‘Risky,’ Bonhart said softly. ‘You’re taking a great risk, Mr Rience, or whatever your name is, bothering my little girl and threatening her. She is vengeful, liable to hold it against you. I repeat: keep your hands, fingers and all other parts of your body well away from her.’

‘Enough.’ Skellen cut them off, without taking his curious eyes off Ciri. ‘Stop it, Bonhart. And you too, Rience, calm yourself. I’ve shown you mercy, but I may change my mind and order you bound to the table legs again. Sit down, both of you. Let’s talk like cultured people. Just the three of us and no one else. For we have, it seems to me, much to talk about. But for now we’ll put the subject of our conversations under guard. Mr Silifant!’

‘Just guard her well.’ Bonhart handed Silifant the end of the chain. ‘Guard her with your life.’

Kenna stayed on the sidelines. Granted, she wanted to observe the wench, whom everybody had recently been talking about, but she felt a strange aversion to pushing in amongst the small crowd surrounding Harsheim and Silifant, who were taking the mysterious captive over to a post in the courtyard.

Everybody was crowding around, jostling, peering. They were even trying to touch her, shove her, pull her. The girl trod stiffly, limping slightly, but held her head high. He’s beaten her, thought Kenna. But he didn’t break her.

‘So she must be Falka…’

‘The maid’s barely grown!’

‘A maid, huh? A cut-throat!’

‘I heard she slayed six men, the brute, in the arena in Claremont…’

‘And before that? How many others? The she-devil…’

‘She-wolf!’

‘And the mare, what a mare, look. A horse of marvellous blood… And here, by Bonhart’s saddle flap, what a sword… Ah… a marvel!’

‘Leave it alone!’ Dacre Silifant growled. ‘Don’t touch! Get your hands off other people’s things. Don’t touch the girl either; don’t paw her, don’t hinder or insult her! Show some charity. We know not if we shan’t be executing her before dawn. May she at least know peace until that time.’

‘If the wench is to go to her death,’ grinned Cyprian Fripp the younger, ‘perhaps we could sweeten the remainder of her life and satiate her well? Throw her on the hay and bed her?’

‘Aye!’ Kabernik Turent cackled, ‘We could! Let’s ask Tawny Owl if it’s allowed—’

‘I tell you it’s not allowed!’ Dacre cut them off. ‘Naught else occupies your minds, you damned fornicators! I said leave the maid in peace. Andres, Stigward, stand here by her. Don’t take your eyes off her, or move a foot away. And use the lash on any that come close!’

‘Sod that!’ said Fripp. ‘Very well, makes no difference to us. Let’s be off, fellows, to the hay barn, and join the villagers, they’re roasting a ram and a porker for the banquet. For today is the Equinox, a feast, isn’t it? While the masters are deliberating, we can make merry.’