‘I think she’s enjoyed herself. It must be oppressive, being so powerful.’
‘Well, maybe, but she’ll go back to her real life quick enough, I think.’
Jay knew instantly what was passing through the soldier’s mind.
‘When she does, everything else will go back to normal as well. You know that, don’t you, young Jay?’ He smiled in a kindly way.
Then he sank to his knees, a surprised look on his face, and pitched over onto the grass.
Jay backed away in horror as he saw the thick arrow that had gone straight through Callan and out the other side. The blood was already flowing copiously from both wounds, and he was transfixed by the sight until he heard a scream from the woods. It was Kate, who was struggling with two men who had grabbed her. Ignoring all danger, she shook off her attackers and hurried towards Callan, going down on her knees to examine the damage. Stony-faced with fury, she stood to face the three men who came running up, swords and bows at the ready.
‘What have you done?’ she spat. ‘Why did you do that? Fetch me some water, quickly.’
They slowed as she spoke but did not seem inclined to heed her words until one man — tall and massive, who looked as though he could pick her up with one hand — grunted. ‘Do as she says,’ he said in a thick, almost incomprehensible voice. ‘Find me something to use as a bandage.’
He glared at one man in particular, who was carrying a bow.
‘You. Go back to the camp. I don’t need you here. You’ve done enough harm.’
The huge man sank down beside the twitching, moaning form of Callan and bent over him. ‘You’ve been injured. I’m going to have to take the arrow out, otherwise you’ll die. Do you understand? It’ll hurt, but I know what I’m doing.’
Callan nodded, his teeth gritted in pain. The man bent over once more and, with great force, took the arrow in both hands and snapped off the head as easily as Jay would have snapped a twig. Then, holding him with astonishing gentleness, he rolled him over. ‘Pull out the arrow,’ he said gently. ‘Can you do that?’
Kate bit her lip with nervousness. ‘One swift pull, evenly and straight. It’s the only way. Are you ready?’
She prepared herself, taking hold of the arrow with both hands, closed her eyes and, with a mighty tug, pulled. It came out in one go, and Callan’s screams echoed through the forest, making the birds fly off in fright.
‘Do you know how to bind wounds?’
She nodded silently.
‘Then I will hold him still. Bathe the openings with cold water and we will patch him up. Then we’ll take him to the camp and get him proper treatment.’
‘Will he live?’ Jay asked in a trembling voice.
‘I don’t know. He will if I have anything to do with it.’
As they walked through the forest, the mood of the little group was sombre. Even though he was a big man, Callan was borne in the arms of the giant who had tended him as though he weighed nothing. There was no time for a stretcher, he had said, and it wasn’t far.
It was Jay’s task now, his task alone, to protect the Lady of Willdon, who had fallen into the hands of a band of marauders. What could he do against swords and bows and knives? The only flicker of hope was that at least they did not see the magnitude of their prize. They had captured a scholar and his servant. If that deception could be made to hold up, then they had some small chance, perhaps. Otherwise they could demand any price for her return. If her absence was prolonged, the domain of Willdon could fall into chaos, sucking in the outside world with it. Willdon was the balancing force in the land; it had fulfilled this role for generations, and its glory was that it never sought to impose its power on anyone else. But what would happen if it was vacant?
He glanced at her as she walked dutifully beside him, her head down as a servant’s should be. In her small body, on her frail shoulders, rested the peace of Anterwold. At least she now looked like a servant with her bedraggled hair and ill-fitting dress, her bare feet. ‘She even looks like a farmer’s girl.’ So Callan had said, just before...
‘You will have to be Kate a little longer,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you know who these people are?’
‘I hope not. Are you prepared to be the hostage in my stead?’
‘Of course. I would die for you.’
‘Let us hope that will not be necessary. But thank you.’
‘Stop talking,’ called one of their captors, the man who had fired the arrow.
‘Why?’ Jay replied. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Because...’
‘Leave him be,’ said the huge man, breathless from carrying Callan but trying not to show his tiredness. They were short with each other. Jay could see quite easily that this had not been planned.
‘Where are you taking us?’
‘To our leader. He will decide what to do with you.’
‘Why should you do anything with us? We were walking in the forest.’
‘Why? This is our territory. Our forest. Our land. And you come scouting and spying.’
‘We were not.’
‘A scholar as well. What is going on? Is there to be an alliance? Are the scholars going to rouse up Willdon against us? Is that what this is about?’
‘No,’ said Jay in genuine astonishment. ‘If it was, no one would ever tell me about it. I’m just a student.’
‘Students don’t have servants.’
‘She’s not actually my servant,’ Jay said quickly. ‘She belongs to my master. Can’t you just let her go? She’s not important.’
‘She can work. We’ll treat her well. Besides, she could bring the Lady’s soldiers here. We’re not ready for them yet.’
Pamarchon was going around the outer perimeter of the camp to check it was secure, examining weapons, counting the stocks of arrows, ensuring there were enough bandages and medicines for the inevitable injuries that must come soon if he took his decision to launch the long-planned, often-delayed attack. When he came back, he discovered that there were captives, newly brought into the camp. One had been injured. He listened in fury to the account of how it had happened. It was exactly the sort of thing he always tried to prevent. Their existence and safety depended on the good will of those they encountered. A reputation for violence and brutality would lead to betrayal, sooner or later. It was not the first time this particular man had lacked the self-control he had tried over the years to instil in them all.
‘You,’ he said, pointing to the sallow-faced, resentful man who had fired. ‘You don’t leave the camp again, unless you’re with others and unarmed. How does this keep on happening? How often do I have to tell people...? How badly is he injured?’
‘Badly. But he might live,’ said the huge man.
‘I will go and see him. What about the others?’
‘A young lad and a servant. The lad says he’s from Ossenfud.’
‘Bring him to me.’
‘Right, then, scholar. Our leader wants you. Get up.’
Jay was sitting on the ground, waiting. He was alone; when they had arrived at the camp, he had been taken to the very centre of it and told to stay put. They had pointed out how far he would have to run to escape, pointed out also how many people carried weapons. You wouldn’t stand a chance, was the message. He took their advice.
He sat for an hour until he was taken to a large tent, square and fully open on one side to let in the light. The floor was covered in cloth and cushions; there was a rough trestle table in one corner and a rolled-up mattress on the other side. Otherwise, the only furniture was a wooden chest. It was simple and not very comfortable.
He caught his breath, though, when he saw the tall man sitting on the floor. It was the man who had taken Rosalind away at the Festivity. Jay knew quite well that he had been recognised too.