Page 48 of The Bear's Heart
I was near enough to see the vein pulsing in his neck. He released his hold on the old woman, who shrank away like a beaten dog.
“Patches of it, congealed and drying,” the warrior answered. “No more than a few days old. Whatever went on here, it wasn’t long ago.”
Arthur turned back to the old lady. “What happened? Where are your master and mistress? And my sister?”
Thank goodness Cei still had her by the arm. She looked as though without his support she’d have collapsed in a heap. She shook her head, wordlessly.
“Speak.” Cei shook her, and she flopped in his arms like a rag doll.
“Don’t hurt her,” I pleaded. “She’s old and frightened.” I slid down from Alezan and approached. “It’s me. Gwen. You remember. You met me when we came to the Domus Albus last year, when the lady Morgawse had just had her baby.”
She stared up at me out of red-rimmed, grey eyes, with a hint of comprehension. However, when I put my hand on her scrawny, bare arm, she recoiled as though I’d struck her.
“We won’t hurt you.” I made an effort to keep my voice low and gentle, willing her to trust me. “You don’t need to fear these soldiers. They’re on your side. My husband means to find out what happened here and help you. Please tell us what you know.”
For a long moment she gazed at me, tears forming in the corners of her eyes and silently running down her blood-stained cheeks. Then she opened her mouth wide to show me a bloody throat devoid of all but the scabby stub of a tongue.
I must have fainted, because the next I knew I was lying in the shade of one of the buildings on a pile of cloaks, with Arthur kneeling beside me, pressing a cold wet cloth to my forehead.
He looked relieved to see me awake.
When I tried to sit up, he pushed me back with a firm but gentle hand. “You had a shock. Lie still.”
The memory of that tongueless throat came rushing back and a wave of nausea washed over me. Fighting it down, I closed my eyes as tears squeezed out between my lids. “That poor old woman.”
Arthur covered my hand with his. “They did it out of spite. Left her alive on purpose, maimed, so she couldn’t tell us who’d done it.” His voice held bitterness.
I opened my eyes. “There must be others here who saw.” Ever the optimist, I was full of hope. “You didn’t find any bodies, did you?”
He shook his head. “The workers must have fled and haven’t had the nerve to return yet. If they saw us coming, that would have scared them even more, thinking they were being attacked again. I’ve sent my men to scour the village down by the river and see what they can discover.”
When I tried to get up, he stopped me. “No, lie still a while. You mustn’t forget you’re with child.”
I lay back. “That’s just it. I’m pregnant, not ill. I only fainted because I don’t like blood, and that was an awful sight. Can Bedwyr do anything for her?”
Even now, the very thought of what I’d seen inside her mouth made my stomach heave.
He shook his head. “The bleeding had stopped. But apart from that, all she can do is wait for it to heal. I know it looks awful, but people do live after that’s been done to them.” He felt my shiver and tightened his hold on my hand. “Don’t think about it.”
“How can I not? I know her. She’s someone I met, talked to, liked. A kind old woman who’d committed no crime, and yet someone did that to her. It’s not the same as a stranger. That sounds wrong, I know, but it’s true. It’s worse because I know her.”
He was silent. What else could he say?
A horrible thought dawned. “If no one’s here, have Cadwy’s men taken all of them?”
His jaw stiffened as he gave a shrug. “Perhaps they have. But from the blood we found, I fear some or all of them must be dead.”
I closed my eyes and thought of little Medraut, eight months old now, maybe crawling. Might he be dead? Would Cadwy kill his own sister’s child because its father had turned against him?
Would that be a good thing? Probably.
Chapter Nineteen
The men Arthurhad sent to the village returned to the farmyard with the headman, Cocidius, a short, balding fellow with a lazy eye and a large bulbous nose. He approached with reluctance, under guard, and stood wringing his hands in front of Arthur and staring at his own dirty, sandaled feet.
Arthur had allowed me up by then, and I stood beside Merlin, watching this interview in trepidation.
“Tell us what went on here,” Arthur said curtly. “Who did this?”
