Page 26 of The Bear's Heart
Beside me, Arthur stirred again and rolled toward me, his arm reaching and not finding me.
The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, got over her shock in an instant and sprang to her feet, but as she did so she tripped over the straps of the saddle bag and went sprawling over the nearest sleeping warrior. He woke with a start, and before the girl could pick herself up, seized her by both arms and held her fast.
Letting out a single terrified cry, she struggled like a trapped wildcat. The man had to fight to hang onto her.
Arthur came awake at the commotion. “What’s going on?” The drawn sword in his hand shimmered in the firelight. “Is there an intruder?”
All over our camp the men started to stir.
The warrior who had grasped the little girl stood up, dragging her to her feet. He kept a tight grip, holding her at arm’s length as she tried to kick out at him with her bare feet. “Yes, milord.” The warrior gave a grunt as her foot collided with his shins. “And I ’ave ’er ’ere.”
There were a few minutes of hectic activity as the now wide-awake warriors checked for more intruders and threw wood on the fire, making flames leap toward the inky sky. Then Arthur turned his attention to the child, who’d dropped her stolen goods in her efforts to escape.
He looked her up and down, and she glared back at him through a tangle of dirty hair, her lower lip jutting in defiance.
“Well,” he said in an amused voice, “you seem to have caused quite an uproar, sneaking about in the middle of the night. Didn’t your parents ever tell you to steer well clear of mounted men? Not all soldiers are as kind to little girls as mine.”
The child spat a gob of phlegm at him. It hit his left boot.
Arthur shook his head. “That’s no way to behave when you’re a prisoner of a superior force. If I were you, I’d be on my best behavior.” He still didn’t sound angry with the child.
I spoke up. “Look at her. Look at how thin she is. She came here looking for food.”
One of Arthur’s men picked up the tumbled rag and its contents. “She did, that. And ’ere it is. She were stealing from us.”
“From me!” called the owner of the saddle bag who’d found it open by now. “I’ll teach ’er not to go stealin’ from the warriors what keeps ’er safe. Little varmint. Give ’er ’ere.”
“She’s starving,” I interjected in anger. “Look at her, why don’t you?”
The sky was fast lightening in the east, now a paler shade than when I’d woken. Dawn wasn’t far off.
Arthur looked back at the girl, who gave another convulsive wriggle. “If I ask him to release your arms, you have to promise me you won’t try to run.” His tone, though gentle, held a veiled threat. “Because if you try that, you’ll be caught again straight away and my men won’t be as gentle with you a second time.”
The girl’s eyes flicked back and forth over the men who surrounded her. She gave a quick nod, and Arthur indicated to her captor to release her. In relief, the man let her go, and took half a step back. Like a cornered animal, the girl stood there, her narrow chest, scarcely concealed by her ragged tunic, rising and falling much too rapidly.
I came to stand beside Arthur, hoping she wouldn’t spit on me, too. “What’s your name?” I used my gentlest tone in an effort to reassure her she’d come to no harm if she cooperated. “Mine’s Gwen.”
She licked her lips. She really was the dirtiest child I’d ever seen. “Nola.” Her voice was low and harsh, matching the way she looked.
“Where do you live, Nola?”
Now I was closer to her I could see the emaciation of her body, her arms and legs like sticks.
“’Ere.” Her small hand encompassed the forum and surrounding buildings.
“Where are your parents?”
“Ent got none.” The harshness in her voice lessened a little.
“You must have had parents once,” Arthur interrupted. “Where do you come from? No one lives here in Caerwysg now– nor have they for generations.”
She eyed him with scorn. “Us do.”
“Are there more of you?” I asked. Surely this little orphan couldn’t be on her own– there must be others here or a child her age would never have survived.
She shifted uneasily, aware she’d dropped herself in it. “Dunno.”
I thought of the poor children I’d seen begging on the streets of Caer Baddan. I’d vowed that if I stayed with Arthur and became his queen, I’d help their plight. And I’d done nothing. Events had overtaken me, but that was really just an excuse. Those children would be in as bad a way as Nola after months of winter’s cold. They might even be dead.
