She could hear the music long before she saw the torches in their tall holders; heavy drum-beats and skirling pipes merged in the star-lit darkness.
Four separate parties had been set up, all with barrels and sweet-meat sellers off to one side. The men were heading for one hosted by a local vineyard. Kerin spent more money than she should have on a token that allowed refills from the barrel for as long as the music continued. From the edge of the crowd she could see the stone bridge that linked the fair with the town, though the figures who crossed were no more than shadowy shapes. Heaven’s sake! She must stop thinking about Sais and instead do as he said and enjoy herself.
The first sip of wine surprised her. After Huw’s description she had expected it to be sweet, and the way it ran along her tongue, sucking out the moisture, disconcerted her. The second sip went down more easily.
Walking back to refill her beaker she moved in time to the music, skipping to the fast-tripping beat. The next dance began slowly, and the floor initially emptied. Kerin’s heart fluttered as she recognised the opening of the Morwynaith, the Maids’ Dance. For this, any single woman could go out onto the floor alone. Though she had not danced it for years, she still remembered how. Before she could lose her nerve she put down her drink.
The heavy swish of her skirt round her ankles carried her out of the anonymity of the crowd onto the centre of the floor. She began with her eyes cast down, her movements slow and languorous, her mind empty of everything except the music. As the beat picked up, so her movements matched the increased tempo. The music sang through her and she found herself beginning to smile. She felt free, light as a feather, yet sure and steady as a river. All eyes were on her, and that was no cause for shame or embarrassment. The music quickened and she threw her head back, grinning wildly as she stepped and kicked and twirled. Above her, the sky was a rain of silver stars. Her spirit soared and she could have almost shouted out loud at the perfection of the moment. As the last notes faded into the night she stood, rigid with joy, arms wide and head held high.
The next dance started and she walked, a little unsteadily, off the floor to reclaim her drink. She stood to one side, watching Fychan dancing arm-in-arm with his new lady-friend, smiling to herself. A few men had already cast glances her way, and perhaps if one asked her—
‘I wasn’t sure it was you, until I saw the skirt.’
She turned to see a gentleman in a fine doublet. Then her wine-and-music-fuddled mind caught up. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and instead took another calming sip of wine. ‘And you look quite the nobleman,’ she said.
He looked down at himself. ‘The Reeve’s gift,’ he said. ‘The Reeve also insisted on sending a guard with me - he’s in the crowd somewhere.’
So he had found his true place. Before she could stop herself Kerin said acidly, ‘Perhaps you should not have come, and put your host to such inconvenience.’
‘Kerin,’ he said, spreading his hands, and she wondered if he, too, had been drinking, ‘I’ve had enough of them, with their “wit” and their “banter” and their “snobbery”. I wanted some real people.’
‘So then, shall we dance?’
He hesitated. ‘I don’t know the steps.’
Kerin felt suddenly contrite. ‘Oh—Of course. How did . . . ? How is your memory?’
He pulled a wry face. ‘I think Einon
can
help me get it back, but it’s not going to be easy.’ He frowned. ‘I have got some good news,’ he said, though his expression belied it. ‘I’ve persuaded Einon to let you come to the City with us.’
Kerin tried not to let her elation show - but Sais still looked uneasy. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘Last night someone tried to kill Einon.’
‘No! Who would attack a priest?’ She felt faint at the very thought of such impiety.
‘No idea yet. They’re questioning the man as we speak.’ He grimaced. ‘But that can wait - for now, I just want to have some fun with my friends.’
Kerin wished she had known he would come, so she could have given him the shirt she had made. She said instead, ‘Can I get you some wine?’
Her token was good for only one cup, so she filled hers and brought it back to where he waited, smiling and tapping his foot to the music. She gave him the drink and he took a swig, then looked at her.
‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘I - I thought we could share it.’
‘Sure.’ He gave it back.
‘Are you sure you do not want to dance?’
‘I’d like to, if I thought I wasn’t going to trip everyone else up. So best not, I think.’
‘Then’ - she took a gulp of wine to get her nerve up - ‘then maybe we could go for a walk?’
Behind them the party continued, the dancing getting wilder, the laughter louder. Kerin heard occasional giggles and groans from the darkness and wondered if he heard them too, and thought as she did. Or perhaps he heard only her heart, banging like the stones on a loom. When they passed a closed-up stall with no one in sight she said, ‘Shall we sit?’ Her voice sounded shrill in her ears.
‘Good idea,’ Sais said easily. ‘I’m exhausted.’
She sat first and he passed the beaker down to her and sat next to her. She moved up against him and he hesitated, then put an arm around her.
‘You’re a good person, Kerin,’ Sais started. ‘Your life . . . the things you’ve endured’ - she felt him shrug - ‘I don’t know - I can’t remember what I’ve experienced, but if it’s half as grim as your life—’
‘Hush,’ she said, ‘none of that is important now. Tis star-season, and only the moment matters.’
She pulled back a little, turning to look at him. Though the sky was bright with stars, they were in shadow and she could not see his face clearly. She put the wine down and reached up, her hand brushing his hair. He turned to her and she felt a sudden tension go through him.
She waited for him to kiss her. When he did not, she turned her head, eyes half-closed. Her lips brushed his cheek, then found his lips. She kissed him, tilting her head back, dizzy with the moment.
After a slight hesitation, he returned the kiss. She felt his lips part.
How odd
,
to lead the way like this
, she thought.
How wonderful; how wicked.
Abruptly, he pulled away.
She leaned back towards him, but he shook his head.
‘Tis all right,’ she whispered, against a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. ‘I know you may have a wife somewhere, and I know that my dead husband’s soul may stir at this, but tonight, now, in star-season, to love like this is the will of Heaven.’
‘It’s just—’ He shifted awkwardly. ‘This is wrong.’
‘No, tis right, as right as anything in Creation! Please . . .’ All or nothing. ‘I love you.’
‘What?’ He jerked backwards.
‘I said, I love you.’ She began to wish she had not said it.
‘Kerin—I—I had no idea!’ He sounded genuinely shocked.
‘What do you mean,
you had no idea
?’
‘I’m not—Kerin, I like you a lot, but—’
‘No!’ She scrambled to her feet, kicking over the wine. ‘Do not say another word!’ She turned and ran. She heard him start after her, and some part still hoped that he would stop her and tell her he cared after all. But she knew the truth now. She had been a blind, wanton fool, seeing love where it did not exist.
She ran blindingly, ducking under ropes and past stalls, aware only of the need to get away from her bitter embarrassment and disappointment. Revellers pointed and laughed, but she ignored them.
When she finally slowed down and looked around she found herself near the show-pens. There was no sign of Sais. She took a deep sobbing breath and started back towards the camp.
She jumped as a man lurched out of the shadows.
‘Who’zere?’ he slurred.
‘No one, I am no one,’ she murmured, surprise turning her tongue to nonsense.
‘No, someone,’ said the man unevenly. ‘Someone pretty, mebbe, who wants company?’
‘No. Not pretty at all.’ She looked around. They were in a passage between two tents - she either had to push past the man, or turn her back on him.
‘’m sure y’are. Tis star-season. Our sacr’d dooty.’
‘No!’ Kerin had twice taken advantage of star-season to bed men other than Neithion; both had been men she had liked, and neither experience had been particularly special. A drunken stranger propositioning her when she had just been spurned by the only man she wanted was a cruel joke.
He did not take the hint. ‘C’mon, mistress! Have some fun!’ He lunged forward - surprisingly quickly for one so drunk - and grabbed her arm.
Kerin tried to shake him off, but he held tight, his fingers digging into her flesh. He got his other arm round her. Kerin’s attempt to break free threw his balance and the two of them fell back into the side of the tent, which bowed, then began to rip.
Suddenly her wounded heart mattered not a jot. She cried out and tried to hit the man. Her blow went wide and her scream died in surprise as they fell through the fabric.
He landed half on top of her and clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Shhh, shh,’ he said, almost tenderly. ‘I won’nurt you. Stay quiet now.’
He took his hand off slowly. He reeked of ale and sex and his cock pressed against her flank. She drew breath to scream.
He cuffed the side of her face, just hard enough to shut her up. ‘No!’ he barked, ‘no screamin’, or else. Hear me?’
Kerin blinked back tears. Had Sais been following close enough to hear her shriek when she fell? Even if he had, how would he know it was her? She was on her own, and this drunken brute was too strong for her.
She nodded slowly.
‘Tha’s good,’ he said. ‘Jus’ a bit of fun. An’ our sacr’d dooty.’ He began fumbling with his breeches with his free hand.
‘Aye,’ she whispered, ‘our sacred duty.’
She saw the flash of his smile.
‘Let me help,’ she said. She made herself reach into his breeches. His cock was hot and sticky. The smell of him almost made her gag.
‘Tha’s good,’ he said again, though this time it was more like a sigh.
She moved her hand further down, trying to ignore the stuff that crusted under her nails as she ran her hands over his balls, stroking that place that should ensure the complete attention of any man.
As he moaned happily she brought her free knee up and across into his belly, at the same time squeezing her hand as hard as she could.
She had never heard a man make a noise quite like that before.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Why hadn’t he seen the signs? He’d shown respect to Kerin, something men rarely did to women around here, and she’d obviously misinterpreted it - perhaps he should just have treated her like dirt from the start, and saved them both a lot of grief! No, that wasn’t the answer. He wasn’t sure what was, but he couldn’t let her go off like that.
The guard, who’d hung back at a tactful distance while he was with Kerin, soon caught up as he ran after her. When it became obvious that he’d lost her he asked the guard to show him where the upland drovers’ camp was, but when they got there she still hadn’t returned. Sais wondered for a moment if she’d gone back into the fair to dance and drink her sorrows away, but as he turned around she stumbled into the camp, distraught, her face red and tear-stained.
He ran up to her. ‘Shit, Kerin, are you all right?’
She raised her chin and looked over his shoulder. ‘I am fine,’ she said quietly.
‘I was worried about you,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe out there.’
‘You should not concern yourself.’
‘I am concerned! Listen, I just want to say that I—’
‘No!’ Her voice, which had been a whisper, was suddenly an angry shout. ‘I do not want to hear it. Go away!’
‘This is my fault. I didn’t realise you felt that way. I care for you, but—’
‘I said, leave me alone!’ She looked him in the eye, and the pain he saw there made him flinch. Then she took a step back, raised her hand to hold it in front of her eyes, her thumb straight across her open palm, and screamed, ‘I do not see you! You are nothing to me!’ She turned and strode away.
The guard put a hand on Sais’s elbow. ‘Master, she will not return. She has declared you am-annwn.’
That must be the personal version of the council’s ruling back in Dangwern, he thought. Until Kerin changed her mind, he didn’t exist for her.
Finally she felt able to look back. Sais was gone and the few people around were carefully ignoring her. When she had arrived in the camp her heart had still been pounding from the terror of her near-rape, and the success of her desperate ploy which had left her attacker writhing in agony in the ruins of someone’s tent. Seeing Sais calmed her, as though she had gone so far that nothing could affect her any more.
Her outburst had woken Damaru. When she staggered over to him he stood up, rubbing his eyes. He put his arms around her, comforting her as she had so often comforted him. Her eyes began to water and she was suddenly heavy with unshed tears. She sank to the ground, slipping free of his grasp. Hugging herself, she cried as she had never cried before, letting out a lifetime of hurt, her mind blank and her pain raw, under the cold gaze of the Skymothers.
Her first thought when the tears finally spent themselves was that she and Damaru should gather their gear and leave before dawn. She began to stuff clothes into packs, but her hand brushed sheer fabric and she recoiled, then pulled out the shirt she had made for Sais. She tugged at it viciously, trying to rip it, and when it would not tear, she flung it away as hard as she could.
The act brought her to her senses. They could not just leave: Damaru’s destiny was to travel to the City of Light, and she must go with him. She had been neglecting her son. Now she must live for him again, as she had before Sais had come into her life. She would have to travel with the man who had broken her heart, and though she would rather walk on knives, that was what she would do.