be laid waste like this, he knew, and he was struck with a sense of gloom.
‘Didn’t see it on the way out,’ Grandarse said. He already had his hand on his sword. ‘It’d be a good place for someone to hide.’
‘Grandarse, it’s a pit. It’s been empty since the days of William the Bastard,’ Berenger said, but he was an old soldier, and knew the importance of reconnaissance as
well as any. He hitched up his belt, muttered a curse under his breath, and called to Geoff and Clip. ‘Come on, lads. Let’s get it checked out, eh?’
Their path was a foot-wide trampled passage through grass and scrub. Berenger led the way, scowling at the building as shadows began to dominate the land. It seemed to him as though the slower
they walked, the nearer the cottage appeared, as though it was approaching them as well, like a predator stalking its hunter. He felt a slither of unease in his belly.
Closer to the cottage, he saw that where a thick thatch must once have lain, now there was only the stench of burned straw. Some greenish clumps remained on the top of one wall, but the rest had
been consumed in the conflagration. It was still warm.
‘Some of our boys been here already?’ Berenger wondered.
‘Must have,’ Geoff said.
‘There’ll be nothing in there to take,’ Clip noted sadly.
Berenger nodded, and they all stepped silently to the gaping hole where the door had once stood. It was there still, but burned and ruined, lying half in, half out. The doorpost had been
scorched to a repellent, twisted black shape, like a snake standing and staring at him. It was enough to make Berenger swallow hard and take a second look. In the dark he could have sworn that the
thing had eyes and watched him closely as he came closer.
‘What is it, Frip?’ Geoff asked, seeing his stare.
‘Just a . . . I thought I saw something.’
It was stupid to be superstitious. It was only a peasant’s home, one small room, that was all. Yet he was reluctant to enter. He had seen bodies burned to foetal skeletons before now. When
he died, he wanted an arrow in the throat, not a burning.
He looked about him warily and then jerked back. ‘Sweet Mother of . . .’ Dangling from a cord bound to a rafter, swinging slightly in the warm air, he saw a dead cat.
‘Shit!’
‘What?’ Geoff hissed.
‘Nothing’, Berenger muttered. He crossed himself hurriedly. A black cat was ominous. Everyone knew that.
Geoff glanced at Clip. The two were either side of the doorway now, and at a nod from Geoff, they raced inside, knives out and ready, low enough to gut anyone foolish enough to try to ambush
them.
Berenger entered more slowly, averting his eyes from that unsettling doorpost. One wall, which had supported the end of the beam, had collapsed when the fire had taken hold, and the beam had
crashed into the room, smashing everything beneath it. Berenger could see a table, two stools, a couple of pots, even a long scrap of blackened material.
‘Nothing here,’ Geoff said, after wandering about the room. There was nowhere to conceal a body, and he kicked at some rubble, bent and peered under the beam.
Clip stood with his lip curled. ‘You’re right. Whoever got here before us took everything left unburned.’
Berenger let his hand rest on the beam. It was still warm. ‘It was a recent fire,’ he noted.
Wisp had walked in after the men, and stood in the doorway, looking slightly green.
‘You all right, Wisp?’ Berenger asked.
Wisp felt strangely light-headed. Seeing the cat dangling, he had been struck with superstitious terror. He felt as if he was at the top of a tall cliff and peering out to death far below. His
head was filled with a curious dizziness, and he sucked in his breath.
‘Wisp? Wisp, what is it?’
He could hear Berenger’s voice, but it felt like Frip was a long way away. Wisp’s heart was thundering like a horse in full gallop, and he had to grasp a timber to keep from
toppling.
‘I’m fine,’
‘Didn’t see it on the way out,’ Grandarse said. He already had his hand on his sword. ‘It’d be a good place for someone to hide.’
‘Grandarse, it’s a pit. It’s been empty since the days of William the Bastard,’ Berenger said, but he was an old soldier, and knew the importance of reconnaissance as
well as any. He hitched up his belt, muttered a curse under his breath, and called to Geoff and Clip. ‘Come on, lads. Let’s get it checked out, eh?’
Their path was a foot-wide trampled passage through grass and scrub. Berenger led the way, scowling at the building as shadows began to dominate the land. It seemed to him as though the slower
they walked, the nearer the cottage appeared, as though it was approaching them as well, like a predator stalking its hunter. He felt a slither of unease in his belly.
Closer to the cottage, he saw that where a thick thatch must once have lain, now there was only the stench of burned straw. Some greenish clumps remained on the top of one wall, but the rest had
been consumed in the conflagration. It was still warm.
‘Some of our boys been here already?’ Berenger wondered.
‘Must have,’ Geoff said.
‘There’ll be nothing in there to take,’ Clip noted sadly.
Berenger nodded, and they all stepped silently to the gaping hole where the door had once stood. It was there still, but burned and ruined, lying half in, half out. The doorpost had been
scorched to a repellent, twisted black shape, like a snake standing and staring at him. It was enough to make Berenger swallow hard and take a second look. In the dark he could have sworn that the
thing had eyes and watched him closely as he came closer.
‘What is it, Frip?’ Geoff asked, seeing his stare.
‘Just a . . . I thought I saw something.’
It was stupid to be superstitious. It was only a peasant’s home, one small room, that was all. Yet he was reluctant to enter. He had seen bodies burned to foetal skeletons before now. When
he died, he wanted an arrow in the throat, not a burning.
He looked about him warily and then jerked back. ‘Sweet Mother of . . .’ Dangling from a cord bound to a rafter, swinging slightly in the warm air, he saw a dead cat.
‘Shit!’
‘What?’ Geoff hissed.
‘Nothing’, Berenger muttered. He crossed himself hurriedly. A black cat was ominous. Everyone knew that.
Geoff glanced at Clip. The two were either side of the doorway now, and at a nod from Geoff, they raced inside, knives out and ready, low enough to gut anyone foolish enough to try to ambush
them.
Berenger entered more slowly, averting his eyes from that unsettling doorpost. One wall, which had supported the end of the beam, had collapsed when the fire had taken hold, and the beam had
crashed into the room, smashing everything beneath it. Berenger could see a table, two stools, a couple of pots, even a long scrap of blackened material.
‘Nothing here,’ Geoff said, after wandering about the room. There was nowhere to conceal a body, and he kicked at some rubble, bent and peered under the beam.
Clip stood with his lip curled. ‘You’re right. Whoever got here before us took everything left unburned.’
Berenger let his hand rest on the beam. It was still warm. ‘It was a recent fire,’ he noted.
Wisp had walked in after the men, and stood in the doorway, looking slightly green.
‘You all right, Wisp?’ Berenger asked.
Wisp felt strangely light-headed. Seeing the cat dangling, he had been struck with superstitious terror. He felt as if he was at the top of a tall cliff and peering out to death far below. His
head was filled with a curious dizziness, and he sucked in his breath.
‘Wisp? Wisp, what is it?’
He could hear Berenger’s voice, but it felt like Frip was a long way away. Wisp’s heart was thundering like a horse in full gallop, and he had to grasp a timber to keep from
toppling.
‘I’m fine,’
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