I flattened my ears to my head.

"A traveler, lads!" the man with the gun spoke. "He's the look of a foreigner about him."

One of the other men stepped forward and grabbed hold of the horse.

The man with the gun prodded my master in the leg. "Got anything to drink?"

"I have a little."

"Care to share it?"

My master took a flask from his bag and handed it to the other man, who pulled the cork, took a sniff, and then a swallow.

The man with the gun was still pointing it at my master "You've got the beard of a Dutchman-"

"I'm not Dutch. I'm as French as you are."

"Oh-hoity-toity, too! Just listen to him speak." He brandished the gun. "Don't waste the accent on us."

I growled.

"I wonder if there's some gentleman up the road happened to wake up this morning and find his horse gone?"

I crept from the marsh on my belly.

"Why don't you come down off that horse? Have a little drink. And maybe a smoke."

My master got down from the horse.

The men with glinting hats gathered in a circle about him. "Best meal we've had all week, here in this flask. Do you know why? The damned peasants have eaten everything else. Every loaf of bread, every wheel of cheese. Every pig and chicken in the whole countryside. It'd be nice to catch some of them at it. You don't know where they'd happen to be, do you?"

"I'm just a traveler riding alone."

The man with the gun bared his teeth. Gave a lift of his chin to one of the men who was standing behind my master. "I'm afraid now you're just a traveler."

One of the men pulled at the horse's reins. Another man tossed the flask back toward my master.

My master did not catch it. It fell to the ground between them.

The man holding the gun picked it up, feeling the heft of it with his hand. "Silver, is it?"

My master said nothing.

"Did you steal this, too?"

"It was given to me by the viscount of Souboscq."

"At the suggestion of a knife, no doubt!"

All the men bared their teeth and laughed.

I growled.

"I suppose I couldn't leave a man without the means to collect a drink now and then."

"I would be most grateful."

As the man handed the flask back, my master pulled a knife from his belt, grasped the man's wrist, and pulled him close, pressing the tip of that knife against his throat. "I would be most grateful for both the flask and the horse."

"We weren't serious about taking the horse. Just having a tease is all."

"Then you won't mind dropping your pistol."

The man dropped his gun.

"And the rest of you won't mind putting your muskets and pistols in a pile beside me and then stepping off the road."

The man my master held shouted to the others.

"And you certainly won't mind donating to the expenses of my travel."

Several of the men put their hands into their coats and brought out coins, which they tossed in my master's direction.

"And I'd like you to remove your clothes, as well."

They stood there, blinking.

"Now!" My master pressed the knife into the man's neck.

He cried out.

Each man took off his clothes and gave them to my master. They weren't so frightening as they cowered in front of my master without their glinting hats and shimmering clothes.

I took one step onto the road. Then another.

They looked just like regular men now. I took a third step forward. If they threatened my master, then I would kill them just like I had killed De Grote.

My master tossed their clothes toward me. I cringed and crouched, my belly to the ground. Carefully, I stretched out my neck to sniff at them.

They had bad smells. They reeked with that same sour stink of my bad master.

I blew the stench from my nostrils with a snort. I looked at the men. Growled. Stretched my neck out farther as I took one step closer to their clothes. I sniffed at them again and then growled. Reached out and snapped at one of the coats.

It did nothing.

I took it between my teeth and shook it.

The men without their clothes were not so terrible, and the clothes without the men were nothing at all. I went through all the clothes, ripping and tearing at them until they would grant no man power over me again.

When I was done, my master shoved the man he was holding toward the others. When one of them lunged forward, toward my master, I leaped at him, growling and snapping.

He retreated.

My master collected their coins and threw their guns into the marsh. Then he mounted the horse and started off down the road.

They yelled after us. One even started running at us. "Batard! It's nearly the middle of November! What are we going to do for warmth?"

"I'd suggest walking. Briskly."

We trotted along the road, the horse and I, where we could and walked where the mud was too deep. By the time the sun was high, we had reached a city.

My master went into a building. I went with him, staying close upon his heels. As he ate, I found a bone to gnaw upon. I took its knobbly end between my teeth and worked at breaking it open. There was a fire in that place. I couldn't feel its warmth, but I could see its light between the peoples' legs. If only I had some cream. I might have whined for some, but I had just managed to crack the bone. Now I could get at its insides.

I would look for cream later.

Sooner than I wanted, the master rose and walked toward the door.

I took the bone with me, leaving it on the street once he had mounted the horse. As we started off, a shout went up behind us.

I turned to see two men wearing glinting hats, heads bobbing above the crowd. As the people cleared around them, I could see they were sitting a horse. "That one! Right there!" It was one of the men we had left behind. He was pointing in our direction.

My master and the horse sped away down the road. I had to run quickly. It was hard to keep up with them, even though all the people on the street fled at their approach.

He turned first one corner, then another and another. Finally, he forced the horse to a halt, leaped off its back, and slapped him on the haunch. The horse flinched, and then he sprung past me with a snort. As people shouted, my master slipped through the crowds and turned, quickly, onto a different street.

I followed at a trot.

My master peered into each window he passed and sent glances down all of the alleyways. I barked once, hoping he would slow his pace, but he did not. At the end of the street, where different colors of clothes had been laid out across the bushes and a fire had been built beneath a large kettle, he paused. A woman was stirring the kettle. As she squatted to tend the fire, he reached out and snatched a cloak from a bush, drawing it over his shoulders and pulling the hood down over his head.

As he turned the corner, something happened. He went lame, favoring one of his legs over the other. And as he walked, his stature shrank.

I barked, tugging at the cloak. Barked again.

"Hush, chiot!"

I whined.

"I'm fine. I just don't want to be recognized."

I slunk along beside him as he entered a busy square. But the men were already there. They were stopping everyone entering or leaving.

We stepped into a shadow cast by a tall building, slipping by one of the men as he stopped to talk to someone. "Very tall, he was. With a dog beside him."

My master waved his hands at me, gesturing toward the opposite side of the square.

I looked toward where he was pointing. It was far, far away from him.

I sat on my haunches.

He gestured once more.

I lay down at his feet.

After casting a look up at the man, he walked back the way we had come, toward a quieter area of the market. Then he paused and bent toward me, clicking his tongue. "Come here, chiot."

I lowered myself toward the ground and wagged my tail at him.

"Come here!"

Why did he sound so cross? I whined before I could stop myself. I could hear those men behind us. They were pushing through the crowd. They were getting closer.

"Come here, mon cher!"

Moncher! With a yelp, I threw myself at my master's arms.

He clasped me to his chest. Keeping the hood draped over our heads, he nestled me with one arm against his side. He used the other to settle the cloak about me, blocking my view of the square.

I didn't need to see. What I needed was a nap. And some cream.

My master started off with his strange, new gait.

There were people all about us. I could hear them, though I could not see them. Suddenly, my master stumbled, bumping into something.

"Pardon me. Sorry." His arm reached out, and I could see, for just an instant, as a woman bent toward the ground.

Quick as she bent, my master took hold of a pail and a ladle. As he lurched away, I dug into his side with my legs, trying to keep myself from tumbling from his arm.

"Patience, chiot. You saved my life once. I'm trying to return the favor. I'm going to turn myself into a leper. The only thing anyone would do with a leper's dog is kill it. With a little luck-"

That pail-it carried cream! I could smell it. I scrabbled against the constraint of his arm, trying to reach it.

"Merde! If they see you, we're both finished! Here." He shifted the pail to the hand that held me.

It was cream!

"Gently! You're going to spill it."

Some spilled over the edge before I could eat it. And then my master began to beat on the pail with the ladle.

"Sorry, mon cher. I need this for other things." He tipped the pail, dumping the cream to the ground. I would have barked, but some had clung to the sides. If he would just stop beating the pail, then I could lick it.

"Stay away." Clang. "Stay away."

I timed my licks to his words.

Around me, people gasped. I could hear them. "Leper! A leper!" There came the sound of people running from us. The master paused in his beating, and I got in an extra lick.