The Winter Witch (30 page)

Now we are doubly stunned. I shake my head vehemently. This is untrue. I tied the gate, I know I did. I look desperately from Cai to Cerys and back again, still shaking my head, imploring them to see the truth. But already I feel the others regarding me with loathing. Meredith steps forward, his face grim.

“No good can ever come of letting a woman work the herd. Everyone knows that,” says he. “I’ve said as much before, and I stand by my words.”

“You are speaking nonsense!” Cai insists. “Both of you. And you, Meredith, you are old enough to know better than to spout superstitious rubbish.”

But Edwyn won’t easily be silenced. “That gate wouldn’t have come open if it had been tied, that’s the fact of it. And ’twas Morgana who shut it last, bringing the ponies into the yard.”

“Be quiet,” says Cai.

“You don’t want to see the truth. You’re just protecting her…”

“
Cauwch eich ceg,
I tell you!” He regains his temper and lowers his voice. “Now is not the time for recriminations. We must do right by Dai.” He stoops down and slips his hands beneath his friend’s broad shoulders. Only now do I see how badly he himself is injured. His shirt is torn to reveal a deep wound, still pouring blood. He mutters a curse as the pain of it stops him from lifting Dai’s body. I whip my scarf from around my neck and bind the wound for him as best I can. Briefly he lays his hand over mine. “Thank you,
cariad,
” says he before quickly returning his attention to the sad task of moving Dai. “Help me,” he instructs the others. “We will put him to lie in the farmhouse.”

Meredith, Watson, and Edwyn help him carry Dai inside. The twins make as if to follow, but they are still holding their mother and she pauses, looking directly at me. And in that look I see such heartbreak. Heartbreak that seems to say, ‘How could you? Your carelessness has made orphans of my children.’ But she does not voice her thoughts. Instead silent tears begin to run down her cheeks, dripping unchecked onto the dusty cobbles. I shake my head, my eyes expressing my sorrow, but she turns and makes her trembling progress to the house.

I stand where I am. Everything has changed. In a few dreadful moments a husband, father, friend has been snatched away. And Edwyn would have me blamed. How dare he! Is his pride so great that he would have the world hate me because I spurned him? Cai defended me, but his reaction was instinctive, I think. Does he believe me? How can I offer another explanation for the untied gate when I have none? Then it comes to me. Edwyn. Edwyn must have untied the gate himself, deliberately. How quickly desire can turn to hate! That he should risk his friend in order to get at me. But I remind myself his will is no longer his own.

When Cai emerges through the front door he finds me where he left me. The other men trooping out behind him. He gestures to Meredith.

“Fetch back the cattle,” says he. “Watson, you go with him. And you, Edwyn. Morgana and I will recover the ponies.”

No one argues at this. The men set off, Meredith on his horse, the others on foot. Cai fetches Angel and pulls me up to sit behind him. The animal jibs and even bucks in protest at having me on his back again, but Cai pays him no heed, ignoring his antics. We take off at such speed I am forced to cling to Cai to prevent myself falling off. I can tell his arm is troubling him, but he will barely acknowledge the wound, so intent is he on what we must do. I sense anger and grief in the way he kicks at the thoroughbred’s sides and urges him on down the lane at a canter. Bracken runs behind us but struggles to keep up. We find the ponies a short mile away, grazing the lush verges, their angst forgotten. Spotting Prince, his halter still in place and rope trailing, I slip down from Angel, glad to be away from Isolda’s pet. Cai catches my hand, the pain in his arm making him wince.

“Morgana,” says he, “you did tie the gate, didn’t you?”

I nod emphatically.

“You are sure of it? It is very important you be certain.”

I nod again, fighting back tears, and I see that he believes me. He hesitates, and I know there is something else.

“Yesterday, I saw you come back from bathing in the river. I saw Edwyn, too. You were both wet. I…” he stutters, struggling to meet my eye. “I doubted you, Morgana. I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. I couldn’t understand…” He shakes his head. Suddenly, as if a new thought has struck him hard, he looks at me squarely. “What happened at the river? Did he find you there? You were alone. Morgana, did Edwyn … did he try to, to force himself on you?”

I close my eyes, in part to hold back yet more maddening tears, in part not to see the look of fury and hurt on his face. When I open them again I see that he has his answer.

“By Christ, I’ll swing for the bastard if he so much as laid a hand on you!”

I shake my head, taking his hand in mine and holding it to my heart. My eyes, my gesture, tell him
no, he did not touch me. He tried, but he did not succeed.
The rage and tension sigh out of Cai, leaving only grief and weariness.

Later, when the herds are safely recovered and accounted for, we all gather once again in front of the farmhouse. Cai has made the necessary arrangements. Dai’s body, now in a simple coffin, is loaded onto his own wagon. The piebald cob rolls his walleye as the casket is slid into place as if sensing all is not well, as if searching for his master. Iuean and Iowydd help their mother up onto the seat in front, one of them taking up the reins, the other keeping a protective arm around their beloved parent. Already they seem changed, childhood lost to them now, their future uncertain. They are to take Dai home on the stagecoach, which they will pick up at the nearest stop some five miles hence. There a man has been engaged, at Cai’s expense, to drive the wagon back to Tregaron for them.

Cai holds the cob’s bridle, looking up at Cerys.

“I will see you right, you know that,” he tells her. “You will have Dai’s full pay when I return. Perhaps the boys will come up to Ffynnon Las. There’s work there for them if they want it,” he promises.

“Maybe.” Cerys struggles to hold her emotions in check. “Or maybe they won’t want a daily reminder of who was responsible for their father’s death,” says she.

My mouth hangs open. Still she does not believe me! She takes Edwyn’s word that I was careless. How can I make her see, make her know the truth? Edwyn looks openly triumphant. This is so unfair! I clutch at Cai’s sleeve. He knows I am innocent, surely he can convince them. But when he looks at me I see doubt in his eyes. No! I point at Edwyn, my accusation plain. Cai narrows his eyes, his head cocked, thinking, considering what it is I am trying to tell him. When I look at Edwyn again he has his arms folded, eyebrows raised, in an expression of such smugness, such self-satisfaction. Is Isolda’s control over him so strong that he can be so completely altered? Can he have cared so little for Dai? Is all that matters to him my humiliation at any cost? My fury escapes me before I have time to check it. A whirlwind whips up dust, dirt, and stones, rendering the air choking, stinging grit assailing our faces. Sara starts to wail and scream. The piebald whinnies in fright. Edwyn flies backward as if he has received a body blow from some invisible giant. He is knocked off his feet and sent skidding across the yard, only stopping, winded and shocked, when he comes up against the very gate in question. As quickly as it started the wind subsides. Edwyn gasps for air, pointing a trembling hand at me, shouting his accusations.

“She’s evil!” he shrieks. “I tell you she’s put a curse on the drove! Everywhere she goes bad things happen.”

Cai lets go of the horse and turns to stand tall beside me.

“Morgana did not leave that gate open,” says he, his voice level and full of contained rage. “When I vaulted it to help Meredith with the cattle in the paddock it was tied shut. It must have been, else it would have swung open under my weight, see?”

“I’m telling you,” coughs Edwyn, “she left it open.”

“The only person anywhere near that gate before the cattle went through it was you, Edwyn,” says Cai. Suddenly his expression changes, realization and understanding enraging him anew. “It was you! You untied it.”

“Why would I do such a thing?” Edwyn scrambles to his feet, shaking his head all the while.

Meredith puts in his halfpenn’th. “Thought the world of Dai, he did.”

Cai’s fists are clenched. “Dai was not your target. It was Morgana you wished to harm.”

“You’re bending the truth to protect her. You don’t see her for what she really is—wicked. There’s bad blood in her. You don’t know her.”

“I know her. I know she wouldn’t leave a gate untied when it mattered. Just as I know her to be a true and faithful wife.” He shakes his head. “Oh aye, you made me doubt her. I’m ashamed to admit it. But judging her wrongly is my fault, not hers. She has done nothing to be ashamed of. But
you
! She spurned you and you wanted revenge for your bruised pride.”

Edwyn appeals to the others. “He’s lying, making things up to protect her. Everyone can see she’s bad luck. He lost his herd because of her. And his dog. Now Dai’s dead and it’s her fault.”

Cai takes two strides forward and for a moment I think he will beat Edwyn, unleash his anger without restraint. But he does not.

“Get your things and go,” says he. “Get out of my sight before I show you how I’d like to deal with the sort of man who would force himself upon another man’s wife!”

The tension crackles in the air between the two men. Edwyn is young and tall and defending his reputation; Cai is stronger and powered by hatred for the youth who stands before him. Nobody moves. All of a sudden Edwyn pushes past, shoving his way through the watching group, stomping toward the barn where his few possessions remain.

Cai regards Meredith, Watson, and the two women.

“Anyone else thinks Morgana should not be working this drove can leave now.”

Watson shrugs. Sara shakes her head.

“What say you, Meredith? I mean to complete this drove, with all the stock, and I mean to do it with my wife in charge of the ponies. I’ll not succeed otherwise. So if you’ve a problem with that you’d best follow Nails and get yourself home.”

Meredith’s face is grim but it is clear where his loyalty lies.

“I signed up for the whole drove. A drover doesn’t go back on his word.”

Cai nods, satisfied, but still he adds, “Not a word more against my wife, mind. From any of you.” He waits for his words to be considered and then picks up his hat from the ground, dusting it off against his leg. “Right, we are two men down, and we’ll have to find a forge along the way. We’ve a job to do.”

Watson voices everyone’s surprise.

“You mean us to continue today?” he asks.

“I do. This minute. Now we’ve no wagon we have need of packhorses. Morgana, get Sara to help you sort two of the quieter mares. We leave on the hour.”

And so we do. And a sorry and sadly depleted parade we are. Dai’s absence is like a piece cut out of the sky, or a sliver from the heart of each of us. I even miss the sight of his ugly cob and tatty cart. I do not miss the overbearing presence of Edwyn. I wonder what Cai will do, when we return, regarding the sly creature’s part in Dai’s death. Will he talk to the magistrate? Who will people believe? By the time we are in Tregaron again many will have attended Dai’s funeral, and Edwyn will have had weeks to spread his story; to blacken my name; to chisel away at Cai’s credibility.

We trudge through the grey afternoon. Each mile feels twice its natural length. Gone is the usual chatter and laughter. Even the beasts sense the somber mood and plod meekly along the tracks. The day dwindles into evening, and I begin to wonder if Cai plans to make us trek through the night. By the time we find an inn with a suitable enclosure for the livestock, bats flit about our heads, swooping and flapping at insects we humans can no longer see in the fading light.

I find I am so tired, so drained by the events of the day and the long journey, that when I dismount, my legs give way beneath me and I stagger. Cai is suddenly at my side, an arm around my waist to steady me.

“Come, Morgana. Enough for one day.” He slips the tack off Prince and lets him wander off to join the herd. Despite his injured arm, he shoulders both saddles as if they were no weight at all and bids me follow him. We go into the inn where he instructs the landlord to supply the others with a place to sleep, a hot meal, and as much ale as they require. He also asks for a needle, thread, and scissors. We are taken up to a room at the back of the redbrick building. It has high ceilings and long windows, and the furnishings are quite fine, but I am in no condition to appreciate such things. I stand in a daze until I become aware of how awkwardly Cai is moving. His arm must be paining him dreadfully. How taken up I have been with myself! I hurry to him, leading him to sit in a chair by the window, but there is no light left in the day. I light a candle while he takes off his shirt. Kneeling before him I cautiously unwind my scarf from his arm. It is so caked with dirt and dried blood it is beyond saving. When I pull the final remnants of it from his wound he gasps. The sight of the gaping slice in his flesh makes my stomach boil. Cai peers down at it, though it is not easy to discern detail in the gloom of the room.

“No real harm done,” says he. “The bleeding has stopped.” He nods at the washbowl on the stand. “It must be cleaned. Can you do that for me, Morgana?”

I nod and fetch the bowl, setting it at his feet. I pour water into it and tear a strip from a washcloth. He flinches as I bathe the fissure, and I know it must be difficult for him to remain quiet and still. I am as gentle as I can be, but the dirt of the journey has worked its way into the exposed meat of his arm, and I must be persistent if it is all to be removed. At last the gash is cleaned. Cai points at the table now.

“Pass the needle through the flame of the candle before you thread it,” he tells me.

I stare at him. He means me to sew up his arm! My mouth dries. For a moment I think I cannot do it, but I look into his eyes and know that I must not fail him. The injury is a lucky one—no bones need setting, and the bleeding has stopped—but if it is left so open it will not heal. It may even go putrid, and he could lose his arm. Or his life.