The pair rode east for two days.

The sack Sade had given Bernard had included a blanket and a generous helping of fresh bread and hard-boiled eggs. Though they passed plenty of wagons and carts on the road, they only stopped for water and sleep. On the third day, Bernard’s supplies ran out.

‘This is the last bit of bread. I need to go into a town or stop at a farm to find some more food.’ said Bernard.

‘It’s probably about time we ask for directions, anyway.’ Agatha agreed.

‘Do you think it’d be safe to find somewhere to stay for a day, just to rest?’

‘Probably not. I’m fast, but I can’t outrun a messenger pigeon. If they’re serious about catching you, and we should assume they are, then we’re still in trouble.’

‘I wish I’d been a wizard, not a prince. I could have turned us into birds and we’d be there already. We could be taking a nap in the fairy’s mountain palace right now.’

‘Are you complaining? You’re not the one doing the running.’

‘If I were, I’d probably only just have reached Walden’s farm.’

They crested a hill. The view was largely obscured by trees, but it was enough. Bernard pointed.

‘I like the look of that house on the edge of the village there. It’s the one closest to that mill. It might be a bakery.’

‘Do you have any money?’

‘No, but I could offer to work for food. They might need someone to carry things around for them.’

‘This is going to take a while, then.’

‘Probably.’

‘Get out your blanket and put it over me. I’ll find somewhere to hide. The trees are too thin here. I’m too noticeable.’

‘What if I ride you into town?’

‘We’ll be caught!’

‘No, with the blanket over you, like a disguise. Put your head down while you walk, the way horses trained for jousting do. The blanket will cover most of you. Your legs are filthy, so if you walk extra slow, or limp, they’ll think you’re the kind of ugly old nag someone young and proud wouldn’t want to be seen dead riding.’

‘I like this idea even less now.’

‘If someone feels sorry for us, I might be able to persuade them to let me use their grooming kit.’

‘Okay, I’m warming to it.’

‘There’s also a slim chance you could stay in a nice warm stable while I work.’

‘Alright. Alright. But your name can’t be Bernadyn.’

Madge rested her chin on her arms. She was bored. Looking out the attic window was only interesting when interesting things happened out there. Try as she might, she couldn’t will interesting things into existence, she had to actually go outside to make things happen. She wasn’t allowed outside though. She’d been grounded. It wasn’t her fault the cooper’s son was so gullible. She sighed. There went Goodie Turner with her basket of eggs. Here came old Arlo with his milk pail. As she watched, a strange boy rode down the main street. He was grubby and ragged, and his horse looked like it would die if someone glanced at it wrong. He stopped to speak to Arlo. He pointed past Madge’s house. The boy rode on. When he got close, she noticed the smell. She wasn’t sure if it was the horse or the boy, or both, but they’d clearly been on the road a while. 

‘Hey, you! Boy!’

He stopped his horse.

‘Yes?’

‘Where’d you come from?’

He pointed west.

‘No, what town.’

‘I think the last town we went through was Kleinstat.’

He was being evasive. That instantly made him more interesting.

‘What are you here for?’

‘I’m passing through. I’m looking for work so I can get the supplies I need to keep going.’

‘Where are you going then?’

He pointed east. Very evasive. She considered.

‘What kind of work are you looking for?’

‘What kind of work do you have?’

If she weren’t so intrigued, she would’ve been infuriated. 

‘Can that horse go any faster?’

‘She’s quite quick when she wants to be.’

Perfect.

‘What’s your name? I’ll ask my father if he needs anything done.’

‘Berk.’

The horse snorted and flicked its tail.

‘Wait there, Berk.’

She got down off the windowsill and descended the ladder into the house. She knew her father didn’t need anything done. He had apprenticed both of his sons, so he had all the help he could ever want. In the kitchen, she found half a loaf of bread, some cured meat, some cheese, and an apple for the horse. She arranged them carefully in a basket. Instead, she would pay Berk to ‘liberate’ her from the house.

When she finished adjusting her hat, she returned to the attic window. He was still there. It looked like he was talking to his horse, but he was speaking too quietly for her to hear.

‘Berk. Come closer to the window. The front door is stuck, so I need you to help me out.’

He obliged.

The escape was inelegant. She dropped the basket, and he caught it without any trouble, but when she tried the same he’d nearly dropped her. He kept her from landing on her head, but she wasn’t sure if she’d kept her dignity. Straightening her dress, she said;

‘Father wants me to bring some things to my aunt’s, her house is east of the village. I’ll give you this basket of food in exchange for a ride there.’

He touched his horse’s shoulder.

‘Will you be alright carrying two of us a short way?’

The horse stood a little straighter.

‘Alright then.’ he said.

His behaviour was odd. He seemed a little mad. Madge liked that.

‘I’ll lift you up onto her back when you’re ready, miss.’ 

Once she was up, he got on behind her. He’d have got on in front, but she’d stayed in a side-saddle position. That wasn’t safe without an actual saddle, and even then it wasn’t a good way to ride a horse. Agatha didn’t have a bridle, or need steering, and he had the leg strength to stay on without holding her mane. He didn’t need to be in front. He still wasn’t sure if he should hold the girl by the waist, or tell her to hold him. He considered his options. She grinned at him.

‘It’s so lucky that we’re going the same way!’

‘It is.’

Agatha started to trot. Madge almost immediately fell, again, but Bernard caught her. He held her tight the rest of the way.

‘Oh, Berk, you’re very strong.’

Bernard grimaced.

The trip took about an hour, but Bernard felt like it took a week. The girl wouldn’t stop asking him questions. She wanted to know about his family, his journey, his youth, his horse, his first love, his favourite colour, his goals in life, his friends… she was nosy. He tried to answer without lying or letting on who he really was, but that meant his answers were all very short. It left too many openings in the conversation for her to ask more questions. He tried turning the questions back on her, but each time he did, it led to her thinking up another dozen questions to ask him. He was perplexed. When he glimpsed the little house through the trees he was flooded with relief. The end was in sight.

He helped her down off the horse, opened the gate for her, and said;

‘It was lovely meeting you Miss Madge. I hope your aunt is well.’

He expected her to say goodbye. He expected her to go into the house. He expected he’d be able to politely leave. Instead, she said;

‘Oh, you must come in for some afternoon tea.’

Behind him, he heard Agatha nicker in a way that sounded alarmingly like laughter. She nudged his back, encouraging him. She was enjoying this. He said;

‘...since you asked so nicely.’

He followed Madge into the neat little garden, Agatha close behind.

Madge’s aunt kept her house immaculately.

Bernard was fairly sure that even the King’s bed chamber wasn’t kept as perfectly clean. He felt guilty just standing in the doorway. He was a walking dustpan, shedding dirt on everything.

‘My baby Madge! You’ve come to see me! I thought your father grounded you.’

‘He did, but I hired this young man to help me escape. His name is Berk.’

The aunt inspected Bernard. She seemed unimpressed. Bernard bowed his head and said;

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs…’

‘Miss Avelin.’

‘Miss Avelin. My apologies.’

Avelin caught sight of the blanket-shrouded horse through the open door.

‘And what is that creature doing in my garden?’

‘Sorry, Miss. That’s Agatha. She’s very clever. She won’t eat anything you don’t tell her to.’

Avelin seemed to come to a decision.

‘Madge. Would you go to the garden shed and fetch me a bundle of dried mint?’

Madge wavered a moment, not wanting to leave the interesting boy. She resolved to get the mint as fast as the could and darted back out into the garden.

Avelin stood, hands on her hips, and scowled at Bernard.

‘Did your mother never teach you it’s wrong to lie?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What are you doing, going around telling people you’re someone you aren’t?’

Bernard was startled. How did she know? Avelin pointed to the horse.

‘And look at poor Agatha! She should be white! How could you let her get into such a state?’

Bernard had nothing to say to that. Agatha approached the door.

‘Don’t be so hard on him, Avelin. He just barely escaped being murdered. He hasn’t a penny to his name, and he’s still on the run.’

Bernard stared, wide-eyed, at Agatha.

‘You know each other?’

‘Of course we do.’

Avelin went to a cupboard and rummaged around inside for a moment, returning with a satchel.

‘There’s a spring a short distance that way. The water is clean and fresh. This isn’t everything you need, but there’s a bar of soap for you, and a brush and comb for Agatha. Now get out of here before Madge returns, or she’ll have you here ‘til suppertime.’

Bernard weakly accepted the bag and turned to leave.

‘Don’t forget your basket of food.’

He obediently bent down and collected it, then stepped out of the house.

Madge suspected her aunt was having her on. There weren’t any bundles of mint drying in here at all. Plenty of other things, but no mint. She checked twice. That meant she’d been sent out here as a distraction. She returned to the house. Agatha was gone. Her displeasure grew.

‘Auntie. I can’t help but notice that you sent me out to fetch something that wasn’t there, and now that I’ve returned, my guest is gone.’

Avelin patted the girl’s cheek.

‘Do you know who that was?’

Madge raised an eyebrow.

‘Duke Bernard.’

‘WHAT?’

The springwater was ice cold. Bernard hadn’t seen soap in days. He felt like he could cope with the cold if it meant being clean. The trick was to jump right in, not wade in slowly. That way all the shock and discomfort happened at once. He braced himself and lept in with a splash. It might have been a mistake. The water felt like knives. He paddled back to the edge of the spring, sputtering. Agatha said;

‘Are you going to wash your clothes too? It’s a warm day. They’ll dry fast.’

‘That’s a good idea… but how do you wash clothes?’

‘Get them wet, sort of scrunch them up and wiggle them around. I think sometimes you need to slap them against things to get extra dirt out. I’m not entirely sure.’

Bernard pulled the clothes off the bank and into the water. Scrunching and wiggling them around certainly seemed to get a bit of gunk out of them. The brown cloud emanating from the fabric made Bernard feel even more self-conscious about his recent encounter with the girl and her aunt. His clothes were very dirty. He looked around; there wasn’t really anything to slap them against, other than the bank, but that was half made of dirt too. He left them to soak while he washed himself.

Agatha was cleaner than she had been in days. Though the comb wasn’t a proper curry comb and the brush wasn’t a proper dandy brush, they worked well enough. The constant itching had stopped, at least. She still had a rock stuck in one of her shoes, but Bernard didn’t have a hoof pick, and it was lodged in there too tight to lever out with a stick. It was small. It wasn’t bothering her much. She was sure it would be fine for a little while.

Bernard draped his wet clothes over a bush in the sun. He was feeling good. He sat in the grass and ate a late lunch of bread and meat.

‘Agatha?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why do you want to see the fairy?’

He asked because he wasn’t really sure why he wanted to see her anymore. He’d originally intended to ask about the conditions for the sword’s enchantment, or agreement, or whatever it was. He didn’t really need to now. Even if she told him, he wasn’t going to tell his brother, and Bernard didn’t have the sword so the information didn’t help him.

‘I haven’t seen her in years. I wanted to catch up. See how she was going.’

‘Hm.’

‘What about you? I assumed you were going to ask her to help you take the crown.’

‘Take it?’

‘Don’t you want to be King?’

‘No. Not really.’

He’d never felt much like a Prince. He certainly didn’t feel fit to be a King. 

Bernard examined his dirty fingernails. He could try cleaning them with his knife, but that seemed like a short route to disaster. He got up and checked his clothes. They were mostly dry. He dressed quickly.

‘It’s getting late-ish. We should probably think about finding some shelter soon.’

He gathered their belongings and they walked back to the road.

In the capital the following morning, Lothar paced. His worthless younger brother posed a greater threat to his legitimacy than he’d originally imagined. His informants had caught rumours that Bernard had been exiled because he knew the fairy sword was broken. The sword wasn’t broken. It just did something he’d rather it not do. If he drew it, every noble would die. Including himself. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Mutually assured destruction was a fool’s game.

He heard a knock at the door.

‘Enter.’

The dovemaster entered, bowing deeply. Lother motioned for him to speak.

‘Your Highness, we’ve received a message from Count Gisbert. He reports a sighting of Bernard, still travelling east. At this rate, he will reach the bank of the river Sennen by sundown tomorrow.’

‘What’s the closest crossing to that point?’

‘That would be the ferry at Senau. It’s half a day further east.’

He couldn’t risk sending men to Senau. If Bernard saw them, he’d scamper off and find another crossing. Pepin’s damnable racehorse was probably worn out by now, but even in that state, it was too fast for any normal horse to run down.

‘Have an ambush laid at the ferry’s landing point on the opposite bank.’

‘As you wish, your Highness.’

The man didn’t leave. Lothar was getting annoyed.

‘What else?’

‘Count Gisbert also mentioned a boy matching Bernard’s description, but on a sickly horse, entering a town. The horse became healthy when he asked it to help him kidnap a blacksmith’s daughter. He carried her east and left her in the woods with a well-known witch. The townsfolk are calling him the fae-touched bandit.’

So he was doing favours for witches. She could have given him anything in return for his help. He couldn’t let this get any further out of hand.

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes, your Highness.’

‘Out.’