gladdens my heart to see you, my lord,’ the rider said to Beryn. ‘I was riding to Caenmetyn with a message for you.’
‘Indeed?’ Beryn leaned forward in his saddle. ‘Then spit it out, lad.’
‘Somewhat’s wrong with your lady. After you left, she was all upset, like, but well, we figured that she would be, with you gone off like that to face – well, trouble and suchlike.’ He gave the gwerbret a nervous sidelong glance. ‘But anyway, in the middle of the night, that merchant comes to the gates on a foundered horse. Bavydd. Do you remember him, my lord?’
‘Very well indeed. Go on.’
‘And he says he has news from Caenmetyn, and so of course we let him in. We all thought it was good of him to ride so fast with the news for your lady. So anyway, Bavydd stays for a bit, and Lady Mallona tells us not to worry, because the malover’s gone in your favour. And so we cheered the merchant and then all went to bed. In the morning, the gatekeeper tells us that Bavydd rode out not long after we left the great hall, on a horse your lady gave him, to make up for his, like. But now the Lady Mallona’s shut up in her chamber, and none of her women can get her to answer the door. So we thought about climbing up and going in through the window, but we couldn’t do that, not into your lady’s chamber, so we thought we’d better get you a message and ask what to do.’
Beryn looked Rhodry’s way with expressionless eyes. Rhodry merely shrugged, supposing, as the lord doubtless did, that the lady had chosen to cheat the gwerbret’s justice and die on her own terms. Beryn turned back to the rider.
‘Well, here I am. Let’s ride and get back there.’
Behind its low walls, Beryn’s dun was a straggly untidy place, a low squat broch, a dirt ward crammed with stables and storage sheds. When the warband streamed in through the gates, it filled the ward and turned it to a riot of confused servants and dismounting riders. Shouting his name, Beryn’s fort-guard mobbed their lord, then told him the same story all over again, while the chamberlain bowed to the gwerbret and apologized repeatedly for the humble lodgings. At a whispered order from Dwaen, Rhodry stuck close to Lord Beryn, who barely seemed to notice he was there.
‘Should we get a couple of axes and break down the door, my lord?’ a rider said. ‘Take a while, but we’ll get it in the end.’
‘My lord?’ Rhodry stepped forward. ‘I’m good at climbing. If you’ll give me permission to enter your lady’s chamber, I can go up the broch and come in through the window easy enough.’
‘My thanks, silver dagger,’ Beryn said. ‘Come round here. I’ll show you which window it is.’
As they hurried around the broch, Beryn’s narrow eyes showed no more than a flicker of distaste for the discovery that inevitably waited for them. He pointed out a window on the second floor of the rough stone broch, then ran inside to wait in front of the lady’s door. Rhodry took off his spurs and sword belt, handed them to Jill, then jumped to a windowsill and started up from there. Since little ledges and flat flints stuck out all over the wall, the rough stone was easy climbing. At the window, he found the shutters closed, but he pushed them open with one hand and clambered inside.
The dimly-lit chamber reeked with the sickly odour of vomit and some sweetish drug. On the canopied bed lay a figure, huddled up, clasping its stomach with both hands. Rhodry strode over and pulled the blanket back to find a stout man, naked, his skin bluish, his broad face contorted and blue from his last agony. He lay in a pool of vomit and urine, and his blood-shot eyes stared up sightless at the embroidered blazons on Lord Beryn’s bed. Rhodry stepped back fast.
‘Gods preserve us! She’s a ruthless little bitch!’
He ran to the door and unbarred it to let Lord Beryn and the gwerbret in. At the sight of the corpse in his bed Beryn swore aloud. He began to shake, a tremor of rage that left him speechless and scarlet-faced. Behind him came Coryc with Dwaen and Lord Cadlew, with Jill trailing behind. Coryc’s careful mask of sympathy shattered at the sight.
‘Bavydd!’ Coryc said. ‘It has to be! Oh by the hells, then where’s Lady Mallona?’
‘Your Grace, if I may speak?’ Jill broke in. ‘I’ll wager she’s wearing Bavydd’s clothes and riding one of her husband’s horses. It must have been her that the servants saw leave the dun last night.’
‘And she’s heading south for Cerrmor,’ Beryn snarled. ‘I’ll wager on that.’
‘Cerrmor?’ the gwerbret said. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Where else can she go?’ Beryn spoke so quietly that it was frightening. ‘Her wretched brother had a wife and children there, and Bavydd must have kin. I know my wife, Your Grace. She could fool the gods themselves when she gets to lying. But she’ll never reach Cerrmor. I swear it by the Lord of Hell himself. She’ll never reach it alive.’
Yelling for fresh horses, Beryn ran down the stairs. Although the gwerbret hurried after him, Dwaen hesitated, motioning to Jill and Rhodry to wait with him.
‘Think we’ll catch her?’ the tieryn said.
‘Who knows, my lord?’ Rhodry said. ‘She’s got a day’s start on us, but only one horse. Huh. I’ll wager she can steal others. I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘Not after this.’ Dwaen shuddered. ‘She must have been driven mad, the poor woman. Maybe she started hating her merchant, seeing him as the man who’d led her into these crimes or suchlike. The source of her dishonour, that kind of thing.’
‘His grace is much too kind,’ Jill broke in. ‘I’ll wager she wanted to save her own skin and naught more. But she hasn’t ridden south.’
The men turned to stare at her. Rhodry was struck by how odd she looked, pale, yes, as might be expected, but cold sweat beaded her forehead, and her eyes stared across the room as if she were seeing someone standing there. When Rhodry glanced, he could see no one.
‘Jill, what do you mean?’ Dwaen said. ‘How do you know?’
She shook her head, on the verge of trembling. ‘I don’t know how I know, Your Grace, but I do know. We can ride south all we want, but we won’t find her.’
In the event, Jill was proved right, but they did take a prize of sorts. The gwerbret left Tieryn Dwaen and Lord Cadlew behind to keep order at the dun, then rode out with Lord Beryn and a token escort from his personal warband. Rhodry went with them to bring back a report for the tieryn. In the blue twilight they trotted fast down a dirt road and headed for the forest preserve where Beryn had his hunting lodge. By the time they reached the forest edge night had fallen, forcing Beryn to slow the line of march. Their only road was a winding track between old oaks.
‘I trust his lordship knows the trail,’ Coryc shouted.
‘Like a gamekeeper,’ Beryn called back. ‘It’s not far now.’
In a bit a faint glow appeared in the darkness ahead. Cursing under his breath, Beryn broke into a jog and headed straight for it. Rhodry kicked his tired horse and caught up just as they burst out into a clearing, wherein stood a long wooden building, half-house, half-shed. The glow came from its unshuttered windows, a pleasant firelight burning against the night’s chill. Out in front three men were yelling at each other as they frantically tried to saddle their horses; they’d been warned by the unmistakable clatter of riders coming their way. Screaming a warcry, Beryn drew his
