47
Rinaldo rode toward the source of the smoke. Someone had built a large bonfire near the meandering stream on Orlando’s side of camp. It must have taken time to build the flames that high. And plenty of fuel. He could see piles of tree branches and clothing and tents—exactly what he would have burned if it were up to him.
He could also see bodies that had been thrown on top of the fire. Perhaps a dozen of them, he couldn’t be sure.
He could see more bodies—many, many more—piled in an area to the left the fire.
There might be a hundred there. At least. One man indistinguishable from the next, a sickening heap of arms, bodies, legs sticking out at all angles.
But what disturbed Rinaldo more were the five or six bodies he could see lying on this side of the bonfire.
Not piled on top o
