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Michaela still wasn’t ready to go.
She and Astolpho had been camped with the horses in a farmer’s field, far enough from Abincort that it would still take them two more days before they reached the city.
Astolpho tried to convince the farmer to allow them to stay there by promising to send payment directly from the king’s palace. “I’m the king’s prophet,” Astolpho told him.
The farmer, a wealthy estate owner named Lord Wint, did not seem impressed.
“I’m the king’s hog man,” he said. “You ever had hog at his feasts? That’s mine.”
Astolpho said that he had, and he complimented Lord Wint on his stock. Anything to keep him friendly.
Astolpho and Michaela had no right to bring their herd of horses onto Lord Wint’s land. No right to graze here or drink from his stream.
And no right t
