and the loss of his last skin of ale were making him irritable. He knew he shouldn't be so hard on Felix -- this hadn't been his idea.
When they were finally ready to climb some more, he and Enjolras shouldered their supplies. All of them. Grantaire squirmed a bit as he shouldered his pack and Felix's bedroll into something that didn't dig so painfully into his back. He shot a sour look at Enjolras, who ignored him. The knight was carrying twice Grantaire's burden. But he was bigger, and the extra weight didn't seem to bother him.
Enjolras had already started up. He climbed slowly, keeping close to Felix in case the priest started to slip. Grantaire dodged a shower of dirt that Felix kicked loose and headed up after them. His strong fingers found easy purchase in the rocky wall, allowing him to scramble up quickly. As he caught up, he got an envious glance from the laboring Felix. Grantaire winked at him.
"Come on, Felix. It's easy when you've been living right."
Felix only scowled at him. He couldn't spare the breath to fight back.
"Grantaire, don't be so hard on Felix. Life in a monastery doesn't prepare a man for this kind of physical exertion."
"I'm not being hard on him, Enjolras. I was just kidding. Besides, we didn't exactly climb a lot of cliffs in the slums."
"Perhaps not." Enjolras paused as one foot slipped off its rocky purchase. Calmly, he located another step and pulled himself up. "But Grantaire," he continued, not the least bit out of breath, "your experiences have left you lean and fit. You should be grateful for that."
"Yeah. Starvation will do that to you."
Enjolras shot him a look of disapproval over Felix's head. Before he could begin the lecture Grantaire knew was coming, Felix slipped. He cried out, clawing in vain at the rock he'd been clinging to, and started to fall. Grantaire snatched his flailing hand and pulled the priest up, sighing with relief when Enjolras matched him on the other side. Even with help, Felix was heavy, and Grantaire felt the tendons in his arms pull tight. With a trembling hand he tightened his grip on the cliff face, hoping that his foot holds would not give way.
"Felix," Enjolras called out. "It's all right. We've got you. There's a small shelf to the right of your feet. Can you swing your leg over to it?"
With a nod, Felix found the slender purchase. Grantaire felt the pain in his arms lessen as Felix supported his own weight. But he didn't let go of the priest's hand. Even through that contact, he could feel Felix shaking. If he didn't calm down, he wasn't going to make it. Grantaire looked up. Not ten feet above them was a wide shelf with plenty of room for them all to lie down.
He pointed it out to Enjolras. "Why don't we climb up there and use the rope to pull him up?" They didn't have much, but it was enough to cover that distance.
Enjolras nodded. "I'll go. Stay with Felix."
Grantaire watched him climb up. Felix still gripped his hand with almost painful force. He'd pressed his face against the wall, looking away from Grantaire, and he was still trembling. Grantaire felt sorry for him. It wasn't Felix's fault that he couldn't keep up. After all, how many priests were expected to hunt down bandits? How many would even try?
"Just relax, Felix. We don't have much farther to go." It was true. The shelf above them was almost two thirds of the way to the top.
Felix didn't answer at first. He turned his head to look at Grantaire. He was so afraid of moving away from the wall that he scraped a bloody trail along his cheek.
"Maybe I should have gone back with the horses. I'm nothing but a burden. You and Enjolras would do better without me."
Grantaire cringed. He didn't like hearing Felix talk like that. No one should think of themselves as useless. Hadn't he felt the same way, until Enjolras had dragged him into that alley and given him a sack of gold? He'd been a thief and a beggar, of no use to anyone, and the grandest dream he could think of was buying a small tavern in a small town. Now Enjolras, the future king of Cambrai, needed him. He needed Felix, too.
"Come on, Felix. You stood by me when they forced me into this knighthood thing. I still need you to help me handle Enjolras. It takes more than one person to make him listen to reason once in a while."
"You need my help?"
"Hell, yes. You were the one who convinced him to let me ride with Armand. He respects your opinion, Felix."
"I suppose he does."
The tail end of the rope suddenly struck Grantaire in the face. He pushed the rough hemp aside and glared up at Enjolras, who lay on his stomach on the shelf above, peering down at them.
"Hey! You could warn a person!"
"I'm terribly sorry, Grantaire. Could you tie that around Felix, please?"
He deftly knotted the rope into a harness around the priest's waist and under his arms. He tugged at it, making sure it was secure.
"Okay, Felix. Start climbing."
Felix looked up at Enjolras, his eyes wide with dread. "I can't do it," he whispered.
"Of course you can. If you can talk sense into Enjolras, you can do anything. Come on. I'll climb beside you. Enjolras is holding the rope. You won't fall."
Felix took a deep breath and swallowed nervously. He reached up, grabbing a hold of the rocky wall, and started pulling himself up. It was easy for him, with Enjolras taking most of his weight. Grantaire had a hard time keeping up.
In minutes, they reached the shelf. Enjolras flashed a grateful smile at Grantaire, then looked at Felix with concern.
"Your face is scratched, Felix."
"It's nothing. Thank you both. I'm sorry I've made this so difficult for you."
"Hey, we all have our weaknesses. I'm sure Enjolras is sorry he's so pig-headed, but he can't help it."
Enjolras frowned at him. "And what are you sorry for Grantaire?"
"I'm sorry I let you dump my ale. I could use a drink."
It took only a few more hours to climb the rest of the cliff wall. They made easy progress from there, and mid afternoon found them staring at the end of the trail, completely baffled. It lead straight into the side of a hill. From where they crouched on the windy plateau, no cave or opening of any kind could be seen. The sparse brush that struggled to survive in the ravine didn't seem capable of hiding one.
"Please," said Felix, "don't tell me we must climb that hill as well."
"Their horses didn't climb it." Grantaire studied the apparently seamless hill-side, wishing now that they were closer. "There's got to be a way inside."
"Perhaps, when the sun sets, we can climb down and take a closer look."
Felix paled. "Climb down? In the dark?"
Grantaire stifled a laugh. Enjolras was trying to be cautious, but he hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet. "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea. Maybe we should just wait here for a while and see if anyone comes out?"
Enjolras frowned. Grantaire could guess what he was thinking. It was the eleventh of October, which left them eighteen days to get from here to San Sebastien. It was a trip that could be made in twelve days of hard riding. But hard riding required horses, which they didn't have any more. They still had to deal with Armand. They could ill afford to waste more time. But they could afford to get killed even less.
"Very well. We'll wait."
It was quiet on the plateau. The sun had made a brief appearance, its warmth almost making up for the chill wind that raced along, unbroken by trees or rocks. Felix quickly fell asleep, leaving Grantaire and Enjolras alone to watch the trail below. Grantaire rested his head on his arms, making himself comfortable. Despite the odd circumstances, he was content. He liked Enjolras's company, when he wasn't lecturing. And maybe even when he was. From the moment they met Enjolras had trusted him, giving him his honesty and his friendship. He'd even shared his family.

He cared about Enjolras. He would have looked out for him even if he hadn't made that promise to Vivien. But as his friend, he felt he owed him more. He owed him the same kind of honesty, the kind that didn't allow for secrets.
"Enjolras, there's something I need to tell you."
"Yes?"
Grantaire looked steadily into his friend's blue eyes. "I watched a man die once. An innocent man." He went into the whole story then, about Lucien and the old farmer, even his nightmares about the scarecrow. He told him about all the things he'd done that still caused him shame. Through it all, Enjolras listened with patient interest, seeming neither surprised nor disgusted.
When he was finished, Grantaire waited for Enjolras to say something. Maybe now he would regret that he'd ever hired him as a guide, or called him his friend. But he didn't say a word.
"I wanted you to know," he said. "It was the worst thing I've ever done, and I never told anyone else about it. I dreamed about it during my vigil, you know. For the first time, I felt like I'd been forgiven. Is that crazy?"
"No, Grantaire. The truth is, God forgave you for that sin long ago. It took you much longer to forgive yourself."
"I dreamed about my mother, too. She was a wonderful woman, Enjolras. Always kind, always gentle. She suffered so much. Because of her illness, and because of my father. I never really knew him, but I know he hurt her and I've always hated him for that. She took me when I was a baby and ran from him. We always moved from place to place, so he wouldn't find her. Another woman would have been angry, having to live like that. But not her. Everywhere we went, she found something beautiful to show me. If nothing else, we always had the stars. And we always had each other."
He pulled the comb from his pocket and showed it to Enjolras. "This is the only thing of hers I have left."
Enjolras held the comb in the palm of his hand and studied it with wide eyes, as if astonished by its delicate beauty. "Grantaire, your mother was a wonderful woman, and her death was a tragedy. But you can't blame God for it. Or yourself."
Grantaire looked away from him. His eyes were stinging, and he didn't want to cry. "I know. But she deserved better. A better life. A better son."
"Do you think she'd be ashamed of you?"
"Yes. Wouldn't you be? You know what I've done."
"I also know what you've become, Grantaire. You're a good friend, and a good man. You're not risking your life for a tavern."
Grantaire looked up at him. Enjolras regarded him not with pity or disdain, but with respect. After knowing all the things he'd done.
"Maybe I have other reasons for helping you. Did you think of that? Maybe I'm just being selfish. Maybe I want to the king to owe me one. I'm not a hero, Enjolras."
"Maybe you don't want to be. But you are. You're capable of great things, Grantaire. You've proven that on this journey."
"I don't know what great things you expect me to do. But I still want my tavern."

By the time the sun was beginning to set, Grantaire was almost asleep. The quiet had made him drowsy, and the wind carried the calming scent of pine. When he saw the men climbing through the side of the hill, he was sure he was dreaming. He bolted upright, blinking and rubbing his eyes.
"Enjolras, do you see that?"
Enjolras nodded. There were men, twelve of them now, leading horses through an opening in the hill side. An opening that wasn't there before. It was a good twenty feet from the trail and seemed to stand a few feet off the ground. The men had to encourage the horses to hop down from it.
"Amazing," Grantaire said. Despite the problems the bandits had caused them, he couldn't help appreciate their cleverness. To hide a door that well must have taken a tremendous amount of effort. He could hardly wait to climb down and take a closer look.
They kept watching. Thirty men and horses emerged from the opening. As they mounted up and rode off down the trail, the entrance closed behind them as if by magic.
"Do you think Armand was with them?"
Enjolras shook his head. "I didn't see his shield. We can not wait any longer. We'll have to go inside and look for him."

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