Chapter 6: The Bridge at the Ditch

Katell rode up the King's Road on the fourth morning with two of her boat masters behind her.

The wool had landed at Penhal on the third day, twenty carts of it, packed in oiled sacks.

Now the carts stood in a line on the road above the Ditch with their horses blowing steam.

Katell reined in at the edge of the gorge and looked down.

The Ditch was a crack in the hills as deep as Penhal's keep was tall, with a white stream at the bottom.

"I came to watch you lose," she said. "Where's your bridge?"

I pointed with my chin.

Penhal's old boat sheds had stood empty at the landing for twenty years.

Erwan's men and every pair of hands in Penhal had carried their black beams up this road for three days.

Now the beams lay across the Ditch, pinned and roped, with planks on top and a rail on each side.

Katell got down off her horse and walked to the near end.

She kicked the first beam twice with her boot.

Then she walked out to the middle and jumped.

The bridge didn't move.

"Those were boat sheds," she said.

"They were," I said. "Penhal hasn't had boats in twenty years."

She looked at me.

Then the boat master behind her said, "Katell," and pointed across the gorge.

Riders were coming down the road on the far side.

There were twenty of them in the River Lord's green, and their lord rode at their head in a fur-lined coat.

They stopped at the far end of my bridge and filled the road from bank to bank.

"Good morning, my lady," the River Lord called across the Ditch.

His voice carried well off the rocks.

"This road crosses my land at the Ditch," he said. "Every cart that crosses it pays me a fifth."

"The King's Road belongs to the crown," I called back. "A bowshot on each side of it, too."