The Errant Flock by Jana Petken

of the night to pay such a short visit. Are you in trouble?”
    “You could say that,” David answered grimly.
    As they left the house, Juan gestured to his other sons, putting his finger to his lips and then pointing to the closed door that separated the bedroom from the main room. “Keep your voices low. Don’t wake your mother.”

 
    Chapter Ten
     
    Outside the farmhouse, David’s nervous fingers fumbled with his hood. Hearing the girl cry, he put his hand on his father’s arm, and asked, “Will you listen to what I have to say before you go in there?”
    Juan stared at the hut’s door and then at David. “What’s that noise I’m hearing? Is that a child crying?”
    “It is.”
    Shrugging David’s hand away, Juan said, “You had better have a good explanation for this.”
    Inside the hut, the girl’s wailing drowned out David’s voice. He lifted the child, but this time, he couldn’t soothe her. “Father, what do I do?”
    “Give her to me and start talking.”
    David’s mouth opened and then closed.
    “David?” Juan said warningly.
    “Papa, her life was in danger. I had to hide her …”
    “Stop talking!” Juan put his hand up to silence David and then covered the child’s mouth to stifle her crying. “What is that?”
    David’s open mouth snapped shut with fright. His eyes bore into his father and then he whipped his head around to stare at the door. The sound of hooves thundering across the plain became louder and heavier, and upon reaching the plot, they struck the ground so hard that the hut’s wooden walls vibrated.
    David gasped for breath. “Dear God, the duke?” he choked. His terrified eyes widened. He looked again at his father, rocking the child and gazing with eyes as big as plates at the door. His father had a right to know why the men had come. He had to explain. “Papa …”
    Juan cut David off with a fierce whisper. “Hush up!”
    The horses halted, snorting and whinnying with excitement outside the hut. Men were yelling. David pinned his ear to the wall. He couldn’t hear their words, just animal-like cries. The first smell of smoke wafted through the hut’s walls. David instinctively reached for his sword, but his father swiped his hand away. Then the sound of hooves battering against the ground began again, seemingly scattering in all directions.
    Juan covered the girl’s mouth with his hand and pulled her closer to his chest. Both men crouched in a corner of the hut, as far from the door as possible. Even from inside the windowless wooden structure, David and Juan could see the bright orange torches and hear the crackling of flames through cracks in the timber slats. Terror sat in their eyes as the horsemen’s intentions became clearer.
    Juan uttered the word everyone in Sagrat feared: “Marauders … What do they want with us? We have nothing.” His panicked eyes looked for a weapon. A scythe stood upright against the wall. He grabbed it and stood up, still trying to silence the girl’s weeping with his free hand covering her mouth. “I have to get to your mother and the boys.”
    “It’s too late, Papa. They’ll run you through before you get ten paces from here!”
    “If I’m going to get myself killed, I’ll die trying to save my family! Get out of my way, lad!” Juan whispered sternly.
    David’s mind was racing. Was his father right? Were they marauders? Was he wrong in thinking they were the duke’s militia, his own brothers-in-arms, sent to silence him? But no one knew he was here …
    Marauders were not known for being merciful. They usually killed their male victims and took female prisoners to be sold or used. And marauders didn’t usually attack smallholdings. They preferred towns with richer pickings or robbing caravans on the coastal plains. It had been months since a band such as this had been anywhere near Sagrat.
    He couldn’t breathe … couldn’t believe … God, please not his family!
    “They might not be marauders,”