Brynach leaned close to Rhiannon.
‘There may be more soldiers inside the inn,’ he said. ‘There will certainly be more up at the house.’
She glanced at Dafydd who was still cajoling Dilly back between the shafts. The mare was reluctant to take on her burden again so soon and was not cooperating. She turned back to her customer.
‘Give me my price,’ she said, ‘and I will let you have the baskets also.’ When the woman dithered she wenton. ‘Should you have no use for them, you can surely sell them on yourself. They are carefully made.’
With maddening slowness the woman proceeded to inspect the baskets. Brynach hissed into Rhiannon’s ear.
‘My lady, we must leave now!’
She knew he was right but the thought of returning home empty handed was unbearable. Without the corn and the birds they would face real hardship through a second winter. It would possibly be that some of the weaker members of the community would not survive. She tried again with the villager.
‘Mistress, do we have our bargain?’
The woman muttered and tutted a little more but at last spat on her hand and offered it. They shook on the agreed deal and she turned and waddled lamely and haltingly back to her house to fetch what they had agreed. Rhiannon saw that the man with the stew-scalded face had noticed them now and was looking at Brynach. If he had been at Talgar for some time it was likely he would know everyone in it. Particularly every man of fighting age. With a jolt she realised she had seen no such men in the village, save for the smithy. There were old people, women and babies. The men and the children were gone. She felt a coldness sweep over her. Now the fear she had detected from thewomen made perfect sense. It also meant that both Dafydd and Brynach would instantly draw attention. She had worried that the men might recognise her from that night in Dafydd’s cottage, and had hoped that keeping her face obscured could buy them safety and enough time to leave. The men could not be so easily hidden. Indeed, even as her mind raced to process the possible consequences of these revelations, she could see that stew-face and his companion were standing straighter, their bodies tensing, their faces now suddenly sober and alert. Yet they did not move to apprehend the strangers. Instead they stood, observing, waiting, she believed, for more of their allies perhaps, to emerge from the inn or the house. Knowing how cowardly they both were, she assumed they would not want to tackle possible adversaries until the odds were improved.
At last, Dafydd succeeded in harnessing Dilly securely. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the cart in a circle so that she was pointed in the direction of home. This had the immediate effect of improving her temper.
The woman who had bought the lambs came out of her house. She held the chickens and cockerel, bound at the feet, their heads swinging, eyes bright, each making nervous clucking noises. Behind her came a young girl pushing a barrow containing three dusty sacks ofcorn. As soon as they reached the green, Brynach stepped forwards to take the birds and hand over the ropes of the lambs. Just as it seemed all might go smoothly the cockerel chose to protest loudly at being given to a new owner. This startled the sheep, and one pulled free of the woman and bounded away down the street, its rope trailing behind it. The girl gave chase as heads in the village began to turn in their direction. In her haste to load the corn sacks, Rhiannon let her shawl slip from her head. She raised her hand to readjust it but too late. She had been seen. Seen and recognised.
Stew-face was no longer interested in waiting.
Dafydd saw him coming. ‘My lady, get on the cart. Quickly now,’ he said, reaching down a hand for her.
Brynach, having swung the protesting fowl onto the cart behind the sacks, had already placed himself between the advancing men and Rhiannon.
‘Do not confront them,’ she told him. ‘Better that we simply leave quietly now.’
‘Mistress!’ Stew-face yelled across the green. ‘Why the haste? Are we not old acquaintances?’ he asked as he walked towards her. Addressing his companion without taking his eyes from his prey, he said, ‘See, Ivan, ’tis the maid who made us sowelcome,not so very long ago.’
‘Oh, I see her,’ the second man agreed, his expression darkening as he casually drew a knife from his belt.
All at once, the mood in the village changed. The stout woman and the girl showed an unexpected turn of speed, abandoning the lambs, slamming the door of their little house behind them. Other women snatched up their spindles and babes and also fled inside. The old man outside the inn hurried away.
Rhiannon turned to Dafydd. ‘Go!’ she told him. ‘There is no time to argue. It is me they want. You must get the supplies back to Blaencwm.’
‘I will not leave you!’
‘Fear not for me, only hasten!’
‘But, my lady…’
‘Dafydd,’ she held his gaze then, her voice low and steady, ‘our people will starve.’
He hesitated then, knowing she spoke the bald truth. Brynach had his knife drawn and stood ready to defend his mistress with his life if necessary.
‘God keep you, Lady Rhiannon,’ he said, startling her with her new name, marrying it as he did with her old title. He pulled the brim of his hat still lower over his face, keeping his head down, and flicked the reins on Dilly’s rump, clicking his tongue, sending her into a sprightly, homeward bound trot.
Not recognising Dafydd, Stew-face and his friend were too intent on their revenge to bother with the shabby cart. Rhiannon turned to face them, Brynach at her side.
The taller man spoke first. ‘I had heard de Chapelle threw you into a well, yet here you are.’
‘He learned, as you did, I am not to be so simply dealt with.’
‘We learned a high born bitch is still a bitch.’
‘It seems I did not teach you manners that night. Nor how to choose the winning side,’ she added, gesturing at the colours the men wore.
