‘Nice. It’s a bargain.’ Dropping the sack Jarek walked on, stepping over the body of the priest. I hurried after him, keeping my mouth shut and my disgust to myself until we were some distance from the scene.
‘At least he didn’t rape the women,’ said Jarek. ‘He’s very moral that way.’Are you using that as an excuse for him?’He doesn’t need me to excuse him,’ he answered. ‘Wulf is a woodsman – and a good one. But the war had taken its toll, even in
the forest. The Count of Ziraccu needed money to hire his mercenaries. So, even -a count has a limited income: he could not afford to maintain his work-force here. Wulf has no job now. Food supplies are scarce, and prices have risen fourfold. He has a family to feed, yet no coin to buy food. What else could he do but take to the road?’ ‘He has become a murderer!’ ‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’ ‘You condone the murder of innocent women?’ ‘I didn’t kill them,’ he said . ‘Don’t vent your anger on we.’ ‘But you were happy to trade with their killers.’ He stopped and turned to face me – the smile, as ever, in place. ‘You are angry, bard, but not with me. You were filled with horror back there, and loathing and disgust. But you said nothing. That is what is burning inside you . . . not the trade.’ I let out a long sigh and looked away. ‘Come on,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It is a short walk to the village.’The village was a collection of some twenty-five dwellings, some of simple wood construction beneath sloping roofs of thatch, others more solidly built of clay, mixed with powdered stone, beneath wooden roofs weighted with large stones. They were all single-storey, but equipped with narrow lofts where the children slept. The settlement was situated on the western shore of a long lake and a dozen fishing-boats were drawn up on the mud flats by the water’s edge.
Jarek and I walked into the village, passing a group of children playing by the open doors of the central hall. There was much giggling as the youngsters, dressed in simple tunics and trews of wool – most of them grime-ingrained – chased each other around the building. An old man sitting in a narrow doorway nodded at Jarek and lifted a weary hand in greeting. Jarek waved and moved on.
A young girl, scarce in her teens, watched us as we passed. Her blonde hair was cropped close to her head and her eyes were wide and frightened. She shrank back against the side of the building, her gaze locked to us. I smiled at her, and she turned and sped away between the houses.
‘Ilka,’ said Jarek. ‘The village whore.’
‘She is but a child.’Fifteen or thereabouts,’ he said, ‘but she was raped two years ago in the forest and left to die. She is an orphan with no hope of marriage. What else could she become?’Why no hope of marriage? She is comely.’The rapists cut out her tongue,’ he answered.
‘And for that she is condemned?’He stopped and turned to face me. ‘Why do you say condemned? She has employment, she earns her bread, she is not despised.’I was lost for words. I could see from his expression that he was genuinely curious, and lacked any understanding of the girl’s grief. Her future had been stolen from her, the gift of speech cruelly ripped from her mouth. Yet she was the one who faced a lifetime of punishment. I tried to explain this but Jarek merely chuckled, shook his head and walked on. I wondered then if I had missed some subtlety, or overlooked an obvious point. But her face stayed in my mind, haunted and frightened.
We came at last to a narrow house built near the water’s edge. Beyond the dwelling was a tall net hut and a fenced area which had been dug over and shaped for a vegetable patch. Nothing was growing now, but inside the house there were sacks of carrots and dried onions, and various containers filled with edible tubers that were unknown to me. It was a long, one-roomed dwelling with a central hearth of fired clay and stone. Screens had been set around the hearth and there were four rough-hewn seats close to the fire. Against the far wall was a wide bed. Jarek loosed the string of his bow and laid it against the wall, his quiver and sword alongside it. Shrugging off his sheepskin cloak, he sat beside the fire staring into the flames.