The Owl Killers (12 page)

m
Y BIG BROTHER WILLIAM
picked up a fat handful of pig shit and grinned at his friend Henry.

“Watch this—I bet you I can land this right on her nose.”

Henry snorted. “Even your stupid sister could hit her from there and she’s a girl. Dare you to stand behind that post and do it.”

William looked scornful and sauntered back to the post.

Little Marion could see what was coming and she tried to duck her head, but locked into the stocks she couldn’t move much. Thick rivers of snot ran from her nose. She wriggled on the narrow strip of wood she was sitting on. It was a thin plank turned on its side and hammered into the Green. She couldn’t slide back because of the stocks round her ankles. It was really sharp, that wood. Last time she’d had this big black welt across her backside for days after, from where she’d been sitting on it. It hurt worse than a switch.

William took aim and Marion started bawling again.

“Don’t, William, that’s mean!” I yelled before I could stop myself.

William turned to me, grinning. “You want me to throw it at you instead, Pisspuddle?” He raised his fist again, this time in my direction.

Henry sniggered. “Your little sister’s got a face like a turd anyway, nobody’d notice the difference.”

“Yeh. Come here, turd-face.”

I started to run across the Green. I knew he’d do it. I kept expecting to feel the wet slap of it on my back.

“Drop that at once, boy.”

I stopped and peered round, with my hands up in front of my face, just in case. Henry was running away, but a tall lady had got hold of William by the wrist and was forcing him to open his hand. The shit plopped on the ground. The tall lady pulled William’s wrist down
until he yelped. Then she wiped his hand back and front on the grass as if he was a baby still in clouts.

I’d seen the lady before, in church. She came from the house of women.

“Outlanders,” that’s what Mam called them, that’s why they dressed so queer. “It’s not natural,” Mam said, “a group of women living altogether, with no men among them. Only witches or nuns do that.”

I’d seen nuns when they came to the village with the shrivelled lips of Saint Alphege to collect money. They walked slowly in silence and never ever smiled, as if they always had a headache. But these women were always laughing whenever they came to the village, all except this one; she looked like she’d eaten a sour apple.

The lady let William stand up, but she still had him by the wrist. His face had turned red.

“Now, boy, for whom did you intend that?”

William looked from me to Marion and opened his mouth like a great fat carp, but nothing came out.

“Speak up, boy, I can’t hear you.”

She looked like a giant heron, grey cloak, grey hair, and grey kirtle. She had a nose as sharp as a beak.

“Her … in the stocks,” William muttered.

“Then you should be ashamed of yourself, boy. She’s only a little girl. Our blessed Lord teaches us to show compassion for prisoners. Didn’t He Himself say let him who is without sin cast the first stone?”

“Wasn’t a stone,” William said, sulking.

“Don’t be impudent, boy. Now get about your business and leave her alone, do you hear me?”

“You can’t make me,” William jeered.

“But I warrant I can.” John the blacksmith grabbed his ear and twisted hard. William jumped and yelped again. He hadn’t noticed John walking up behind him. It served him right. John pulled him up by the ear till he was standing on tiptoes. I stuffed my fingers in my mouth trying hard not to giggle.

“This lad bothering you, Mistress?”

“Just mischief, nothing I can’t deal with. But, tell me: The child in the stocks, what has she done to earn such a punishment?”

“Out gleaning wool before the Terce bell.” John had let go of William’s ear, but his thick hairy fingers clutched William’s shoulder.

“It’s no justice to punish one so young for that,” the lady said. “The child can be no more than six or seven summers at most.”

“Old enough to know the law. Isn’t the first time she’s been caught.”

“How long is she to stay in there?”

John shrugged, “Till the Vespers bell. Maybe longer if her father hasn’t paid his fine by then.”

Marion, though she already knew that, began yowling loud enough to be heard right across the Green.

“You can’t keep the child in there against her father’s debt.” The lady sounded cross.

“It’s either her or him. And he can’t earn the money to pay the fine if he’s in there, now can he?” John said.

The lady pulled herself up so tall I thought her head would fall off her neck.

“Then I’ll pay the fine, but I want that child released now. Her father must be in great want if he is forced to send this little one out to collect a few pitiful scraps of sheeps’ wool from the bushes. You’re only adding to their burden with your fines when you should be giving them charity.”

“Nowt to do with me. D’Acaster’s steward gave the orders.” He pointed towards the inn. “You’ll find him supping in the Bull Oak. Phillip’s his name, if you’ve got any complaints.”

“Then I’ll speak with him.”

The lady swept off across the Green. She walked so fast that her cloak swirled back behind her as if she was flying like a witch.

“If you ask me,” John called after her, “you’re wasting good money. That family never learns. The brat’ll be back in the stocks before the month is out.”

But I don’t think the grey lady heard him.

John grabbed the back of William’s shirt and gave him a good shake. “Now you listen to me, my lad, your father would flay the hide off you if he knew you were messing with those hags. You don’t know what goes on behind those walls of theirs. If those women got hold of a lad like you, like as not you’d never be seen again.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” William said, but I knew he was, because his face had gone all red and blotchy.

“Well, you should be. All of those women together like that can do things you wouldn’t dream of, lad. They can make your nose rot off your face and your cock shrivel up like a worm. So mind you stay well out of their way.”

He gave William another shake and strode off, kicking the stocks as he passed. “And you can stop your bawling, Marion. You’ll not cod Phillip D’Acaster as easily as that daft gammer.”

William stomped furiously towards me.

“What are you laughing at, Pisspuddle?” He tried to clout me one, but I dodged out of his way and that made him madder than ever.

“Nothing,” I said quickly and started to walk home.

William followed me. “I’ll get the old besom back, see if I don’t. I’m not afraid of those gammers. What can they do?”

“Cured cousin Stephen’s arm, didn’t they?” I reminded him. “Mam said he’d lose it for sure. Bone came right through the skin, but it healed right up. He was screaming like a scalded pig when he fell off the roof, but they stopped it hurting too. Even the cunning woman, old Gwenith, can’t do that.”

William snorted and chucked a stone at a fluster of hens, which scattered, squawking.

I walked very carefully along the top of a fallen branch lying in the track, putting my hands out to balance myself, but it rolled and I slipped off.

“What are you doing that for?” William eyed me suspiciously.

“No reason.” I stopped at once and started walking fast along the path.

“Yes, you are. You did it on the way here too, and yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

A nasty grin spread across his face. “I know what you’re doing. You’re pretending you’re that tumbler’s girl, the one walking the pole at the May Fair.”

“I’m not.” I could feel my face going red and I tried to run, but William grabbed me by one of my braids.

“Oh yes, you are. Just wait till I tell Henry, he’ll wet himself. Little
Pisspuddle thinks she can walk on a pole and have pretty golden curls and have everyone admire her.”

“Let go!” I yelled.

He twisted my arm round and scrubbed my face with the end of my braid. I hated it when he did that. I fought to wriggle free.

“It’s not a bad idea sending you up a pole. With a face like yours everyone would think we’ve got a performing ferret!”

I yanked my hair out of his hand and ran as fast as I could down the path. I could hear him roaring with laughter behind me. I wished with all my might that they’d put him in the stocks. I’d throw all the dung and every rotten vegetable I could find at him. I’d tie a stinking fish right under his nose and I’d drop spiders and worms and beetles down his neck so they’d wriggle inside his shirt. I’d wait until he was really hungry and thirsty, then I’d eat a big juicy apple right in front of him. Then I’d put earwigs inside his ears and they’d bite their way right through his brain and plop out of his nose and he’d scream and scream. And then I’d, I’d … I’d think of something else to do to him, even worse than that.

y
OU SHOULDN
’
T HAVE COME, FATHER
.” Ralph pulled the blanket tighter round his shoulders.

Inside the cottage, the air felt chill. Dampness seeped up from the beaten earth floor. The fire in the hearth was banked down with turfs to save fuel and barely any warmth from it oozed out into the one room that served as kitchen, living, and sleeping quarters for the family.

I ducked under bunches of dried herbs and onions that hung from the rafters. “Joan said you were not able to come to Mass, because you had the ague. But I’m glad to see you’re recovering a little.”

Ralph was sitting hunched in the chair in the furthest corner of the room. I was more than a little surprised to see him out of bed. I’d suffered
marsh-ague once myself and I’d not been able to lift my head from the pillow.

“She shouldn’t have troubled you,” Ralph muttered angrily. He glared at his wife, who stood with her back to the bolted door. I turned to catch her mouthing something at Ralph that I was not intended to hear. There was no obvious sign of fever upon him, but it was hard to see his face clearly by the feeble light of the single rush candle that was burning. Although it was only mid-afternoon, the shutters were tightly fastened.

“And …” I hesitated. “I saw your little daughter Marion in the stocks this morning.”

Joan buried her face in her hands. “There was no call for D’Acaster’s steward to put her in the stocks. She’s only a bairn. I know she shouldn’t have gone out so early. But she’s so small it’s the only way she can glean anything, otherwise the bigger ones push her aside and take it all. I don’t know how we’re going to pay the fine … as if I haven’t got enough to worry about. What with Ralph being …being sick …” She trailed off with a frightened glance in her husband’s direction.

“I believe the fine’s been paid,” I told her. “I heard the leader of the house of women paid it.”

Joan gaped at me in disbelief. “Why?”

“I understand they are women of great charity. She must have taken pity on the child.”

“We don’t need charity from the likes of them,” Joan muttered angrily. “I’ve told the bairns a dozen times never go near them. It’s dangerous to go mixing with outlanders.”

“On this occasion I think you should be grateful, Joan, and I trust you’ll not refuse the Church’s charity.” I uncovered my basket. “I’ve brought you a little mutton, Ralph. I though Joan might make a broth of it for you, if you couldn’t take solid food.”

Joan darted forward to take the meat. “You’re a good man, Father, no matter what they say.”

“And what do they say, Joan?” I asked grimly.

“Nothing, Father,” she said hastily. “Village tattle. Me and Ralph, we take no notice.”

“All the same, I’d like to hear it.”

Joan plucked at her skirt. “Tongues wag; you know that, Father. I heard tell that your last position was in the Cathedral at Norwich, a good living by all accounts. People have been wondering why you left … to come to a parish like this.”

“And do they have an answer?” The band was tightening around my chest again.

“They say … well, some say, that you were banished here on account of …” She looked desperately at her husband, but he did not come to her rescue. “On account of being caught … begging your pardon, Father, in bed with … with a nun, that’s what they say.” She caught up the bottom of her sacking apron and covered her face with it, too mortified even to look at me.

My breath came out in a great snort of laughter. They both looked at me in surprise. “No, no—I can assure you I was not caught in bed with a nun. Or caught anywhere else with a nun, for that matter.”

My chest still ached despite the relief. Once it set in, the pain would take hours to subside. Every day since I’d come to the miserable little village I felt as if I was being stalked by a beast which any moment might pounce on me. Every time I looked into the villagers’ eyes I wondered if somehow they’d found out, if the Bishop’s Commissarius had deliberately let it slip. It was the kind of thing he’d relish doing if it served his purpose.

Joan was watching me, evidently waiting for some kind of explanation.

“I was not sent here because of a nun. I came here because, like Christ, I wanted to serve those in need of me. I didn’t take holy orders to fawn on the wealthy that come to the Cathedral.”

Joan’s tired eyes smiled. “That’s just what my Ralph told the neighbours. He said to them—didn’t you, Ralph—he said you’d not been sent here as a punishment. Stands to reason, Ralph said, if you’d been caught doing something like that, they’d have flogged you bloody or worse.”

My shoulders jerked and the scars on my back suddenly burned again against the rough cloth.

I forced a smile. “It is good to know I have some friends in Ulewic.”

Ralph seemed so drawn into himself, it was hard to tell if he was even listening. I’d never seen him so miserable. Normally he was such a cheerful man, full of life, no matter what his hardships. I couldn’t understand what had brought about this sudden change in him. I looked around for a stool and drew it up close to him, but as I did so, he drew away from me.

Joan’s hand darted out as if to pull me back, but she stopped herself. “You don’t want to be getting too close … in case you fall sick, Father.”