Rhiannon saw his pain. ‘You are not yet mended,’ she muttered. ‘I should not have had you walk so far.’
‘I am well enough. Do not concern yourself.’
‘Naturally I am concerned. I owe you my life.’
‘A service you repaid by saving mine,’ he replied, handing her the lichen.
As she took it from him she saw that his hand trembled. She realised then how much his injury must be troubling him, and how determined he was not to allow that suffering to show.
‘You put yourself in great danger to help us,’ she said, watching him closely. ‘You were to sell your services to the Lord at the great house, were you not? What turned you from your own purpose to go to the aid of a stranger?’ As she asked the question she wondered what she wished to hear for his answer. If he confessed to having had his head turned by a young maid, would she think less of him? If he did not, would she be disappointed?
He seemed to draw back from her slightly. When he spoke his voice was calm and level but held a trace of anger in it. He looked at her directly, holding her gaze with his dark, soulful eyes, hiding nothing. ‘Think you that a sell-sword cannot act save a purse of coins be dangled before him?’
‘Why, no! That is not my belief. I…’
‘Is it not sufficient that a person do what is right? Must his character be questioned because of what he might yet do, without knowledge of his history or reasons?
‘Forgive me, I had no wish to judge, I merely asked for my own… understanding.’
‘And what would you do with that understanding?’
‘I would… know you better,’ she said quietly.
Seeing the sincerity in her expression his manner changed. ‘It is I who should ask forgiveness,’ he said, turning his face from her. ‘You have treated me with nothing but the greatest care and kindness. I should not have spoken so.’
Rhiannon stepped past him, plucking more lichen from the trunk of another small tree. ‘Your injury pains you. I should not have troubled you with such things.’
‘I..’
She turned to look at him then, her own face uncharacteristically serious. ‘You are under no obligation toexplain yourself to me, sir. Your business is your own. We all have pasts to keep, and few of us wish to parade them before people we are newly acquainted with. Come, let us return. Even now the cold deepens and will tire you further.’
Seeking to mend this sudden fracture in their friendship, Tudor pointed to the berries on one of the larger Rowan trees. ‘Shall I fetch those down for you?’
‘What? Oh, no, thank you.’
‘Are they not of use.’
‘They are of more use to the birds.’
‘Birds that you then might hunt?’
‘No, they are too small.’
‘It is generous of you to put the hunger of such little lives before that of yourself.’
‘I act not out of generosity. Those small birds will feed bigger ones. Bigger ones feed wolves. Wolves we hunt for their skin.’
He glanced about him then. ‘There are wolves this high in the mountains?’
She smiled then, unable to resist laughing at him. ‘Do you not know there are wolves to be found everywhere? Some wear shaggy coats, others the colours of the Norman king. As long as you are here it is the hairy ones you have to worry about. And if you’re nice to him, Taran will keep you safe,’ she said, pausing toclick her fingers to summon the hound before turning back up the path towards home.
CHAPTER NINE
London 2019
It was dark by the time Tudor reached London. Charlie’s flight had been delayed and his luggage, of which there was a great deal, took an age to reach the carousel. It had been the boy’s parents’ idea: a short trip to New York with friends. To get him away from the darkness of the events at the Aurora. To take his mind off it, they had said. Tudor knew the real reason was to keep their own family name, and any possible photographs, out of the papers. Mrs Wilson had seen an apartment at the Aurora as an expensive but glamorous step up the social ladder. Bad press was not part of the plan. Charlie had seized the chance for an extended shopping trip, hence the hefty luggage. As Tudor steered the Audi along the embankment he glanced in the mirror. His charge was sleeping on the back seat, his face all at once that of a child again. With a jolt Tudor thought of Emily. Of how he would not see her for a while. Of how teens went from children to adults and back again, alternately pulling at your heartstrings or fraying your last nerve, until suddenly, without further warning, they were grown.
As they neared their destination he brought his mind to bear on his job. He disliked airport pick ups as they made him feel uncomfortably close to being the boy’s flunky. On this occasion, however, he had been happy to play driver as well as personal security. He wanted another chance to take a look at his client’s new property. The flat itself was fine. He’d checked the vulnerable points, the locks, the security systems, all were above satisfactory. No, it was the building he wanted to see more of. There was something about the Aurora that troubled him. Something beyond the opulence and grandeur. Something, even, beyond the shocking murder that had taken place there. He couldn’t yet make sense of it, but it had to do with the crazed look in the old woman’s eyes and the incongruity of the setting for such violent madness. It might just be a hunch, might be an over wariness on his part born of years spent in dangerous places, but he couldn’t ignore it. Things were not as they seemed, and he would not be doing his job if he didn’t check it out.
