‘I can’t undo them, they’re too tight.’
‘Then cut them. Please, Annest, in the name of pity.’ Suddenly she was sobbing.
‘Oh please, don’t cry. You’ll wake Madoc,’ Annest said unhappily. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Cut the ropes around my ankles. I can’t escape if my hands are still tied; and anyway I can’t walk with my injured leg, you know that.’ Madoc snorted and shifted his position on the far side of the bakestone. They held their breath. Almost at once his snores began again, softer now, muffled by his arm.
‘He’ll see. In the morning, he’ll see I’ve helped you. He’ll beat me.’
‘He won’t see if we burn the cut ropes, and he won’t remember what he did after all that drink anyway. Oh, please.’ Rhonwen closed her eyes as another wave of pain hit her. ‘Have you got a knife?’
Annest nodded, reached into her girdle and pulled out a small knife. With a glance across the embers at her sleeping husband, she began to saw at Rhonwen’s bonds. It took what seemed like an age to cut through the bands around her ankles. The knife was blunt and the rope had tightened deep into her flesh, but at last it gave and with a groan Rhonwen was able to straighten a little. ‘Here, again, cut this one too.’ Her lower lip bled with the effort not to cry out in pain.
‘I don’t know if I should…’
‘Of course you should. Go on, otherwise he will see. The rope is not yet free.’ She felt the blood flowing back into her wrists as the knots loosened.
‘You won’t do anything – ’
‘I have already told you that.’
In another moment she would be free. She eased her cramped body, feeling the brush of the girl’s long hair on her arms, smelling her unwashed skin.
‘Eh! What’s going on!’ Madoc’s shout was loud in the hut. With a terrified cry, Annest dropped the knife and jumped backwards almost into the fire.
‘You stupid bitch!’ Madoc staggered to his feet cursing. ‘What are you doing? Leave her alone! Do you want her to escape?’
As he lurched towards her Rhonwen grabbed with her bound hands for the knife Annest had dropped. She jerked herself up on to her knees as Madoc reached her and brought the knife up in one swift movement through his jerkin and under his ribs. He let out a howl of rage; his arms flailed and he staggered back as Annest cowered sobbing in the darkness.
‘Don’t come near me, you bastard son of a pig!’ Rhonwen breathed. She still had the knife, and the warm blood running down the blade told her it had found its target. ‘Don’t you ever come near me again.’ She held it, point out, towards him, marking him as he stumbled into the red-hot embers and fell on one knee near her. His hands were clutched to his middle and he had begun to breathe with harsh rasping sounds.
‘Bitch, bitch, bitch! Annest!
Gritting her teeth, Rhonwen sawed on as best she could, feeling first one then another strand of the rope loosen and snap. With one final frantic effort, it was done. The rope fell away and she was free. Grimly she forced her limbs to move, crouching, knife in hand, as she waited to see what Madoc was going to do.
His breath rasped in his throat as he hauled himself to his feet, feeling for the dagger at his belt. She saw its blade catch the light of a stray flame as he held it before him. ‘I’m going to get you, bitch! I’m going to deliver you to your family flayed and gutted!’
There was a wail of anguish from Annest. Neither gave her so much as a glance. Their eyes locked, they faced one another, knives before them. On the front of Madoc’s jerkin a slow stain, black in the dim firelight, was spreading downwards. He clutched his stomach and when he took his hand away it was wet with blood. ‘Bitch!’ he shouted again. ‘Bitch! I’m going to kill you for this!’ He coughed painfully.
Rhonwen was totally calm now, the knife handle alive in her hand. She caressed it, waiting. Everything depended on the next few moments. If she was ever to see Eleyne again, she had to win. Straightening a little, she took a step forward and saw the surprise in his eyes. She smiled as she saw that he was afraid. ‘The gods are with me, old man,’ she whispered, ‘you can’t kill me, you are already dead. See your lifeblood is leaking to the floor like so much rat’s piss.’
‘Annest!’ His voice was weaker now, piteous. ‘Annest, help me. Kill her- ’
Rhonwen side-stepped, her back against the wall. She could see Annest now. The girl had not moved.
‘She won’t help you, old man, she hates you. You have beaten her once too often,’ she said. ‘Look at the blood. Can’t you feel your life running away between your fingers? You leak like a sieve!’ She laughed softly.
He looked down and she heard him give a yelp of pain and fear. As if realising for the first time how badly he was hurt, he staggered and fell to his knees. ‘Die, old man, die!’ she said. There was something like elation in her voice. ‘See what happens to those who meddle with the will of the gods!’
‘No!’ Annest let out a scream. ‘No, you evil woman! He’s not going to die. He’s not.’ She hurled herself at Rhonwen, her fingers clawed. ‘Leave him alone, you witch!’
The two women grappled back and forth on the floor, then Annest fell back. With a little sigh, she collapsed at Rhonwen’s feet, the dagger in her heart.
Rhonwen narrowed her eyes. ‘Stupid child,’ she said quietly, ‘there was no need for you to die.’ She pulled the knife from the girl’s body with an effort and turned back to Madoc. ‘But there’s every need for your death, old man,’ she murmured, ‘you broke the rules of hospitality. And you defied the gods.’ She stepped towards him.
Madoc cringed, his strength almost gone, his hand still clutched to his belly, the other holding his dagger before him. He snarled like a cornered animal, lunging towards her with the weapon. She dodged back, almost losing her footing as a shaft of pain ran up her leg. Then she went at him again, slowly, holding his gaze, part of her uninvolved, astonished by her own lack of fear.
It was over in a moment. Her movement was too quick for him. He never saw the blade flash. He felt only for a moment the searing pain in his throat, then all went black.
For a long time Rhonwen stood without moving, then at last she dropped the dagger and walked to the doorway of the house. The mist had cleared, and in the east, over the rim of the mountains, the sky had lightened a little. The air was fresh and cold and blessedly clean. Somewhere nearby she could hear running water where she would be able to wash away the blood. She must purify herself with water, and the house with fire. Then she would go to Eleyne.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I
‘Your father is well again!’ John, followed by his hurrying train of attendants, carried the letter through to the still-room where Eleyne was supervising two of her women as they checked her supplies of herbs and medicines.
He thrust the letter into her hand with a smile. His face had grown thinner again and he looked very weary. He began to cough and she saw his hand pressed against his chest.
The letter was from her father’s steward. ‘The prince is much restored, the Lord be thanked. He can speak
