Prologue: The Father
In predawn grayness, Juan Salazar crawled through short, wet grass and at times over wide smooth stone facings. The faint smell of a campfire and cooked meat hung in the air, lamb he believed, from last night’s meal. Juan moved up an incline toward the hill’s crest. He could barely see forms of men on each side, as they advanced with him in a slowly constricting ring around the camp, which scouts reported was just below the ridge ahead.
His skin was clammy and he stank from sweat absorbing in the padded shirt beneath his chainmail. Though it was cool, his brow dripped from effort. To give his arms and hands freedom, he’d slung his long, tapered shield across his back. He’d rotated his sword belt to the left so the hilt rested in the small of his back. The scabbard dragged between his legs but to muffle any scraping noise he’d tied a rag around its tip. Still his movement was far from silent. A horse neighed from the thieves’ camp over the hill. Juan froze as did his companions stretching to either side. When the feared alarm did not follow, he and his companions crept on.
Juan winced as he lowered his right knee, irritating again numerous small cuts and abrasions crawling had caused. No matter, he thought. Soon the signal would come; he’d be running with his fellow men-at-arms and in the rush of adrenalin he’d give no thought to the small annoyance at his knee. It would heal.
Just before the hill’s crest, to his relief and with the others, he stood full upright, stretched and flexed his cramped aching muscles. Juan checked the chinstrap to his simple domed helmet, pulled his shield forward, shoved his left forearm through its strap and grasped the wooden grip near the shield’s edge. He tightened the forearm strap then rotated his sword belt to its proper place and slowly eased his gray steel, double-edged sword from its scabbard. Juan rotated his shoulders again, raised and lowered his arms, repeatedly arched his back, pumped his legs, and swayed on the balls of his feet. His muscles loosened. More light suffused the land and Juan could more clearly see men to either side.
Juan Salazar was a man-at-arms for Miguel, Count of Monzon, whose holdings were nearly the smallest in the kingdom. His family had held the land from the Kings of Leon for three generations. Since the count had children, the land would be in the family for at least one more. Of late, Count Miguel and several other nobles in the northeastern reaches of Leon were vexed by lawless men who took with impunity from flocks, granaries, and wares. Recently they had even forced themselves on two peasant women. Since local nobles were not powerful men with large retinues, acting independently they were unable to bring the miscreants to justice, but collectively they might. T
