Jack Whyte: The Saxon Shore

"Merlyn," she said, showing no surprise. "Is everything in hand?"

"Aye, for the time being."

She indicated the deep couch across from her, and I sat down. Donuil remained on his feet, merely resting his buttocks against the edge of the heavy table.

"You want to know what happened," she said, a statement rather than a question. I nodded, and she squeezed her temples between the thumb and fingers of her free hand.

"So do I, Merlyn, so do I . . . I knew you'd come, so I've said nothing yet to Donuil, for I knew I could only go through this once . . ." She shook her head, frowning slightly. "It was sudden, unexpected, and I had no time to think or plan; none of us did . . ." She glanced towards her husband. "Donuil, please sit down. I won't be able to think clearly with you looming over me like that."

Expressionless, Donuil moved quietly to sit beside me on the couch. Shelagh waited until he was settled, then spoke in a voice that made it seem as though she were talking to herself.

"From the beginning, then . . ." We sat in silence while she evidently marshalled her thoughts. Then, snatching another deep-drawn breath, she launched into her tale.

"We should all have been taken in the first attack. The only thing that saved us was the lazy indolence of a hot summer afternoon. It was peaceful, hot and beautiful, the slightest breeze imaginable coming once in a while to fan us. The boys were fishing and Julia was showing the girls how to knit, using straight twigs that I had cut for them. They had all been playing in the water earlier, but had grown tired of it. . .

"I was sitting against a tree, a little way from Julia and the girls, peeling a willow branch with a knife, and Ludmilla was lying beside me. I thought she was asleep, but she had been watching me, and suddenly she suggested that I might like to practise with my knives. She can never see enough of that. She has been fascinated by how I can throw them ever since the first time she saw me do it.

"The thought was already in my mind when she spoke, so I was willing, but I knew that as soon as I produced the knives the boys would be all over me, wanting to be allowed to throw them, too, and I had no patience to put up with all the fuss of that. It was too hot. And so I told Ludmilla that if she wanted a throwing lesson I would give her one, but we would have to slip away together to where we could have peace and quiet, safe from the boys. I strolled over to Julia and told her where we were going, and then Ludmilla and I simply wandered off, betraying no purpose until we were out of sight.

"There's a place I know of, where I've been before; a big, dead tree stump with heavy bark, about the height of a man and a perfect target. We went there. It's about a hundred and fifty paces from the riverbank, just over the brow of the hill. . .

"Anyway, once we were there, I showed Ludmilla how to hold a knife and throw it, but she found it more difficult to grasp the trick of it than either of us expected—some people simply aren't attuned to things like that, I suppose. Anyway, she ended up sitting close by, watching me as I practised, and an hour or so went by. And then we heard the screams."

She stopped, and her eyes changed colour, or intensity; I did not know which, only that they had changed. Donuil and I sat motionless. She sighed again, a ragged, uneven sound this time, then swallowed audibly.

"There were five of them, big, dirty-looking men. By the time we reached the edge of the meadow, still among the trees, there was nothing we could do without endangering ourselves and making matters worse. Arthur was lying on the ground, unmoving, and young Bedwyr knelt on the grass beside him, holding his own arm, blood streaming through his fingers. Two men were each holding two of the other children, one in each hand. The two little girls were screaming, and so was Ghilleadh. Gwin, the only one of the three older boys uninjured, was fighting to break free and as I looked, the man who held him let him go, then smashed him with his fist, behind the head. The boy went down and lay there as though dead."

I interrupted, unable to contain myself, since I knew the boys were well. "What about Julia?"

Shelagh looked at me, her face as cold as stone.

"She was fighting, down on her knees, her skirts over her head, muffling her cries. A naked man stood over her, his feet on either side of her head, holding her hands together by the wrists, behind her back, forcing her face against the ground. Another knelt behind her, gripping her by the waist, pulling her against him, violating her. A third was tearing off the remainder of his clothing, laughing like a demented thing, preparing to take over when his friend had done—"

"Dia!" Donuil leapt to his feet and stalked away, slamming one fist into his open hand, unable to endure such words without reaction. For my part, I grew cold, recalling another, similar account of death and rapine told to me by Shelagh in explanation of her skill with knives. I stared at her now, knowing what she had achieved, but at a loss over how she had been able to achieve it. She was looking at me directly, both of us aware that Donuil knew nothing of that first story or its consequences. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I killed all of them," she said, her voice expressionless.

Her words stopped Donuil in his agitated pacing. He turned to face her, his eyes wide with shock. "You killed them? Five men? All of them?"

Shelagh's eyes had not wavered from mine, and now I nodded.

"I know, but how?"

"With ease," she said, her face wooden. "I played the foolish, silly woman." She waited for me to respond, and when I said nothing she continued.

"My first concern was to ensure Ludmilla kept her mouth shut, for I knew what I must do and if she screamed, or panicked, we would both have been in the same cauldron with Julia. Fortunately, Ludmilla is nobody's fool. I told her what I meant to do—the only thing I could do—and sent her to hide and wait for whatever might pass. Then, as soon as she was on her way, I ran up the hill as far as I could without endangering my plan, for it had come into my mind full-born and I knew it would work.

"Once there, high above them, I threw off my clothes, then put my mantle on again, over my belt. I had to keep that hidden, so I tucked the fabric of the mantle up beneath the strap, concealing my knives and their scabbards but exposing myself. Then I began to scream and run downhill towards them, begging them to stop what they were doing and let the children go. They stopped, sure enough, thinking themselves attacked. Then, when they saw that I was all alone, and naked, they came after me, leaving poor Julia where she lay. She must have been already dead, for I saw no one stab her. . ."

Once again her voice died away and she sat silent for a time, before continuing in the same placid, unemphatic tone.

"I knew I had to make them run to me, and I knew they knew whoever caught me first would have me first, and so I ran to meet them, squealing in panic but swerving as I ran, keeping the distance I required from each of them. The fools saw only my skin beneath the mantle . . . white flesh and female hair. None of them thought to see a weapon, and they made a game of hunting me, forming a ring about me, just like sheep herding a dog, never seeing the foolishness of such a thing.

"At length, when they had me surrounded, closing in, I stopped and waited for them, whining and whimpering. Three of them wore nothing at all, and none of them had a weapon drawn. The two who carried knives sheathed them, to leave their hands free for the game to come. The fools were laughing, making great sport of it. When they came close enough, I killed all five of them. Even the last of them to die had not begun to understand what had happened by the time my knife took him beneath his ugly chin."