Three days through the Ardennes forest brought them to a wooded gorge, where they slithered down to a river of green water to which Verden owed its name.
The watercourse led to the town where they tramped through the filthy streets, rife with vermin and scavengers. One captor laid the flat of his sword across the back of a boy whose curiosity brought him within striking distance; stolid indifference met the ensuing string of obscenities.
Amid the bustle of a crowded square, two men hauled trimmed stones stacked on a wooden sled and cursed a man trading glass beads who impeded them. Another lugged a sack of turnips, tripping over a goose, causing it to honk and clatter into its companions and scattering them, the drover blaspheming.
While the armed men thrust through the crowd, Begiloc d
