“She would have drowned.”

The one they called Red seemed to be a man of few words. He spoke now, more quietly than his companions. “She has a fever. More than that, she’s scared to death.”

“Well, she would be,” said Ben. “She’s one of them, isn’t she? That makes us the enemy. Maybe she expects the sort of treatment her own kind hand out to people they don’t fancy.”

“She hasn’t spoken,” observed John. “Nor made a sound. Perhaps not so much lacking in her wits as mute, or deaf. She looks half wild. She may well have been abandoned by her people, seeing she has a deficiency, and left to fend for herself. I wouldn’t be too concerned about her, Red. You’ve done your good deed. She’ll recover.”

There was silence for a while. They shared a bottle of water and a few strips of dried meat. A ration was left close to me, but I could not touch the salt beef and I drank only a sip or two from the cup. Then Red volunteered to keep watch, and they put out the lantern. The others rolled into blankets and soon slept. They seemed like men who had been on the move for a long time, and knew how to do things neatly and quietly. But my presence there clearly made things far from neat.

Amazingly, I must have slept for some time, to be woken abruptly before dawn, heart pounding, by some nameless dream. Even in my sleep I must hold back speech or sound, but the Briton saw me start and sit up. I suppose my face reflected the demons still lurking on the edges of my consciousness. He sat there quite still by the tiny glow of the remnant fire, watching me. I could see, now, where the name Red came from. His hair was cropped ruthlessly short, but both it and the few days’ stubble of beard were lit by the fire’s glow to the bright red-gold of autumn sun on oak leaves. His face was formidable though he was young in years, perhaps not much more than Liam’s age. The nose was long and straight, the jaw set firm, the mouth wide and thin-lipped. You would not want this man as an enemy. Further away, his two companions still slept, cocooned in blankets. It seemed he had taken more than one watch, to let them rest. The rock overhang had kept us dry; outside the storm had abated and the only sound was the dripping and running of water between the stones.

I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping the cloak with both hands. My head felt clearer and the nightmare was receding. Maybe I had enough strength to run. Maybe, when his back was turned, I could slip away quietly. They’d be glad to be rid of me. It sounded as if speed was of the essence, and from the look of him, this large young man would rather not have me around to slow the expedition down, wherever it was going. No doubt he was already regretting fishing me out of the river. I was thinking hard, gauging how many steps would take me out into the open and away among the bushes. Then he spoke, startling me.