Spindle and Dagger - J. Anderson Coats Page 0,24

but instead she asks quietly, “What are you?”

The patter rises to save me, but the well-trod line that I’m Owain’s protector and bring him the blessing of a saint won’t impress this woman. In fact, it’s more likely to make her start planning how she might cut my throat and use my corpse as a stepstool, the more easily to cut Owain’s as well.

So I flail. I stammer. I pet David’s hair and cast about for something to tell her.

“She’s Elen,” William says to his mother, “and she found me new hose to wear even though they’re too big and she found Angharad a spoon to chew ’cause of her toothing. And mayhap she can be our new Alice since the old one —”

“Hsst.” Nest scrubs her free hand over her upper arm where Morgan held her. Her lips keep moving though she makes no sound.

I shift David again. He’s heavy, but I make no move to put him down. Nest wanted none of this. It won’t take much more for her to fall apart completely. I can hold her mistrust against her, or I can hold out a hand.

I know very well which Owain ap Cadwgan would prefer.

“I could help you with them.” I say it gentle and comforting, like when Margred was upset after one of the cousins called her a baby because her ears weren’t pierced. “On the walk. If you want me to.”

“On the walk,” Nest echoes softly, and she looks down at her linen-wrapped feet and the tipped-over benches.

“But we need to go.” I nod toward the hall door.

Nest opens her mouth to say she can’t. Not another step, not on fitful rest and without a crumb of breakfast.

That’s when William seizes his mother’s hand and pulls her stumbling over to me. Then he takes my hand too, smiling bravely up at each of us in turn.

WE WALK NORTHWARD IN SILENCE, ME WITH DAVID on my back, Nest with Not Miv in the sling, and William at my side or trailing behind. Owain is moving deeper into the kingdom of Powys, and if Gerald of Windsor thinks to follow, he’ll look over both shoulders with every step.

Near midmorning, Nest clears her throat and leans close so William can’t overhear. “Tell me truly. What does he plan to do with my children? Please just say it plain. Even if it’s bad. I must ready myself. I’ll not give him that, too.”

“Depends.” I kick a rock and add softly, “Depends on you.”

“Does that mean they’re safe, then? As long as I do as I’m bidden?” Nest’s voice goes cold. “Because if they’re dead either way, there’s no profit in me behaving.”

No one notices women in the shadows. No one believes they will bring down the dagger.

I tread carefully. “You heard Owain. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar.”

“Killing me gets Owain ap Cadwgan his precious vengeance once. Keeping me alive means he can take his vengeance at his will, before all the Norman border lords and Welsh kings. My husband, too.” Nest curls her lip. “I’m worth something to him, at least. That means my children are as well.”

I nod. Being worth something to Owain ap Cadwgan is how you stay alive around him.

“All right, then,” Nest murmurs. “I’ll do as I’m told. For them. Until my husband negotiates our release, or kills that wretch and takes us back.”

If, I want to say. Not until. It does not do to underestimate Owain ap Cadwgan.

But she walks beside me calmer now, steadier, like there’s a point to doing it after all, so I shuffle David higher on my back and say nothing.

BY NIGHTFALL, WE’RE SETTLED INTO A COZY FORT near a stream, one with a steward whose opinions can be swayed with gifts. Owain feasts his warband and hands out more plunder from the raid on Gerald of Windsor’s home. He makes Nest sweat over the meal and serve them at table again, but this time she does it serenely, without a whisper of rage. Owain watches her calm, graceful movements with a faint scowl. As Nest moves past with a brimming water basin, he pushes his knife off the trestle. “Gerald’s wife, pick that up.”

Nest sets the basin on the table. As she kneels, Owain dumps the murky water over the edge, soaking the front of her gown. The thin garment clings to her, and the lads get an eyeful. They approve. Noisily and with vulgarity