Still angry, Mace wandered away from the camp-site. I followed and found him sitting upon a ledge of rock. ‘Do not lecture me, Owen,’ he warned.
‘I am not here to lecture. She was wrong, and you were quite right.’You don’t believe that, you are merely trying to ease my irritation. I saw your eyes when I told you of the gold in the keep. You were disappointed. Just as when I refused to fight fifty soldiers to save Megan.’Perhaps I was,’ I agreed, ‘but that does not make me right. You are not responsible for the dreams of others. Yet you did take the name, and it is the name that haunts you.’
‘I know. And you would like me to live up to it. I can’t, Owen. Not even if I tried. It is not in my nature, my friend. Can you understand that? I know what I am. When I was a child I longed for friendship. But I was the son of the whore, and no one wanted me to join their games. I learned to live without them. I joined the circus when I was little more than twelve. The master there beat me ceaselessly, using pain to teach me. I walked the high wire, I swung upon the flying bar, I danced with the bear. I learned to juggle and to tumble, but always he was there with his crop or his cane. I learned then, Owen, that a man stands alone in this world. He does not ask to enter it, and he begs not to be taken from it. In between there is fear, hardship and a little pleasure. I choose to seek pleasure.’ He lapsed into silence for a moment, his eyes distant. ‘Why did the whore refuse me, Owen? I have never been unkind to her.’She does not wish to remain a whore,’ I told him.
‘Why? What else is there for her?’She will be my wife,’ I said, speaking the words before I even realized they were there.
Where I expected a sneering comment, or worse a scornful laugh, he merely nodded sagely. ‘You could do worse?’ he said, with a shrug.
‘How long before we reach the Ringwearer?’ I asked, changing the subject and suppressing my anger.
‘Maybe too long,’ he replied. ‘We can travel no faster.’What about horses? We could buy them in Willow.’He shook his head. ‘We can move faster without them. Trust me. I just hope that this Gareth is a canny fighter, for there is no doubt the enemy will be upon him before we arrive.’I tried not to think about the perils facing Gareth – the killers, the sorcery of Cataplas, the demons he could summon.
I could only hope we would be in time.
The weather was kind for most of the journey to Willow, the sun shining, and the only hours of rainfall coming during the fifth night when we were sheltered in a deep cave with a fine fire to keep the chill from our bones. Piercollo’s wound was healing well, though I must admit that I shuddered when I saw Astiana remove the
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bandage and bathe the ruined eye. The red-hot iron had destroyed the muscles around the now empty socket and crimson scars radiated out from the wound. Mace cut an eye-patch from a piece of black leather, and this held in place a poultice of herbs prepared by Astiana. Piercollo bore his pain with dignity and courage and, on the fourth day, even resumed cooking for the company. It was a welcome relief, for Wulf was perhaps the worst cook I can remember. According to Mace, he could make fresh rabbit taste like goats’ droppings.
We ate well for the next three days, Piercollo gathering herbs and wild onions and Wulf snaring rabbits and a hedgehog or two. One morning we even dined on a fungus growing from the side of a tree. Ox-heart, Piercollo called it, and indeed it dripped red when torn from the bark. It had a savoury taste and, when cooked with sliced onions, was most welcome to the palate.
On the morning of the eighth day of travel we climbed to a hilltop overlooking the village of Willow. There were some thirty houses here and no sign of a keep or tower. The largest building was a church, situated at the village centre. For some time we sat looking down at the settlement, watching for soldiers, but seeing none we ventured in.