her. Restful, without the weight of the world on her shoulders. He gathered his sword and the spear Idris had given him before slipping silently from the hut.
To his surprise, Gerwyn was waiting outside, leaning against the wall close to the door, bow held loosely in one hand. Judging from the dew that glistened on his cloak, he had been there for some time, since before sunrise, waiting for Dodinal to emerge. He had a pack over one shoulder and a quiver bristling with arrows over the other. When the knight stepped out, he straightened and cleared his throat nervously. “How is Rhiannon?”
“Asleep,” Dodinal said shortly, setting off for the gates, not only because he was anxious to make a start but also to draw the other man away from the hut so their voices would not disturb her.
“Good.” Gerwyn hurried after him. “I… I wanted to apologise.”
“You should be apologising to Rhiannon, not me.”
“I will, the next time I see her. But I didn’t just mean about last night, though I admit I spoke out of turn. If you want to know, I am ashamed of myself. I’ve been less than courteous to you since you arrived. My behaviour has been unforgivable. Even so, I hope you will forgive me.” He shrugged helplessly. “Give me a second chance.”
Dodinal pondered this as he passed the remains of the Great Hall. It was a charred wreck: the roof gone, the walls reduced to the blackened bones of their frames. The air around was still rank with the acrid stink of burning. Would anyone have the heart to rebuild it now that Idris was dead?
He had no reason to trust Gerwyn, but the man sounded sincere enough. Of course, he was now aware of what had transpired while he was away hunting. Perhaps the shock of losing his father had rattled him sufficiently to bring him to his senses. If so, it was encouraging. There could yet be hope that Gerwyn had it within him to one day follow his father as
“I forgive you,” Dodinal answered flatly, hoping that was the end of it and he could be on his way. He had a long journey ahead.
“Really?” Gerwyn sounded almost pathetically grateful.
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You really don’t mind if we travel together?”
Dodinal halted and glared down at the younger man, who defiantly stood his ground. “I said I forgave you, nothing more. Anyway, what makes you think I am going anywhere?”
Gerwyn raised an eyebrow. “You creep out of here at dawn with sword and spear, and expect me to believe you’re not leaving?”
“I could be going hunting, for all you know.”
“But you’re not. You’re going after them, aren’t you? Owain and the girl, and those… whatever they were, that took them.”
There was no point pretending otherwise. “Yes, I’m going after them. Thank you for your offer, but I prefer to travel alone.”
“If you will not let me walk with you, I will follow.” Gerwyn had a determined set to his jaw. His voice was hoarse with emotion. “My father is dead because of those things. Rhiannon was right. I should have been here. That’s something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I cannot change what has happened, but I can at least try to make amends by revenging his death.”
“A man who thirsts for vengeance grows to despise himself.” Dodinal could not disguise his bitterness. “Believe me. I know that all too well.”
“It’s not just about vengeance,” Gerwyn insisted, his hands becoming as animated as they had been when he talked his father into letting him go hunting. “Owain is my brother’s son. He is blood kin. I may not show it as openly as my father did, but I care for him a great deal. Go ahead, leave alone, if that is what you want. I will not be far behind you and you cannot stop me.”
Dodinal raised his eyes to the brightening sky and sighed long and hard. He could stop him if he wanted to. But even if he knocked Gerwyn down, he would just get back up again. He was a man on a quest of his own now. There would be no standing in his way.
“Why don’t you wait until after your father’s funeral?”
“My reasons are similar to yours. You want to be gone before Rhiannon wakes, because of your feelings for her.”
“I have no feelings for her,” Dodinal interrupted testily, the words sounding false even to his own ears. He turned and walked away. Again Gerwyn pursued him.
“Yes, you do. She has feelings for you, too. It’s clear to see. That is why you leave while she sleeps: if she were to walk out here now, you would have second thoughts.”
“No, I would not,” Dodinal said, although he wondered if, despite having sworn to find her son, his resolve would falter if she did come hurrying after him. “Besides, you still have not answered my question. Why won’t you wait until after your father’s funeral?”
“Because I would be shamed to stand among the villagers while they paid their last respects.” Gerwyn dropped his head. “I do not deserve to be here, not until I have redeemed myself by bringing Owain home. I could not bring myself to look Rhiannon in the eye.”
Dodinal studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity or duplicity and finding none. Short of killing him, there was no shaking him off for now. Gerwyn may be an ass, but he did not deserve Dodinal’s sword run through him. Fine, then. Let them walk together, if that was how it had to be. Dodinal could always lose him in the wildwood if he began to get on his nerves. “All right.”
Gerwyn smiled. He went to speak, but Dodinal forestalled him. “As long as you keep your mouth shut. If you annoy me any more than you have done, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
He lifted the sword half out of his sheath, then let it drop back.
The smile faltered. When they passed through the gates, Dodinal understood why.
Waiting for them were Gerwyn’s two friends, the brothers whose names he still did not know. They carried spears and had swords in their belts. Like Gerwyn they had packs as well as bows, and quivers, bristling with arrows. There, too, was Hywel the tracker, and with him was Emlyn, who had the surest aim of all the village’s hunters. Both men were armed and carrying packs of their own.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, although the meaning was all too apparent. They had planned it well in advance.
“You were prepared to travel in company,” Gerwyn answered, flashing his teeth in a nervous grin. “So what difference does it make if one man travels with you or several? You have nothing but the clothes you stand in and the weapons you hold. You could not even start a fire. Between us, we have everything an expedition needs. Well, except food. But we will hunt. We will not go hungry.”
Dodinal doubted that, but otherwise Gerwyn’s words rang true. Having lost his pack, he was woefully equipped for the journey.
“Besides,” Hywel said, looking somewhat sheepish, “Idris was our
“Then it’s decided,” Gerwyn said. “There is safety in numbers. We will be safer as a group than we would be going it alone.”
Dodinal’s grumbles were half-hearted. He really had intended travelling alone, but had not rated his chances of success very highly. He was just one man. The creatures had torn through the village. Twenty dead, almost a third of them women, many more badly injured.
The odds were still against him, but not, now, quite as heavily as they might otherwise have been.
“Well, seeing as you’re all here, we might as well set off,” he growled. Giving Gerwyn a last baleful look, he also saw a way of turning the situation to his advantage. If the young man did make it back with the children, the villagers would doubtless be less reluctant for Gerwyn to take over from Idris. So he leant forward to whisper to Gerwyn. “I’ll track, you lead. Show these men you have the courage to become
Gerwyn jerked his head back in surprise. Then he nodded.
As they set off towards the forest, Dodinal paused to look back at the sleeping village. He was struck by a sudden premonition he would never pass this way again.
