Chapter Twenty-One

“Father, this is wrong. She is out there on her own, with a baby–”

“Be quiet, boy. I know I did not raise a fool.” Frowning, Elford turned once more to where the soldiers were continuing their efforts to calm the still-panicked, heavily-foamed horses. Of the mounted men who’d gone after Lamorna the night before, only a handful of their horses had been found; of the soldiers, there was no sign. Even then, it had taken most of the day to capture the horses that had been sighted.

Daroth clenched his jaw along with his fists but said no more. He was glad that Lamorna had managed to escape but, like everyone else around him, he remained unnerved by the disappearance of the soldiers. That, and the lack of any plausible explanation regarding the mystery of the unearthly howls from the night before.

All the inhabitants were gathered in the clear space in the middle of the village; all except for Dorcas. Puzzled by her absence, yet Daroth was thankful she was not there for he was still furious with her.

“What have you done with my men?” The soldier in charge, a solidly built man with black bristles sprouting from his head, had hold of Genna.

She shook her head, struggling to stay upright. “I know nothing of their fate. I have been your prisoner since last night.”

“Enough of this pretence. I know what you are really about, woman, your kind always pretending to know your place, thinking you can hide behind a veil of quiet simplicity.” Pulling her first one way, then another, keeping her constantly moving, the soldier scanned the crowd. “Who among you knew what this woman was really practising?”

Silence was the only reply he received.

“No one?” Dragging Genna behind him, he strode up to the village elder, Dorcas’ father. “You did not know?”

Eyes downcast, the man shook his head.

The soldier snorted. His gaze swept the crowd. “You expect me to believe none of you knew?”

“I keep to myself,” said Genna, sounding breathless.

“Silence!” He struck her; she fell.

Gasps echoed around them, but no one made a move. Unable to hold back any longer, Daroth stepped forward. “Stop.” But his father blocked his path, staring him down.

“You have something to say, boy?” said the soldier.

Before Daroth could answer, his father turned to face the soldier. “Forgive him, sir, he is young, hot-headed. I fear his life has been... sheltered. To see a woman being struck–”

“Save your pity for those who deserve it. She may appear a helpless, feeble woman but her kind, they are the worst. Through supposedly harmless words and actions, they seek to undermine the priests’ teachings; they do not respect our lords and they encourage that disrespect.”

Elford nodded. “I agree, sir. I too have had the misfortune of having to deal with such a woman.”

Daroth frowned; he’d never heard mention of this before. As far as he was aware, their village had no such woman.

“I assure you, my son feels the same as I. Is that not so, Daroth?” He turned back to fix his son with a warning glare.

Unable to hold his father’s stare, never having defied him before, Daroth lowered his head and nodded, filled with self-loathing.

“Take her away.” The soldier gave Genna a kick before she was hauled away by two of his men.

The silence that followed was punctuated by muffled sobbing. Daroth glanced around but could not see who was weeping.

Sneering, the soldier dismissed the villagers.

Daroth started to walk towards Dorcas’ parents, unable to deny his curiosity, but his father stopped him.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I was wondering about Dorcas.”

“You are to have nothing to do with that girl and her family.”

“But–”

Elford grabbed him by the arm. “Are you determined to shame me? What has gotten into you?”

Daroth winced under his father’s tightening grip. “You have been pushing me to spend time with her.”

“That was before the fool made known the connection between that... girl and me.” Elford turned to stare at Dorcas’ father who looked away.

“Her name is Lam–”

“Never. Speak that name again. She is dead to us. Do you hear?” Releasing his son, he stepped away. “I should never have agreed to the betrothal.”

Daroth narrowed his eyes; he was certain the betrothal had been Elford’s idea and Logan had been left with little choice but to agree.

“I should have insisted Logan repay me with money, crops even, instead of... her. Now I must suffer the pitying looks from my sister and her family. From all of them.” He spat the word out as if physically spitting on the knot of villagers gathered to the side. “At least Lord Modris is as amenable as ever, treating me as he has always done.” Elford marched towards the lord’s substantial dwelling, placed on the slope well away from the village. “Come, boy. I no longer trust you to behave sensibly.”

Breathing heavily, Daroth trailed behind his father, wanting nothing more than to hit him. He could not comprehend how the man could speak of Lamorna as if she were a thing; his uncaring dismissal of Dorcas and her family. Daroth had never given it much thought before, but he now realised how much his father believed himself to be better than his own people, that he saw himself as equal to the lords, their conquerors. But he also wanted to hit himself, for lacking the courage to stand up to Elford.

In the distance, not far from the squat building close to the lord’s house, he could see the soldiers with Genna between them. He glanced at the villagers, his attention drawn to Dorcas’ father approaching her mother who stood weeping amongst the villagers. He slowed when he heard Dorcas’ mother mention the girl’s name.

“… my daughter, but I struggle to look at her. She is safest in our home, but I cannot bear to be in the same room as her.” She covered her face with her hands as another woman put her arm around her.

Then Dorcas’ father was at his wife’s side, but his gaze was on the distant figure of Genna, disappearing now into the maw of the building.

“How could she do that?” His wife turned her bereft visage to her husband. “How could our daughter betray Mother Genna?”

She was hurriedly shushed by one who glanced sidelong at Daroth. Muttered murmurs faded as they stole looks at him without truly looking at him. Slowly, they began to drift away.

Openly staring now, Daroth wondered at their words. The resentment he harboured was now tempered with worry for Dorcas; what did her mother mean, that her daughter was safest in their house? Was Dorcas in danger? “To say she betrayed Genna...” His frown deepened with his confusion.

“Daroth!”

Startled, he blinked dazedly at his father.

“Stop staring like an idiot. Come along.”

“I-I want to speak with Mother Elida.”

Elford sighed heavily, rubbing his brow as if he had a headache. “I am finding your behaviour worse than tiresome. I would be most grateful if you would, once again, start acting your age.”

“You are forbidding me to speak with my own aunt?” Daroth glanced at the grey-haired woman who stood quietly watching them. “She is your sister.”

“At this moment, I do not care for their pity–”

“It is not pity, Father, it is concern. Or is that something–”

“Hush, Daroth.”

He turned to see the woman, his father’s sister, standing beside him. “Mother Elida.”

She placed her hand on his arm, and smiled, but there was no joy in it. “Now is not the time, my dear. Come and see me tomorrow, when things are more... settled.” Her chin trembled as her voice faded.

As he watched her walk away, his shoulders slumped; he’d been hoping to ask her about Dorcas.

“Are you coming?” Elford was already making his way up the path. “Or are you planning more insolence?”

Daroth did not pick up his pace, deliberately trailing behind. As he passed the soldiers, he watched them readying themselves and their horses. They’re going after Lamorna. His breath caught in his throat, fear for her turning him cold. I must do something. Glancing at his father, he tightened his fists. “I will do something.”