He waited until the last moment and then, although his essence yelled a rebellious denial of the decision, stopped it. Three men wept with relief, the terror finally showing itself.

The man from the hut wore a thin silver chain around his neck, and Marcus yanked it off. He brought it to the battered woman, and pressed it in her hands. “It is not compensation for your husband or your misuse,” he said quietly. “I know that.”

He strode to his horse. “Bring them. This reprieve will be a brief one. Relieve their garments of any coin or valuables, and give it to the families they offended. Leave one of their horses, too.”

The villagers parted for him as he led his troop away. It sickened him to see their expressions of dull resignation. He knew what they thought. Marcus was English and they were Welsh, and they believed that no soldier sworn to a man as powerful as Arundal would ever be punished for a crime against such as them.

Addis left him to his scathing mood, and the long ride back to Anglesmore was a silent one. Marcus’s anger grew, and it soon encompassed not just this day’s events, but the followers of Llygad, whose increased violence had provoked the incident.

He knew that what had happened in that village was merely a taste of what might come. If he could not stop Carwyn Hir soon, if war broke out, the Welsh would be at the mercy of the armies called up to crush it, and the tenuous justice that they knew in this land would disappear.

CHAPTER 18

Something had happened. Something bad.

Nesta’s worry built as the soldiers entered the hall. They were all subdued, and their mood rained silence over the whole household, especially the men of Addis’s company who had increased the crowd and noise this evening.

She fixed her gaze on the entrance. As man after man passed the threshold, her heart beat harder and her breath grew shallow. She waited so hard to see Marcus’s head that she thought her chest would burst.

The last of the troop straggled in, and the entrance cleared. Sickening fear slid through her in a cold chill. She knew that her concern was not rational. There would be more commotion if Marcus had been hurt, but dread numbed her all the same.

Two shadows darkened the threshold. Two bodies, encased in armor, stepped into the light. Marcus and Addis. Relief broke with a burst of joy, but the dark expression on Marcus’s face instantly had her alarm prickling again.