World Without End Page 0,66

enough, they came to a little brook, the vegetation on either side trodden into mud.

Sim knelt beside the stream, filled his cupped hands with clear water, and drank. Then he moved the rope so that it was around her neck, freeing her hands, and motioned her to the water.

She washed her hands in the stream then drank thirstily.

"Wash your face," he ordered. "You're ugly enough by nature."

She did as she was told, wondering wearily why he cared how she looked.

The path continued on the farther side of the drinking hole. They walked on. Gwenda was a strong girl, capable of walking all day, but she was defeated and miserable and scared, and that made her feel exhausted. Whatever fate awaited her at their destination, it was probably worse than this, but all the same she yearned to get there so that she could sit down.

Darkness was falling. The deer path wound through trees for a mile then petered out at the foot of a hill. Sim stopped beside a particularly massive oak tree and gave a low whistle.

A few moments later, a figure materialized out of the half-lit woodland and said: "All right, Sim."

"All right, Jed."

"What you got there, a fruit tart?"

"You shall have a slice, Jed, same as the others, so long as you've got sixpence."

Gwenda realized what Sim had planned. He was going to prostitute her. The realization hit her like a blow, and she staggered and fell to her knees.

"Sixpence, eh?" Jed's voice seemed to come from far away, but all the same she could hear the excitement in his voice. "How old is she?"

"Her father claimed she was eighteen." Sim jerked on the rope. "Stand up, you lazy cow, we're not there yet."

Gwenda got to her feet. That's why he wanted me to wash my face, she thought, and for some reason the realization made her cry.

She wept hopelessly as she stumbled along in Sim's footsteps until they came to a clearing with a fire in the middle. Through her tears, she perceived fifteen or twenty people lying around the edge of the clearing, most of them wrapped in blankets or cloaks. Almost all those watching her in the firelight were male, but she caught sight of a white female face, hard in expression but smooth-chinned, that stared at her briefly then disappeared back into a bundle of ragged bedding. An upturned wine barrel and a scattering of wooden cups testified to a drunken party.

Gwenda realized that Sim had brought her to a den of outlaws.

She groaned. How many of them would she be forced to submit to?

As soon as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer, all of them.

Sim dragged her across the clearing to a man who was sitting upright, his back against a tree. "All right, Tam," said Sim.

Gwenda knew instantly who the man must be: the most famous outlaw in the county, he was called Tam Hiding. He had a handsome face, though it was reddened by drink. People said he was noble-born, but they always said that about famous outlaws. Looking at him, Gwenda was surprised by his youth: he was in his mid-twenties. But then, to kill an outlaw was no crime so, in all probability, few lived to be old.

Tam said: "All right, Sim."

"I traded Alwyn's cow for a girl."

"Well done." Tam's speech was only slightly slurred.

"We're going to charge the boys sixpence, but of course you can have a free go. I expect you'd like to be first."

Tam peered at her with bloodshot eyes. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she imagined she saw a hint of pity in his look. He said: "No, thanks, Sim. You go ahead and let the boys have a good time. Though you might want to leave it until tomorrow. We got a barrel of good wine from a pair of monks who were taking it to Kingsbridge, and most of the lads are dead drunk now."

Gwenda's heart leaped with hope. Perhaps her torture would be postponed.

"I'll have to consult Alwyn," Sim said doubtfully. Thanks, Tam." He turned away, pulling Gwenda behind him.

A few yards away, a broad-shouldered man was struggling to his feet. Sim said: All right, Alwyn." The phrase seemed to serve the outlaws as a greeting and a recognition code.

Alwyn was at the bad-tempered phase of drunkenness. "What have you got?"

"A fresh young girl."

Alwyn took Gwenda's chin in his hand, gripping unnecessarily hard, and turned her face to the firelight. She was forced to look into his