Silvermay by James Moloney Read Free Book Online Page B

close, though. There had been rumours from other villages: when the lords came calling for their tribute, the Wyrdborn sometimes took prizes of a different kind — young women like me. They disappeared inside distant castles and weren’t seen for months. When they came home, they were unharmed and had no memory of being gone at all. Yet all the stories ended with the same sad refrain: the youthful joy that had made the girls so beautiful was gone forever.
    At last, the religo emerged from the inn. Behind him came the elders, ashen-faced, their leader clutching a scroll, which he unfolded and began to read aloud.
    â€˜The following tribute is to be loaded in the wagons,’ he began. ‘Bags of grain …’ Here he paused to swallow hard while the men of the village drew closer to hear. ‘Two hundred and thirty.’
    A groan rose up from every throat, even my own. That was twenty more than last year and even that had seemed too much. One thing was already certain: we would all be thinner before the end of winter.
    The list went on, naming bales of wool and the number of lambs. At last, the elder reached the endof the scroll and, despite the shock and the weight of what lay ahead, Haywode sighed in relief. The worst was known now. Or so we thought.
    As men began to turn away, Norbett stepped across to the elder and whispered something. The weary elder raised his voice again and said, ‘Plus Sweetmead’s sow.’
    â€˜No,’ came a shout from among the disgruntled onlookers. A short man with a red face and wiry grey beard pushed his way through. It was Delit Sweetmead and it wasn’t hard to know why he was so upset. ‘My pig’s not on that list. Go on, you show me where it says my pig has to be stolen as well.’
    He was on dangerous ground using words like stolen. But he was right, too: the sow had been added on a whim after the rest of the list had been read out and we all knew it. Delit Sweetmead knew it better than any of us.
    â€˜I’ve raised her from a piglet. She’s going to feed the guests when my son marries in the autumn. You’re not taking her.’
    Delit was too angry for his own good. He came on three more paces towards the lord, enough to make the sentinel step in his way. A heavy sword was already in the man’s hand and if Delit went any closer his head would soon be rolling free in the mud. The sight of the sword finally brought sense to the poor man’s mindand he backed away, but he still wouldn’t give up on his precious pig.
    â€˜What of my son’s wedding? There’ll be nothing on the table. Leave the pig, my lord, so the whole village can feast on my boy’s wedding day.’
    Norbett’s answer came quickly. ‘That sow will make a fine feast, I’m sure, but it will be at my table, not yours. Now fetch the pig at once, and you can help load it into my wagons for your trouble.’
    The callous reply was too much for Delit Sweetmead. Fear of the sentinel’s sword kept him well back but it didn’t stop his tongue. He let loose with a barrage of curses fiery enough to burn the thatched roofs Tamlyn had spent so long mending. He raged on, his words angrier and fouler with every breath, until suddenly, in mid-sentence, he fell to the ground and began to writhe from side to side. His face contorted in agony and his curses were replaced by the moans of a tormented beast.
    No one dared go near him. The only man to move was the Wyrdborn in the grey vest who strolled a few steps into the wide space that had opened up around Delit Sweetmead. His hands remained by his sides but his eyes focused harshly on his victim.
    I’d heard of the Wyrdborns’ terrible magic but had never seen it at work before. The sight sickened me; forthe pain it brought to a man who’d done no more than protest in anger, and even more for the way the entire village stood by, utterly helpless.
    Religo Norbett watched