Spindle and Dagger - J. Anderson Coats Page 0,21

him off the ground so he dangles like a cat by the scruff. A dark stain spreads down the boy’s hose. Nest is between them in an instant, throwing her weight on Owain’s outstretched arm, worming both hands into Owain’s grip on William’s hood.

“Don’t you dare hurt my children,” she growls, but her voice breaks and she rasps, “Please, oh God, please, if there’s any mercy in you!”

Owain looses William not quite gently and the boy staggers away several paces. He’s choking on big quiet sobs, his hands over his head like the sky is falling. Nest moves toward her son, but Owain leans close to her ear and mutters something. I only catch in front of your children.

Nest blinks and blinks, presses a hand to her forehead. “All right, you bastard. If that’s how it’s going to be. All right.”

When Owain gestures toward the hall door, toward the king’s chamber beyond, she walks ahead of him without a word.

And then they are gone.

I’m on the floor. The whole room is blurry. A boy crouches nearby, curled up tiny. He reeks of piss. He’s crying.

William. William ap Gerald, who even now pays for the sins of his father.

I crawl near. Hold out an arm to hug him. He’ll push me away. Bid me leave him be. I can’t help it, though, and I gently put a hand on his back. With a sob, William snakes his arms around my waist and grips tight like he might fall. I pull him close and pet his hair like I saw Nest do, like I once did with Miv, like I still sometimes do with Margred, and after a while his sobs wear down to heavy, snuffly breathing.

“Is . . .” William swallows. “Is he going to kill my mama?”

I shake my head. My throat feels full of wet sand.

“I hate him,” the boy mutters. “My papa will kill him when he comes to save us.”

Fled down the privy shaft. Deep in Dyfed by now, cowering behind sturdy walls. I wonder if there’s any truth to it or if it’s spun of pure falsehoods. Gerald of Windsor is still alive, though, and by no means is it mischance. Nest said she helped him escape, but if Owain wants a man dead, he’s soon dead. Gerald has no doubt as to who raided his house. Knowing whose warband has unmanned you is meant to linger like a bad smell. By now Gerald has learned what befell his wife and children, and it won’t be long before he hears how Nest is anything but a hostage here. All because he ran like a rabbit to save his own skin.

We pushed Miv’s cradle against the wall. We wanted her out of sight, so even if they did care about her, perhaps they would not see her.

“I wish Papa was here right now.” William’s voice is barely a whisper.

“I-I’m here,” I reply quietly, because I am pushing down echoes one by one.

“He’ll kill us, too.” William’s eyes are huge and staring in the dying firelight. “Me and David and Angharad. He’ll kill us all dead.”

This poor child believes it like gospel. He has no reason not to. And I have no reason to doubt Owain’s willingness to leave each of them hanging from trees like a trail of breadcrumbs for Gerald of Windsor to follow.

“Hey.” I gently move William’s head so he’s looking at me. “I know you’re scared. I’m sorry for it. But you must keep your wits. All right? You can come out of a lot of things if you steady yourself.”

William bites his lip. “You sound like Alice. Are you our new Alice?”

“I . . . I’m Elen.”

“Mama said Alice had to stay behind,” he goes on quietly, “but she wasn’t moving when they made us leave.”

I will not think how Einion penteulu bragged at supper about a baby nurse and how she wept and pleaded, the color Nest turned, how the others snickered as she fought to keep from being sick. I will not think of the door to the maidens’ quarters, how it wouldn’t withstand a single boot to the cross braces.

Instead I say to William, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nods but makes no move, so I help him peel off his piss-soaked hose and give him a damp cloth to wash his legs. After a few half-hearted swipes, he drops the rag and wriggles back against me without a word. I collect David under my other arm. He lies against