“I have no present intention of doing so, madame. Can you not trust me yet?”
His words stung her like the lash of a whip, and she drew apart with a crimson face, while Cyril turned to the other two.
“We are wasting time here,” he said. “Our business is to reach Ortojuk and cross the river as soon as we can. How we are to pass through the city I don’t know. We must find out when we get there.”
“I heard in the town that to-day is market-day in Ortojuk,” said Paschics, “so that the place will be full of peasants from the country round.”
“But we have seen no one coming from here.”
“No, sir; they left early in the morning. But we are sure to fall in with some coming from the more distant villages, and arriving later, and we must mingle with them, and so slip into the city.”
“Good; we will divide our party when we get a little nearer, so that there may be a chance that some of us, at least, may get through. Now, ladies, we will start, if you please.”
He took the little King in his arms, and they walked on resolutely and almost in silence for nearly two hours. The Queen was flagging painfully towards the end of the time; but she would have died rather than complain after the words Cyril had addressed to her, and she even objected when he called a halt on a grassy bank opposite the point at which a by-path joined the main road. He took no notice of her remark, however.
“We will join the next company of peasants that comes along,” he said, as Paschics distributed a meagre lunch from the food he had brought, “but we must divide. Remember that we are peasants from one of the mountain villages across the river, and have been to Tatarjé on a pilgrimage to the tomb of St Gabriel. Our aim on reaching the town is to get through it as quickly as possible, and cross the river; but we must meet at a spot near the bridge, and reconnoitre before venturing upon it. It is almost certain to be watched, and once upon it there would be no hope of escape.”
“Except the river!” said the Queen, the wild look returning to her eyes.