The Forest Laird(188)

Dyllan was looking at Ewan strangely. “You find that attractive, her being big and ready to whelp any minute?”

Ewan made himself grin. “No, but when she does whelp she’ll be over it soon and ready to go again. Who is she, d’ you know?”

The jailer shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m only the jailer. They don’t tell me things like that. My job’s to keep ’em penned up. I don’t need to know who they are. But I know the one you’re askin’ after’s mad. She’s crazed and out of ’er mind, she is. The other one was ’er mother.”

“Was?” Ewan told me afterwards how difficult it had been for him to keep his face from betraying him. “Y’ mean she’s dead?”

“Aye. She were dead when they brung ’er in. Didn’t find out, though, till we tried to lift ’er out o’ the wagon she was in. She were gettin’ cold by then.”

“Then it’s no wonder the daughter’s mad with grief.”

The jailer shrugged. “Aye, mayhap. But that aren’t all. I tell you, I was glad to get out o’ that place at the end o’ my shift t’day. That’s the wust day I c’n recall in there, and I’ve seen some bad uns.”

“Ah,” said Ewan. “Then let’s not talk about it. All I really want to know is, when will she get out?”

“When will she what?”

Gareth spoke up again. “’E wants to know whether ’e should stay ’ere for a few days, looking to meet up with ’er when she gets out, or whether he’d best be on his way and forget it.”

“Oh …” Dyllan’s headshake was slow and ponderous. “No. Best move on, friend. She won’t be coming out again, that one. And even if she did, she wouldn’t be no use to you. She were screamin’ about some snapper, some little ’un what ’ad got lost. I never saw no youngster there, but she was screamin’ mad, cryin’ is name and howlin’, throwin’ ’erself around. And then she found out the other woman was dead, and that made her worse. Went proper mad then, she did, and flew at big Simon, tryin’ to scratch his eyes out. Wrong thing to do, that was. Big Simon’s not too clever, and ’e’s got a nasty temper. Smacked her in the head with his ring of keys, he did, and then kicked ’er in the belly when she went down. ’E only kicked her the once, but that was enough. It shut ’er up for a while, but then she started pukin’ an’ bleedin’ all over the place.”

Ewan grunted. He told me it took all of his strength not to reach out and choke the jailer, but he knew he had to remain calm. “What happened then?”

“Well, she was ’avin’ ’er baby. All we could do was watch till it were done.”

He made himself grimace. “She had her baby?”

“Aye, but it was dead when it come out.” The jailer shook his head in what might have been regret, then picked up his beer and took another long drink. “Jesus,” he said, “I’ve never seen so much blood.”

Ewan ground his teeth together fiercely and asked quietly, “And what about the woman? Did she live?”

“Oh aye. At least, she was alive when I left. I threw ’er the blankets off the old woman’s litter, but she wouldn’t move off the floor, so I just covered ’er up and left ’er there.”

“On the floor. You left her there …”

“Aye.”

“And what happened to the baby?”

“It were dead.”

“I know it was dead, Dyllan. I asked what happened to it.”

Dyllan looked down into his pot of ale, and then he said, in a very quiet voice, “Simon fed it to the pigs with the rest of the mess.”

Ewan drew a great breath and stood up from the table, gripping his left thumb in his right fist to keep himself from lashing out. “Well, then,” he said calmly, “no point in waiting around to see her. I doubt she’ll look as good again as she did this day.” He forced himself to nod to the jailer and then looked at Gareth Owens.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Mayhap our paths will cross again someday.” He reached into his scrip and laid a silver coin on the table. “The drinks are on me until this runs out. I thank you for your time and kindness.”

Gareth stared down at the silver coin and then grinned widely. “We’ll drink to your good health, Archer, and you’re welcome back here any time.”

2

By the time Ewan finished, his face was streaked with tracks where the tears had scoured runnels through the dirt and road dust caked on his sunken cheeks, and I was racked in agony from the sobs that wrenched me and which I was powerless to resist. I could not find a single word to say that would serve any purpose other than to break the silence between us. I have no memory of how long we remained there, immersed in our grief, but it seemed to me afterwards that it must have been a long time. Finally, though, Ewan raised his head and looked at me, scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with the sleeve of his rough tunic.