Northleach Farmstead, Gleawcesterscir, 721 AD
The alarm calls of birds in the shrubbery along the woodland trail alerted the captain of Goda"s escort. He drew his sword and deployed his men around the horse-drawn cart. Caution had ever been his watchword. Everyone knew that forestland sheltered not only wild beasts but, sad to relate, also cut-throat robbers. Well, let them come if they dare. He was ready!
The rustling in the undergrowth continued, followed by the snapping of a dry branch underfoot.
“Show yourselves!” bellowed the warrior, certain of human presence. Nor was he wrong, for out of the tangle of bracken and buckthorn stepped a ragged figure carrying a wicker basket, its bottom lined with mushrooms.
“I ain"t done nothing, Lord!”
“An" I ain"t no lord!” the leader of the esc
