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accurately. ’Twould be a miracle if they survived the crossing to the other side of the lake.
    “Sir Anvrai…Can you see the far shore?”
    He hesitated before answering, and his voice was gruff when he spoke. “No, Lady Isabel, I can see naught.”
    The deep darkness was unsettling, likely even more so for a man who was half-blind. “How can there be no moon tonight or any stars in the sky?”
    “The clouds are thick. ’Tis likely we’ll be soaked before long.”
    “Are they coming after us?” Isabel turnedagain to peer into the darkness behind them, but she could barely see the shadowy hills where the village lay.
    “They would light their way.”
    “Oh. Of course.” No one would be so foolish as to try to cross this broad lake in the dark. Pursuers would be obvious. But there were no lights and no sounds other than their own voices and the lapping of the water ’round the currach.
    The rain held off, but the fugitives continued on for some time, until Isabel heard Anvrai’s breath rasping with strain every time he stroked the oars. He was exhausted and injured. He could not go on much longer, but what choice did they have? Roger was barely conscious, and Isabel but a woman, hardly skilled in seamanship. She could not take over the rowing. She would not know how to begin.
    She knit her brows together. Could it be so difficult? Before night had enclosed them in complete darkness, she’d seen the way Anvrai held the oar and pushed the boat through the water. It certainly did not require any intelligence to do it, only brute strength.
    “You must rest a while, Sir Knight,” she said, resolved to do her part. “You cannot go on at this harried pace.”
    “Aye. I can.”
    “Surely you are weary.”
    He did not answer, but continued rowing while Isabel wondered if all men were so stubborn. Certainly her father was. It had taken many sessions to wear down his resolve to wed her to Lord Bernard. Yet Sir Anvrai was not merely stubborn. Isabel wasn’t certain he was actually human. Still, he could not go on this way, not with the damage the Scots had done to his powerful body.
    “Pl-Please allow me to take a turn. Surely we’re far ahead of any pursuers.”
    His only answer was another grunt of pain.
    “I’m quite strong.” At least, she hoped she was strong, strong enough to propel them on their course across the lake.
    Anvrai muttered something Isabel could not quite hear, but he turned ’round and helped her move to the center of the boat. She took hold of the oars, slipping them into the water, steering the boat in the direction of the southern bank. The movement was awkward, unlike anything Isabel had ever done; but she managed to make progress, in spite of Anvrai’s doubting stare through the murky darkness.
    She wondered how his eye had been torn from its socket. Surely such an injury would have been the death of many a knight, yet Anvrai had not only survived the wound but livedon to wage subsequent battles. She could not help but shudder at such barbarity. He was little more than a beast.
    ’Twas nearly silent on the lake, but for the sound of the oars cutting through the water and Roger’s occasional groan. But the acrid smell of smoke was still strong, so Isabel knew they hadn’t gone far enough to start feeling safe. Once they made it to the southern bank, she would be able to relax, and not one minute sooner.
    Isabel could see naught in the darkness, but she’d always had a strong sense of direction. Surely her strength would hold, and she could row the currach until they reached their destination. With God’s grace, Roger would rouse himself and manage to keep up as she and Sir Anvrai took to the paths that would lead them south, toward Kettwyck.
     
    “Do you remember a river?” Anvrai peered into the darkness ahead of the currach, but he was only able to hear it. The character of the water had changed, and ’twas no longer a placid surface.
    “No,” Isabel replied. “We crossed