Free Heart of Stars by Kate Forsyth Page B

into his mouth. It roused him at once, and he took the flask from her with his bound, bloodied hands and swigged a good dram.
    ‘Thank Eà for the water o’ life,’ he gasped. ‘S làinte mhath! ’
    ‘S làinte mhath, ’ she repeated ironically.
    While Olwynne had been sitting with Owein’s head in her lap, Jem and Irving and Kennard the coachman and Ballard the bodyguard had gone on down the road with grim expressions on their faces. No-one seemed to worry much about the poor unsuspecting charcoal-burners ahead. Olwynne could only hope they would not fight to save their dray and carthorses.
    Lord Malvern was sitting on a rock, his furred cloak slung about his shoulders, his valet on his knees before him, massaging his stockinged feet. Dedrie brought him whisky, and some bread and cold meat, apologising for the roughness of the fare. She ignored Owein and Olwynne.
    Olwynne had not eaten since midday, when they had been given some dry bread to gnaw on as they rode, and a mouthful of water. Her mouth was so dry her tongue felt like a lizard in her mouth.
    ‘We need water and some food,’ she said loudly. ‘Do ye want us to die afore ye can sacrifice us?’
    Lord Malvern made a bored gesture, and Dedrie brought them the water-skin and tossed them some bread. It was so dry and old there was no way Olwynne could eat it, even by dribbling water onto it. She satisfied herself with drinking deeply, and helping Owein to drink also. Piers offered them more whisky, with an unhappy twist of his mouth, and Olwynne accepted, even though she had never liked it. It was better than bread, bolder and hotter, and filled her with a courage she knew to be wholly spurious.
    By the time Jem returned, it was twilight. Olwynne and Owein were forced to stumble down the road, the horses being too weary to carry their double load any more. Their humiliation was complete when Lord Malvern ordered ropes to be looped about their necks. Every time they staggered or tripped, they would be dragged up, the rope burning about their necks. So this is what it would feel like to be hung , Olwynne thought and was filled with a remorse so bitter it scalded her.
    In darkness they came into a clearing. Olwynne could only be glad of the lack of light. Her captors had slaughtered the peaceable charcoal-burners who laboured here, and tossed their bodies to one side. In the flickering light of the great bonfire Olwynne could see their slack bodies, like a pile of discarded clothes. It made her feel strange and cold and sick. She could not stop looking at them.
    Jem and Irving and Kennard and Ballard were drinking out of Jem’s tarnished hipflask with great gusto. A goatwas turning on a spit over the fire, filling the air with the aroma of roast meat. It made Olwynne retch and weep.
    Owein looked very grave. ‘These are evil men indeed,’ he whispered to Olwynne. ‘Keep close to me. I can only hope they wish to keep us unharmed until we get to wherever we are going. Try no’ to attract any notice.’
    ‘What do they want with us?’ Olwynne whispered in anguish. ‘Why do they call us “the sacrifices”?’
    ‘I do no’ ken,’ Owein said after a moment. ‘I am afraid to even try and guess.’
    Olwynne shuddered. Piers noticed and brought them both some rough old blankets that, by the smell of sweat and wood smoke, had once belonged to the charcoal-burners. Olwynne huddled one about her gratefully. She was dressed for a midsummer wedding, not a trek through a wintry forest.
    ‘Do ye think she will come again, for us?’ Owein whispered some time later, when the men were busy about their meal and could not hear. He looked up at the night sky, studded with a thousand stars. The red moon was rising, gibbous as a mouldy orange.
    Olwynne felt tears sting her eyes. She could think of no reason why Rhiannon would risk her life or the life of her horse to come and rescue her, when Olwynne had stolen away the man she loved. Rhiannon would rejoice to know the