Scarlet (10 page)

CHAPTER 12

I
hauled up the ladder as fast as I could and crouched in the crux of the largest bough to wait. Within five heartbeats the sheriff ’s men burst into the clearing we had just left. A few more steps along our trail carried them to the base of the oak, where our tracks became slightly confused. Although I could no longer see the path below, and was not fool enough to risk looking down, I could well imagine what they were seeing: the well-formed footprints of two fleeing men set in deep, undisturbed snow, and then . . . one set of footprints vanishing.

Only a solitary track continued along the path, and they were not slow to mark this.

They paused to catch a breath beneath my hiding place. I could hear them puffing hard as they stood below, searching, trying to find where the second pair of tracks had gone. One of them muttered something in French—something about the futility of catching anything in this accursed forest. And then another voice called from the trail, and they moved on. From my perch, I caught a fleeting glimpse of three soldiers in dark cloaks barely visible in the winter twilight.

No doubt they were loath to return to the sheriff empty-handed, and seeing only a single set of footprints leading away, they had no choice but to follow them. So, panting and cursing, off they went to continue the pursuit. When they had gone, I settled myself more securely on the branch to wait for whatever would happen next. The night was not getting any warmer, nor my cloak any drier; folding my arms across my chest to keep warm, I prayed to Saint Christopher that they would not be pulling my frozen corpse from the oak come Christmas.

Twilight deepened to night and the wind sharpened, kicking up gusts to drive the snow. I wrapped myself tight in my cloak and had just closed my eyes beneath my hood when I heard the creak and clatter of tree limbs nearby as if something big was moving among the branches. My first thought was that all the fuss and fury had awakened a bear or wildcat asleep in its treetop bower. Peering around, Lord bless me, but I saw a great dark shape walking toward me along the very bough I had chosen.

The thing came closer. “Get back!” I hissed, fumbling beneath my damp cloak for my knife.

“Hush!” came the whisper. “You’ll bring them back.”

“Bran?”

“Who else?” He laughed lightly. “Heavens, Will, you look like you were ready to take wing.”

“I thought you were a bear,” I told him.

“Follow me,” he said, already turning away. “They will be coming back this way soon, and it is best we are not here.”

Teetering on the bough, I edged after him, sliding one cautious, slippery foot at a time while clinging to a branch overhead. The bough narrowed as it went out from the trunk but, at the place where it would have begun to bend under our weight, I discovered another stout limb had been lashed into place to make a bridge, of sorts, on which to cross the gap between trees. This makeshift bridge spanned the trail below, linking two big oaks together.

And this was not all! No fewer than four trees were likewise linked in a mad squirrel-run through the treetops. We worked our way along this odd walkway until we came to another rope ladder, and so at last climbed down to a completely different forest track.

“You knew we would be chased,” I said the moment I set foot on solid ground once more.

“Aye,” he replied, “King Raven can see the shapes of all things present and yet to come,” he told me.

“Peter and Paul on a donkey, Bran!” I gasped. “Then you must have seen the sheriff and—”

“Peace, Will,” he said, chuckling at his jest. “Angharad might be blessed with such a gift on occasion, but I am not.”

“No?” I said, none too certain.

“Listen to you,” he said. “It does not take the Second Sight to know that any time you take arms against a company of Norman knights you might soon be running for your life.”

“True,” I allowed, feeling stupid for being taken in so easily. “That’s a fact, right enough. Still and all, it was a canny piece of luck they chased you the way you wanted to go.”

“Not at all,” he said, moving lightly away. “I led them. This way or another it makes no difference. We have worked all summer to prepare such deceptions. There are ladders and treewalks scattered all over the forest, and especially along the King’s Road.”

“Treewalk,” I said, enjoying the word. I hurried after him.

“Ladders and limbs and such,” he said. “It makes for easier escape if you can move from tree to tree.”

“I agree. But do the Normans never see them?”

“The Ffreinc only ever view the world from the back of a horse,” Bran declared. “They rarely dismount, even in dense forest, and almost never look up.” He shook his head again. “I should have told you about all that, but I confess I did so want to see your face the first time we used it.”

This revelation stopped me in my tracks. “I hope it gave you enjoyment, my lord,” I said, the complaint sharp in my voice. “I live to provide amusement for my betters.”

“Oh, do not take on, Will. No harm done.”

“I thought you were a bear, I did.”

He laughed. “Come. Iwan and Siarles will be wondering what has become of us.”

He hurried off along the darkened path, and it was all I could do to keep up with him. His long legs carried him by fast strides—and his sight, even in the dark, led him unerringly along a path that could no longer be seen. I struggled along, slipping and sliding in his footsteps, trying to avoid the branches and twigs that whipped back in my face. After a time, Bran slowed his pace; the trees were closer here, the wood more dense and the snow less deep on the path. We moved along at a much improved pace until we arrived at a place far from the road and where we had last seen the sheriff ’s men.

Bran paused and put his hand back to halt me. He hesitated, and then I heard Iwan’s voice murmur something, and Bran stepped from the trail and into a small, snug clearing that had been hewn from the dense undergrowth beside the trail. A fire burned brightly in the centre of this bower and, aside from Iwan and Siarles, there were five of the Grellon huddled close around the flames. They all rose when Bran stepped through the brush, and welcomed him. They made room for us by the fire, but before Bran sat down, he spoke to each one personally, telling them how pleased he was of their accomplishments this day.

Aside from the men, there were two women from Cél Craidd. They had prepared barley cakes and a little mulled ale to help draw the chill from our bones, so while Bran spoke to the others, I sat down and soon had my frozen fingers wrapped around a steaming jar. “We were getting worried,” said Siarles, settling down beside me. “I might have known there would be trouble.”

“A little,” I confessed. “The sheriff turned up and took it into his head to have us give some of his men a run through the wood.”

“The sheriff ? Are you certain?”

“Oh, aye, it was himself. I challenged him, and he tried to talk me into giving myself up for a hanging.” I sipped my hot ale. “Tempting as it was, I declined the offer and made one of my own. I decorated his fine cloak with arrow points.”

Siarles regarded me in the firelight with a look approaching appreciation. “Did you kill him, then?”

“I drew on him, but did not loose.”

“Weeping Judas, why not?”

“King Raven prevented me,” I replied. “He appeared just as I was about to let fly, and we’ve been running ever since. And now that I think of it, why did no one tell me about the treewalks and ladders?”

Siarles grinned readily. “Oh, that—well, it’s a secret we like to keep to ourselves as much as possible. A man’s life could depend on it.”

“As my own did this selfsame night. It would have cheered me no end to know I wasn’t about to end my days with a Norman spear in my back.”

“So, now you know.”

“Now I know,” I agreed. “One of these days, I’ll thank you to show me which of the other trails have been prepared this way and which trees.”

“Oaks,” replied Siarles, taking the jar from me and helping himself to a sip.

“Oaks,” I repeated, taking the cup back.

“It’s always oak trees,” Iwan confirmed. “Look for a dangling vine. As for the trails, we’ll show you next time we come out. But that won’t be for a while now. We will let the trail grow cold.”

“It is plenty cold now,” I said, quaffing down a hearty gulp. “If the snow keeps up, by morning you won’t be able to tell anyone passed this way at all.”

Iwan nodded and stood abruptly. “Nóinina!” he called. “A dry cloak for our man here.”

One of the women turned away from the fire and withdrew a bundle from a wicker basket they had brought. She came around the ring to where I sat, untied the bundle, and shook out a clean, dry cloak. “Oooh,” she cooed gently, “let me get that cold wet thing off you before you take a death.”

Leaning over me, she deftly untied the laces and lifted off the wet garment; the cold air hit my damp clothes and I shivered. She spread the dry cloak over my shoulders and rubbed my back with her hands so as to warm me. “There now,” she said, “you’ll be warm and dry that soon.”

“Many thanks,” I said, craning my head around to see her better. It was the woman who had come to Cél Craidd after being rescued from the Ffreinc. As it happens, I had helped build a hut for her and her wee daughter. “Nóinina, is it?” I asked, though I knew well and good that it was.

“Aye, that’s me.” She gave me a fine smile, and I realized that she was a right fetching woman. Now, it might have been the heat of the fire after a long, cold day, or then again, it might have been something else, but I felt a certain warmth spread through me just then. “You’re called Will.”

“That I am.”

She lingered close, gazing down at me as I sat with my cup on my knees. “I helped build the hut for you and the little ’un,” I told her.

“I know.” She smiled again and moved off. “And for that I’ll give you a barley cake.”

She was back a few moments later with a jug of warm ale and a barley cake fresh from the griddle stone. “Get that into you and see if you don’t warm up.”

“I’m feeling better already,” I told her. “Much better.”

It didn’t last long. As soon as we all had a bite and drained our cups, Iwan put out the fire and we were away. Oh, but it was a long, slow trek back to the settlement through deep-drifting snow. We tried to walk in one another’s footsteps as much as possible so as not to disturb the snow overmuch, but that was tedious and taxing. We were fair exhausted by the time we reached Cél Craidd, and the night was far gone. Even so, our folk had built up a big, bright fire and were waiting for us with hot food and drink. They let out a great cheer when first we tumbled through the hedgewall and slid down the bank.

Well, our trials were forgotten just that quick, and we all gathered round the fire to celebrate our victory. There was still a thing or two needin’ done—the oxen and wagons had been secured for the night, but the wagons would have to be unburdened and the oxen would require attention before another day had run. Our work was far from finished. Even so, the cares of tomorrow could fend for themselves a little while; this night we could celebrate.

The mood was high. We had fought the Ffreinc and delivered a blow they would not soon forget. As soon as we took our places at the fire, cups were pressed into our hands and meat set to roast on skewers. We drank the first of many healths to one and all, and I was that surprised to find myself standing beside the widow woman once more.

“Hello again, Nóinina,” I said, my clumsy half-Saxon tongue attempting the lilt she had given it. “It’s a good night that ends well even with the snow.”

“Call me Nóin,” she said. Indicating my cup with a quick nod of her head, she said, “Your jar big enough for two?”

“Just big enough,” I replied, and passed it to her.

She raised it to her lips and drank deep, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she returned the jar. “Ah, now, that is as it should be—hale and hearty and strong, with a fine handsome head.” She leaned near, and her lips curved with sweet mischief as she added, “Just like our man here himself.”

Oh, my stars! It had been long since any woman had spoken to me with such invitation in her voice. My heart near leapt out of my throat, and I had to look at her a second time to make sure it was ol’ Will Scarlet she was talking about. She gave me a wink with the smile, and I knew my fortunes had just improved beyond all reason. “Do not be leaving just yet,” she said, and skipped away.

“I’ll keep a place for you right here,” I called after her.

She returned with another jar and two skewers of meat for us to roast at the fire. We settled back to share a stump and a cup, and watch the snow drift down as the meat cooked. Sweet Peter’s beard, but the flames that warmed my face were nothing compared to the warmth of that fine young woman beside me. An unexpected happiness caught me up, and my heart took wing and soared through a winter sky ablaze with stars.

I was on the point of asking her how she came to be in the forest when Lord Bran raised his cup and called for silence around the fire ring. “Here’s a health to King Raven and his mighty Grellon, who this night have plucked a tail feather from that stuffed goose de Braose!”

“To King Raven and the Grellon,” we all cried, lofting our cups, “mighty all!”

When we had drunk and recharged our cups, Bran called again, “Here’s a health to the men whose valour and hardihood has the sheriff and his men gnashing their teeth in rage tonight!”

We hailed that and drank accordingly, swallowing down a hearty draught at the happy thought of the sheriff and count smarting from the wallop we’d given them.

“Hear now!” Bran called when we had finished. “This health is for our good Will Scarlet who, heedless of the danger to himself, snatched a poor man from the sheriff ’s grasp. Thanks to Will, that man’s family will eat tonight and him with them.” Raising his cup, he cried, “To Will, a man after King Raven’s heart!”

The shout went up, “To Will!” And everyone raised their jars to me. Ah, it was a grand thing to be hailed like that. And just to make the moment that much more memorable to me, as the king and all his folk drank my health, I felt Nóin slip her hand into mine and give it a squeeze—only lightly, mind, but I felt the tingle down to my toes.