The boy looked in the direction of her voice, but his eyes were blind, his mouth working, pouring blood. 'Mam!' he gasped frothily and then, choking, 'The Cwmni Annwn!'
'Rhys!' she screamed again and tore free of her captor to run stumbling to where he had fall en face down in the turning crisp leaves. He was dead. She could see the rents in his clothing where a blade had been plunged and his blood was hot and dark on her hands.
Bent over her son, she did not hear the horrified warning yelled by her escort, nor see the riders of the wild hunt advancing through the trees, the wild hunt advancing through the trees, following the trail of lifeblood to their victim.
CHAPTER 25
Soon after Rhosyn had left, Judith fetched her cloak and departed Ravenstow with her own escort, her destination one of Ravenstow's fiefs.
The lord of the small , beholden keep at Farnden had recently died and she had promised his son, the inheritor of the holding and its military obligations, that she would attend a mass in the church there for the soul of his father before he rode out to rejoin Guyon. Also, there were the customs and rights of the new tenancy to be confirmed and the oath of fealty to be sworn.
Thomas of Farnden was a pleasant, not particularly bright young man, but he knew his feudal duties and was capable of performing them stoically and well . He lacked imagination and ambition but that was no reason to neglect him. A horseshoe nail was just as important as the horse and Judith gave him her sincere attention for the duration of the visit.
The mass was performed in the tiny Saxon church and attended by all members of the keep and the villagers of most senior authority. Alms were distributed, and bread. Dinner was eaten outside in the orchard, the trestles spread beneath the lush summer green of the trees. It was so pleasant and a poignant far cry from the war in the south that it brought tears to Judith's eyes, and she had to set about reassuring a worried Sir Thomas that she was really all right.
Shortly before mid-afternoon, her business completed, she made her farewell s to Sir Thomas and set out for home.
With his eye on the dwindling height of the sun, de Bec took the short cut across the drovers' road and through the forest to reach the main track.
The day had been hot and the green forest air was humid, catching earthily in the throat and nostrils as it was breathed. Judith's chemise clung to her body. Beneath her veil her head itched as if it harboured a thicket of fleas. Now and then a rivulet of sweat trickled down between her breasts or tickled her spine, and her thighs were chafed by the constant rubbing of the saddle. She thought with longing of a refreshing, tepid tub, of a clean light robe and a goblet of wine, chill from the keep well .
Such thoughts set her to bitter-sweet rememberings of a raw November night, of drinking wine in a bathtub, of Guyon's eyes luminous with laughter and desire. Her longing abruptly changed direction. Heat moistened her loins. She shifted in the saddle and tears returned to prickle her eyes. It had been so long since there had been the time or opportunity for that kind of dalliance. The inclination had been swamped - or so she thought - by a combination of worry and sheer physical exhaustion. There had been odd occasions together, but snatched and unsatisfactory because there was no real enjoyment in assuaging a need that intruded inconveniently upon other needs and was tainted with fear.
Two pigeons clapped past them and a blackbird scolded. When a spotted woodpecker followed, crying alarm, de Bec ceased lounging at ease to reach for his shield. These were not birds immediately startled by their approach, but already alarmed and winging from some earlier disturbance. This band of woodland was within Guyon's jurisdiction but at the north-western edge lay a boggy ditch marking the Welsh border and the standing stones on the south-western side were the boundary between Ravenstow and Thornford. It was for the latter reason in particular that de Bec muttered soft imprecations as he drew his sword and ordered his men to surround Judith.
A horse flashed through the trees in front of them. Both Judith and de Bec recognised the striking red sorrel immediately, for it was one of Guyon's own crossbreeds, belonging to Eric's younger brother Godric who had been in command of Rhosyn's escort. A cold hand squeezed Judith's heart, for although Godric was in the saddle, he was hunched over, clutching the pommel and did not answer their hail. The horse, however, threw up its white-blazed head and, nickering at sight of its own kind, picked its way towards them.
De Bec leaned across to grasp the reins. 'Godric, Christ man, what's happened?' His voice was hoarse with shock.
The young man raised his eyes but remained hunched over. 'De Lacey,' he croaked. 'Hit us out of nowhere ... Too many of them. We never stood a chance ... I managed to save the little lass.' He swayed, his face grey. Against his body, tied within his cloak for security, Heulwen began to cry and push against her confines, her little face as flushed as her tangled fiery crown of curls.
A knight unfastened the child and lifted her out of Godric's cloak, then uttered an oath of consternation for she was smeared in blood from head to toe.
'Not hers, mine,' said Godric huskily and tumbled out of the saddle to sprawl unconscious at their feet. Judith dismounted in a flurry of skirts and bent down beside the young soldier to examine his injuries. He had taken a nasty slash to the midriff. Fortunately, as far as she could see, it had not pierced the gut, but it was still deep and it had bled a great deal. She unfastened one of his leg bindings to use as a temporary bandage until they could reach the safety of the keep and she could tend him properly. Two of her escort set about constructing a crude stretcher out of branches and horse blankets.
Heulwen sobbed and screamed for her mother in broken Welsh. Fortunately the serjeant who held her had five children of his own and was used to dealing with infant tantrums. A borderman, he also spoke fluent Welsh and soothed Heulwen in that language until she calmed into hiccupped sobs and then poked her thumb into her mouth.
Godric's eyelids fluttered. Judith put her hand on his brow. 'Rest easy now,' she soothed, 'help is here.'
'Mistress, we could do nothing,' he fretted. She held a wine costrell to his lips and he took a convulsive swallow. 'De Lacey outnumbered us at least four to one. The child was asleep beneath some skins. They missed her and they left me for dead ... Dancer bolted in the fray but he came back when I called him.' He clenched his teeth and groaned.
De Bec's eyebrows drew together in a worried scowl. 'How far back, son?'
'No more than a mile ... just off the road. We had stopped to eat and they came out of the trees at us.' He closed his eyes and swallowed. 'I lay for dead and they thought me so. I heard de Lacey say that there was less gain than he had hoped and they had best be on their way ... Thornford they were headed for ... Myself and the child are the only survivors ... The other little maid ... Oh Christ, they took her with them!' He gasped and strove not to retch. Judith fought her own gorge and set a steadying hand to his brow.
'Lie quiet, Godric,' she said gently and raised her head to meet de Bec's granite stare. There was no way their own troop could pursue, and the attack was more than three hours old. De Lacey would be safe within his keep by now.
'The bodies will need to be brought back to Ravenstow,' she said. The coldness of shock and fear, the knowledge of what had yet to be done, made her feel queasy and tearful, but she controlled herself. 'We had best bring them away with us now before the wolves and foxes have their chance at them.'
De Bec shook his head. 'My lady, it will not be a sight to be viewed save by necessity, and Godric and the child should be got to Ravenstow as soon as possible.'