‘Don’t think that you can run, you wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of me.’ From the bracken there was a sob.
‘Tomaz!’ Iwa cried, but a jab from the spear forced her on. ‘He’s only a baby,’ she pleaded, but her captor took no notice. ‘You can’t leave him here, he’s no danger to anybody.’ Behind her there was the sound of tearing wood and roots and the crying of a baby. Only then was she allowed to stop. ‘More dead than alive,’ Greybeard muttered, as he handed the wailing child to her, ‘and hardly worth the keeping,’ he added, as she scooped the tiny bundle into her arms. ‘Be sure to get back to the others sharpish,’ he nodded in the direction of the ridge. ‘I don’t want to find you taking your ease back at camp, or else Fang will have something to say about it, and you’d not like the sharpness of his tongue.’
With that, the man gave her a savage prod and she was marched forward, her feet stumbling across the ground, too numb to notice her pain. They took the long way round, that old fur trappers’ path that wound through the woods and took them in a wide arc round the reed beds.
So they haven’t discovered all the paths. She took little comfort from that. She was too numb to even think of escape, hardly noticing when her captor stopped.
‘Come, let us rest awhile,’ he said, but she kept on, not bothering to look back. She was too tired to do anything but carry on, one numb footstep after another. At least Tomaz had stopped with his crying, too weary to move. Please, she uttered a silent prayer to Karnobog, do not let him die in my arms, not now.
‘Why so coy?’ The man caught up with her. They were by a copse of aspens. Iwa recognised the place. The camp was only a little further away, but this was one of the less used paths, overgrown with bracken and roots.
‘You must be tired,’ he continued. This time Iwa stopped and felt the tip of the spear dip under the hem of her dress. ‘You’re a sulky one and no mistake,’ he continued as he raised the spear. ‘But I bet there’s a fine figure hidden under all those clothes.’
‘Won’t Greybeard be angry?’ she murmured. She would have run but there was nowhere to run to. Suddenly she felt totally alone, the weight of baby Tomaz bearing down on her arms.
‘Him?’ the older man scoffed as he came forward, dragging the tip of his spear along her thigh. He was at her back now, so close that she could smell the hot odour of his sweat, the rank stench of unwashed quilting that pressed under his ill-fitted armour. ‘Who am I to take orders from one such as him?’
‘You must be a very brave woyak indeed. Did you slaughter many of my people as they slept?’
His free hand may have been mangled but he struck her all the same, the blow ringing through her. He let the spear fall as his hand slipped beneath her clothes to skirt round her thigh.
‘There, that’s better.’ His voice was soft now. ‘You’re one of these forest people. I bet you know a dozen nooks and crannies where we might be alone.’ He didn’t wait for a reply, his body pressing against her as he forced her from the path. ‘How many times have you been with a man?’ She was forced up against a tree as the weight of him pressed into her back. ‘How many of those woodland scum have had the taste of you.’
‘There are none that are as rank as you.’ This time he ignored the insult, his good hand feeling between her legs.
‘They say the clans of the forest are born as bitches in heat. Shall we see the truth of that?’
‘What about Fang?’ She could do little more than mumble. ‘Or do you want to catch the edge of his tongue?’
‘I would not worry over that,’ he said as he pressed into her, his good hand feeling round her as the side of her face was pushed hard against the bark. In her arms baby Tomaz began to wail ‘You look like one who’s had more than her share,’ the woyak whispered into her ear. ‘Would you deny Eber his rations, after you have had so many, or are you a virgin? Is that it, have you saved yourself for dear old Eber?’
There seemed to be nothing she could say or do as he leant forward. ‘You should get back to the others,’ she managed, but he ignored her.
‘All in good time, my sweet. They can do without old Eder for a while.’
He reached between her legs. Suddenly there was a crash. Deeper in the forest something moved. Instinctively he drew back, his good hand fumbling for his spear.
If only it’d been one of the hunters. They would have killed him easily, gutted him, squealing like a suckling pig for all his armour.
‘Grunmir?’ he called out. There was another crack as a loose branch tumbled into the undergrowth. But the man was clearly unnerved. Maybe some of the hunters had managed to escape into the woods after all. Or there could be boar or wolves about.
He didn’t say anything as Iwa walked back to the path.
‘Are you coming?’ She shot him a look of contempt before she turned and carried on down the path. ‘Hush now,’ she turned to the baby in her arms. ‘There’s nothing to fear.’ But her voice held no conviction and the baby continued to cry.
Chapter Three
It was past noon before they arrived, Eber trailing behind and casting
