The Savage Knight mkoa-2

by Paul Lewis

  Madoc paced for a moment, mulling over the knight’s words. “Very well, then,” he said at last. “I am not entirely convinced, but I would sleep easier believing men are behind this and not something from the spirit world. We can defend ourselves against men.”

  “Then make sure you do,” Dodinal told him. “Your village is far too open. Enclose it as best you can. There is timber all around you and you have enough strong men. You don’t need me to tell you to make sure your children are never left alone.”

  “The children are fine. As for the defences, I’ll see to that as soon as it’s light. But what of you? Do you still intend to leave?”

  “We do, and we will leave now,” Dodinal said. “Our village is fortified, but its stockade has been left to rot for too long. We will strengthen it so that nothing, man or beast, can get through. Once we are done, we’ll return here with as many people as we can spare to make sure your defences are as strong as they can be.”

  “Then travel safely.” Madoc held out his hand. Dodinal shook it, as did Idris and the others. Farewells made, they turned and set off through the forest, Dodinal taking the lead.

  They made good progress even after the sun had set and the forest was shrouded in darkness. After a while, however, it became clear Idris was not up to the arduous pace Dodinal had set, so the knight gathered the others to him and told them to push on ahead.

  “Idris and I will follow,” he said. “We have much to discuss, but we cannot talk if we’re gasping for breath.”

  Gerwyn nodded. He looked shaken by what he had seen.

  “Make sure everyone stays indoors,” Idris told him. “No one goes outside alone. I want a watch kept overnight.”

  “You really believe they’re in danger?” Gerwyn asked, eyes darting around anxiously. “Our village is far from here.”

  “The other villages are even further,” Dodinal pointed out. “Yet they have been attacked. We cannot take anything for granted.”

  Within moments the four men had vanished into the darkness, leaving Idris and Dodinal alone. They walked at a brisk pace to keep warm, for while the day had been mild, the night air was as cold as winter. The moon was full; the constellations shimmered. The wind had dropped to a whisper.

  They talked of inconsequential things to while away the time: the onset of the spring, plans to hunt together once the palisade was repaired. Imaginary feasts were prepared and they laughed when their stomachs rumbled in unison.

  It was only after their conversation had reached a natural break and the two men were travelling in companionable silence that Dodinal realised he had made the decision not to leave, without being aware of it. Perhaps the boy’s death had been enough to convince him that, having found people he cared for, he should not risk losing them.

  Neither man spoke of what had happened that day. There was no need. Each was painfully aware of the events he had witnessed, and each preferred to come to terms with it in his own way.

  It was past midnight when they reached the village. Dodinal yearned for nothing more than a hot drink and a bed to sleep in. Anything else could wait until morning.

  When they staggered into the Great Hall, blinking against the heat and smoke from the fire, it was to find Rhiannon sitting at the table waiting for them. Of Gerwyn and Owain there was no sign; presumably they slept at the back of the hut, beyond the hanging skins. He thought he could hear snoring.

  “Sit down,” Rhiannon ordered, getting to her feet and bustling across to the fire. “You must be exhausted, both of you. The others got back hours ago.”

  The knight groaned as he lowered himself to the bench. Idris almost collapsed into his chair. “Next time, go without me.”

  Dodinal managed a laugh that quickly turned into a yawn.

  Rhiannon returned with two steaming bowls of cawl, and the men fell on them. This time the meal was rich with meat. Rhiannon must have decided that, with spring here, the game would return and so there was no need to ration their supplies quite so rigorously.

  Although he had doubts, and his senses had found no signs of life to contradict his suspicions, Dodinal was too ravenous to care.

  A second bowlful, and a beaker of ale, disappeared in short order, and finally he was sated. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he thanked her for her kindness and then made to leave. “Get yourself to bed,” he told Idris, who appeared to be having difficulty keeping his eyes open. “We have work to do tomorrow. Everyone will need to be well rested.”

  “And that includes you,” Rhiannon said. “I have tended to the fire in my hut. You will not be cold tonight. But if you would prefer to stay here, you are more than welcome.”

  Dodinal politely declined and was disappointed to see a look of relief on her face. He took his leave. Once inside the warmth of Rhiannon’s hut, he hung up his cloak, rested the spear against the wall and tugged off his boots, leaving them where they dropped. Finally he removed his sword belt and dropped it on the floor beside the mattress before sinking gratefully onto the bed.

  Yawning, he closed his eyes. But even though he was light-headed with fatigue, sleep proved frustratingly elusive. He kept seeing that poor boy’s lifeless face. Madoc had been right; what kind of man could leap from tree to tree while burdened with a struggling child? And what kind of man left footprints in the snow that were twisted and had too few or too many toes?

  He was just drifting off when the door swung quietly open.

  Dodinal reached out and slid his sword silently from its sheath. There was only one man arrogant or foolish enough to dare skulk into the hut at this hour and, chieftain’s son or not, he was about to learn the hard way that Dodinal was not to be fooled with.

  But then came a soft rustle as a cloak was undone and dropped to the floor. The furs on his bed were pulled back, and a warm body slid in beside him. Dodinal immediately recognised her scent. “What are you..?” he started, then her mouth closed over his, silencing him. He resisted for a moment, then reached down to pull her closer, and was startled when his hands touched bare flesh. She had not just removed her cloak.

  Rhiannon broke off the kiss and started undoing his shirt buttons, then gave up and pulled it impatiently over his head. Dodinal did not protest. She was in control and he was content to allow her to take the lead. Her hair brushed against his chest and stomach as she lowered her head, then he moaned deeply in his throat as she took him in her mouth.

  When it seemed he could bear it no longer, she clambered up onto him and guided him inside her; she was already wet. Now it was her turn to moan as he wrapped his arms around her and began to move. He became lost in the moment, feeling nothing but the heat of her around him, hearing nothing but their hitching breath, seeing nothing but her face above his, radiant in the firelight, contorted by her rapture.

  When they were done she collapsed on him, her mouth finding his. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He almost cringed when he said it. If only he possessed Arthur’s gift for eloquence.

  They made love again, slower this time but no less intensely, then lay entwined for a while before she disentangled herself from him and got up from the bed.

  “Stay,” he said, one hand reaching out for her. Warm fingers briefly grasped his, then released him as she stepped into the shadows beyond the fitful glow of the fire. He caught glimpses of her as she moved about the hut, picking up her clothes and dressing.

  “I dare not,” she said. “Idris and Gerwyn were exhausted; I knew I would not rouse them when I left. But it will be dawn before long, and they might wake before I return if I do not hurry. Fear not, though, sir knight” — and despite the darkness he could tell she was smiling, teasing him — “there will be other times. Assuming, that is, you are not about to desert us now winter has finally passed.”

  Dodinal, still basking in the warmth of their lovemaking, said lightly: “Not much chance of that. Not after tonight.”

  “Oh, I see.” Rhiannon bent over him. “You’re happy to stay, no
w you’ve had your evil way with me.”

  “It seems to me it was you who had your evil way with me.” He grunted then laughed as she poked a finger into his ribs.

  “The time is not yet right for us to be together openly,” she said, her manner serious. “I have been widowed long enough as far as I am concerned, but perhaps not long enough in the eyes of others.”

  “By others, you mean Gerwyn?”

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  “Hmm. You’d have to blind not to see it.”

  “He’ll come around, don’t you worry. Now I must return, and you must rest. If you weren’t tired before, I’m sure you are now.”

  When she had gone, Dodinal put his hands behind his head and lay staring into the darkness. So much for avoiding complications. Still, as complications went, this was one he could happily live with. During the short time Rhiannon had been with him, the horrors of the day were driven from his mind. This had been a celebration of life in defiance of the death he had witnessed.

  Of course he would stay. He had a life here, friends, a family almost. He had been so obsessed with searching for peace that he had almost failed to see that peace had found him. Still thinking those thoughts he eventually fell asleep, a smile on his face.

  ELEVEN

  He slept later than he had intended. By the time he rose it was past nine, and the men of the village were already up and about, emerging from their huts like hibernating animals roused by the spring sun. Some tended to the livestock, others inspected roofs for damage after the months of harsh weather. Dogs raced around, relishing the freedom of the outside world after being kept inside the huts for so long. They paid no heed to Dodinal.

  Thuds reverberated from the forest, followed by a loud tearing sound and a crash as a tree fell.

  Idris was inspecting the rotten palisade. The moment he saw Dodinal emerging from the hut, blinking and rubbing his eyes to clear them, he called out a greeting and marched over. “I was just about to send Rhiannon to wake you!”

  A blush coloured Dodinal’s face at the memory of last night’s encounter; he hoped it passed for the lingering effects of sleep. “You should have roused me earlier.”

  The chieftain made a dismissivegesture. “Plenty of time. Get yourself to the Great Hall, there is food waiting. A man cannot work on an empty belly, especially after yesterday’s exertions.”

  Dodinal narrowed his eyes and looked for some sign that Idris knew what had happened last night. If he did, the old man was giving nothing away. He looked preoccupied. “I’ve already sent men into the forest to start cutting down trees to replace the missing or rotting timbers. But the damage is extensive and I do not have enough men. We will not get it all done today, even if they work until sunset.”

  “Then we will do what we can.” Dodinal clapped Idris on the back. “There are other defences. We can talk about it later.”

  The Great Hall door was open, and the window shutters had been removed, letting in light and venting the smoke from the fires. Even so, the atmosphere was sombre. The hut was filled with women, using brooms to sweep the floor and to brush the worst of the soot off the walls. While they greeted him warmly enough when he ducked inside, he could see they were anxious too. They would have heard of the tragedy. They knew that, but for the grace of their god, it could have been one of them sat at the table, crying and whispering prayers.

  They kept their children close. The little ones sat on the floor in groups or ran around playing noisy games. Rhiannon was there; apart from a fleeting smile and a wave of greeting, she paid him no attention. Instead she tended to a pot suspended over the fire, shooing children away if they ventured too close to the flames. Dodinal was disappointed they would not have a chance to talk.

  Platters on the table were heaped with nuts, dried meat, fish and bread. There were jugs of ale too. It was a banquet, compared with the meagre fare of the past few weeks. Dodinal thought that the villagers must be confident finding fresh food would be easier now that spring had arrived. He hoped their confidence was not misplaced.

  Keen to get working, he grabbed handfuls of nuts and berries and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing them greedily while he took as much meat and fish as he dared without feeling guilty and put them in his pockets, to eat while he worked.

  Once he had swallowed, he gulped down some ale and hurried outside, partly to make the most of the daylight and partly in the hope that Rhiannon would follow him the moment she could. He wanted to find a quiet place to talk to her about last night and the nights ahead, now he had decided to stay.

  His eyes sought out the old chieftain, who was deep in conversation with Gerwyn. They were too far away and there was too much noise around for Dodinal to hear what was being said, until he got closer. The younger man gesticulated vigorously, clearly making a point with some force. “Father, please, you have to let us go.”

  “I have to do no such thing,” Idris said coolly.

  “If we don’t hunt, then we don’t eat. You’d prefer to build a fence than plough and sow the fields. What is the point of barricading ourselves away if it means us starving to death?”

  “Good morning,” Dodinal said pleasantly to Gerwyn, as if there were no bad feelings between them.

  “Let me hunt,” Gerwyn persisted, addressing his father as if Dodinal had not spoken. “The men you have put to work will need fresh meat to keep up their strength. You know my words make sense.”

  Idris caught Dodinal’s eye. “He wants to go hunting. Reckons he’ll be more use to us that way than if he stays here, chopping down trees. I don’t know, though. I think we need every man available to rebuild the defences. What do you think, my friend?”

  Gerwyn made an angry gesture with his hand. “Who cares what he thinks? He has far too much say around here. He’s not brehyrion and not my father. I don’t have to listen to him and neither should you.”

  “I did not ask you,” Idris said. “And I value his opinion far more than I would ever value yours.”

  Gerwyn simmered, but for once he held his tongue.

  “Where will you hunt?” Dodinal asked.

  “South,” Gerwyn answered testily, as if the answer was blindingly obvious. “Best chance of finding anything.”

  Dodinal cast out his senses. There should be prey around by now, awoken from its winter slumber and foraging for food. Yet there was nothing. He almost told Gerwyn he would be wasting his time, then bit back the words. How could he explain how he knew there was no fresh meat to be found within a day’s march or more?

  He suspected Gerwyn was less interested in hunting than in avoiding having to work. He also suspected the chieftain’s son would be more hindrance than help if he were made to stay.

  “Let him hunt,” said Dodinal. “We have enough men to manage here with the two of us helping out. I’m certain we will all appreciate any meat he can put on the table.”

  Gerwyn gave him a suspicious look, as if sensing he was being mocked. Then, apparently satisfied this was not so, he nodded with almost childish eagerness. “I will take a few friends with me, the better to track with and to help carry back whatever we find.”

  “You appear to have all this worked out,” Idris grumbled, but without malice, and with a sly look at Dodinal. He, too, thought they would be better off without Gerwyn under their feet. “Go on, then. Get your friends and be off with you. And you’d better not return without meat for our bellies or there will be trouble.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” Gerwyn grinned at his father and nodded in an almost friendly fashion at Dodinal before scurrying off. The two men watched him go.

  “You weren’t planning to stop him,” Dodinal murmured.

  Idris’s eyes gleamed. “No, but if he wants to run around while the rest of us toil, then I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Now he’s out of the way, his idle friends too, we can really get to work. You said something about other defences. What did you mean?”

  Dodinal set off for the g
ates, Idris beside him. “We cannot secure the palisade today. So we do what we can for now and then fill in the gaps. There is blackthorn in the forest. Get your strongest women, give them blades and whatever cloth can be spared…”

  Between them Dodinal and Idris quickly got the villagers organised. Ten men had already taken axes and saws to the forest, so Dodinal allocated another ten to haul them to the village. The timber was left on the ground alongside the gaps in the fences, ready to be hoisted into place later. Those women young enough and strong enough to work were sent into the woods to find blackthorn. They wrapped their hands in cloth and furs and took scythes to hack at the shrubs and drag back bundles of branches. Bristling with vicious thorns, they would serve as a makeshift but effective barricade.

  Even the children were set to work, those that were old enough, carrying tools and nails and rope wherever they were needed, though always within the village. They went about the chores with feverish excitement, after months trapped inside their smoky huts.

  Dodinal busied himself digging out the stumps of the posts that had rotted beyond repair. It was hard going under the hot sun. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and he found himself having to stretch with increasing regularity to ease the stiffness in his back.

  He lost track of time. When a shadow fell over him and a hand reached down to offer a beaker of ale, he took it and drank it greedily without looking up. “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” Rhiannon answered. “But didn’t we have this same conversation last night?”

  Dodinal almost coughed up the ale. He looked around quickly to make sure there was no one within earshot. They were alone, though Idris was ambling towards them, casting an eye over the defences as he walked. “I was hoping for a chance to talk to you earlier. But not now. We’re about to have company.”

  “Then it will have to wait until tonight.” She grinned down at him. “Assuming Gerwyn is successful and I can get the two of them drunk enough not to hear me leaving while they sleep.”