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blame.’
    ‘I have never heard of bandits in these parts.’ The pedlar looked concerned.
    The farmer came over. ‘That may have been true once but I have heard strange tales this week, there is something in the wind. Some of us are travelling south together tomorrow, when the market ends – the townspeople of Eikstofn and the farms round there. Come with us if you want: the more the better, I’d say.’
    ‘I’ll do that,’ the pedlar said. ‘I’ve no wish to go back that way alone if there really are bandits out there.’The news seemed to banish Elspeth’s weakness. She and Edmund had exchanged glances as soon as they heard of the fire, and she was sure they had both thought the same thing:
Loki is laying a trail for us
. She wanted to set out at once, but Cluaran said they would wait until the next day, so they could travel alongside the returning traders and find out where the fire had started.
    Cathbar agreed. ‘They know this region,’ he pointed out, stowing the long parcel in his pack. ‘And in these parts, there’s safety in numbers, even without Loki.’
    They started before dawn the next day, rising with the other travellers who stayed at their inn and making their way through the grey light to the forest road. The Frankish pedlar hailed them on their approach, and fell in with them as they set off. His name was Menobert, he told them, and he was heading all the way south to Francia. He asked where they were bound.
    ‘South, as well,’ was all Cluaran said, and Menobert nodded amicably, not at all put out by the evasive answer.
    Menobert was a stocky, black-moustached man; cheerful and chatty. He told them of the drought and poor harvest last year, which had led to such hardship this winter, and that he wouldn’t be surprised if some folk had left their farms and turned to banditry. Elspeth saw Cathbar nodding grimly as he heard that, and checking the hilt of his sword.
    They took the main road to the south: it was wide enough to allow a cart, though few came down it. The road was rutted and icy as they set off, but as the sun rose the snow and iceunderfoot began to melt. The muddy road beneath her feet felt wonderful to Elspeth after so long making her way across snow. They made good progress, and even Eolande, who had refused to walk across the ice fields, seemed to have no objection to going afoot here. At first there was little sign of the banditry that the farmer had seemed to fear, but before noon they met a couple of farm-women, sisters, who were very happy to travel in their company, for fear of being robbed. They had been to visit the
grethari
, they told Elspeth, the travelling healer, who was now staying in a tiny settlement just to the west of the road, and there had been an outbreak of looting and pillaging in the village that looked like it could spread. Elspeth realised that the healer must have left Alebu before she and Edmund even arrived there, and all the pilgrims who had filled the inns hoping to see him had had a wasted journey. But their innkeeper had said the man had not been there long.
    ‘He travels fast, doesn’t he?’ she said.
    ‘Truly, I couldn’t tell you,’ the younger woman said. ‘We only heard of him yesterday, from a traveller. But his name is already well known in this land. It has spread like fire.’
    ‘And with reason,’ her sister enthused. ‘He took the pain right out of my sore shoulder, just by laying his hands on it.’
    ‘And what does he charge for such a service?’ asked Cluaran wryly.
    ‘Oh, no money!’ The woman sounded shocked. ‘He says that his gift belongs to everyone; he cannot profit by it. He’ll take a meal with you, that’s all.’
    ‘Though he could have eaten twenty times over, if he’d had a mind to,’ her sister put in. ‘So many people were in line to see him.’
    ‘One of these travelling holy men, eh?’ said Menobert dismissively. ‘There are too many peddling miracles these days. Sweet-talkers who pull in idle