Free There Will Be Wolves by Karleen Bradford Page B

home to return to, the promise of lands and properties such as they could never own here.
    Nothing is that easy, Ursula thought warily. But she said nothing. No one spoke to her, anyway.
    All was ready and the wagon loaded on the evening before the day set for their departure. Master William tended to the last-minute details in such a fluster of agitation that he nearly drove Ursula mad.
    “Generous beyond all bounds, the count has been,” he kept assuring her. “He has given us provisions enough for a year, a fine cart, a horse! And I will have a sack of coins to pay me for my services. Silver coins! Enough to rebuild and set me up in my own business again when we return.”
    Finally, Ursula exploded. “Coins! I have seen no coins! I’ll believe that when I see them.”
    Her father fell silent. The stubborn look she was beginning to know too well stole over his face again. “I cannot discuss this now. I have things to see to,” he muttered, and left.
    Alone save for Samson, Ursula stared morosely into the fire until a rustling at the doorway startled her. It was Bruno.
    “May I come in? I have come to bid you farewell.”
    At his words Ursula’s heart sank even lower. “You have not changed your mind, then.”
    “You know I cannot join you,” he answered quietly. “This Crusade goes against everything I have ever believed as a Christian. There will be killing. Fighting and killing. In spite of what your father says, I cannot believe that to be right. I would to God there had been some other way to save you.”
    Ursula poked at the embers without answering. They had been through this many times since her release. She could not argue with him.
    Bruno threw himself down beside her. Samson crawled up to him and he scratched the dog absentmindedly behind the ears. “Where is your father?” he asked.
    “He is off on some business of his own,” she replied. “He is so happy—so full of joy. He has convinced himself this will be a truly marvelous venture.”
    They fell silent.
      *  *  *  
    For a long time after Bruno left, Ursula remained by the fire. When the last embers finally died, she made no move to rekindle them. She was still there when her father returned.
    “All is in readiness, Daughter,” he pronounced. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow we go on God’s journey!” He curled up on his pallet in the corner and his snores soon attested to the fact that, in spite of his excitement, he was asleep.
    Ursula sat on. In the darkness Samson whimpered.

S IX
    T hey were to meet by the river, outside the south wall of the city. Ursula and her father were up before dawn to feed the horse and finish loading the cart. When they were done and had harnessed the horse to it, Ursula lifted Samson and settled him into a kind of nest she had made for him from some old mats in the wagon bed right behind where she and her father would sit. Sacks of flour, bags of vegetables, oats for the horse, a quantity of other supplies, and their boxes of herbs took up most of the room. The wagon had no cover, but the count had also given them a sturdy tent; it occupied what little space was left over. Master William had been right on one account—the count had provisioned them well.
    “You had better ride until that leg has finished healing, my friend,” Ursula said as she settled the animal down.
    Beside the dog, two chickens squawked and flustered in a small wooden crate. Samson looked at them dubiously. Ursula took her place, her father gathered up the reins, and they were off. Neither Ursula nor her father had ever driven a wagon before, but the horse seemed to know what to do, so, except for guiding him where necessary, they left things up to him. He was plodding, but willing. Ursula’s father’s eyes were bright and he was still gripped with the excitement of the night before, but with every step the horse took, Ursula’s heart grew heavier. They were leaving the only home she had ever known. There was no place for her there