Page 111 of Circle of Days
The dog spotted Bez, gave a pleased bark, and ran to him. He patted it, but he had a cold feeling in his heart.
Gida said: “What’s it doing here, without its master?”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” said Bez grimly.
“Something bad has happened.”
Bez nodded. He had the same foreboding. He said: “Yesterday Fell went to take a roe deer to Han and Pia, as a present.”
“So the first place to look for him is probably that island.”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming with you,” Gida said, in a firm tone that discouraged argument.
Bez looked at the sky. “We can’t get there before dark. Let’s start at first light.”
Next day at noon they reached the derelict house on the riverbank. They found a log and put it in the water, then Fell’s dog began to behave strangely. It whined, lay down and got up again, approached the water and backed off, all as if scared of something.
Bez and Gida decided to leave it there. If it changed its mind it could swim across and find them.
Bez was full of apprehension as they crossed, but he was notsure exactly what he feared. The woodlanders had no enemies here in the hills. The area was thinly populated, mostly by shepherds with small flocks. Was it possible that one of them had killed Fell for the venison he was carrying?
They clambered out of the river onto dry land. No one appeared to greet them, and Bez had a premonition of tragedy.
They made their way through the vegetation to the little shelter. All was quiet and still. Bez concluded there was no one there.
The carcass of the deer lay on the ground, much nibbled by birds and little carnivores. So Fell had been here. But the gift lay on the ground as if spurned, and there was no sign of the giver or the recipients.
Then he looked into the shelter.
Bez gave an involuntary sob as he recognized his brother. At the same moment, Gida wailed: “Oh, Fell, my Fell, my lovely Fell!”
At first they looked peaceful, two men lying on their backs, their hands folded on their chests, with a dog alongside them. Then Bez was struck by the early signs of decay: the skin grey, with purplish patches; the bellies swollen; and a faint odor of rot.
A moment later he was horrified to notice that the wild creatures had already been at the bodies. The eyes had been pecked out, the lips eaten, the hands bitten.
He turned away, and Gida did the same. Facing each other, they embraced, both weeping, for a long moment. At last Gida spoke through her tears. “Pia’s not here.”
“Perhaps she got away.”
Gida shook her head. “She’s either heavily pregnant or carryinga baby. Either way, it’s unlikely she escaped when Han and Fell couldn’t. I think the murderer took her.”
“Then it’s Stam.”
“It must be.”
They gathered firewood together, and the physical effort relieved the intolerable pressure of grief. They made a double-wide pyre. By the time they had finished they were no longer boiling with grief and rage, but simply tired and desperately sad.
Bez took the band of bear’s teeth from around Fell’s neck. He wanted to show it to the tribe when he told them that Fell was dead.
They picked up the body, Bez lifting the shoulders and Gida the thighs. They carried him carefully to the pyre and laid him down on one side of it.
Next Bez took off Han’s distinctive shoes. They bore patches of dark-red stain, undoubtedly blood. Like the necklace, they would serve as proof of what Bez had seen. Han was bigger and heavier than Fell, and they struggled to lift him, but they managed to get him to the pyre and lay him down beside Fell.
Finally Bez picked up the corpse of Han’s dog and laid it at its master’s feet.
They stood up and lit the fire, and Gida sang a woodlander song of sadness and loss.
