With the lantern in one hand and the sword dragging in the other, she began to walk along a grave that seemed to stretch forever. Alf had laid the bodies side by side, all facing upward, with their hands crossed on their breasts. The earthy mold of the pit into which Wolf had thrown them had preserved some flesh, but insects and mammals had taken their portions, turning the faces into unrecognizable distortions that clamored to her, echoing the shrieks and cries of the skirmish with Wolf and his robbers on the road that had been their last experience.

Father Septimus, his gnawed hands laid on the wooden cross that hung from his neck.

Emma’s two grooms, so kind to Allie-it seemed terrible to Adelia that at this moment she couldn’t remember their names-both had been stripped down to their hose, their leather jerkins too valuable to be left to rot. Impossible now to tell which was which.

Master Roetger’s squire, Alberic, far from his native Swabia, another whose jerkin had been taken, leaving his bones to display the hacking to his rib cage.

Adelia stopped for a moment; it was unbearable to go on. Will gave her a small push. “We ain’t got all night, missus.”

She was approaching the women-oh, God, the women. The one with fair hair would be Alys, Emma’s maid. She was naked.

The thought of what might have been done to the girl before she died made Adelia shut her eyes tight.

“Get on, missus.”

Next to Alys was Mary, young Pippy’s elderly nurse, the half-chewed face showing none of the patience and kindness it had borne in life. Her corpse, too, was naked.

“Did he rape them?” Adelia kept her voice low and steady.

Nobody answered her-an answer in itself.

She took another reluctant pace. Her lantern shone on an edge in the earth that rose like a step and led to a continuance of the twigs and weeds that made up the forest floor. She’d come to the end of the grave.

She turned on Will. “Is this all of them?”

He nodded.

“There are only six here.” Her voice yelled shockingly through the silence, and she lowered it. “There were nine. Where’s Emma? Where’s her child? Where’s her knight?” She let the lantern and sword drop so that she could grab the man’s tunic and shake him. “You devil, what’s he done with them?”

There was an exhalation of relief from the men around her. “We did wonder,” Alf said.

She wheeled round to face him. “Wonder what?”

“As maybe it was your friend got away. She might’ve been one of these deaders, for all we knew.”

“Got away? Emma got away?”

“It was like this, see.” Will sat her down on a fallen tree trunk, picked up her sword, and gave it back to her like a mother restoring a toy to a baby to calm it. He squatted beside her while Alf started shoveling earth back over the bodies. “What Wolf says was there was a big fella with ’em as had his foot in a sort of basket.”

“A basket,” echoed Alf, pausing in his spadework.

“Roetger.” Adelia was having trouble moving her lips.

“Foreign, was he?” Will asked, interested.

She managed to say, “A champion swordsman. German.”

“What’s a German?” Alf asked.

“You get on and cover them poor buggers up, Alf,” Will told him. “We wants to get away afore we join ’em.” He turned back to Adelia. “Champion, was he? Fought like one, seemingly. Held Wolf’s lads off from the back of the cart, got one of ’em in the eye, sliced another’s bloody hand off, stuck one more.”

“Lost four of his lads that night, Wolf did,” Alf said, pausing again. “Wasn’t best pleased, Wolf wasn’t.”

“But Emma, what happened to Lady Emma and her little boy?”

“Youngster, was there?” Will asked. “Wolf says as how he thought he heard a kid crying. That’d explain it, then, ’cos she fought an’ all. That’s one lady as Wolf didn’t get to… She had a dagger on her and stuck it in one of Wolf’s lad’s throat when he was clam-berin’ up on the front of the cart-the which is another as Wolf had to bury.”

Adelia nodded. Emma would have fought. Her servants dying around her, Pippy behind her in the cart-she’d have fought to kill.

“Well, Wolf was surprised like. An’ while he was surprised, the lady whips up the horses an’ has that cart gallopin’ off down the road. Wolf, he chases after it, but that big German bugger’s in the back and he’s still flailin’ his sword about so’s Wolf can’t get near. He had to let it go, see.”

“Let the cart go?”

Will nodded. “Lady, German, cart, and what-all as was in it. Oh, an’ a pack mule as went canterin’ after it-Wolf lost that an’ all.”

They got away.

Then she had Will by the shoulders and was shaking him again. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t bloody know, do I?” Will brushed her hands off and settled his tunic.

“What do you mean you don’t know? What happened to them?”

Will shrugged.

Alf said, “How’d we know?” Toki and Ollie chimed their ignorance. There was an air of disappointment. They’d taken all this trouble, put their lives within the grasp of the chancy Wolf, gained her information-and still she wasn’t satisfied.

“But… they’ve disappeared,” she said. “There’s been no sign of them since. If my friend was alive, she’d have contacted me. I know she would.” She was near crying.

“Ain’t our fault.” The tithing had told her as much as it knew. It had done its bit.

“Dear heaven.” It was bitter; it was cruel. All this and she was no nearer to finding Emma than she had been.

“Last seen gallopin’ toward Glastonbury, wasn’t they, Will?” Alf said helpfully.

“So Wolf said.” Will stood up. Adelia’s ingratitude had rendered him churlish once more. “Could’ve made Street the rate they was going, or fallen in the fucking Brue for all I care. Finished with them bodies, Alf?”

“Nearly, Will.”

“Let’s get off, then. We only got til dawn, and I got my bloody baking to do.”

His bloody baking could wait; Adelia wasn’t leaving the dead like this.

She went to the neat strip of turned earth that now covered them, knelt down, and prayed. “Eternal rest grant unto these dear men and women, O Lord, and let perpetual Light shine upon them. May their souls rest in peace. Amen.”

Silently, she promised the corpses that they would not be left forgotten in this forest. Whoever Wolf was, he was an outrage. England prided itself on being a civilized country-well, it wasn’t civilized here. If the warring churchmen of Glastonbury and Wells couldn’t keep safe the road and forest that stretched between them, there was one man who could. King Henry would see to it; she’d demand that he did.

When she looked up she saw that the men around her had taken off their caps again. She had been unkind to them, so she added, “And bless these friends who did not count the cost in bringing me to this place. I am grateful to them.”

There was some embarrassed shuffling. Alf began patting the earth down with his spade. Then stopped.

The tithing jerked to attention. She heard the hiss of Will’s breath.

A breeze had rustled the trees where there was no breeze.

Wearily, she looked toward the spot on the edge of the glade that was commanding the men’s horrified attention.

A distorted bush, a green thing, which spoke. “Greetings, lads.”

“We thought… we thought as you was over… over Pennard way tonight, Wolf.” Will was panting.

“Some of me is, Will. The rest of me’s here.”

The voice had the crackle of dry leaves, as if a tree were talking.

Whether it was naked or not-and perhaps some of it was-the whorls pricked into its body and the wreath round its head-or it might have been bushy hair-made it more vegetation than animal, a thing that had lurched through primeval forest before humanity began. Even the weapon it carried was of wood-a stake ending in a pale, newly sharpened point.

Will was backing away from it. “You said… three hours, Wolf… as we could bring her…”