The Savage Knight

the village’s food but had no problem with the village eating his.

Neither had Dodinal’s gift softened his disdain. Gerwyn would not speak directly to him, and scowled whenever Dodinal spoke. There was no doubt he was still fuming at being humiliated in front of his friends. Dodinal did not care. He had friends of his own now.

It was starting to feel like home.

Villagers gathered around the table or sat with their backs against the walls, basking in the heat of the fires, laughing as they picked meat from their teeth. At first they had been nervous in Dodinal’s presence, but as the evening wore on and ale had flowed, they had slowly relaxed around him. Many even thanked him for what he had done. The children regarded him with outright reverence. A few adults plucked up the courage to ask questions, but Idris shooed them away. Looking around the hut, Dodinal was in good spirits. He had helped to lift these people’s hearts, for a while. Tomorrow they would return to their relentless struggle. Spring had still not arrived

“So, then,” Idris bellowed, leaning forward as though his voice was not already loud enough to ring in Dodinal’s ears. “When will you hunt next, my friend? Now we have the taste of fresh meat in our mouths, we hunger for more. Oh, and next time I will come with you. Between us we can carry more than you can manage alone.”

Dodinal’s expression was doubtful. “There is still little game to be found. I was lucky. The deer was lame. We might have to travel days, weeks possibly, before we find more.”

“Then we travel for weeks or days.”

“And if the storm returns?” Dodinal challenged. “No man could survive those conditions, not without fire and shelter. If we are caught in another blizzard, it would be the end of us.”

“It could well be the end of us if we do nothing.”

Idris was determined not to give up without a fight. Dodinal wondered what he could say to convince him to abandon the idea, when Rhiannon spoke up.

“You should listen to him.” She was seated across from Idris, Owain at her side. The boy had his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. He looked lost in his thoughts. “Remember how close he was to death when we found him? Dodinal is a man who has spent much of his life in the wilderness. He knows what he’s talking about. If he has concerns, you would be wise to heed them.”

“Siding with the stranger over your own brehyrion?” Gerwyn asked, his mouth curled into a sneer.

Rhiannon’s blue eyes flashed. “Stop behaving like a child. It is not a question of siding with anyone. It’s common sense.”

“You’re right, as always,” Idris boomed, laughing with indulgent affection. “We have enough supplies to see us through the next few weeks and surely by then this bloody winter will be over.”

His mood was more optimistic than it had been when he had walked Dodinal back to the hut.

“And if it isn’t?” Gerwyn demanded.

Dodinal drained the last of his ale and put the beaker down on the table. “If it isn’t, then I will go south alone. Better to risk the life of one man than the lives of many. If there is any game to be found in this forest, I will find it and bring it to you.”

Gerwyn made a dismissive gesture and turned away.

They talked a while longer, and then, one by one, the villagers said their farewells and drifted off to their homes. It was dark. The air was already cruelly sharp. Everyone wanted to be wrapped up in furs around their fires before it got any colder.

Dodinal yawned. “I will take my leave. It has been a long day.”

“You are welcome to stay.” Idris placed a hand on Dodinal’s arm. “Surely it must get lonely, spending so much time in that hut.”

For a moment Dodinal was tempted. Then he shook his head. “Solitude suits some people, and I am one of them. I like to be alone with my thoughts.” Realising that sounded as though he did not want their company, he quickly added: “And you would not like my snoring!”

As he got up from the chair he saw Owain gazing at him, head cocked, just as he had done before the wolves attacked. The hound dropped the bone and raised its head to look intently at the door. There was someone outside. The mastiff gathered itself and leapt to its feet, a growl rumbling in its throat.

“What’s wrong with him?” Gerwyn asked, sounding more irritated than concerned.

Dodinal glanced at Idris and nodded towards the door, an unspoken thought passing between them. Trouble.

The knight had left both sword and spear in Rhiannon’s hut, thinking he would have no need of them. It was too late to be concerned about that; he would have to make do with what he had.

“Stay here,” he said. Idris started to protest, but Dodinal waved him silent. There were no wild beasts outside, he knew that much. Men, then. If there were intruders in the village, Dodinal would need to move quickly, without Idris getting in his way. Should the rage overwhelm him, he would not differentiate between friend and foe.

He moved swiftly to the door and pulled it open. The hound growled louder, snarling, but staying at Idris’s side. Dodinal had encountered knights who were less disciplined.

He stood in the doorway and looked around. The sky was clear, the moon a polished coin. Stars glittered coldly. The village was a patchwork of silver and shadow. A faint voice called out from somewhere within the dense wall of trees beyond the palisade.

Dodinal glanced back into the hut towards Idris. “It could be trouble or nothing at all. I’ll go and look. Give me fifteen minutes; if I have not returned by then, gather your best men and take arms.”

“I will come with you,” the chieftain offered.

“Stay here. I can move quickly and quietly. They will not even know I’m there. Don’t worry, if I need your help I’ll call for it.”

“Be careful,” Rhiannon said, and Dodinal nodded and stepped outside.

As ever, he was soundless as he drifted across the deserted village. Dodinal eased through the broken palisade and hurried across the clearing until the black maw of the forest devoured him. He heard the echoing voice again, this time near enough for him to be certain it was a man calling out. If these were intruders, they were not especially bright. Even a child would know to keep one’s voice down while closing on a foe.

A twig snapped, unnaturally loud in the hushed woodland. Now Dodinal knew the man’s exact location. But was he the vanguard of an invading force or just someone lost, blundering through the cold, dark forest in the hope of finding shelter?

Dodinal had not travelled far when he saw a man, short and stocky, staggering through the trees towards him. The moonlight was bright enough to show he was alone. The man called out. When Dodinal shouted back, he jumped in shock and stumbled to a halt.

“Stay where you are.”

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice shaking either with nerves or cold, or possibly both.

“I would ask that same question,” Dodinal answered, stepping forward so the man could see him. The stranger took an involuntary step back, his arms flailing for balance.

“Are you alone?” the knight demanded.

“Yes, yes, I swear. Please, I intend no trouble.”

“Then why are you here? It is hardly the place or the time of year for a midnight stroll.”

“I am searching for the brehyrion Idris. My people sent me to find him and seek his help. Do you know where his village is? If so, I beg you, take me there. I have not rested since daybreak.”

“Why do you need his help?”

The man clasped his hands together in supplication. “Please. I need to reach him while I still have the strength to walk.”

“Are you armed?”

“Yes.” The man approached Dodinal slowly. He withdrew his sword and dropped it to the ground, close to the knight’s feet, before backing away. “There. Now, please, take me to Idris.”

Dodinal stooped to pick up the sword. When he carefully ran his finger along its edge a thin red line appeared on his skin. The blade had not been especially well made, but it had been kept sharp. The stocky man had been expecting trouble. “Very well.” Dodinal sucked blood from his finger. “Stay ahead, where I can