“I suppose we must get about our rounds,” he said. “Curt will want a report.”
Hugo nodded, scratching his head again. “I’ve had the men collect the dead from around the wall,” he said. “We either need to return them to the Welsh or burn them. Curt should make the decision.”
“I’ll make the decision,” Amaro said quietly. “Burn them. Let’s pile them out there, away from the encampment, and simply burn them.”
Hugo glanced at him. “That might enrage the clergy in the nearby town,” he said. “Any burning should be cleared with Curt. Ultimately, he will have to answer for it.”
Amaro knew that. The clergy usually greatly disapproved of burning corpses of enemies, especially in a volatile area like the marches. But Amaro wasn’t beyond overstepping himself when Curtis wasn’t around. He didn’t like it when his commands were questioned.
“Then find him and tell him,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “In fact, tell him that I—”
He was cut off by a shout over near one of the towers where the stairs led up from the bailey. As he and Hugo turned to the source of the noise, they could see a soldier emerging from the tower, dragging someone with him. As he drew closer, they could see that it was a woman dressed in the clothes of a male servant.
The soldier had her by the hair.
“I found this one hiding in the kitchens, my lord,” the soldier said, dumping the woman in front of Amaro. “She says that Gwenwynwyn is her uncle and she is hiding because she fears for her life from the English.”
Amaro and Hugh looked at the woman. She was tiny, with dark hair and dark eyes, a little slip of a woman who was clearly terrified. She put her dirty hands over her face, weeping, as Hugo crouched in front of her.
“What’s your name, lass?” he asked.
The woman was a mess. Shaken and thin, she wiped her eyes with the back of her dirty hand. “M-Melusine,” she said, her voice trembling. “Melusine ferch Cadwallon.”
“And you are from Gwenwynwyn’s family?”
She nodded, her dark hair flapping in her face. “He is my uncle,” she said. Then she burst into a new round of tears. “He supported the English king, my lord. He was not the enemy. I am not the enemy!”
“Yet you hid from us,” Hugo said. “Why did you do that?”
There was fluid coming out of every feature of her face. “There was fire coming from the sky,” she said, shakily indicating the flaming projectiles. “It burned everything. And then she went mad, so I hid!”
“Who went mad?”
“M-my cousin, my lord,” she said. “She wanted to kill me and kill her brother.”
“What cousin?”
Melusine shook her head. “Elle, my lord.” She sniffled. “She put Gruffydd in the vault, so I hid.”
Hugo looked up at Amaro. “Do you know anything about a cousin?”
Amaro shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But we should take her to de Lohr. He will want to talk to her if she is who she says she is.”
He motioned to the soldier, who took the hint. Grabbing Melusine by the arm this time, he dragged the woman off the wall. Amaro and Hugo could hear her weeping all the way down the stairs. They could see her down below, in the darkened bailey, as the soldier pulled her toward the gatehouse with the English encampment beyond.
Screams always excited Amaro.
When he heard them, he knew he was accomplishing his tasks well.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you goingto stop fighting?”
The question came from Curtis. He was holding tight to Elle, who was still angry, still struggling after the encounter with her brother. Curtis had hauled her to his tent, but he hadn’t released her. Even though he’d set her on her feet, he’d trapped her arms behind her back so she couldn’t get away from him or really move at all without causing herself pain. Even so, she kicked and twisted and cursed.
Curtis simply let her get it out of her system.
“Well?” he said. “Answer me. Are you going to stop fighting?”
