‘Did she die?’
He nodded. ‘Plague. She fought it, mind. All the swellings had gone, the discolouration. She’d even begun to get her hair back. Then she caught a chill and had no strength left to battle it. Died in the night. Peaceful.’
‘Were you a gladiator then?’
‘No. I was a merchant’s book-keeper.’
‘I don’t believe it! How did you meet her?’
‘She danced in a tavern. One night someone reached up and grabbed her leg. She kicked him in the mouth. He drew a dagger. I stopped him.’
‘Just like that? A book-keeper?’
‘Do not make the mistake of judging a man’s physical courage, or his skills, by the work he is forced to do,’ he said. ‘I knew a doctor once who could put an arrow through a gold ring at forty paces. And a street cleaner in Drenan who once held off twenty Sathuli warriors, killing three, before he carried his injured officer back to camp. Judge a man by his actions, not his occupation. Now let’s get back to work.’
‘What about the other wives?’
‘Don’t want to work yet, eh? All right. Let’s see, what can I tell you about Kalla? She was another dancer. Worked in the south quarter in Drenan. Ventrian girl. Sweet – but she had a weakness. Loved men. Couldn’t say no. That marriage lasted eight months. She ran off with a merchant from Mashrapur. And lastly there was Voria. Older than me, but not much. I was a young fighter then, and she was the patron of the Sixth Arena. She took a fancy to me, showered me with gifts. Married her for her money, have to admit it, but I learned to love her, in my own way.’
‘And she died, too?’
‘No. She caught me with two serving maids and threw me out. Made my life Hell. For three years she kept trying to have me killed in the arena. Spiked my special wine with a sleeping-draught once. I was almost dead on my feet when I went out to fight. Then she hired two assassins. I had to
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leave Drenan for a while. I fought in Vagria, Gothir, even Mashrapur.’
‘Does she still hate you?’
He shook his head. ‘She married a young nobleman, then died suddenly leaving him all her money. Fell from a window – accident, they said, but I spoke to a servant who said he’d heard her having a terrible row with her husband just before she fell.’
‘You think he killed her?’
‘Sure of it.’
‘And now he lives fat off her wealth?’
‘No. Curiously he fell from the same window two nights later. His neck was broken in the fall.’
‘And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with that?’
‘Me? How could you think it? And now let’s work, if you please. Swords, I think.’
But just as Miriel was drawing her sword she saw movement in the undergrowth to the north of the cabin. At first she thought it was her father returning, for the first man who came into sight was dressed all in black. But he carried a longbow and was darkly bearded. He was followed by a shorter, stockier man in a tan leather jerkin.
‘Follow my lead,’ whispered Angel. ‘And say nothing, even if they speak to you.’
He turned and waited as the men approached. ‘Good day,’ said the black-garbed bowman.
‘And to you, friend. Hunting?’
‘Aye. Thought we might find a stag.’
‘Plenty south of here. Boar too, if you like the meat.’
‘Nice cabin. Yours?’
‘Yes,’ said Angel. The man nodded.
‘You’d be Dakeyras then?’
That’s right. This is my daughter, Moriae. How do you know of us?’
‘Met some people in the mountains. They said you had a cabin here.’
‘So you came to visit?’
‘Not exactly. Thought you might be an old friend of
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mine. His name was Dakeyras, but he was taller than you and darker.’
‘It’s not an uncommon name,’ said Angel. ‘If you kill a stag I’ll buy some of the meat. Game will be pretty scarce once winter comes.’
Til bear that in mind,’ said the bowman.
The two men walked off towards the south. Angel watched them until they were out of sight.