Asmidir’s words rankled. She had thought him different, more … intelligent? Yes. Instead he proved to be like most men, caught between a need for fornication and a love of sermonizing.
Abby soared above her, and Lady ran to the side of the trail, seeking out hares. Sigarni pushed thoughts of the black man from her mind and walked on in the dusk, coming at last to the final hillside and gazing down on her cabin. A light was showing at the window and this annoyed her, for she wished to be alone this evening. If it was that fool, Bernt, she would give him the sharp side of her tongue.
Walking into the yard, she whistled for Abby. The hawk came in low, then spread her wings and settled on Sigarni’s glove. Feeding her a strip of meat she removed the hunting jesses; then carrying her to the bow perch, she attached the mews ties, and turned towards the cabin.
Lady moved to the side of the building, lying down beside the door with her head on her paws.
Sigarni pushed open the door.
Fell was sitting by the fire, eyes closed, his long legs stretched out before the blaze. It angered her that she could feel a sense of rising excitement at his presence. He looked just the same as on that last day, his long black hair sleek and glowing with health, swept back from his brow and held in place by a leather headband, his beard close-trimmed and as soft as fur. Sigarni took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
‘What do you want here, Goat-brain?’ she snapped.
Then she saw the blood.
There were wolves all around him, fangs bared, ready to rip and tear. A powerful beast leapt at him. Fell caught it by the throat, then spun on his heel hurling the creature into the pack. His limbs felt leaden, as if he were wading through water. The wolves blurred, shifting like smoke, becoming tall, fierce-eyed warriors holding knives of sharpened bronze. They moved in on him, smoothly, slowly. Fell’s arms were paralyzed and he felt the first knife sink into his shoulder like a tongue of fire.. .
He opened his eyes. Sigarni was kneeling beside him with a needle in her hand, and he felt the flap of flesh on his shoulder drawn tight by the thread. Fell swore softly. ‘Lie still,’ she said and Fell obeyed her. His stomach felt uneasy. Snapping the thread with her teeth, she sat back. ‘Looks like a sword cut.’
‘Long knife,’ he told her, taking a deep shuddering breath. He said no more for a while, resting his neck against the thick, cushioned hide of the chair’s head-rest. Focusing his gaze on the far timbered wall he ran his eyes over the weapons hanging there – the long-handled broadsword with its leaf-shaped blade and hilt of leather, the bow of horn and the quiver of black-shafted arrows, the daggers and dirks and lastly the helm, with its crown and cheek-guards of black iron and the nasal guard and brows of polished brass. Not a speck of rust or tarnish showed on them.
‘You keep your father’ s weapons in good condition,’ he said.
‘That’s what Gwal taught me,’ she told him. ‘Who gave you the wound?’
‘We didn’t exchange names. There were two of them. Robbed a pilgrim on the Low Trail. I tracked them to Mas Gryff.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘Oh, they’re still there. I returned the money to the pilgrim and made a report to the Watch.’ His face darkened. ‘Bastards! You could almost feel their disappointment.’ He shook his head. ‘It won’t be much longer, you know. They’ll look for any excuse.’
‘You’ve lost a lot of blood,’ she said. ‘I’ll make some broth.’
He watched her move away, his eyes lingered on the sway of her hips. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Sigarni. Never saw the like!’
‘Look on and weep for all you’ve lost,’ she said, before disappearing into the back room.
‘Amen to that,’ he whispered. Resting his head once more, he remembered the last parting two years before, Sigarni standing straight and tall and proud … always so proud. Fell had walked across the glens to Cilfallen and paid bride-price for Gwendolyn. Sweet Gwen. In no way did she match the silver-haired woman he had left, save in one. Gwen could bear children, and a man needed sons. Ten months later Gwen was dead, the victim of a breech birth that killed both her and the infant.