He saw that Chara was awake. She was lying quietly, staring at him. 'You feel rested?' he asked her.
'Yes.'
'Would you like some food?'
She sat up and nodded. Opening the canvas sack Kaelin produced two oatcake biscuits, sweetened with honey. He passed one to Chara. They ate in silence. There came a rustling in the undergrowth behind them. Kaelin wrenched a pistol from his belt and cocked it.
'It is just a fox,' said Chara.
'Yes,' he said, uncocking the Emburley and returning it to his belt. Chara ate two more biscuits, then lay back down. Within moments she was asleep again.
Kaelin waited until the dawn, then woke her. He did not touch her, but called her name softly. 'Time to be moving on,' he said.
She was stronger for her rest, and they made good progress for several hours. They moved warily, stopping often to listen for sounds of horsemen. By mid-morning they had reached high ground, where the trees were thinner. It was unlikely that any beetlebacks would be this high, but Kaelin remained cautious. Colonel Ranaud would stop at nothing to recapture Chara Jace, and there were thousands of men at his disposal. He knew that Chara would try to make it home, and this would give him an advantage. No matter how circuitous the route Chara and Kaelin would have to emerge by the pass.
When they stopped to eat by a stream Kaelin asked Chara if there were any other routes into Rigante territory.
'No. The mountains cut away for a hundred miles, then curve towards the sea.'
Throughout their rest Cha'ra volunteered no other conversation. She would reply if spoken to, but apart from that merely sat, her eyes fixed on some distant point. Kaelin knew instinctively that this was not the time to talk of her ordeal, but he tried to find some other means of drawing her out.
'Why did you leave Rigante lands?' he asked at last.
She looked at him, and he saw the anger in her eyes. 'Wullis Swainham told me you were sick. He said you had a fever and were like to die.'
'Why would he say that?' asked Kaelin, surprised.
She looked away for a moment. 'He sold himself to the beetlebacks,' she said.
'He gave you up for money?'
'No. For revenge. I do not want to talk about it.' Chara turned towards him. 'Let me have one of your pistols and a knife.'
'You do not intend to harm yourself?'
'Harm myself? What are you talking about?'
'I knew of a woman once who, after she was . . . attacked . . . killed herself.'
Chara laughed then, but it was not a merry sound. 'I will not harm myself, Kaelin. If there is justice at all in the world I will one day meet Wullis Swainham again. And I will kill him.'
Kaelin drew one of the Emburleys and passed it to her. 'It pulls a little to the left,' he said. Then he gave her one of his knives.
'I need to wash,' she said. 'I stink of beetlebacks.'
'The stream will be cold,' he warned her.
'I expect so.' She made no move to undress, and Kaelin found the silence uncomfortable.
'Are you not going to bathe now?' he asked.
'Would you turn your back?' she said. The words stunned him.
'Turn? Why? I have seen you naked before. You told me I was Varlish-tainted because I was embarrassed by your body.'
'Well now I am Varlish-tainted,' she said softly. 'And no man will ever see me naked again.'
Kaelin said nothing for a moment. 'I will scout a little and be back in a while,' he said sadly.
Then he strode away towards the west.
Ranaud's fury raged for most of the morning. The bodies of the guards in the gatehouse had not been discovered until just before dawn when the relief sentries arrived. Ranaud himself had been jerked from sleep by someone pounding on his door. It was the young officer in charge of the Night Watch.
'What the hell is it, man? Are we under attack?’
‘No, sir. Two gatehouse guards were killed in the night.’
‘What?'
'They were stabbed and stripped of their armour, sir.' Ranaud's sleep-befuddled brain tried to make sense of the attack. What was the point of such an enterprise? Moving to his bedside table he poured a goblet of watered uisge and drained half of it. The spirit flowed like fire in his throat. 'No-one else was attacked?' he asked.
'No, sir.'
'It makes no sense.' Ranaud climbed into his leggings and pulled on his boots. Why would the attackers want the guards' armour? The answer was obvious. To pass unobserved within the barracks and the keep. Were they here to assassinate him? Ranaud strapped on his sword belt. No. Had it been a murder attempt they would have found him long before the dawn. What then was the purpose? Suddenly he swore. 'Has anyone been to the dungeons, lieutenant?'
'The dungeons, sir?' replied the man, shocked.
'You idiot!' stormed Ranaud, pushing past the man and heading for the stairs. The startled officer followed him. Soldiers were milling outside the mess hall. Ranaud ordered three of them to follow him and ran downstairs.
The lantern in the dungeon corridor had guttered and died. All was dark and silent. Ranaud ordered a soldier to fetch another lantern and waited on the stairs. When the man returned he eased past his colonel, holding aloft the light. It shone on the two corpses, and the blood which had flowed across the floor.
'Check the cells,' ordered Ranaud, knowing that Chara Jace would not be there.
Filled with cold fury he swung on the young officer. 'You were in charge of the Night Watch?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Tell me, lieutenant, do you have friends in high places?'
'No, sir.'
'Are you noble born, or rich?'
'No, sir.'
'Then you are dead, you pitiful wretch! You'll hang later. Take this man and lock him in a cell,' he told the soldiers. Pushing past the doomed officer he strode upstairs. Outside the mess hall he ordered the men there to wake every soldier in the barracks and gather reports from everyone who had come into the fortress during the night hours. Back in his room he washed and shaved, then walked into his office to wait.
Within a short time a second officer appeared at his door. He knew the man. A career soldier from Eldacre, a solid if unimaginative officer named Bardoe Jaekel. The lieutenant saluted.
'I believe I saw the killers, sir,' he said.
'One of your brother officers will hang today for dereliction of duty, Jaekel. This story of yours might see you swing alongside him.'
'Yes, sir, I understand that,' answered the man.
'Go on then.'
'Just after midnight I returned to the barracks, in the company of several men from my squad. We were met at the gates by a young sentry who demanded the password. This was entirely correct. When I gave it he opened the gates. I questioned him, for I had not seen him before. He told me he was with the Fifth, under Lieutenant Langhorne. I had no reason to suspect him. He had followed the orders you yourself laid down. I did seek out Prelling to question him about the use of southern units, but I could not find him and decided to wait until morning. It was a bad mistake.'
'Prelling?'
'The man you are to hang, sir.'
'Yes. Describe the guard you saw.'
'He was young, sir, not yet twenty I would say. Tall. He had a scar on his face.'
Ranaud swore loudly. 'Kaelin Ring,' he said.
'Sir?'
'He runs Ironlatch Farm. He is betrothed to Chara Jace. Lieutenant Langhorne and sections of the Fifth are stationed there. Send out riders to the west. Give them a description of Ring and the girl.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And send Wullis Swainham to me.'
Bardoe Jaekel saluted and left the office. Minutes later Wullis Swainham tapped at the open door. Ranaud gestured the turncoat clansman inside, but did not offer him a seat. He looked into the man's small eyes. 'You have heard?'
'She is gone,' said Swainham. Ranaud could smell the fear upon the stocky, red-bearded Rigante.
'Aye, she is gone. If she gets to Call Jace he wi
ll hear of your infamy. One wonders how far you will have to go to escape Rigante vengeance, Wullis. I understand rape is considered a heinous crime among the clans - though for the life of me I cannot understand why.'
'You promised to protect me,' said Swainham, a whine appearing in his voice.
'First you must protect yourself. Ring and the girl are on foot. They will not head west. Too much open country. They will have gone south, and then cut north-west through the forest. You are a tracker, are you not?'
'Yes,' answered Swainham miserably.
'Then track them. Find them. Kill Ring and bring me the girl.'
‘I’ll need some men.'
'No, no. You clansmen are hardy and used to rough travel. You will catch them the sooner if you are alone. Do this, Swainham, and I will give you ten pounds more so that you can travel south and find a new life.'
'You said I would become clan chief of the Rigante, once Call was dead. You said I would be an important man in your new administration.'
Ranaud shook his head. 'That was when your .. . valuable work for me was secret. It is likely that, before this day is out, word of your deeds will be spreading throughout Black Mountain. Even when we have crushed Jace there will be those left alive who will stop at nothing to see you dead. Sadly, Swainham, a traitor is never popular - even among those with most to gain from such treachery. I will furnish you with pistols and a good mountain horse. Find their trail. Find them.'
Swainham stood for a moment, then backed away towards the door.
'Oh, and Swainham,' said Ranaud, with a cold smile. 'If it should cross your mind just to ride south I shall have you declared a horse thief and an outlaw. Then my soldiers, and the soldiers of the Moidart in the south, will hunt you down.'
Like all truly weak men Wullis Swainham saw life through a distorting mirror. Wiser men, whose ideas and philosophies soared over his head like geese departing for winter, were all talk and no action, lacking common sense. Brave men, who risked their lives for the clan, were foolish and needlessly reckless. Wullis saw his cowardice as intelligent caution, and his failure to advance himself in the ranks of the Rigante as evidence of the jealousy of his peers. Most especially Call Jace.
Oh, yes, Jace above all.
He had not betrayed Call Jace. Call Jace had betrayed him.
The thoughts of Wullis Swainham, as he rode his horse along the southern road, were full of bitterness. His keen eyes soon spotted where the fleeing Kaelin Ring and Chara Jace had left the road, and he turned his mount after them. The dawn sun was clear of the eastern mountains now and Wullis urged his horse up the long slope towards the trees.
Dismounting, he led the horse into the forest, tethering the reins to a jutting branch. Scanning the ground, he soon found the spot where the two had rested. Wullis turned his eyes towards the west. How long had they lingered here? The undergrowth ahead was thick and dense. It was likely, therefore, that Kaelin Ring had decided to wait for dawn. If that were the case then the southerner and Chara were only a little way ahead. Certainly no more than a mile.
The horse would be useless in this terrain. Wullis left it tethered and began to follow the tracks.
As he moved he found himself thinking of Call Jace, and the anguish he would suffer when he learned of the fate of his daughter. These were pleasing thoughts - though it would be more satisfying if the man could know exactly why he had earned such suffering.
Almost two years ago Wullis had gone to Jace. Wearing his best cloak and leggings, and carrying an offering of an embossed hunting knife, he had asked for the hand of Chara Jace. The girl was almost of marriageable age, and Wullis believed she had some feelings for him. Not that she had said anything, but he could see it in her eyes when she looked at him.
Jace had listened politely as Wullis delivered his carefully worked out speech. Then he had begun to laugh. The sound tore through Wullis Swainham, and he stood blinking and confused before his chieftain.
'Ah, Wullis,' said Call Jace, as his laughter finally subsided, 'that was a rich jest. Who put you up to it? Was it Bael? Rayster?'
'Jest, lord? I don't understand.'
All humour faded from Call Jace's eyes. 'Not a jest? Are you insane then, Wullis? What could possibly have led you to believe that I would allow my only daughter to wed a timid man? No, no.
Put this nonsense from your mind. By heaven, Wullis, a man should at least understand his limitations. You are a fine tracker, but you have the heart of a corn mouse. Now let us say no more about this matter.'
The heart of a corn mouse. The words still clung to his soul.
Well, the corn mouse had been among the men who deflowered his precious Chara. The corn mouse had seen three of Call's best scouts taken by the beetlebacks. Now the corn mouse would kill Kaelin Ring, and bring Chara back to the fortress. And he would be there when the great Call Jace was dragged to the executioner's block. Call Jace would live to rue the day he had spoken so scathingly.
Wullis moved swiftly through the undergrowth, following the tracks. The southerner was not taking any pains to disguise their passage. He also noted that Chara's smaller prints showed occasional scuff marks as her feet dragged. She was exhausted. As well she might be, he thought. She'll be more exhausted yet by the time I've finished with her, he decided.
Wullis thought of Kaelin Ring. His hatred of the southerner was intense. He had watched with awe the fight with Bael, but then he had seen Chara run to him, taking his arm, and staring up at him with undisguised adoration. The sight had sickened him to the depths of his being.
It would be good indeed to stand over his body, to make Chara stare into his dead eyes.
Wullis came to a rise before a sharp dip. He paused, kneeling behind some bushes. Down below a group of hunters were gathered around a fire. Wullis saw that the tracks of Kaelin and Chara moved away towards the south. They were seeking to avoid the men below. Wullis had no such need. With luck, if he took the straight path, he would be ahead of them.
Moving down the slope he passed the camp fire, waving to the men seated there. They waved back and then ignored him. He clambered up the opposite slope and began to move with great care, pausing often to listen and scan the surrounding trees. He had no wish to be surprised by Kaelin Ring, nor to get into a sword fight with him. What he wanted was to find a good place for an ambush.
Then he spotted them. They were sitting beside a wide, shallow stream. Wullis ducked down and began to crawl through the undergrowth. Painstakingly, moving inch by inch, he came closer. Now he was within fifteen paces of them. Drawing his borrowed pistols he eased back the hammers. All he needed to do was to rear up and blast the life from Kaelin Ring. Just then Kaelin rose to his feet and walked away towards the west. Wullis swore.
Chara swung her head to watch Kaelin leave, then climbed out of her clothes and waded into the stream. There was blood on her face, and her body was badly bruised. Even so she was still beautiful, the sun glinting on her red-gold hair. She sat down in the stream and washed, then lay flat on her back, allowing the water to slide over her.
Wullis lay very still. Where in the seven hells had Kaelin gone? His hands were slippery with sweat. Carefully putting down the pistols, he rubbed his palms on his leggings.
Chara rose from the water and returned to her clothes. She sat down, and Wullis saw she was weeping. He could not hear her above the rushing of the stream, but he could see her shoulders heaving as she bent double, her face in her hands. Blame your father for this, he thought. Blame Call Jace for what you have been through.
At last the weeping ended and Chara donned her torn shirt and leggings. Then she sat, hugging her knees and staring out over the mountains. Wullis waited patiently, his pistols ready. Kaelin Ring emerged from the trees and strolled down to the water's edge. He squatted down. Wullis cursed softly, for Chara was now in the line of fire. Moving carefully to his knees, the clansman lifted the pistols.
Kaelin Ring stood and moved away to Chara's left. Wullis surged to his feet.
Kaelin saw him. He should have been rooted in shock. Instead he dropped to one knee just as Wullis fired his first shot, and the ball sailed over his head. Steadying himself, Wullis readjusted his aim. Kaelin Ring had drawn his pistol. Panic touched Wullis then and he shot too fast. Kaelin's pistol boomed. The ball smashed into Wullis's chest, searing into his lungs. He staggered. All he knew in that moment was that he had to run, to get away. He heard his name called. His gaze flicked to Chara Jace. She was wading through the stream towards him. In her hand was a silver pistol. Wullis felt his strength ebbing away. She was closer now.
'Not my fault,' he said, backing into a tree.
The pistol came up. Liquid fire tore through his groin and he screamed in pain, and fell writhing to the ground. Chara dropped the Emburley and lifted her knife. Kaelin Ring ran alongside her, grabbing her arm. 'Leave him,' Wullis heard him say.
'He has to suffer more,' shouted Chara.
'Believe me, he will. But if you do this you will always regret it. I know. It will stain you for ever.'
'I am already stained.'
'There is a difference. The horrors you suffered were perpetrated by evil men. Do this and the horror will be on your soul and yours alone.'
Wullis heard this through a sea of pain. He thought it could get no worse. But the fire flared higher into his belly and his body spasmed. He twisted on the ground, drawing his knees up towards his abdomen. The skin split and his entrails bulged against his shirt.
Opening his eyes he saw Chara and Kaelin wading back across the stream. And all he could do to stem the pain was to scream . . .
And scream.
The death of Parsis Feld, the Eldacre forge owner, caused quite a stir in the town. A married man with three sons, and a doting wife, his heart gave out while he was being 'entertained' in the town's most illustrious brothel. Yet even this news was dwarfed by the revelations that followed. The Varlish community reacted with astonishment when it was learned that forty per cent of Parsis Feld's business empire was in fact owned by a highland woman.