“Roll over onto your stomach.”
“The beast’ll bite me!” But he did so, easing his arm out from under Sorrow as the hound looked up at Alain for direction.
Heric had been a big man once, but hunger had worn him down. He hadn’t a belt for the tunic, and a crude cord woven out of reeds tied back his unruly hair. This man had betrayed him. But Alain could find no indignation on his own behalf for this pathetic creature who had no shoes, no gloves, and only two arrows, one now broken, with which to kill himself some supper. He hadn’t even a knife.
“Why are you here at Ravnholt Manor?”
“Heard deer and rats seen roundabout,” Heric replied, head twisted to one side so he could speak without choking on dirt. “I’m hungry.”
“Do you know what happened to those four women?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Centuries ago, as humankind measured time, Alain had been bitten by a blind snake hiding in the lair of a phoenix. The effects of that venom still coursed through his blood, and where the poison burned, he burned with outrage. “You’re lying, Heric. I pray you, do not lie. God know the truth. How can you hide from Them?”
“I didn’t kill anyone! It was the others. It was them who are guilty! Even here at Ravnholt. I just stood watch, I never hurt anyone! After you escaped the cage, after that storm and that monster—ai, God! Then all those who were so friendly to me before, all them turned on me and cast me out! What was I to do? The woodsmen—that’s what they call themselves—they’re not so particular!”
“Although an honest woodsman might object to a pack of bandits calling themselves by an honest name.”
“We was hungry, just like others. Did what we had to do to get a scrap to eat.”
“Murdered folk here at Ravnholt Manor? Where are the four girls who were taken?”
He sobbed helplessly into the dirt, nose running. He stank with fear. “I left them after they done it. I wasn’t guilty. I didn’t do it!”
“After they done what?”
“Killed them! Raped them and killed them. Said they might try to escape. I said they ought to spare ’em. But no.”
“You touched none of those girls?”
“I didn’t kill them!”
“But you raped them! Isn’t that harm enough? And stood by and let them die after! Doesn’t that stain your hands with their blood? The one who refuses to act to save the innocent is as guilty as the one whose hand strikes the blow!”
These words set Heric caterwauling and writhing on the earth like a man having a fit.
“Roll over and sit up.”
Heric’s sobs ceased and, cautiously, he rolled onto his back, then sat, not even brushing off the leaf litter and dirt and twigs that smeared his rags. He eyed first Rage, who wanted to get back to licking the infected toe, then Sorrow, who yawned hugely to display his teeth.
Alain took a few breaths to clear his anger. “I believe you are telling the truth about those poor girls, but I’ll see those graves.”
“There aren’t no graves! The others slit their throats and cast them into the brush, that’s all.”
“Then you’ll bury their corpses. Lead me there.”
“Won’t! It’s close by the hidey-hole. We’ll be killed, you and me. Twenty of them agin’ two of us. I have no weapon, not now you took mine … unless you want to give me back my bow.”
“No, I don’t want to. Come, then.”
“We’re not going there, are we?” His voice rose in panic. “I don’t want to die.”
“Did those girls want to die? Did they cry and plead, Heric? Did you hear them begging while you stood by and watched?”
“I turned my back!” he said indignantly. “I’m not a monster, to watch murder done!”
“If turning your back is not a monstrous deed, then what is?” He signaled with a hand. Tails lashing, the hounds waited for his command.
“Where are we going?”
“To Lavas Holding.”
“Not there, I beg you! They’ll hang me! They’ll chop off my hands and then my head.”
“If you’re not guilty, why do you fear their justice?”
Heric spat into the dirt. Rage growled.
“Are you so wise?” he sneered. “What justice is there for a man like me? I served the old count faithfully, and what did I get for my good service? I got turned out by the new lord without even a thanks! An old hunting dog is treated better than I was! Lord Geoffrey will hang me just to be rid of another mouth to feed. He was happy enough to offer boots and clothes and a handful of sceattas when I brought you to him, for him to parade around the county. Because he thought folk would stop their whispering. And after—hsst!” He spat again. “After that storm, after you escaped, those who cheered most to see you mad and chained slapped me and spat on me and called me an evil man. Because they feared it was God sent the storm to free you. Why should I not fear their justice? They’ll be glad to hang me to make the shame pass from their own sinful hearts.”