Ubadai strolled across and knelt by the unconscious nobleman, then he looked up at the astonished Sheera.
‘I like you, girl,’ said Ubadai. ‘You plenty stupid.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nuada was furious when Groundsel told him bluntly that he would not be allowed to accompany the rescue party. The outlaw leader had gathered thirty men together and each was carrying food — bread, dried meat and fruit.
‘You need me to show you the way,’ protested Nuada. ‘You need me!’
‘I can find the Royal Road, Nuada, without any help. But look at you — you are on the verge of collapse. You could not stand the journey.’
‘I’ll get him there — and back,’ said Llaw Gyffes. The snow had begun to fall thickly once more and Llaw, like the rest of the men, was warmly clad in oiled sheepskin and high wool-lined walking boots. A hood covered his blond hair and a long scarf was wound around his neck.
Groundsel walked over to Nuada and placed a hand upon his shoulder. ‘Every step that you slow us. down could mean a death on the Royal Road. You understand that?’
‘I won’t slow you down, I promise you.’
Llaw pulled Nuada aside and offered him a drink from his canteen. Nuada accepted it — and choked.
‘Gods of chaos!’ he spluttered. ‘What is it?’
‘It is a raw spirit distilled from grain — a little goes a long way. You feel warmer?’
‘I feel as if someone just lit a fire in my belly.’
‘Good. Now, let’s go.’
Groundsel set off at a good pace, feeling his way through the snow with a staff, thrusting it deep into drifts to test the footing. The men behind moved without a sound. There was no conversation and Nuada knew that most of them could not understand the nature of their mission.
‘Why did you want to come?’ asked Llaw, as they walked some way behind the rescue party.
‘I told them I would — but also they fear Groundsel.’
‘They are right so to do. You are leading the wolf into the lamb-pen; do not be surprised if he behaves like a wolf.’
‘I will not be surprised, Llaw. Now tell me why you came with us?’
Llaw chuckled and helped Nuada to climb a sloping drift. The wind picked up, howling ice and snow into their faces, and further conversation became impossible. A journey which had taken Nuada a day and a half was made in less than four hours by the rescue party.
They came across the first bodies lying huddled by a dead fire. There were two women, an old man and a child. All were frozen stiff.
Groundsel hawked and spat. Ice had formed on his dark brows and short beard. ‘Stupid!’ he said. ‘Had they built the fire twenty paces over there, by those rocks, they would still be alive. How could they think a fire in the open would warm them?’
Leaving the bodies where they lay the men pushed on, coming to the cave at mid-afternoon. Some forty people were crowded there; four were dead. Groundsel led the men inside and they broke out the rations. The two fires were dying down and Llaw Gyffes returned to the forest for fuel. Nuada scanned the gaunt, weary faces, glimpsing the girl at the back of the cave. She was squatting beside an elderly woman and he pushed his way through to her.
‘I came back,’ he said simply.
‘She is dead,’ replied the girl. ‘She died an hour ago.’
Nuada gazed down on the serene face. The woman was in her late sixties, he guessed, and she had the look of the patrician. ‘Then nothing can harm her now,’ he said. ‘Come, there is food.’
‘I am not hungry.’ He put his arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her to him.
‘Would she want you to die also?.’ he asked. ‘Follow me.’ Taking her by the arm he led her to Groundsel, who gave her some bread and a canteen of water.
‘The cave could not take all of us; there are others still outside,’ the girl told them. Groundsel turned away and sent three groups to search the forest. Llaw Gyffes went with them. In the cave a woman fell at Groundsel’s feet, hugging his legs and crying quietly. Embarrassed, he pulled away. A man came to him, seizing his hand and pumping it; others joined him. Groundsel accepted their gratitude with ill grace and pushed his way out into the blizzard. He walked alone for a while and watched the men searching the snow; there were bodies everywhere.
He was about to return to the cave when he heard a whimper from close by and looked around, but there was no one to be seen and the sound ceased. Taking his staff he probed the bushes, but could find nothing. He stopped and listened, but the howling wind obscured any lesser sounds. He crouched closer to the ground… still nothing. To his left there was a small drift of snow. As he looked, the wind caused it to flurry and he caught sight of an edge of cloth. Moving to it, he dug away at the snow. Buried here were a man and a woman, huddled together, frozen in death, but they had curled themselves around a small child wrapped in a woollen blanket. Grdundsel could imagine their last thoughts: protect the child until the end, their bodies shielding it from the wind and the snow. The child’s head moved and its mouth opened. Groundsel swiftly lifted it clear of the snow and ran for the cave. Inside he forced his way to the fire and pulled away the frozen blanket, rubbing at the little girl’s slender limbs. Her hair was short, but tightly curled and golden, and she was thin, terribly thin.
‘Akis!’ he called. ‘Where the Hell are you?’
A stocky man came forward. ‘Did you bring the milk?’ asked Groundsel.
‘It’s mostly gone, my Lord,’ replied the man. Ever since Nuada’s saga of the beast, men had begun to echo the poet’s style of address.
‘Get some here. Now! And warm it.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
The girl’s head sagged against Groundsel’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you die on me!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you dare die on me!’ He shook her and rubbed her back and she began to whimper. ‘That’s it,’ said Groundsel. ‘Cry! Cry and live!’
‘Shall I take her?’ asked a woman.
‘Leave me alone,’ snapped Groundsel as Akis returned with some milk, warmed in a wooden bowl. The outlaw leader lifted the girl’s head and held the bowl to her lips; the milk dribbled to her chin, as she shut her mouth against it. ‘Pinch her nostrils,’ said Groundsel and a woman crouched down beside them and followed his bidding. The child’s mouth opened. At first she choked on the milk, but then she began to swallow. When the milk was finished her head sagged again to his shoulder. He was about to shake her when the woman touched his arm.
‘She is asleep,’ she said. ‘Just asleep. She will be fine. Wrap her in a warm blanket and leave her with me. I’ll take care of her.’
Groundsel was reluctant to part with the child, but he did so, brushing the hair back from her brow. ‘She is pretty,’ he said, ‘and tough. I like that in a child. How old is she? I am not good at judging ages in babes.’
‘I would say around two years old. She might be a little more, but she is very thin and small.’
‘You look after her,’ said Groundsel, rising.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘I am not a Lord! See to her.’ He saw Llaw Gyffes helping a young couple into the cave, which was now becoming seriously overcrowded.
‘It’s a nightmare out there,’ said Llaw. ‘There are bodies everywhere, must be close to a hundred.’
‘How many survivors?’ Groundsel asked.
‘I’ve seen around thirty. There’s no room for them here and if we don’t find shelter of some kind, many more will die.’
‘There are deeper caves about three miles from here,’ said Groundsel, ‘but bears inhabit some of them.’