“You’re welcome.” He almost cringed when he said it. If only he possessed Arthur’s gift for eloquence.
They made love again, slower this time but no less intensely, then lay entwined for a while before she disentangled herself from him and got up from the bed.
“Stay,” he said, one hand reaching out for her. Warm fingers briefly grasped his, then released him as she stepped into the shadows beyond the fitful glow of the fire. He caught glimpses of her as she moved about the hut, picking up her clothes and dressing.
“I dare not,” she said. “Idris and Gerwyn were exhausted; I knew I would not rouse them when I left. But it will be dawn before long, and they might wake before I return if I do not hurry. Fear not, though, sir knight” — and despite the darkness he could tell she was smiling, teasing him — “there will be other times. Assuming, that is, you are not about to desert us now winter has finally passed.”
Dodinal, still basking in the warmth of their lovemaking, said lightly: “Not much chance of that. Not after tonight.”
“Oh, I see.” Rhiannon bent over him. “You’re happy to stay, now you’ve had your evil way with me.”
“It seems to me it was you who had your evil way with me.” He grunted then laughed as she poked a finger into his ribs.
“The time is not yet right for us to be together openly,” she said, her manner serious. “I have been widowed long enough as far as I am concerned, but perhaps not long enough in the eyes of others.”
“By others, you mean Gerwyn?”
“You’re very perceptive.”
“Hmm. You’d have to blind not to see it.”
“He’ll come around, don’t you worry. Now I must return, and you must rest. If you weren’t tired before, I’m sure you are now.”
When she had gone, Dodinal put his hands behind his head and lay staring into the darkness. So much for avoiding complications. Still, as complications went, this was one he could happily live with. During the short time Rhiannon had been with him, the horrors of the day were driven from his mind. This had been a celebration of life in defiance of the death he had witnessed.
Of course he would stay. He had a life here, friends, a family almost. He had been so obsessed with searching for peace that he had almost failed to see that peace had found him. Still thinking those thoughts he eventually fell asleep, a smile on his face.
ELEVEN
He slept later than he had intended. By the time he rose it was past nine, and the men of the village were already up and about, emerging from their huts like hibernating animals roused by the spring sun. Some tended to the livestock, others inspected roofs for damage after the months of harsh weather. Dogs raced around, relishing the freedom of the outside world after being kept inside the huts for so long. They paid no heed to Dodinal.
Thuds reverberated from the forest, followed by a loud tearing sound and a crash as a tree fell.
Idris was inspecting the rotten palisade. The moment he saw Dodinal emerging from the hut, blinking and rubbing his eyes to clear them, he called out a greeting and marched over. “I was just about to send Rhiannon to wake you!”
A blush coloured Dodinal’s face at the memory of last night’s encounter; he hoped it passed for the lingering effects of sleep. “You should have roused me earlier.”
The chieftain made a dismissivegesture. “Plenty of time. Get yourself to the Great Hall, there is food waiting. A man cannot work on an empty belly, especially after yesterday’s exertions.”
Dodinal narrowed his eyes and looked for some sign that Idris knew what had happened last night. If he did, the old man was giving nothing away. He looked preoccupied. “I’ve already sent men into the forest to start cutting down trees to replace the missing or rotting timbers. But the damage is extensive and I do not have enough men. We will not get it all done today, even if they work until sunset.”
“Then we will do what we can.” Dodinal clapped Idris on the back. “There are other defences. We can talk about it later.”
The Great Hall door was open, and the window shutters had been removed, letting in light and venting the smoke from the fires. Even so, the atmosphere was sombre. The hut was filled with women, using brooms to sweep the floor and to brush the worst of the soot off the walls. While they greeted him warmly enough when he ducked inside, he could see they were anxious too. They would have heard of the tragedy. They knew that, but for the grace of their god, it could have been one of them sat at the table, crying and whispering prayers.
They kept their children close. The little ones sat on the floor in groups or ran around playing noisy games. Rhiannon was there; apart from a fleeting smile and a wave of greeting, she paid him no attention. Instead she tended to a pot suspended over the fire, shooing children away if they ventured too close to the flames. Dodinal was disappointed they would not have a chance to talk.
Platters on the table were heaped with nuts, dried meat, fish and bread. There were jugs of ale too. It was a banquet, compared with the meagre fare of the past few weeks. Dodinal thought that the villagers must be confident finding fresh food would be easier now that spring had arrived. He hoped their confidence was not misplaced.
Keen to get working, he grabbed handfuls of nuts and berries and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing them greedily while he took as much meat and fish as he dared without feeling guilty and put them in his pockets, to eat while he worked.
Once he had swallowed, he gulped down some ale and hurried outside, partly to make the most of the daylight and partly in the hope that Rhiannon would follow him the moment she could. He wanted to find a quiet place to talk to her about last night and the nights ahead, now he had decided to stay.
His eyes sought out the old chieftain, who was deep in conversation with Gerwyn. They were too far away and there was too much noise around for Dodinal to hear what was being said, until he got closer. The younger man gesticulated vigorously, clearly making a point with some force. “Father, please, you have to let us go.”
“I have to do no such thing,” Idris said coolly.
“If we don’t hunt, then we don’t eat. You’d prefer to build a fence than plough and sow the fields. What is the point of barricading ourselves away if it means us starving to death?”
“Good morning,” Dodinal said pleasantly to Gerwyn, as if there were no bad feelings between them.
“Let me hunt,” Gerwyn persisted, addressing his father as if Dodinal had not spoken. “The men you have put to work will need fresh meat to keep up their strength. You know my words make sense.”
Idris caught Dodinal’s eye. “He wants to go hunting. Reckons he’ll be more use to us that way than if he stays here, chopping down trees. I don’t know, though. I think we need every man available to rebuild the defences. What do you think, my friend?”
Gerwyn made an angry gesture with his hand. “Who cares what he thinks? He has far too much say around here. He’s not brehyrion and not my father. I don’t have to listen to him and neither should you.”
“I did not ask you,” Idris said. “And I value his opinion far more than I would ever value yours.”
Gerwyn simmered, but for once he held his tongue.
“Where will you hunt?” Dodinal asked.
“South,” Gerwyn answered testily, as if the answer was blindingly obvious. “Best chance of finding anything.”
Dodinal cast out his senses. There should be prey around by now, awoken from its winter slumber and foraging for food. Yet there was nothing. He almost told Gerwyn he would be wasting his time, then bit back the words. How could he explain how he knew there was no fresh meat to be found within a day’s march or more?
He suspected Gerwyn was less interested in hunting than in avoiding having to work. He also suspected the chieftain’s son would be more hindrance than help if he were made to stay.