I opened my mouth but no reply came out. Suddenly my head spun, I felt sick to my stomach and my legs would no longer hold me.
The man scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed no more than a child.
"Now there," he said. "You need some rest. I'm going to put you in my cart, right."
"Bramble," I said, my voice weak. I moved my mouth but nothing else came out.
"That's your dog, is it?" He gave me a small, sad smile. "Pretty name, that. Bramble. Had a friend with a daughter called Bramble once."
As if I weighed no more than a child, he deposited me into the cart. Bramble was swiftly placed beside me and she leaned weakly against my leg. The man frowned as he inspected the blood-soaked bandages on her paw and side.
"That don't look good. Needs a clean and some proper bandaging."
He looked us both over again.
"I was heading home anyway. You can stay a few days. Rest up."
I would have cried if I'd had the energy.
The cart shook as the man swung himself back up into the front seat. He clicked at the oxen and we set off with a jolt.
"I'm Owain, by the way," he called over his shoulder. "My missus would say I shoulda told you that afore anything else. Owain, you big oaf, she'd say, you need to learn some manners."
I couldn't reply. I lay back on the bare wooden floor of the cart, staring up into a grey sky heavy with clouds. It would rain again tonight. And we would be sleeping under a roof.
Beside me, Bramble breathed so shallowly I wondered whether she was still conscious. I tried to raise a hand to touch her but couldn't so much as twitch a finger. Strangely, I no longer hurt. Perhaps I slept, or lost consciousness, for I knew nothing else until Owain was lifting Bramble out of the cart.
The little terrier lay limply in his arms and I vaguely wondered whether she was dead. It seemed I should feel something if she was but I couldn't quite figure out what.
"I'll come back for you," Owain said to me and disappeared, taking Bramble with him.
I waited, drifting, neither entirely conscious nor unconscious, until I heard Owain return. I managed to turn my head towards him and fancied I saw a half-naked man run out from behind the house. He had a long nose and tousled hair and wore only a shirt. His bare behind shone in the late afternoon sunlight as he darted across the yard and behind the barn.
Owain's back was to the man and it seemed he waited a few moments longer than necessary before lifting me from the cart.
"A man-" I started.
"Ssh," Owain said and his jaw was clenched. "You need to rest."
"But-"
"Save your strength."
The following hours were a blur. I lay in a bed which was blissfully soft after two nights on the ground. Someone undressed me, bathed me, applied a warm poultice to my ankle and then strapped it firmly. Warm, dry blankets were piled on top of me. My head was held up and a meaty broth spooned into my mouth. I gulped greedily and it spilled down my chin to be efficiently wiped up. My stomach rumbled as my head was laid back down on the pillow.
"More," I mumbled.
"Later," a voice said. "It will make you sick if you eat too much too soon."
Then I was alone. I drifted hazily. I was warm and clean, had food in my belly, and my ankle burned pleasantly from the poultice. The bedchamber smelled of healing herbs, possibly from the poultice or maybe someone had thrown them on the fire. An oil lantern on the dresser kept the darkness at bay.
I tried to roll over and found I was not alone. Bramble lay beside me, curled up in a tight ball. She too had been bathed and her hair was snow-white. Her injured paw stuck out stiffly, neatly wrapped in a clean, white bandage. Other bandages covered the wounds on her shoulder, flank and ear.
"I told you we would make it if we stuck together," I said but the words seemed to melt in my mouth and what came out was unintelligible.
Bramble opened one dark eye to stare at me then sniffed and went back to sleep. I laid a hand gently against her back, finding comfort in the warm body beside me. Then I too slept.
When I next woke, my head was clear and my ankle had subsided to a dull ache. My stomach rumbled with hunger and my tongue felt fat and furry.
I lay on a wide bed, starched white covers tucked firmly around me, the fabric smooth and fine beneath my fingers. The patch of warmth by my hip was Bramble. A plump, stuffed chair was drawn up to a hearth containing neatly raked coals. A wooden dresser bearing jug and basin stood beneath a window. Someone had opened the curtains since I last woke but all I could see was a patch of leaden sky. This must be Owain's home but had no idea where it was or how far we had travelled in the cart.
A woman entered my bedchamber. She was perhaps a five or six summers older than me. Her dark hair was neatly tied back and her work dress was immaculate. She looked me over, her gaze critical.
"You are awake." Her voice held no warmth. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry."
She laid a cool hand against my forehead. "The fever has broken at last."
"I had a fever?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You were very ill. Don't you remember?"
"I thought I was just hungry."
Her forehead wrinkled and she pursed her lips. Obviously I had said something incredibly stupid.
"I will apply another poultice to your ankle and strap it again. Then you may see if you can get up. If you can make your way to the dinner table, it will be far less trouble for me."
The doorway darkened and Owain entered. His plain face broke into a smile.
"Hello," he said. "How do you feel?"
"The fever has broken and he's hungry," the woman snapped.
Owain's face briefly registered hurt although his eyes said clearly he worshipped this woman.
I finally remembered that I had passed out without introducing myself to Owain. "My name is Diarmuid."
The woman frowned at me again. "So it would seem."
"This is my Maeve, my wife," Owain said quickly. "She has been caring for you."
"And it's not like I didn't already have enough to do, is it?" Maeve had a glare each for Owain and I. "Between keeping the household running and you trying to get me with child, I don't have time to spare as it is. And then you bring home a half-dead stranger and his dog and expect me to nurse them."
Owain flushed. "They needed help. Couldn't leave them on the side of the road."
"I don't see why not. They weren't your responsibility."
Owain hung his head and looked away.
"Can I have some water?" I asked, an awkward witness to their argument.
Maeve filled a mug from the jug on the dresser. She stared up at the ceiling as she held it out and I fumbled to take it from her. Owain came to my rescue, taking the mug in his big hands and holding it gently to my mouth. Water ran down my chin as I gulped. He didn't comment, only wiped my face with a towel. Maeve was gone by the time I had drunk my fill.
"Let's get you up and see how you feel." Owain helped me to stand. "A few steps, no more, eh." He guided me across the room towards the window, his strong arm a sturdy anchor around my waist.
With the first step, I realised how weak I was. My knees buckled and my legs shook and it was only Owain's strong arms that kept me standing. My ankle was still tender but I could put some weight on it with Owain's support. I barely managed six steps before I could go no further, panting from the effort of even so little. My heart sank. It would be some days yet before I resumed my journey and the dark of the moon drew closer with every night I delayed.
Owain held me up as I relieved myself into a chamber pot, an experience that was strangely not as embarrassing as I might have expected.
"Bed now," he said and carried me back. "You should rest. I'll come get you at dinner time."
Then it was Bramble's turn. Her paw, shoulder and ear had been bandaged. Owain held a small wooden bowl up to her mouth and she lapped thirstily. He gently stroked her hip, well away from the injuries, and she looked up at him with an expression of gratitude. It seemed even she knew how close we had both come to death.
Owain gently lifted Bramble and carried her from the room. His steady footsteps moved down the stairs and a door slammed as he left the house. When he brought Bramble back, she and I curled up together again and I drifted back to sleep.
The bedchamber was darker when I next woke. My mouth was dry again and my stomach grumbled loudly. My head was clearer and for a few moments, I thought perhaps we could resume our journey on the morrow. That hope was dashed when I tried to get out of bed for I was still too weak to do any more than sit up alone.
When Owain returned, he smiled broadly and I couldn't help but smile back. There was something about him that made me like him very much. More than that, I trusted him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Before I could respond, Bramble hauled herself up with a bark.
Owain laughed. "Well then, Bramble. Let's take you downstairs for dinner." He lifted her, his large hands careful to avoid her injuries. "I'll be back for you in a moment," he said over his shoulder.
When he returned, Owain scooped me up, lifting me as easily as he had Bramble.
"Don't want to do too much yet," he muttered. "Best that you rest."
"I have to continue on my journey."
"In a few days."
He carried me down to the dining room and deposited me on a wide, stuffed chair. The furniture was solid and elegantly carved and the walls were draped with fine embroideries. I had taken Owain for a simple farmer but clearly he was something more. Bramble nestled in a thickly-padded basket beside my chair. Her eyes were bright and alert. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted in from the kitchen and my stomach growled so hard it hurt.
"What occupation do you have, Owain?" I leaned down to stroke Bramble's head. She leaned into my hand.
"Oh, this and that." He busied himself with settling into a chair across the table from me.
Maeve bustled in with a platter before I could ask further. She dropped the platter onto the table with what seemed like unnecessary force.
"Good evening, Maeve," I said. "Thank you for looking after us."
She huffed and straightened the platter. "It's not like I don't already have enough to do."
Owain cleared his throat apologetically.
"We really appreciate it," I said. "I don't know what would have become of us if Owain hadn't come along when he did. We couldn't have made it much further."
"You were almost dead when I found you," Owain said cheerfully. "Wouldn't have lasted another night. Either of you," he added with a glance towards Bramble.
She flicked an ear at him and held his gaze.
"Thank you, Owain," I said. "And I'm sure Bramble would thank you also if she could talk."
"Oh she talks in her own way." He dragged his gaze away from Bramble.
Maeve's scowl didn't budge as we ate. Owain said little but every word irritated her and when she spoke, it was usually to remind him how much more difficult her life was with him in it. Owain tolerated her criticisms with gentle shrugs.
The meal was lavish and I ate with gusto. Roasted hen, winter root vegetables, rich gravy. Thick slices of brown bread. A sweet honey that reminded me, with a pang of homesickness, of Silver Downs. Bramble ate from a bowl of choice selections of chicken and vegetables. Owain must have filled the bowl himself. I couldn't imagine Maeve going to that effort.
Maeve barely ate but merely picked at a piece of chicken and then reduced a slice of bread to crumbs on her plate. I would have felt uncomfortable about eating so much when she had so little if it weren't for Owain who had second and then third helpings of everything.
"Thank you for your hospitality," I said to Maeve. "I hope I won't have to intrude on you for much longer."
Maeve looked up briefly from the growing pile of crumbs. "I suppose you can stay another day or two."
"Nonsense, Diarmuid," Owain said. "It'll be at least a sevennight before you are well enough to leave."
Maeve glared across the table at him. He lowered his gaze but didn't retract his words.
"I'll wait until morning before I make any decisions," I said. "But I'm sure I'll feel much better by then."
Maeve rose abruptly and left. Her voice came from the kitchen although I couldn't make out what she said. Directing the servants, perhaps.
Owain pushed back his chair, scooped up Bramble's basket in one arm and helped me to rise with the other. I leaned heavily on him as we went into the next room where a small fire blazed with a merriness it alone seemed to feel. I sank down into an oversized chair, its thick padding cushioning my body comfortably. My legs trembled from the short walk and my ankle throbbed.
Owain positioned Bramble's basket close by his chair where she would feel the fire's warmth and then sat down with a sigh. Bramble stretched out and rested her chin on her paws.
Dishes clattered loudly from the direction of the kitchen. Someone was taking their feelings out on the crockery.
"I'm sorry if Bramble and I being here is causing problems for you," I said.
Owain shrugged. "She's always like this. Doesn't like me much, I'm afraid."
"Then why did she handfast with you?" I regretted my rudeness the instant the words left my mouth but Owain didn't seem bothered.
"I made her father a generous offer. She preferred someone else."
"She resents you."
"Thought she'd come around. See I wasn't so bad. But it's been three summers. She still hates me and we still have no heir." He stared silently into the fire for a while. "Not much I can do. And it's not a bad life we have. I know I'm a simple man but I do all right. We have everything we need."