Swainham stood for a moment, then backed away towards the door.
‘Oh, and Swainham,’ said Ranaud, with a cold smile. ‘If it should cross your mind just to ride south I shall have you declared a horse thief and an outlaw. Then my soldiers, and the soldiers of the Moidart in the south, will hunt you down.’
Like all truly weak men Wullis Swainham saw life through a distorting mirror. Wiser men, whose ideas and philosophies soared over his head like geese departing for winter, were all talk and no action, lacking common sense. Brave men, who risked their lives for the clan, were foolish and needlessly reckless. Wullis saw his cowardice as intelligent caution, and his failure to advance himself in the ranks of the Rigante as evidence of the jealousy of his peers. Most especially Call Jace.
Oh, yes, Jace above all.
He had not betrayed Call Jace. Call Jace had betrayed him.
The thoughts of Wullis Swainham, as he rode his horse along the southern road, were full of bitterness. His keen eyes soon spotted where the fleeing Kaelin Ring and Chara Jace had left the road, and he turned his mount after them. The dawn sun was clear of the eastern mountains now and Wullis urged his horse up the long slope towards the trees.
Dismounting, he led the horse into the forest, tethering the reins to a jutting branch. Scanning the ground, he soon found the spot where the two had rested. Wullis turned his eyes towards the west. How long had they lingered here? The undergrowth ahead was thick and dense. It was likely, therefore, that Kaelin Ring had decided to wait for dawn. If that were the case then the southerner and Chara were only a little way ahead. Certainly no more than a mile.
The horse would be useless in this terrain. Wullis left it tethered and began to follow the tracks.
As he moved he found himself thinking of Call Jace, and the anguish he would suffer when he learned of the fate of his daughter. These were pleasing thoughts – though it would be more satisfying if the man could know exactly why he had earned such suffering.
Almost two years ago Wullis had gone to Jace. Wearing his best cloak and leggings, and carrying an offering of an embossed hunting knife, he had asked for the hand of Chara Jace. The girl was almost of marriageable age, and Wullis believed she had some feelings for him. Not that she had said anything, but he could see it in her eyes when she looked at him.
Jace had listened politely as Wullis delivered his carefully worked out speech. Then he had begun to laugh. The sound tore through Wullis Swainham, and he stood blinking and confused before his chieftain.
‘Ah, Wullis,’ said Call Jace, as his laughter finally subsided, ‘that was a rich jest. Who put you up to it? Was it Bael? Rayster?’
‘Jest, lord? I don’t understand.’
All humour faded from Call Jace’s eyes. ‘Not a jest? Are you insane then, Wullis? What could possibly have led you to believe that I would allow my only daughter to wed a timid man? No, no.
Put this nonsense from your mind. By heaven, Wullis, a man should at least understand his limitations. You are a fine tracker, but you have the heart of a corn mouse. Now let us say no more about this matter.’
The heart of a corn mouse. The words still clung to his soul.
Well, the corn mouse had been among the men who deflowered his precious Chara. The corn mouse had seen three of Call’s best scouts taken by the beetlebacks. Now the corn mouse would kill Kaelin Ring, and bring Chara back to the fortress. And he would be there when the great Call Jace was dragged to the executioner’s block. Call Jace would live to rue the day he had spoken so scathingly.
Wullis moved swiftly through the undergrowth, following the tracks. The southerner was not taking any pains to disguise their passage. He also noted that Chara’s smaller prints showed occasional scuff marks as her feet dragged. She was exhausted. As well she might be, he thought. She’ll be more exhausted yet by the time I’ve finished with her, he decided.