She frowned. The column was turning away. It was heading north. Count, girl, count, came an urgent thought from somewhere; an echo of the frequent questions from Engir and the others about the numbers of men, and horses, and wagons, and prisoners, and… everything… that was currently inside the castle; questions that for the most part she had only been able to answer with remorseful vagueness.
The column kept on coming. There were a few mounted men, several loose horses, and what, she decided, must be nearly all their wagons. Her frown deepened. What was happening? She knew that Nilsson had expressed an interest in the north when he had first arrived, but there hadn’t even been any talk in the village of a raiding party in that direction.
‘Marna!’
The soft voice made her freeze.
‘Marna,’ it came again.
Cautiously she peered around the trunk of the tree she had been leaning against. It was Gryss, gazing around fretfully.
‘You frightened me to death,’ she hissed, stepping out from behind the tree.
Gryss started violently. ‘And you, me, Marna,’ he snapped back, banging his fist on his chest. ‘Jumping out like that. I didn’t see you.’
Marna, still shaking a little, was about to argue the point when she recalled why she was there. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, taking Gryss’s arm. ‘Look.’ She pointed towards the castle. As Gryss leaned forward, the end of the column emerged from the gate, which slowly closed.
As Marna had done, Gryss frowned. ‘Where are they going?’ he asked.
Marna shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ she said. ‘But I think they’ve taken all the wagons, most of their horses and nearly all the men.’
‘And Rannick, has he gone as well?’ Gryss asked.
As if in answer to that question, a light flared livid in the upper window of the tower. ‘No,’ Marna answered coldly.
Slowly the column disappeared from view around the shoulder of the hill. Gryss shook his head. ‘They must have learned about your friends,’ he said. ‘They’re going hunting for them.’
Marna clenched her fists. ‘No, no,’ she said despair-ingly. ‘No one knew. No one knew. It can’t be.’
Gryss did not reply. Marna turned on him. ‘You didn’t tell anyone else, did you?’ she demanded.
Gryss shook his head. ‘Only Jeorg, that’s all,’ he said. ‘And Jeorg’d have his tongue cut out before he’d give away such knowledge.’
Marna looked at him questioningly for a moment, then put her hand to her head. ‘Then what’s happened?’ she said futilely. ‘And what can we do?’
Gryss reached out to put a supporting arm around her shoulder as he had done many times in the past. Then he lowered it. It seemed to be an inappropriate gesture now. This girl – woman – did not need that kind of support now. ‘What we set out to do,’ he said. ‘Watch and be ready for whatever happens. We’ve enough work down at the farm to keep us looking busy for some time if we take it easy. We mustn’t be impatient. We’ve no idea what your… friends… are intending, for all they seem to think the matter’s urgent.’ He nodded towards the castle. ‘And there’s no point even conjecturing what’s going on up there now. Perhaps they’re looking for these people, perhaps not. We’ll just have to wait and see.’ He let out a noisy breath. ‘I’ll send our “official” watchers to that copse over there as we agreed, but I’ll come back every now and then, to see if you’re all right. Or I’ll send Jeorg; it’s a bit of a pull for me.’ He paused, then took out a kerchief. ‘If you see anything unusual, hang this…’ He searched around for a moment. ‘… there, on that branch, and one of us will come up straight away. It’ll take a little time as we’re going round the back so that no one’ll notice.’ He looked at her. ‘You’re sure you’re all right up here on your own?’ he asked uncertainly.
Marna smiled and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot to think about.’ Then she lowered her eyes. ‘How’s my father?’ she asked.
A look of reproach passed over Gryss’s face, but there was none in his reply. ‘He’s better for knowing you’re well and still in the valley,’ he said. ‘But it wasn’t easy refusing to tell him where you were.’ He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he clenched his fist and waved it at the castle. ‘Damn you, Rannick,’ he said. ‘Damn you to hell.’ Then he turned and left.
The day passed without anything else of note happening other than Gryss meticulously changing his ‘official’ watchers to lend credence to the ostensible purpose of the activity at the farmhouse. Marna spent the time thinking, with varying degrees of agitation, about everything that had happened since Dalmas. And, at times, daydreaming. And trying not to fall asleep.
She was more than thankful when Jeorg appeared towards evening and declared that he would watch through the night. Rather than risk being seen walking back to Gryss’s cottage, she surreptitiously made her way back to the now-deserted farm, and made herself comfortable in a corner of the barn.
Ironically, unlike the previous night when she had been restless after an exhausting day, following her motionless day watching the castle she went to sleep almost the moment she lay down and scarcely moved during the night.
Some instinct woke her before dawn again and, after splashing herself into shivering wakefulness at one of the water butts, she returned up the hill through the cold morning darkness to take up her vigil.
Jeorg, unshaven, stiff and surly, relinquished his post without any expression of regret.
‘Anything happened?’ Marna asked.
Jeorg shook his head. ‘Only lights coming and going at that tower window,’ he replied.
‘Rannick,’ Marna said.
Jeorg glowered at the tower. ‘They felt bad,’ he said. ‘Unnatural, somehow. I’ve never seen a lantern that could make light like that.’
Marna confined herself to nodding at this observa-tion. There was nothing to be gained by adding her own comments about the possible nature of that light. Jeorg needed no further incentive to focus his anger against Rannick. She commandeered some food that he had left.
‘If you’re not going home, don’t sleep in the barn,’ she said, with a mocking smile, as Jeorg yawned noisily and picked up his bag. ‘That’s my room.’
Jeorg pulled the brim of her hat down over her face and left with a grunt. He was soon lost in the gloom and, straightening her hat, Marna turned her attention once again to the castle. It was barely visible against the bulk of the mountains, although a few torches in the courtyard illuminated its interior dully and threw a feeble and sickly yellow light part way up the walls of the towers, making them look jagged and incomplete. The upper window of the highest tower continued to flicker alive with light from time to time, however; waxing and waning to an unheard rhythm and giving the impression of a malevolent, watching and incon-stant star floating above the tainted remains of some noxious pit. Marna stared at it fixedly for a while then deliberately pulled her gaze away from it. There was a quality in it that stirred something deep within her, which she knew, instinctively, would only serve to hinder her, though whether it repelled or attracted her she could not have said.
The day passed largely as had the previous one. Figures appeared down in the farmyard, and pairs of lookouts began their own observation of the castle at Gryss’s command. Marna watched and waited fretfully, her mood more uncertain than before, but still domi-nated by a feeling of urgent expectation. Yet nothing happened. The mysterious column that had moved off to the north did not return, and there was little or no activity around the castle itself. ‘Where are you? What are you doing?’ she began to mutter to herself from time to time.
Towards midday, sheets of fine rain began to blow across the valley. Shifting and changing like a thin grey mist, they now revealed the castle, now obscured it. Marna swore softly. The tree under which she had lodged herself would keep the rain off her for some time, but eventually it would come seeping through the canopy and she could look forward to a damp and chilly afternoon.