Though they had their baggage train, and all those wagons, a soldier still had to carry his lot, along with the armour that he was made to permanently wear. It was a heavy burden indeed, and not something that Asabel thought she envied. If these had been times of peace, a sensible man would have complained after being made to shoulder such a thing for so long. But in these times of war, when a burden was put on a man's shoulders, he seemed far more willing to bear it in grim silence, once he knew what it was that was at stake.
"We should retire to the fortress, your majesty, the wind is beginning to pick up," Lancelot said, as the cold tossed up Asabel's thick wool cape, and she fought with all her might to suppress a shiver. She was wearing a good few layers beneath her riding dress, and still she found it almost impossible to maintain a good and constant level of warmth.
