Chapter 20
The two men who had hold of Darin pushed him forward while the man with the torch led the way. The rest of them followed close behind with the one leading Dart bringing up the rear. Darin struggled and demanded an explanation, but nobody answered him. They left the path and took a narrow track through the trees.
At length they came to a clearing, in the centre of which smouldered the remains of a small fire. There were signs that food had been roasted there earlier. Two men lying beside the fire rose to their feet; Darin reckoned there must have been about dozen of them all told. The leader flung his torch onto the embers of the fire and flames sprang up. In their flickering glow, Darin could see two more figures, apparently asleep under a blanket at the edge of the glade.
“Tie him to that tree and take his sword,” ordered the wiry, balding man who had been carrying the torch.
Two ropes were produced from somewhere. Darin’s arms were pulled around the tree behind him and his wrists bound together, then a cord was looped round his ankles and likewise tied to the trunk. One of the heavyset men who had been holding him took his sword out of its sheath, carried it across the clearing to where Dart was tethered and threw it on the ground. Then he joined the others, sitting cross-legged around the fire.
Darin could now see them all more clearly. There were eleven of them, ranging from a couple of youths his own age to hardened men with grizzled beards. All of them had the clothes and tanned faces of field workers. He had given up protesting, as no one seemed to pay him any attention; instead, he listened closely to their conversation.
“You’re quite sure it’s Lord Karman’s son?” The speaker was the man who had just taken the sword.
“Aye, it’s him all right. I’ve seen him riding with his father often enough,” replied the wiry man.
“He does look very like the man I saw—but I never really thought it could be Darin of the Western Forest. Anyone can carry a shield with an oak tree on it.”
“Well, it’s him,” said the wiry man. “Tomorrow we’ll take him to the castle, and tell his father what he’s been up to.”
“Don’t be a fool, Lachlyn!” broke in a tall, surly looking fellow with a scar on his forehead. “A great lord like that Karman isn’t going to listen to the likes of us. He’ll pat his precious son on the back and send us packing. These people look after their own. I’m all for stringing the brat up here and now. There’s no shortage of trees.”
Two or three of the men grunted their assent at this.
Until now, Darin’s fears had mostly been for his mother, alone somewhere with her sinister kidnapper; but now his alarm deepened. He must get away from here and find Etaine before it was too late. “Gentlemen, listen to me, I beg you! I do not know what wrongs have been committed against you, but I am innocent. There’s an impostor out there riding around in my armour. I’ve seen him myself.”
Eleven faces in the glow of the fire turned in his direction. The man who had taken his sword got to his feet and came over to him. “Are you really the son of Lord Karman?” he asked, looking him in the face.
“I am Sir Darin of the Western Forest, made knight by the King himself! And you said it yourself—anyone can ride out carrying another man’s shield.”
Some of the others had gathered round. “Don’t listen to him, Gwyllym!” said the one with the scarred forehead.
“But I saw your face quite clearly, if only for a moment,” Gwyllym said. He turned to his companions. “My wife got a much better look at him when he was threatening her and my father, before I arrived on the scene. We’ll wait until she sees him before deciding what to do next.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” said a sleepy voice from the edge of the clearing.
“We’ve got the young knight we think did it, my love,” Gwyllym answered. “Come and see for yourself.”
One of the two sleepers Darin had noticed earlier—a woman—pushed aside her blanket and draped it over the person lying by her side. She got up and joined Gwyllym. She was plump and pretty-faced. Lachlyn held the torch high while she scrutinized the captive. “Yes, that’s him. He may look young and handsome now, but I swear there was an evil glint in his eye when he jeered at your father and me after setting fire to the sheds. And the things he said to us!” She shuddered and pressed herself up closer to her husband. Gwyllym put his arm around her waist.
The man with the scar on his forehead looked around the company. “You see—she recognizes him. So will Carrick’s wife and daughters, if they ever find the courage to come out of that room they’ve locked themselves in!” He turned to Darin and leered at him. “It’s bad enough torching people’s property, but anyone who threatens our women winds up at the end of a rope.”
There was a murmur of assent. Darin’s heart sank.
“What’s all this noise about?” asked a peevish voice. It was the second person who had been asleep under the blankets, an old man. He got up and walked unsteadily towards the others.
“Mind the fire, Father,” said Gwyllym.
“Don’t fuss!” replied the old man. “I can tell where the fire is.”
With a start, Darin recognized the blind man he had helped against the robbers the day before the tournament, more than a year ago. “Greetings, sir,” he said. “The last time we met, you may remember, we had a merry time of it together rounding up your pig.”
The old man’s jaw dropped. “Young sir! Are you with us?” A broad smile spread across his face and he turned his blind eyes towards Gwyllym and the rest. “This is the young fellow who helped me the last time I was bothered by ruffians. I’ll warrant he’s here to help again.”
“But Father, this is the man who burnt our sheds and drove off the animals,” said Gwyllym’s wife.
“Nonsense!”
“But I saw him as clear as I see him now”
“I saw him too, Father,” Gwyllym said. “’Twas only a glance, but this is the same face, unless my eyes deceive me.”
“Of course your eyes deceive you! You folks—your eyes are always deceiving you. Just think of all the things Carrick claims to have seen when he’s drunk too much mead.”
Some of the farmers gave a chuckle at this. The old man turned to face them.
“No,” he said. “I don’t trust your eyes half as much as I trust my own ears. I never forget a voice, you all know that. You can try disguising the way you speak, but it will never fool me.” He jerked a thumb in Darin’s direction. “This young man is not the blackguard who bothered us that day—and that’s all there is to it.”
Keepers of the Western Forest Page 20