No, she would not think too much of a few bruises, nothing more than might be expected from a day in her hard life. In a way she was lucky. He’d heard of the Byzantine tortures and even seen more than one Moorish doctor turn his art down darker paths. And who could guess at Wislaw and his cunning should she ever fall into his hands? But he’d never had a liking for such things and they’d never came naturally to him.
Yet, as he glanced to the tree line and felt the first pricks of fear, a sense of urgency came upon him. Almost instinctively he felt his fingers twist through her hair so that she was brought up again. Whatever this girl knew, there was more to her than any of the others guessed at.
‘A girl with big eyes,’ he said, ‘a prying girl, a sneaking, hiding little girl with spying eyes.’ He threw her to the ground. Better to tease the truth from her, but he’d need to soften her up further. Perhaps he should hand her over to one of the others. There were many more versed in the administration of pain than him. ‘So what have you been saying to your friends in the forest? Have you come to spy on us, little Bignica?’
She tried to speak; her lips trembled but the words wouldn’t come. The woyaks gathered around, spear tips pointed down to her, each hoping that the old woyak would leave her to their mercies. ‘I hope you aren’t going to disappoint me with lies,’ he added almost casually. ‘I have often wondered how the hunters manage to raid our camp so easily, slipping so freely past our guards. Before, I’d always put it down to their own laxity; that and the vodka they swill down their throats when my back is turned.’ He shot a vicious glance across his shoulder and saw the others slink back. ‘But maybe the vodka is not the only reason,’ he continued, turning back to her. ‘Perhaps the hunters have a little help, a little help from a little girl.’
‘Please,’ she managed. ‘I have to get back to my father.’
‘Please. Please is good, little girl: the sooner you start to plead, the sooner you’ll start to talk.’
There was a pause as Iwa looked into Grunmir’s face and wondered what kind of lie would get her out of this. Carefully she opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words. From the corner of her eye she saw one of the woyaks aim a spear, the tip thrust towards her, but, hardly bothering to look, Grunmir brushed the blow aside.
‘I said talk, you idiot. We need this one alive.’
‘They killed Swen,’ the woyak sulked. ‘Gunnar too.’
‘And I’ll kill you if I have any more foolishness out of you. Do you think that girl could kill anyone, let alone a woyak, even one as vodka-sodden as Swen? But she knows our enemy, she knows their plans and their hiding places.’ He looked round at the group to make sure that they understood. ‘The sooner she talks, the better for us.’
‘But I don’t know anything,’ Iwa said.
‘That would be a pity for you, little Rusalka, but somehow I don’t believe you. Now let us go down to the camp,’ he smiled, ‘and then you will tell your good friend Grunmir all he needs to know.’
‘But the hunters hate me, probably even more than you do. They’ve branded me a witch and left me to die.’
‘So you have been talking with the hunters, then?’ How much did she know? Even now he was unsure. The girl could be telling the truth and there was little time to waste. Even in daylight the forest wasn’t safe. Not that any of the hunters could have stood up to him or his men in open combat, but they were crafty and the forest belonged to them.
Around him the shadows darkened. Then the real danger would come. The woyaks huddled in closer. Nobody wanted to be caught in the forest by night even this close to camp. He could feel their fear, the kind of dread that could drive a man to all kinds of stupidity.
They were too young, without the hard teaching of warcraft to temper them. One sign of danger and they’d be ready to scamper back to camp. Somehow he had to keep them alive, not the easiest of prospects. If only he had some of the old comrades about him, hardened men who knew their trade and wouldn’t scare so easily.
He was tired of bringing up boys who weren’t his. This demon has them jumping at leaves. But at the fall of night, when he heard that demon’s dread call, then the terror would come upon him too. No one was immune, when death could come so unnaturally. But, even then, in the midst of the tumult, his courage would not fail. He’d seen too much of war and death.
‘So what about these hunters then?’
‘They threw me in a bear pit,’ she said, already regretting that she’d mentioned them at all, but it was too late. If only she hadn’t been so scared, and now she was in more trouble.
‘Then you owe them nothing.’ Grunmir patted her shoulder.
‘I can’t tell you anything,’ she pleaded and looked into his eyes, desperate to find a trace of understanding.
‘And I had hoped for such a long conversation. You are one for slithering, little Rusalka, and I’ll bet you see so much. If only my scouts walked as quietly as you.’
A woyak stepped forward and bound her hands behind her back. ‘I’ll go back to camp with this one,’ Grunmir said. ‘This Bignica is a tricky spirit and liable to give dullards like you the slip.’ With that he made as if to test her bonds.
Maybe he should have stayed. But no, these boys had to learn. He couldn’t babysit them forever. And there was still a while to go before the danger would come. Plenty
