Child of the May (3 page)

Eleanor smiled and nodded.

At last he strode from the shade out into the growing sunlight: the frightening, wonderful, magical Green Man.

Magda stared at him. This was not Robert! Ever since she could remember, Robert had been the Green Man. He’d come each May Day to dance with the Forestwife. This man was huge but he leapt across the clearing with the grace of a deer. His thick beard was as green as his skin. Magda’s heart thumped faster than ever as he came towards them. Could this truly be the spirit of the forest, the guardian of the plants and trees?

“It’s really him!” she whispered and clutched at Marian’s cloak.

A fleeting moment of disappointment touched the older woman’s face. Then quickly Marian smiled. She reached up to her crown of may blossom and swiftly placed it on Magda’s head.

“You shall be Green Lady today,” she whispered.

“Nay,” Magda cried out.

“Oh yes,” Marian insisted, laughing now. “Go greet the Green Man.”

Magda turned fearfully towards the terrifying figure that danced towards her. Then suddenly she was laughing too and racing to him, her arms outstretched.

“My father, my father,” she shouted. “My father is the Green Man.”

The day was filled with wild laughter and dancing, but in the evening the clearing quietened as young men and women slipped. off in pairs into the forest. As dusk fell, Marian found Magda and dragged her back into the hut.

“But I want to dance with Tom,” Magda complained.

“Tom can come inside too,” Marian insisted. “Your father sits by our fireside and there’s much to talk about.”

“You’re angry because Robert’s not here,” Magda snapped. “If
you
can’t have any fun, then neither can I!”

Marian did not deny it, just shrugged her shoulders and sighed. Then Magda wished that she had kept silent as she glimpsed the shadow of sadness that crossed Marian’s face. Couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Was it not hurtful enough that Robert was not there to dance with the Forestwife? Magda quietly did as she was told, contenting herself with sitting down beside Tom and leaning with pleasure against his strong back.

“Well?” Marian looked across at John as he sprawled beside the hearthstone, still wiping traces of green dye from his cheeks. “What is it now that keeps him?”

John sighed. “He travels through Sherwood into Nottingham Town.”

“What? Is he gone completely mad?”

John shook his head. “Aye, maybe so! But I must follow him in the morning and when you hear it all you’ll see that something had to be done. Your friend Philippa will go with us.”

“Philippa?” cried Marian. “I was surprised that she didn’t come today. Tell me quickly!”

“It was only yesterday that we discovered it,” said John. “We stopped by Langden village on our way to you. Lady Matilda was worried sick and all the villagers rushing about the place. Matilda and her daughter Isabel have been summoned to Nottingham by King John.”

“What? The King’s in Nottingham too?”

“Aye. He celebrates May Day with the Sheriff and we’ve heard that he has sold the man the shrievalties of Derbyshire and Yorkshire!”

“Oh no!” Marian gasped. “So Gilbert de Gore is Sheriff of all three counties? That puts paid to Robert’s trick of crossing the borders for safety.”

“It does,” John agreed. “We’d have far to go to be free of his bullying laws.”

“I begin to worry,” said Marian grimly. “What do they want with Matilda?”

John shook his head. “It seems the King wants Isabel to marry one of his men. Langden lands shall be used as a reward. Isabel has made the lands rich and fertile. You could feed an army from them.”

“But that’s not right,” Marian cried. “Matilda raised every penny she could and bought permission to marry her daughter where she wished.”

“Aye,” Tom butted in. “They stripped Langden of everything of value to pay his price and never regretted it, for Isabel has more than repaid the villagers with her kindness.”

John shrugged his shoulders. “When was anything ever fair? This King’s as greedy for money as his brother was and he’s slippery as an eel. Now he says that Isabel is well past the age when she should marry, and she must marry the man of his choosing or pay the freedom tax once more.”

“He can’t do that!” Marian was outraged.

John laughed bitterly. “He does what he wants. Even the barons are growing to hate him. He invents his own taxes all the time. But this cruelty to Isabel will hurt all of us. Some manor lords would have bled their own peasants dry to build up their funds, but not Lady Matilda. She and Isabel have nothing but the house and the land they own.”

“What will happen now?” Magda asked anxiously.

John stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The King demands that they present themselves at Nottingham Castle, so off they’ve gone. They cannot refuse, even though Lady Matilda’s so frail.”

“And so,” Marian said with resignation, “Robert has gone with them?”

“Not exactly with them,” said John. “There’s Brother James and Much and Will Stoutley too, all going into Nottingham by their own secret ways. Philippa insists on coming as well. We shall stick close to our two Langden ladies, doing our best to keep them from harm. Now do you see why Tom and I must follow tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said Marian, turning to Eleanor who sat very still beside her, looking troubled. “Do you see aught to fear, Mother?”

“Nothing clear,” she said, shivering a little. “Just cold and hunger, cold and hunger and thirst.”

Marian sighed. “I am weary of this struggle,” she said. “It goes on and on and we can never win.”

“We must rise early in the morning,” said Tom, yawning. “We need as many pairs of ears and eyes as we can get.”

“Right,” said Magda. “Then I shall go too.”

“You will not,” said Marian.

Magda jumped to her feet and stamped out of the hut, banging the door hard behind her. She marched off towards the edge of the stream, kicked off her boots and slipped her feet into the water. The comforting warm spring bubbled up from deep inside the earth, soothing her a little. Hot tears of anger filled her eyes, blurring the moonlit woodland.

They treated her like a child, like a prisoner almost.

Faint rustling came to her as she looked into the darkness beyond the babbling water. Bushes twitched and she heard the sounds of low laughter. This night was supposed to be special for young girls and their sweethearts. Others had built bowers for their courting, filled with scented herbs and flowers. There’d be babies born from this night’s loving. Was she not such a one herself? Child of the May, her father called her.

The door of the hut opened again and she heard her father calling her name. She got up and went slowly towards him.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he begged.

John went to sit on the doorstep, pulling Magda down beside him. He put his arms about her, hugging her tightly.

“You are the most precious thing in the world to me,” he said.

Magda sighed. She loved her father dearly but she’d heard it all before. “I know,” she said. “I am all that’s left to you of your beloved Emma.”

“You do not know how cruel this world is!” he told her. “Here in this clearing, you are safe. There’s ancient magic in the place.”

“Safe! Safe!” Magda exploded. “But, Father, I do not
want
to be safe!”

She pushed John away and strode back into the cottage. Marian looked up as the girl stormed in, angry and tear-stained.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Magda cried. “I
will
go, whatever you say. This place may be enough for you, but it is not enough for me!”

She threw herself down onto her pallet, turning her face away from her friends.

“Leave her! Let her stew!” said Marian, but Eleanor went quietly to sit beside her, stroking Magda’s hair in silence. Tom looked uncomfortable.

Marian stared angrily into the fire until John came back inside. “Come sit beside me, John,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “You and I must take counsel over this unruly child of yours.”

John and Marian whispered together late into the night, while the others slept.

Magda was woken early by the sharp bang of wood on wood. Marian had built up the fire so that it flared and crackled. A fine smell came from freshly-made oatcakes sizzling on the flat iron griddle that hung over the hearthstone. Magda sat up and watched, bleary-eyed, as Marian rummaged purposefully in the wooden box that contained the few worn scraps of clothing they possessed.