Never trust a dead man

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For Selwyn Roweson , the morning the villagers turned on him started the way the night before had ended : He and his father were removing tree stumps from the bit of land they hoped to plant as an additional field next spring . " Because even if you won't be marrying Anora after all , " his father had said , " you'll be getting married sometime , and you'll be needing the extra land . "

Selwyn was inclined to think his father hoped that pulling and hacking at stubborn tree stumps would be enough to drive Anora from Selwyn's mind --- which just went to show how simple parents could be about certain matters .

" Besides , " his father told him , " a wispy little town girl isn't right for farm life . What you need to find yourself is a big , sturdy woman . "

" Big ? " repeated Selwyn , barely able to spare the breath as he wielded the ax at one of the tree roots , sending wood chips flying onto his clothes and into his hair . " Sturdy ? " He himself was of a small build --- and , at seventeen years old , not likely to gain much more height or breadth . The last thing he wanted was a wife bigger and stronger than he was . " Are we talking about a wife or a pair of oxen ? "

" Well , " his father said , as though giving the matter due consideration , " of course , that would be your choice . Oxen are very good at removing tree stumps . On the other hand , their after-dinner conversation is generally mediocre at best , and they can hardly dance at all . Maybe , instead , you could find a girl who's big and sturdy , but not too big and sturdy . "

Selwyn laughed , though mostly with relief that the ax blade had finally split the root .

He put down the ax and picked up the shovel .

The day was unseasonably warm , being that time of year when the autumn leaves have fallen but the winter snow has not , and Selwyn's shirt stuck wetly to his back . He paused , straightening , for a moment's rest and to blow his hair out of his eyes .

That was when he saw the villagers approaching .

" Father , " he said , never for a moment mistaking their intention to be to help dig up tree stumps , for several carried staffs or clubs , and all looked grim .

The last of the smile faded from his father's face , but his voice was jovial as he called out to the dozen or fifteen men approaching . " What is it ? What's wrong ? Tell me we're not at war again . "

It was reasonable query , for --- of all of them --- only Selwyn's father had gone away to be in the king's army , which was how he came so late to marrying that he was almost fifty years old with a son of seventeen . The villagers had turned to him before for help with soldiers that had crossed the border , or with bandits raiding on the road to Saint Hilda's , or --- once --- with two feuding wizards who nearly leveled Orik's tavern trying to settle their differences .

But his father didn't think this was the case ; Selwyn could tell the lightness in his voice was forced .

And any lingering doutbs were ended when Thorne , who was in the lead , called back , " Put down the shovel , Rowe . "

Which was such an odd thing to say no matter why they were here that Selwyn felt a flutter of dread in the pit of his stomach even though Thorne was their neighbor and had farmed the land nearest theirs for longer then Selwyn had been alive .

His father , who before that had had no reason to hold on to his shovel , looked at Thorne and the oncoming crowd appraisingly . He jammed the shovel into the pile of dirt he and Selwyn had dug up from around the latest stump's roots , and rested his arm on top of the handle , where it was still in ready reach .

The villagers stopped , five or six paces away . A shovel's length away .

" Step over here , boy , " said Linton , the miller's nephew , though Selwyn didn't yet know the significance of that .

" Stay , " Selwyn's father ordered , as though Selwyn had no sense at all .

" We just want to talk to him , " Thorne said .

" Fine . Talk , " Selwyn's father said . " His hearing's good . "

Thorne met his stare for several long moments . Then he said , " Farold's dead . Murdered last night in the mill . "

Farold was another of Derian Miller's nephews , Linton's cousin . Selwyn was shocked that someone had been murdered in their quiet community , but not dismayed that it was Farold . Relieved , in fact , that it was Farold and no one else . Pleased , if truth be told , that if it had to happen to someone , it had happened to Farold . But he knew not to let any such thing show on his face . He tried to think nice thoughts only . Farold wasn't all that bad , exactly , he told himself . Farold was better than ....... Well , he was better than sitting down on a tack . He was better than breaking a tooth on a peach pit .

His father asked , " What makes you think Selwyn did it ? "

So much for nice thoughts . Though , in truth , it was the only reason they could be here , looking the way they looked . How could they think he'd kill someone --- even obnoxious , swaggering Farold ? But Thorne was starting right at him , finally addressing him and not his father , asking him , " Did you ? "

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It took several tries to get his voice to work . " No , " he said , amazed that Thorne --- who had known him all his life --- could even ask with a straight face .

" Well then , " Thorne said reasonably .

That couldn't possibly be it , Selwyn knew . They couldn't have marched all this way from Penryth just to turn around and walk back at a single-word declaration of innocence .

" We were all here , " Selwyn's father told them . " Last night , you say ? We were right here , all four of us , all night --- me , the boy , his mother , and his grandmother . We'll all vouch for him . "

That caused a shiver down his back , which Selwyn tried to disguise as brushing away a fly . He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly .

" Fine , " Thorne said . " Come back to the village , explain everything to Bowden . See if there's anything you know that can possibly help us determine who did killl him . "

The faces beyond Thorne didn't look quite so convinced , so reasonable .

" I've just explained to you , " his father said . " And as for the rest : Any number of people would be glad to have Farold dead . " He looked right at Linton then , which could have been by way of apology for speaking ill of the dead in front of relatives , or it could have been to remind everyone that Linton was one who had to gain from Farold's death --- for now he would be the rich but elderly miller's closest surviving kinsman .

Linton spit on the ground , looking as though he'd prefer to spit at them .

Thorne said , " Look , Rowe , let Selwyn come with us to explain for himself . Bowden is a reasonable man . But his daughter is weeping and carrying on ...... "

Bowden . That was Anora's father , and it was because of Anora that he was being accused , Selwyn knew . All summer he and Farold had vied for Anora's attention and affection , and in the end Anora had chosen Farold . The two youths had fought , two weeks ago , in the street , in front of everyone . Well more accurately , Selwyn had tried to fight , and Farold --- bigger , taller , stronger --- had dumped him unceremoniously into the rubbish heap as though Selwyn were about ten years old , much to the entertainment of the bystanders . So now , apparently , everyone thought he had carried the fight further .

" The girl accuse him ? " Selwyn's father asked , for he had never thought much of Anora . Selwyn was shocked at the idea .

" No , " Thorne said . " I told you , it happened at night . Nobody saw anything . Derian didn't hear anything , what with the noise of the water wheel and being half deaf as he is . It looks like the murderer climbed in through the window . Let the boy come and talk , Rowe . Settle this now . Do you think you're helping , acting this way ? "

Finally --- and Selwyn felt both relieved and terrified about it --- his father nodded and stepped away from the shovel .

" Good , " Thorne told him . " Fine . Now go up to the house and tell Nelda and her mother you'll be back by supper . " Linton , and two or three of the others , looked ready to protest , but Thorne nodded encouragement and said , " Go on . "

Selwyn's father put his arm around Selwyn's shoulder , and the two of them turned toward the house .

Whereupon they were leaped on from behind .

Selwyn hit the ground hard , facedown in the dirt with no time to get his hands up to break the fall . Somebody had a knee on the back of his neck and was yelling , " Get his hands , get his hands ! "

Selwyn's hands were pulled behind his back , and someone had rope , which proved that Thorne-of-all-the-fine-reasonable-words was a liar and had been planning something like this all along .

The majority of them had gone after his father : How many men does it take to bring down a too short , too skinny seventeen-year-old who's only ever been in one fight --- and lost it ? But there were so many men piled up on his father , Selwyn couldn't even see him . Still , he was all right , he must have been , for Selwyn heard him cursing .

" Rowe , " Thorned said , " I swear : You give us any trouble and I'll let them go ahead and club you on the head , and we'll drag you back . Selwyn's fine . " Thorne looked to check only after he'd already said it , trust-worthy friend that he was . " We just don't want either of you doing anything foolish . Rowe . " Still Selwyn's father struggled . " Rowe . "

In the end , they took the rags Selwyn and his father had wrapped around the shovel handles and used these as gags for both of them , replacing the taste of dirt in Selwyn's mouth with the taste of sweat and dirt .

Above the gag , his father's eyes looked frightened , and that was the worst thing of all , because Selwyn had never seen his father frightened before .

Selwyn was dragged to his feet and given a shove that wasn't as rough as it could have been --- or as gentle --- in the direction of the village . What about his mother , he worried , who would come looking for them when they didn't return for the noon meal ?

He stopped , digging his feet into the road , anxiously looking back the way the'd come . Somebody smacked him on the back of the head , hard enough to make his knees go weak . At the same time he was shoved again . But someone grabbed him to keep him upright . They kept him walkiing .

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In the village , everyone was gathered around the house of Bowden , the headman . As many people as could fit were jammed inside , with the overflow in his yard and in the street . It was noisier than a feast day .

Thorne pushed his way indoors . Most of those who'd gone to fetch Selwyn were able to squeeze their way in , though that suddenly forced outside others who'd been there before them .

Anora , as Thorne had said , was weeping loudly , her normally lovely face puffy and red-splotched from tears . As soon as she saw Selwyn , she threw her apron up over her head --- the only privacy she could get with everyone watching her --- and she began rocking back and forth on her stool . People jabbed each other with their elbows and pointed . Derian the miller , the dead man's uncle , patted her leg and said , " There , there , " and glared at Selwyn .

" We brought them , " Linton announced , hardly neccessary with everybody starting already . " They gave us some trouble . " This was something else people could see for themselves , with the two of them bound and gagged , and their clothes all torn and askew , and Selwyn's father's right cheek turning purple from someone's knuckles . But Linton always tried to make himself important . He was the kind of man who would say , " Sure is raining hard , " in case you hadn't noticed . And if you had , and you answer , " yes , I can see , " Linton would try to convince you that it rained hardest of all over his house .

Bowden had a fire going , an extravagance on such a warm day . But he liked to show off that he was the wealthiest man in the village , even if his house had only one room , just like everybody else's . Still , Selwyn couldn't have been the only one to find it hard to catch a fresh breath , with the wood burning and the closeness of all those people .

Bowden stood , slowly , and asked Thorne , rather than Selwyn , " So what's the boy's story ? "

Why did everybody keep talking around him ?

" Home all night with his family , " Thorne answered with a slight shrug that could mean anything .

Selwyn thought at him : Your long nose and bright eyes make you look like a rat . This was the first time in all those years of knowing him that Selwyn thought this . Bowden , he decided , was like a bull --- lazy but dangerous .

Bowden turned those lazy , dangerous eyes on Selwyn's father , who was raging incoherently into his gag and struggling as though to burst his bindings . He asked him , " Supper till sunup : You willing to assure everybody there's no way your boy could have gotten out of the house in the dead of night , with everybody asleep ? " His father nodded vigorously , but Bowden continued , " You generally keep a guard on the door , to make sure he doesn't let himself out to get into mischief ? " to which there was no good answer , yes or no .

His father began talking into his gag again . Nobody could make out his words , but then Selwyn guessed Bowden was more interested in appearing clever than in learning facts .

" Now , Rowe , " Bowden said , " nobody's accusing you of having a hand in this . Everybody knows there were bad feelings between Selwyn and Farold over my Anora . "

Anora , who'd finally come out from under her apron , hid her face once more .

Bowden continued , " Young men and hot blood --- we've all seen it before . I blame myself , partly , for not seeing it coming , for not forcing Anora to make her choice faster . Still , once she chose Farold , that should have been the end of it . But Selwyn wouldn't leave it at that . We all saw the fight Selwyn provoked in Orik's tavern . And once Farold beat him in that , too ...... "

Bowden shook his head mournfully as though to say violence wearied him , though he'd been one of the onlookers that day , laughing and cheering , not caring who was the victor , just happy for the entertainment . " Of course , he was humiliated , only stands to reason . And it only stands to reason you want to protect him , him being your only boy and all . But , Rowe , this was no hot-tempered accident : Selwyn came up on Farold in the middle of the night , stabbed him while the man was asleep . Somebody that would do that ...... " Again Bowden shook his head meaningfully . " A temper like that , why , there's no telling what might set it off again . "

" No ! " Selwyn cried into his gag , shaking his head for emphasis in case anyone had any doubt as to what he was saying .

" Why not take the boy's gag off ? " someone in the room recommended . " Hard to get a sensible answer out of him otherwise . "

" Just the boy's , " Bowden said .

The gag came out , leaving Selwyn's mouth foul and dry . " I didn't do it , " he protested . " Yes , I was angry that Anora chose Farold . But I didn't hate him enough to kill him . " Farold wasn't all that bad , Selwyn once again forced himself to think , as though this generous thought could prove his innocence . Farold wasn't as bad as a runny nose when you were trying to impress a girl . Farold wasn't as bad as a case of hives on your bottom .

Bowden narrowed his eyes . " You're not saying it's Anora's fault for choosing Farold over you ? " he said .

That was all Selwyn needed --- to have Bowden fearing he'd go after Anora . Why couldn't the man ask simple questions with straightforward answers ? " No , " he said . " I'm saying I didn't kill Farold . "

Derian chose then to say , " Farold was always a good boy , " which , in other circumstances , Selwyn might have disputed . Which , in other circumstances , a lot of people might have disputed . Still , with Derian , one could never be certain how much of a conversation he actually heard . But the old miller was the one who had raised Farold , whose parents had died young . So if he was distracted , there was grief as well as deafness to account for it .

Bowden gestured to someone who was standing closer to the table . An object was picked up and passed from hand to hand . " Recognize this ? " Bowden asked .

Selwyn thought surely his heart was going to stop . " I --- I --- I --- " Of course he recognized the distinctive long-handled knife --- it was his own . It was a coming-of-age gift from this father , who had brought it back from his time of service in the war , and not another like it in the village . " I lost it , about the time of the harvest . " he glanced anxiously around the room . " Raedan " --- he had spotted one friendly face , then another --- " Merton . You remember I lost it . I looked around everywhere . I kept asking if anyone found it . "

" Aye , " Raedan said readily , and his brother Merton was nodding , too .

Selwyn turned to Thorne --- even if he did look and act like a rat --- whose word should count for more , not being one of his age-mates .

And Thorne did say , " I remember . "

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But Bowden said , " Harvestime was when Anora first told you she'd chosen Farold . Your conveniently losing your blade at that time shows just how long you've been planning this . "

" No ! " Selwyn cried . Could they misconstrue and twist everything ?

Bowden handed the knife away , and it once more passed from person to person , a circuitous route back to the table , since everyone wanted to see it . " Where were you last night ? " Bowden asked .

Selwyn hesitated , knowing the truth would hurt him . "Home , " he lied . " Just as my father tried to tell you . "

There was a reaction in the room to that : an insubstantial sigh that rippled over the crowd .

Selwyn guessed a moment before Bowden Announced : " You were seen , boy . "

He considered denying it , on the chance that Bowden was bluffing , or that there was only one witness , one who might not be sure , or reliable . But he'd already miscalculated and proven to those assembled that he would lie , which was a worse blow than any they'd dealt him . Aware of the pain on the face of his father , whom he had aslo made a liar of , he nodded . " Yes , " he admitted . " All right . I was out at night . Early . But I didn't go anywhere near the mill , and I didn't kill Farold . " All of which was true . " Did whoever saw me say I was near the mill ?" If they had , they were lying , though he had no way to prove that . But it would be good to know exactly where he stood .

Bowden held his hand up to keep anyone in the room from answering . " I'll ask the questions , " he said . " Were you or weren't you near the mill ? "

" I was not , " Selwyn said . He saw Bowden was going to ask , anyway , so he told all of it , working hard to keep his voice steady : " No closer than we came today , from the farm to here . "

The ripple that passed through the crowd was more distinct this time , a murmur of voices .

" Here ? " Bowden asked with a glower at his daughter that said he would speak to her later , if this turned out to be true .

" I saw Anora at the market yesterday morning . She ...... " He hesitated , not wanting to get her into trouble ; and , after all , said was too strong a word . " She indicated that , if I came ....... " He started again , hoping the words would be easier if he came at them from a different direction . " She gave the impression that ...... She seemed to think she might have made a mistake in agreeing to marry Farold . I thought ...... if I could just talk to her privately , she might break off the betrothal . "

The room burst into an uproar .

" Oh , Selwyn , " Anora said , her voice little more than a sigh , and immediately the noisy speculation stopped so that people could hear . " I never said that . "

" No , " Selwyn agreed . " But we talked , and you ...... you ...... " He thought of her sweet smile and the way she would tip her head up to look at him , for --- short as he was --- she was tiny . Distracted , he tried to remember exactly what she had said .

" I was trying to be kind , " she said , sympathy in her pale blue eyes . " You looked so sad when I told you I was to marry Farold , and then after he held you down in Orik's tavern and poured ale all over you then dropped you in the midden pile ...... "

Thanks for reminding me , Selwyn was tempted to say . I'd almost forgotten how bad it was .

Anora finished , " I was always fond of you and I didn't want to hurt your feelings . But I never said to come last nihgt . "

" No , " he admitted , " but I thought ...... " He looked away from her , to the floor . Obviously , he had thought wrong .

Bowden said to Anora , " So did you see him last night or no ? "

" No , " Anore answered .

Bowden turned to Selwyn .

" I threw pebbles at the shutter over the window , " Selwyn told Bowden , " but I was afraid of waking you or your wife . So I stopped . "

" I must have been asleep , " Anora said . " I never heard . " She added , " But I believe you . "

Selwyn feared she was the only one who did .

Bowden sighed in exasperation . " We don't know what time of night Farold was killed , " he reminded everyone , " Whether or not Selwyn did stop here first . Or after . We only know he was killed sometime between supper --- after which Linton left and Derian went upstairs to bed --- and before Linton returned at dawn . "

" Long enough for the body to start to stiffen , " Linton explained , self-importantly since he'd been the one to discover the deed , " but not to smell . "

" Well , in this heat it will have started to smell by now , " someone in the room commented , a loud whisper that carried .

Anora gave a wail and ran outside , the only way to get away from all the eyes that turned to catch her reaction . Her mother followed close on her heels .

" Thank you very much , Orik , " Bowden said .

Orik shrugged sheepishly . No doubt he was cranky that this huge crowd was accumulated in Bowden's house , rather than at Orik's tavern --- where he could have been selling food and drink to everyone .

It went on like that a little longer , people commenting and offering opinions , and few of them believing a word Selwyn said . Perhaps it would have been different if he hadn't started by lying , but there was no way to know and nothing he could do now .

By midafternoon , those few who professed to be unsure --- mostly Selwyn's age-mates and , unexpectedly , Holt the blacksmith --- were overruled by the majority , who proclaimed that Selwyn was assuredly guilty . Guilty because he had cause to hate Farold , because it was his knife that had done the deed , and because --- even thought no one had actually seen him climbing through Farold's window --- he had been in the village at about the right time . It was enough .

The law required a life for a life , but no one in the village had been executed in living memory . Some argued that he should be sent to the bigger town of Saint Hilda , where there was a regular magistrate who could oversee the carrying out of the sentence . But it was pointed out that the magistrate would probably demand his own investigation , which everyone agreed was pointless ; and he'd want to see the body .

And that would be dangerous . The village of Penryth was too small to have its own priest and depended on the occasional wandering friar to bless weddings , babies , and the dead . But to leave an unblessed body unburied by nightfall --- expecially the body of a murdered man --- was asking for trouble . No matter what the church said , the people knew there were night spirits eager to make a vacant body their own . Farold needed to be buried soon .

That was how they got the idea to solve two problems at once : " We will go up to the hills , " Bowden proclaimed in his best official voice , which Selwyn had always thought sounded as though he had a pain in his lungs . We will go to the burial caves , and there we will seal the dead victim in the tomb with his living murdered --- Farold and Selwyn together . "

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I didn't do it ! " Selwyn cried , the same thing he'd been insisting all afternoon . They hadn't believed him yet , but he couldn't just stand waiting quietly while they worked out the details of how best to kill him . All that he gained was that they put the gag back on . His hands , of course , had remained tied all along .

Bowden was giving orders to tied his father to a chair , saying that he would be easier to control once all was done and over . " No harm will come to you or your wife because of your son's crime , " he promised .

Someone asked how long it was likely to take --- a question Selwyn was desperate to hear the answer to . But by then they were half dragging , half carrying him out the door . He didn't even get a last look at his father . I didn't do it , he thought , just in case the fervor with which he thought it could reach his father . But surely his father already knew .

Outside , the sun was resting pink and orange on the horizon , it being that time of autumn when afternoons don't last long and there's hardly any evening at all . Torches were lit . Selwyn wondered if one would be left in the burial cavern with him . But even if he was lucky and died quickly , he would certainly last longer than a torch .

Someone had fetched a wagon --- Orik's , judging by the smell of ale that had seeped into the boards from leaky barrels : strong enough that a man hardly needed to go into Orik's tavern to get drunk . Selwyn was hoisted up into the back of the wagon and laid facedown , where he'd be the least trouble to those in charge of him .

But he raised his head at a commotion , and any hope that he could make himself unaware of what was going on disappeared . A second group of people came out from the mill , carrying an ungainly cloth-wrapped bundle that had to be Farold . For a moment he thought they'd made a litter to carry the body . But as they set the corpse in the wagon beside him , Selwyn realized that the miller's nephew didn't need a litter : Death had made Farold stiff as wood --- and before anyone had been able to fold his arms decorously across his chest . Selwyn close his eyes and turned his face ; but the wagon was too small to get away from Farold's outflung arm , much less the smelll of him . The odor was just the herbs with which the village women had washed the body before sewing it into the shroud , Selwyn told himself . The body hadn't really begun to decay --- yet . Farold wasn't all that bad , Selwyn tried to tell himself again . He wasn't as bad as ...... as ..... as a skunk dying under the porch ? Bad idea , Selwyn chided himself . This was definitely no time to be thinking about dead things .

Selwyn took short rapid breaths --- inhaling the smells of ale , herbs , wood , and his own sweat --- and by the time they reached the hills , he was light-headed , but not enough to be groggy and confused , which would have been a mercy . Hands dragged him up out of the wagon , then turned him around and sat him on the edge when it was obvious he couldn't stand on his own .

Anora was there , crying loudly . Selwyn had been aware of the noise in the background , along with the creaking of the wagon's wheels , the clump-clump of the horse's hooves on the path , and --- above all --- the beating of his own heart . Derian Miller had come , too , " To see the boy off , " he'd said , obviously meaning Farold , not Selwyn .

But when Thorne asked , " Do you want to say anything ...... before we lay him in ? " Derian shook his head .

" Nothing to say , " the miller said . " He was a good boy , with a lot of years ahead of him . "

" Amen , " murmured Linton , willing to take that as a prayer lest he , as another of the dead man's relatives , be asked to come up with a better one of his own .

" Amen , " the rest of those assembled echoed .

Bowden , as headman , should have been there but wasn't . He had used the excuse of someone having to stay to watch over Selwyn's father , though more likely he simply didn't want to make the almost three-mile walk . Bowden was better at giving orders than at doing .

As usual , Thorne took over in Bowden's absence , having to be quick to outtalk Linton . " Anybody want to say anything on Selwyn's behalf ? " he asked .

People glanced at one another uncomfortably . Nobody looked directly at Selwyn .

Linton snorted .

Holt the blacksmith said , " He was a good boy , too , till this happened . "

Linton snorted again .

What a glowing testimonial . What a moving summation of his life . Even about to die , Selwyn felt a pang of indignation . If he had been really dead rather than just condemned , would his friends have been able to come up with something ? Selwyn , they might have said ...... He came back to his own earlier eulogy for Farold : Selwyn , his friends might have said , he wasn't as bad as a skunk dying under the porch .

The entryway to the burial caves was manmade : a barrow of heaped stones , blocked by a rock at least as big as Orik's wagon . It took four men , including Holt Balcksmith , to move it . Beyond lay the cave where people of Penryth had been buried for time out of memory .

A dusty , musty stench rolled out of the opening --- not as bad , in the end , as Farold . But people tied cloths to cover their noses , which was not a good sign --- definitely not a good sign --- as two men bent to pick up Farold , and several others clustered around Selwyn , ready to guide , drag , or carry him into the barrow , which ever was necessary .

He would have walked --- he wanted the men to be able to tell his family he had gone to his end with dignity --- but he tried to pause for one last look at Anora , even though she was still hiding her face , crying , and they thought he was resisting . He was grabbed under each arm and pulled forward so quickly he couldn't get his feet properly under him , so that they dragged behind , and the more he struggled to right himself , the more everyone thought he was resisting .

Then they were going over the uneven ground at the entry of the barrow , and then they were heading down a steep , winding slope , the torches casting flickering shadows on the craggy walls and ceiling . The caves in these hills had been carved by nature ; but men of long ago had smoothed some of the ways , though not by much . Several in the burial party stumbled or slid . And then --- oh , then --- the full stench of that whole villageful of dead bodies hit him . The most recent was Snell --- a yead dead in a hay-mowing accident with a scythe .

Bodies lay in niches or lined the walls , some set on top of one another . Wrappings had moldered or been chewed to rags , giving glimpses of withered brown flesh or bones .

For long , long minutes they walked down that corridor lined with the dead .

Selwyn heard a crunch and saw that Thorne , who held Farold's feet , had accidentally stepped on a piece of bone . Linton , who had hold of Farold's shoulder , kicked what remained toward the wall . Something dark and furry darted out of the way and disappeared into a crack . Even if Selwyn had been walking under his own power before , that would have been enough to turn his knees to water .

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