‘Awake at last?’ The tiny woman spryly got to her feet and came to fuss over the girl, adjusting what bedding there was, putting a hand to her brow. ‘The fever has left you.’
‘How long have I lain here?’
‘Three nights. And long ones, they were. Two of ‘em nearly took you from us.’
‘Thank you, for caring for me, Mamgi.’
’Twas little more than watching and waiting. You did the rest.’
‘I remember nothing.’ She succeeded in pushing herself into a more upright position, her nursemaid letting her do it, assessing her strength. Mamgi Williams was the grandmother of the village, though it was likely no member of her true family was living still. She was a source of wisdom and often criticism to all who needed either. She was also known for her effective remedies. Hers was a reassuring presence, and whatever shemight say, Gwen was sure she owed her recovery in no small part to the old woman’s healing skills. ‘Where are we?’ she asked her.
‘The croft of Bryn ap Blaen. He was good enough to move into the barn, though his milking cow protested more than she ought.’
The memory of what had taken place at the village assaulted Gwen’s senses like a freshly struck blow. ‘My mother?’ she asked.
Mamgi narrowed her cloudy eyes. ‘Do you see her here?’ When Gwen shook her head she grunted. ‘Then you have the answer to your question.’
She fought back tears. Both parents gone. She made herself redirect her thoughts, lest her feelings overwhelm her. ‘And the villagers? I recall… it was Dafydd pulled me from the well. And I saw Rufus… who else lives?’ she asked, deliberately and carefully framing the question to receive good news rather than bad.
‘Owain, by heaven’s grace, for we should be lost without our smithy. A handful of crofters who were safe in the hills. A gaggle ofplant,’ she tutted at the thought of the orphaned children. ‘Mouths to feed, though some may have work in ‘em. Two of your father’s soldiers returned wounded but are mended well enough to be of use now. The priest would not leave his church and paid for his loyalty with his life.’
‘Poor man. And… that is all? So many lost.’
’T'would have been worse, had not the grasping youth leading those murderous strangers been wearied from his wounds, the worst of which you inflicted upon him, it is said. Do you recall?’
‘Hubert de Chapelle? I shall never forget him!’
‘Nor he you, after how you left him.’ The old woman emitted a wheeze of laughter.
Gwen could picture all too well her knife removing the tip of the man’s nose. It was not enough, not for what he had done. Even so, she had to accept she had made an enemy. When he discovered she was yet alive he would, without doubt, seek revenge for his disfigurement. ‘I should leave. When word reaches him of my escape from the well he will come after me and all those who are with me will be in peril.’ She tried to swing her legs over the side of her cot but the effort made her senses spin.
‘Duw, duw!What nonsense! To talk of leaving when to walk the length of the room would have you on your knees.’ The old woman flapped her hands, determined not to see her charge undo all her good work. ‘Healing will take as long as it takes. It knows neither master nor mistress.’
‘At least send me Dafydd. And Rufus. I must speak with them. We must be ready.’
‘You will spend your energy too quick!’
‘Mamgi, please do as I bid you and fetch the men!’ Gwen looked at her levelly and knew that the old woman still respected her standing, still accepted that this girl with a fraction of her age and wisdom was her superior. Seeing that belief written on the face of the person who had used all her considerable knowledge to restore her to health humbled Gwen. ‘Forgive me,’ she said softly. ‘I spoke out of turn.’
‘You did not.’
‘Things are not as they were. I am no longer the daughter of your lord. I am a woman alone, and no better or worse than the rest. We are what remains of the village. We must work together to survive now.’
At this, Mamgi straightened up. Though barely five foot tall, she seemed to grow in both vigour and stature as Gwen watched. Her expression was earnest. Her voice, when at last she spoke again, was clear and strong, the speech of a far more youthful woman, and one possessed of a wealth of power and knowledge. The transformation was astonishing, and completed by a visible aura, a trembling halo of pale light that seemed to surround the woman. Her sparse white hair stood on end, moving as if blown by a supernatural breeze. ‘You know not what you are!’ she declared, pointing at Gwen. ‘You do not yet understand what youwill be. The time will come when you are all and everything to each and every person here, and many, many beyond. You will learn of your destiny, and that learning will be hard. And the becoming harder still. There will be times when you will doubt, and you will question, and you may beg to be set free of the weight that shall be yoked to your young shoulders, but carry it you must! There is no other who can take your place. The words have been spoken.’ Mamgi fell silent. She staggered forwards, reaching out a hand for the arm of the fireside chair and sinking onto the sheepskins that covered it. She was breathless, clutching at her chest, her whole, frail body shaking.
‘Mamgi, are you well?’ Gwen asked, frightened for her, wary of questioning her about her strange, frightening speech in case it further distressed her.
‘Sleep,’ was all she would say now. ‘For pity’s sake, child, let us sleep.’
London 2019
Tudor stopped on the steps of the police station, waiting for DI Chowdhury to join him. Theirs had been a long and thorough interview, and his statement had been meticulously recorded. With the two of them having history, it was clear the detective was not going to leave herself open to any accusations of favouritism. She emerged from the building at her habitually brisk pace, business-like, efficient, and still on her guard. Tudor recalled how their brief affair had ended and was pleased to remember there had been no rancour, no bitterness. The fact that they had been friends for years before any romantic entanglement helped. Still, things could never be neutral between them, even after the years that had passed.
He fell into step beside her as she continued towards her car.
‘I’ll give you a lift back to the Aurora,’ she said, handing him her coffee to hold as she fished in her bag for her keys. ‘You’ll be called to give evidence at the inquest, so make yourself available for that.’
‘And my gun?’ he asked, handing her back the cup.
