Daughter Of The Forest (46 page)

Johnny began to wail, and Margery said to Red, rather severely, “You’re hurting her.”

Red swore, and let go, and turned his back, both hands on the mantel shelf. I touched the places where he had held me. I would have bruises again. I had never seen him so angry. Not even when he argued with his mother the night Johnny was born.

“Sorry,” he said under his breath. “I’m sorry. But what on earth possessed you to go out alone like that? I thought I explained. I thought you knew the risks. By God, if—did he touch you? Did he hurt you?” He was pacing up and down now, looking back to examine my face, staring searchingly into my eyes. Today, his own were the blue of shadows on deep ice.

I shook my head. I would not cry. I would not think of what Lord Richard had said.
What other reason could he have for keeping you?
I would put it out of my mind.
They say you put a spell on him. He can deny you nothing
. I would forget it. It was nonsense. I would not cry. I blinked and sniffed, and a single treacherous tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. Practical as ever, Red fished around in his pocket and drew out a square of linen. As his hand came close to my face, I could not stop myself flinching back, and my arms came around my body defensively. Red looked as though I had struck him. He turned away, his hand momentarily shielding his eyes as if he did not want me to read his expression. It’s true, I thought. I am a burden. I should never have come here. I have made trouble in this family, and created discord in a peaceful household. He should never have brought me here. And he knows is it.

“
What did he say to you?
” Red had his back to me, and he spoke so quietly I could hardly hear him. The intensity of his tone scared me, and I could only look at the floor, or the wall, or anywhere but at him. This was one question I would never be able to answer.

“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on here?” asked Margery mildly, looking from me to Red and back again, Johnny was quiet now, hiccuping gently against her shoulder. “What did she do that was so terrible, Red? What could Jenny possibly do to make you manhandle her, and yell at her, and make her cry? I thought we were men and women here, not angry children. I hope you will never behave like this again in my house.” Red was staring at her. It seemed to me that there were lines around his mouth that had not been there before.

“I’m sorry, Margery,” he said bleakly. “It was unfair of me. If there’s any fault here, it’s mine. But this is the only place that is safe for her, while my uncle is here. I don’t have long; I must be downstairs when he arrives. Now, Jenny,” he said, turning toward me, and I could see he was still angry, very angry, but keeping his voice in check with a strong effort of will. “I must know why you went off so far by yourself. I need to know why you broke your promise.”

My shoulders were aching. My feet were sore with walking, and my arms numb from carrying Alys for so long. My hand was bleeding where she had bitten me. His uncle was a beast; and right now, I didn’t think much of the nephew either. I kept my hands quite still by my sides. Red clenched one fist and smashed it into his other hand, swearing under his breath.

“Damn it, Jenny, tell me!”

“I think I know,” Margery put in, glancing at me anxiously. “Jenny has been asking for a new supply of the plant she uses, the one we call spindlebush, from which she fashions her weaving. She has exhausted the stocks she brought with her. I’m afraid I refused to help, hoping she would give up her dreadful task. But I know your strong will, Jenny. I suppose you set out in search of this bush yourself.”

Red’s eyes narrowed. “You were told to watch over her,” he said, and the chill in his voice turned Margery pale. “She must have been gone since early morning. Why didn’t you send after her? Why did I receive no message until Richard’s men were sighted on the road?”

“I’m sorry,” Margery said. She did not tell him I had lied to her. It was probably the first time I had lied in my life.

“Great God, can I trust no one?” Red was pacing up and down again.

I wished he would go away and leave me to my misery.

“Jenny, why didn’t you ask me?” he said finally. “I know where your plant grows, I know every corner of this valley. I can cut this herb for you any time you like, bring it to your door if that is your wish. There is no need for you to venture out beyond the safety of these walls. And you will not do it in future. You understand? You will not.”

I had to answer this as best I could.
You—cut the plant—no. No good. I. I cut, spin, weave, sew. Only I
.

“Then, I will take you there,” he said, his voice back on a more even note again, though he held both hands clenched tight behind his back. “Take you, and watch you cut the stems, and bring you home again. Don’t go out again without me. Now I’m going downstairs. Margery, I want you to keep her here. You will both be excused from supper. My mother owes me a favor.” He made to leave, but turned back in the doorway. “I’ve a man tending to the dog,” he said. “One of my stablehands is skilled at these things. She will be well cared for.” With that he was gone.

“Well,” said Margery. She moved to lay the baby, now sleeping, back in his cradle, and to put a kettle on the fire. “Stirred him up, didn’t you?” And she said no more on the matter, but as the afternoon passed and we brewed peppermint tea, and I helped her wind wool and bake flat cakes on the fire, I often caught her eyes on me, shrewdly appraising, and I wondered what she was thinking.

This time Richard stayed longer than any of us wanted, except perhaps Lady Anne. His presence had a subtle but undeniable influence on the household. Where servants would treat Red and his mother with a respect that showed itself in a wish to please, a service that was always more than mere duty required, the respect they showed Lord Richard was born out of fear. Not that he ever showed outright anger or put his dissatisfaction into plain words. It was, rather, something in his expression, his raised brow or sly half smile. It was in the way he would take a goblet from a serving girl, and touch her hand with his own in doing so. It was in his tone of voice as he gave a groom an order or dismissed one of his own men with an arrogant gesture. I thought he despised us all; believed himself somehow elevated above us. None was immune from his slighting references, his throwaway insults, not even the inner circle of this household. But, as I have said, he was a subtle man. He knew how to wound in a way that perhaps none but his victim could fully understand.

However, they were strong folk. When Richard quizzed Ben on his reluctance to join an expedition, on his firm wish to remain with Lord Hugh rather than test his skills in a real battle, Ben simply laughed it off. If he thought his manhood insulted, he gave no outward sign of it. Richard’s weapon against John was more devious. More than once I heard him trying to provoke a response, trying to engage John in a debate about the management of the estate, and its custodians’ responsibilities for the wider defense of the area. Hugh, said Lord Richard, was too intent on the future of his plantations, the purity of his stock, and the maintenance of his walls and fences. What of the western coast as a whole? What of his duty to his neighbors, and, more than that, to his mother? When was he going to do something about the people that killed young Simon? John was a taciturn man by nature. His habit was to get on with what had to be done, and speak only when necessary. He dealt with Richard as I would have expected, stating that he was Hugh’s man and he had never had any cause to doubt Hugh’s good judgment. Besides, it was the Danes that were the real threat, not the Irish. When Richard went a step further and began to ask how John felt about the security of his wife—such a sweet girl, with a bloom on her like a fine rose—and his newborn son, John simply got up and left the room.

Lady Anne, however, was Richard’s sister. During the long days his uncle spent at Harrowfield, Red made more than one attempt to prevent them from speaking much alone together. But he could not do so entirely. He could not be in the house all the time, for the season was growing milder and the work of the estate was in full swing, plowing, planting, early lambing. So, one afternoon, Lady Anne and her brother walked in the garden for some time, deep in earnest conversation, and I watched them from the window of the long room where I sat alone, and wondered what she was telling him. That night at supper I noticed Richard’s gaze, narrow and penetrating, passing between myself and Red and back again, and I wondered how long it would be before the next time he found me alone.

At last, one evening at supper, Richard announced that he and his men would be leaving next day. The sighs of relief were almost audible. He had overstayed any welcome he might have had. The whole household was constantly on edge and I believed not one of us would be sorry to see him go. Even Lady Anne made no protest. However, she did express a wish that we assemble for a cup of hot punch later that evening, to bid him farewell, and this request appeared to include both Margery and myself. A number of imaginative excuses had been found for me on previous occasions, but this time there was no way out, and so, somewhat later, Lady Anne sat in the hall with her brother and her elder son, and I hovered in the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous. Red was seated by the window, his hands busy with knife and wood. John stood behind Margery’s chair. A young maidservant had been despatched upstairs to sit with Johnny, but he was a good sleeper and she would have little to do. A map was spread on the long table and around it were two of Richard’s men and Ben, disputing the accuracy of some territorial line. The tone was friendly enough.

“What’s your opinion, young Benedict?” Richard tossed this remark over his shoulder, casually. He had, for all his offhand manner, been listening carefully to their discussion. “Think we can take that watch tower on the northern end of the bay before midsummer? Hold that, and you’ve got a strong enough footing, and safe landing for your men. That’s been one of our problems; that and their tricky sailing. Never quite worked out how they do it. Come up on you out of nowhere, looming out of the mist in their cunning little boats. Never know when to be ready for them.”

“They say it’s witchcraft.” This was one of Richard’s men, speaking with diffidence. “That each clan has a sorcerer, a magician, that can conjure up storms, and fogs, and winds, by invoking the power of the devil. They say whole troops of men have vanished in this way. Not that I believe it, of course. But there are stories.”

“Stories put about for the sole purpose of striking fear into your foe,” said Richard with some cynicism. “A well-tested ploy. The same trick as painting your body, or beating drums for the advance. Takes the enemy by surprise, makes him edgy, puts a fear into him. There’s no witchcraft. A bit of luck, that’s all it is, and a good knowledge of the local weather. These folk are no more magical than you or I.”

“Indeed,” said the other man. “For there are Christian priests among them, who surely would not tolerate such goings-on. Besides, who ever heard of hailstones as big as hens’ eggs, or a fog you could drown in? Who ever heard of a storm come up out of nowhere, or rain from a clear sky?”

At that moment I looked at Red, and Red looked at me, and I remembered the touch of his hand through a blinding torrent of rain, the hard, warm grip of the only real thing in that violent, druidic downpour. That rain had saved both our lives. I read in his eyes that his thoughts were the same.

“These tales go back a long way,” mused Richard, stretching out his elegant legs toward the fire. “It’s a strange place, with odd people. The more I learn about them, the harder I find them to understand. One day, of course, it will all be ours, and the remnant of these wild folk will simply be lost, through death or decay or interbreeding. They have a limited capacity to resist, with their superstitions and their irrational faith. They fight with such ferocity, it seems they hold their own lives cheap. They have lost their precious islands. That anchorage is ours. I hope to take the next step with my summer campaign.”

“How soon do you plan to return there?” asked John politely.

“Soon enough,” said Richard. “I hold my men in readiness at all times. I plan to take advantage of the first spell of good weather. So while you’re out in the fields, Hugh, playing the peasant, you can think of me and mine as we keep the place safe for you. As we rid our shores of this scourge, so you can run your cattle in peace.”

“Oh, I will,” said Red. “Rest assured, Uncle, you are never far from my thoughts.”

“Hmph.” Richard seemed to take this in the spirit in which it was intended. “I’d be glad to persuade young Ben here to come along with me this time. Show him a bit of action. But if he won’t, he won’t.”

“You surely cannot plan to place an isolated garrison on the far shore, if you succeed in taking this piece of land,” put in John, clearly interested despite himself. “That’s asking for trouble. These local warlords, they have a knowledge of the terrain that far surpasses our own, and their forces are considerable. How could you man such a distant post? How would you supply it? The position would be extremely tenuous. What about the Norsemen? You’d be a sitting target. And what would be your intention in setting up there?”

Richard laughed. “I suppose it seems small enough, in the scheme of things. My main advantage lies in the islands themselves; you are probably not aware of how great a force may lie concealed for a time there in safe harbor. In fact, I am perfectly positioned to provide support for an outpost on the far shore. That will prick their vanity, these petty lords with the unpronounceable names. That the enemy has a toehold on their sacred homeland, that will sting them. That will draw them out. Then we shall see.”

There was a brief silence.

“You cannot hope to establish yourself beyond the coast,” said Red bluntly. “If you plan this, you underestimate your enemy.”

“Our enemy, boy, our enemy,” said Richard, rising to face his nephew who still sat at some distance, concentrating on his meticulous work with the little knife. “No, I may have been called many things, but never a fool. I simply wish not to become complacent. It is the islands that matter. Who holds the islands, keeps his coastline secure. While I have them, I have a grip on my enemy’s spirit. He believes them a source of magic, a fountain of power. While I possess them, he is weakened. But it is not enough to sit there and wait to be attacked. We must move first, show them our strength of will, show what stuff we are made of. And remember, I am not alone in this. I have the support of three of our closest neighbors, and a hundred of their best fighting men to prove it. Your own household, Hugh, is the only one in these parts that will not be represented on my expedition.” He threw a glance at Lady Anne. “This shames me, boy. My own flesh and blood. But there is still time. Time to muster a small fighting force. They’ll need to be assembled and ready in six days’ time. I would welcome your support.”