Page 131 of Circle of Days
“Carry the debris to the plain, of course!”
“That would have taken days.”
“Did anyone tell you there was a rush?”
Scagga did not answer.
She said: “How far did the fire spread?”
“Fortunately it did not go the whole length of the wood.”
“Not the whole length? How much was burned? Half of it? Three-quarters?”
Scagga looked down. “More than that. A small area is left at the west end.”
Ani said: “Bez and his tribe will starve! They’ll just die!” Then she burst into tears. “You fool,” she said with bitter grief. “You’ve killed a whole tribe.” She turned and walked away from the elders, head bowed, sobbing. “A whole tribe,” she said quietly. “You fool.”
Bez knew nothing about cattle. He had never had anything to do with tame animals apart from dogs. Cows made him nervous because he never knew what they were going to do. But he hadcome up with the idea of stealing them, and naturally he had to be the first of the tribe to try and do it.
The herders minding the cattle were the real danger, because they had bows and arrows. Bez was armed with a heavy club and a flint knife.
He thought about this as he and Gida headed for the herd. There were few cloudy nights in the drought, so they had picked the next best thing, a moonless night, for their first attempt at theft. They were not invisible, but they would be hard to see when moving among a herd of cattle.
The nearest herd was usually just north of East Wood, but Zad had taken it farther away when the farmers started talking about getting cows as compensation for the stampede. Bez guessed Zad had moved the beasts northwest, but not too far, because he needed frequently to take them to water.
Bez smelled the herd before he saw it—which was a good sign: it meant that he and Gida were downwind and the herders’ dogs might not pick up their scent.
Bez’s biggest worry was noise. Both he and Gida were barefoot—woodlanders hated shoes—and they had the woodlander skill of moving quietly, but dogs had extraordinarily good hearing and could instantly tell the difference between the footsteps of a human and the hooves of a cow.
They stopped at a lone oak tree and stood on either side of it, positioning themselves half behind its massive trunk, to study what was in front of them. Bez could not see any herders. Certainly one or more of them would be there, so they must be on the far side of the herd. Most of the cows were standing, but a few werelying down. Bez did not know whether they could sleep standing up. He did not really know whether they slept at all.
He and Gida waited patiently. If the herders were walking around, they would come into view sooner or later. But they did not, so probably they were sitting down somewhere. After a while Gida said: “Let’s move.”
This was a dangerous moment. They had to walk upright across empty grassland, in plain view, with nowhere to hide. Bez stared hard as he walked, looking for herders, but it was Gida who spotted them first. Without speaking she dropped to the ground and lay flat, and Bez did the same a heartbeat later.
There were two people. At this distance Bez could not tell whether they were male or female. They were walking slowly. Fortunately they were looking at the cattle, and seemed not to have seen Bez and Gida.
There was a long wait while the herders continued their circuit. As soon as they disappeared, Bez and Gida stood up and walked briskly across the remaining ground.
When they reached the herd, they knelt down with their heads on the same level as those of the beasts. On their knees they mingled with the herd, so that their scent would be masked somewhat by that of the cattle. The animals were used to humans. A bull grunted at Bez, then decided not to worry. Cows glanced at the newcomers and looked away, uninterested.
Bez and Gida stopped and listened hard, trying to hear where the herders were now. People were rarely completely silent. They would talk, cough, sniff, whistle a tune or sing. If asleepthey would mutter or snore. After some moments Gida pointed northwest. Bez nodded. He had heard nothing, but he knew that she had better ears.
He looked at the cattle around him. None of them was fat or even meaty. They had all suffered in the drought. Bez wanted a healthy young beast, a heifer or a bullock—young female or castrated male—either of which was likely to be obedient and might be gently led away without noise. He pointed at a heifer and mimed a query to Gida.
She had a leather bag slung over her shoulder. She took from it a handful of fragrant fresh meadowsweet, found in a little clearing in what was left of West Wood. Neither Bez nor Gida knew whether cows would eat out of your hand, as dogs would.
Gida stood up, risking that the herders would notice her.
The cow sniffed the meadowsweet, then turned away. That was disappointing.
Gida tried another cow. Its long tongue came out, wrapped around the herb, and transferred it rapidly to its mouth, then it chewed with a satisfied look.
As it was eating, Gida slipped a rope over its head.
She stepped away, pulling on the rope, and it followed her.
They had captured a cow.
