‘Neither do I,’ Morcant said. ‘I’d rather get my task finished and be on my way back to Dun Carreg. Marsh life is not for me.’ As if to emphasize his point, he slapped at a mosquito that had landed on his neck. ‘So tell me where they are. My patience is wearing, my temper fraying.’

‘You’re a monster,’ one of the younger men snarled, ‘a woman-killer, a bairn-slayer.’ He spat in Morcant’s face.

Morcant’s expression shifted from annoyance to blind rage in a heartbeat. In a blur his arm moved, there was the ring of iron and a head was spinning through the air, Morcant’s face splattered with the dead man’s blood.

‘I. Am not. A monster.’ Morcant calmly cleaned his blade on the headless corpse’s shirt. Slowly it toppled back in the saddle and slumped to the ground. He sheathed his sword and with the hem of his cloak wiped the dead man’s blood and spittle from his face. ‘I do, however, admit to a temper. It gets the better of me sometimes. As to what I did here – in my defence, the people of this village did more than just refuse me information. I had reason to believe that they were supplying provisions to the outlaws in the marshes.’ He shrugged. ‘That could not be allowed to continue.’

He rode along the line of the remaining prisoners, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. ‘I do not just punish those who oppose me. I reward those who help me. I will pay well for the right information. Enough silver to feed and clothe your entire village for a year. Or you could just share it between the five of you. Our secret.’

‘You’re lying,’ one of them muttered.

‘Am I? There’s a chest full of silver in that roundhouse. Bring it out.’

Camlin looked at Baird, then back into the roundhouse. He stared at Lorcan, who looked at him in horror, lifted the blanket off the chest he was sitting upon and kicked it with his heel. It chinked. Everyone in the room stared at him.

Asroth’s stones. And I call myself a thief. I’m ashamed.

‘Bring out the chest,’ Morcant called impatiently.

‘Some help,’ Baird shouted back, then shrugged at Camlin.

Morcant gestured to two warriors. ‘Go fetch it for me.’ The warriors rode towards the roundhouse.

‘Baird, Vonn, how’s that bolt-hole coming?’ Camlin snapped.

‘Nearly there,’ Vonn hissed.

They heard horses come to a stand outside the roundhouse, boots hit the ground. Footsteps.

No time now. Everyone scrambled for the dark corners of the room, hiding behind an overturned table, chairs, anything. Camlin shoved Edana behind him and drew his knife.