She waited for him to give his name, but he just looked at her levelly. “Dai,” he said, “just Dai.”
“He is a Duke. He should be marrying a high-ranking member of the ton…”
“Ton? What that then? A weight? What’s that to do with the price of sheep?” Dai interrupted.
“Our society,” Selina tried to explain, “the nobility.”
“Bugger them,” Dai said, “you don’t think the Dukes his own man? If he does something, it be because he wants it. He’s a toff like all of them, on the surface at least. Tells himself he has to do somethings when actually he doesn’t. But, underneath, he’s a man. Just like me. So, I wouldn’t wonder about him. If he wants to marry you it’s because, deep down, he wants to be your husband.”
Selina found herself strangely comforted by this rough, country logic. There was a kind of sense to it. She smiled and Dai chuckled.
“See, there’s old Mr. Sun peeking through over there. All it took was a smile from you.”
There was indeed a patch of blue in the distance, through which a ray of pale light was playing over the hillside. She remembered her conversation with Gracie then and looked at Dai quizzically.
“Did you know the old Duke, Dai?”
Dai bit his lip before almost bursting into a fit of laughter. “Knowhim? I knew who he was. Man like me doesn’t get to know toffs like him.”
“You know Arthur though,” Selina pointed out.
“Knew him when he was a boy, didn’t I. Taught him to track and to hunt until the old bastard that was pleased to call himself the boy’s father had me driven off the land.”
“I wondered why Arthur let go of all his father’s household staff,” Selina said.
“Have to ask him, won’t you?” Dai said, puffing on his pipe, “must have had a good reason.”
“I can’t think what it would be,” Selina said wonderingly.
“Maybe he didn’t trust them. I wouldn’t.”
“Trust them with what?”
“Have to ask him, won’t you?”
“I knew Arthur when he was a boy,” Selina said.
Dai looked at her, pipe halfway to his mouth. “Aye, I remember you.”
“Really? I don’t remember you. Not at all.”
“Well, I remember you. Good at hiding when I want to,” Dai said with an air of smugness, “that’s how the old Duke didn’t catch me when he tried to. Now then, the sun’s out but the rain will be back within the hour, you mark. So, you better be getting along back to Valebridge. And no more nonsense about running away, see?”
Dai hauled himself to his feet and offered a grimy hand to Selina. She took it, unconcerned, and let him pull her up.
“Where are you headed, Dai? Would you like to join me for lunch at the Castle?” Selina said.
Dai almost choked on his pipe again. “No, no, no. I’ve had my fill of that place. Wouldn’t dare cross the threshold. I’ll walk with you aways. Then my path and yours are in different directions see. But I can show you a shortcut so you beat the rain.”
“Why won’t you cross the threshold? I think it must be a much better place under Arthur than his father.”
But Dai had already set off through the long, wet grass, muttering to himself and shaking his head. Selina stood for a moment, confounded by this strange little man. Except, he wasn’t little. He was old and moved with a stoop which concealed above average height. His shabby, baggy clothes further added to the illusion of a lack of height.
He knows about Valebridge and about Arthur. How odd that I knew Arthur as a boy and yet never saw this man in all that time. Why are there so many gaps in my memory?
“Come on then, slow coach!” Dai bellowed over his shoulder.
With a giggle, Selina ran to catch up with him, not bothering to hold up her skirts out of the soaking grass. As they walked, he began to tell her stories of the surrounding landscape. He pointed out a formation of rock and spun a yarn about their origin, involving giants and pagan gods. The hills themselves all had names and characters. The streams and pools had a tale too. He began to seem more like a bard than a poacher. As he spoke, his voice became deeper, more mellifluous, the voice of an orator or a poet.
