Marcus nodded. “I have been tracking the men who raid for days, and getting nowhere. They stay on the move, and are not rejoining Carwyn. He is keeping me occupied while he builds his strength. I will not give him more time to do so. It is my intention to go into those mountains, and use Llygad’s own manor as a stronghold. I will bring this little war to him. I want to finish this before whatever alliance is at work is a fact.”

“And the daughter? With her in your household, you may already have a viper in your camp. Since this betrothal has not stopped them, but only made them bolder, you should remove her to Stratford. He will learn quickly enough if she is involved.”

“I cannot do that.”

“It is the wisest—”

“I cannot.” It came out harshly. He set his horse to a faster pace, and felt Addis’s gaze on him as the horse beside him kept up.

“You have learned much about hiding your thoughts, Marcus, but your face will always be an open book to me,” Addis said.

Marcus glanced over and saw a slight smile on Addis’s mouth. “Just do not tell me that I am a fool. God knows I tell myself that ten times a day, and I do not need to hear it from you.”

“I am the last man to tell another that wanting the wrong woman makes him a fool.” The smile thinned to a hard line. “But I warn you now that if this woman’s betrayal lures you to your destruction, I myself will hold the sword that takes her head.”

Marcus rode on. The betrayal was probably inevitable, and all the small pleasures in the world would not stop it. His destruction, however, was not. Nor was hers.

They crested a hill and a little village came into view in the distance. Marcus’s attention sharpened on a commotion swirling around the collection of huts and cottages.

The people were just dots, but they clustered and milled like so many ants on a piece of bread. He could see three horses at the edge of the crowd.

“Llygad’s men?” Addis asked.

“We will see.” Marcus spurred his horse to a gallop, and led his troop into the shallow valley.

He knew long before he rode into the village that he had not found any bandits. A different kind of violence had disrupted this tiny hamlet.

A tall tree grew in the clearing by the water well. Three bodies hung from one of its thick branches. Several men and women sagged in heaps beneath the swinging feet, numbed from the horrible ordeal of sparing their kinsmen from suffering by speeding their deaths. An old woman still clung to the legs of a man, her weight stretching him.