“Let him hunt,” said Dodinal. “We have enough men to manage here with the two of us helping out. I’m certain we will all appreciate any meat he can put on the table.”
Gerwyn gave him a suspicious look, as if sensing he was being mocked. Then, apparently satisfied this was not so, he nodded with almost childish eagerness. “I will take a few friends with me, the better to track with and to help carry back whatever we find.”
“You appear to have all this worked out,” Idris grumbled, but without malice, and with a sly look at Dodinal. He, too, thought they would be better off without Gerwyn under their feet. “Go on, then. Get your friends and be off with you. And you’d better not return without meat for our bellies or there will be trouble.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” Gerwyn grinned at his father and nodded in an almost friendly fashion at Dodinal before scurrying off. The two men watched him go.
“You weren’t planning to stop him,” Dodinal murmured.
Idris’s eyes gleamed. “No, but if he wants to run around while the rest of us toil, then I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Now he’s out of the way, his idle friends too, we can really get to work. You said something about other defences. What did you mean?”
Dodinal set off for the gates, Idris beside him. “We cannot secure the palisade today. So we do what we can for now and then fill in the gaps. There is blackthorn in the forest. Get your strongest women, give them blades and whatever cloth can be spared…”
Between them Dodinal and Idris quickly got the villagers organised. Ten men had already taken axes and saws to the forest, so Dodinal allocated another ten to haul them to the village. The timber was left on the ground alongside the gaps in the fences, ready to be hoisted into place later. Those women young enough and strong enough to work were sent into the woods to find blackthorn. They wrapped their hands in cloth and furs and took scythes to hack at the shrubs and drag back bundles of branches. Bristling with vicious thorns, they would serve as a makeshift but effective barricade.
Even the children were set to work, those that were old enough, carrying tools and nails and rope wherever they were needed, though always within the village. They went about the chores with feverish excitement, after months trapped inside their smoky huts.
Dodinal busied himself digging out the stumps of the posts that had rotted beyond repair. It was hard going under the hot sun. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and he found himself having to stretch with increasing regularity to ease the stiffness in his back.
He lost track of time. When a shadow fell over him and a hand reached down to offer a beaker of ale, he took it and drank it greedily without looking up. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Rhiannon answered. “But didn’t we have this same conversation last night?”
Dodinal almost coughed up the ale. He looked around quickly to make sure there was no one within earshot. They were alone, though Idris was ambling towards them, casting an eye over the defences as he walked. “I was hoping for a chance to talk to you earlier. But not now. We’re about to have company.”
“Then it will have to wait until tonight.” She grinned down at him. “Assuming Gerwyn is successful and I can get the two of them drunk enough not to hear me leaving while they sleep.”
She took the beaker from him and her fingers lingered on his. “And if not tonight, well, no matter. There will be other nights.”
“Yes,” Dodinal answered. “Yes, there will be.”
They worked throughout the afternoon, stopping once to eat and drink before returning to their labours. Fifteen posts were needed. Fifteen trees were felled, their trunks stripped of branches before being dragged to the palisade.
Once the posts were ready, the men lifted the first of them into place. They drove them deep into the holes Dodinal had helped to clear, then packed earth and stone around them before lashing and nailing each post to its neighbours.
As conscious as they were of the slowly fading light, they could not work any faster. They pushed their tired bodies until they were close to collapse. Even then they were not done by the time it had become almost too dark to see.
At least the gates had been repaired and stood true on their hinges. An iron bracket had been fixed to each gate to take the sturdy wooden bar that would hold them shut. But four of the posts in the palisade had not been reinstated. Dodinal was glad he had got the women to drag back the bundles of blackthorn. They were needed.
He sent the women to the Great Hall but gave neither the men nor himself any respite. They had more to do. It was slow going. They had to keep their hands away from the thorns as they lashed the bundles into stacks, then hauled them to the palisade and nailed them into place to close the gaps. Despite their caution, their palms were scratched and bleeding by the time they were done.
“We are finished for tonight,” Dodinal said, and the words were met with mutters of relief. He eyed Idris with concern. The chieftain had worked as hard as men half his age, ignoring Dodinal’s pleas for him to rest. Now he swayed on his feet as if drunk.
Cooking smells drifted across from the Great Hall, and aches and pains were immediately forgotten. Dodinal salivated. Even Idris shrugged off his exhaustion, standing up straighter and licking his lips. “Let’s get inside,” he said, his voice stronger than his body appeared. “And then get some food inside us!”
The men needed no further prompting and hurried away. Dodinal watched them go. Idris went straight to the Great Hall as his men called the dogs and tethered them outside their huts. It would be the first night the hounds had slept in the open for months.
Dodinal assessed the palisade, pushing hard on the new posts and feeling a sense of relief when they stood firmly in place. He had no concerns about the temporary defences. Nothing could get through those blackthorn stacks without ripping itself to bloody shreds.
He rubbed his hands briskly together, suddenly cold. As he hurried towards the warmth of the Great Hall, he saw the gates were closed and secured. Idris had left a man standing guard, a spear in his hand. The knight nodded his approval; they could not be too careful.
Inside, the mood was subdued. Even the children sat still. Only the mastiff, stretched out by the fire, its eyes flickering orange pools, was at ease. People ate without enthusiasm. The encroaching night had subdued appetites, for everyone knew now of the terrors the darkness held. They may have strengthened the defences, but there was no fortification strong enough to hold back fear.
Owain sat next to his mother, the boy’s eyes following Dodinal as he entered the hut and took Gerwyn’s chair. The knight smiled at him, to try to reassure him that all was well. The child smiled back, then turned his attention to his food. Rhiannon and Idris both nodded a greeting but neither said a word.
A bowl of cawl had been set out for him, along with some bread and a beaker of ale. He chewed listlessly, for once affected by the tension around him. A young woman, suckling her baby, left with her husband to put the child down for the night. The silence seemed to deepen once they were gone.
“Gerwyn is not yet back, I see,” Dodinal said, the air of despondency making him edgy.
“He will stay out until he kills something, or the cold sends him back,” Idris said. “He would hate to return with nothing after you brought us meat.”
“And if he does not find anything to kill?”
Idris shrugged listlessly, as if he did not care either way.
Rhiannon said: “There is a river a day’s travelling from here. If the game does not return we will send men to catch fish.”
Dodinal nodded. It would not have been possible to reach the river during the worst of the winter. Now with the onset of milder weather the journey was well within reach. Little wonder they no longer concerned themselves with hoarding the last of their food.