The Crowfield Demon (13 page)

“The boy meant no mischief, Prior. I saw what happened, and it was a simple accident.”

“Get out of my way,” Brother Martin snarled. He made a grab for William, but Brother Snail stood his ground.

Shadlok, who had been working with the stonemasons, walked over to stand beside William. He said nothing, but simply folded his arms and stared at Brother Martin, his gaze chillier than the brisk March wind whipping across the yard. The cellarer took a step backward. An angry flush of color mottled his face, and he watched Shadlok warily.

“Enough,” the prior said loudly. He seemed to struggle with the impulse to take William by the scruff of the neck and shake him until his teeth rattled. Instead, with a visible effort, he said, “Brother Snail is right. It was an accident. The boy does not deserve to be beaten for that.”

Brother Martin scowled at the prior's mild words, but held his tongue.

William was as surprised as Brother Martin by the prior's leniency. Normally Prior Ardo was all in favor of the redeeming qualities of a sound beating, and he had
never
taken William's side against one of his monks before.

The prior glanced around. “Well? Haven't any of you got anything better to do than idle here in the yard?”

There were a few raised eyebrows as people went back to their work. With a last glare at William, the cellarer stumped back to the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

“You are no longer needed in the kitchen,” the prior said, staring coldly at William. “From now on, you will work with the stonemasons or with Brother Snail or Brother Stephen.” As if he felt the point needed to be made, he added, “Stay away from Brother Martin.”

William nodded and tried to hide his delight.

Prior Ardo turned to Brother Snail. “It might be as well if the boy slept in your workshop for now.”

William opened his mouth to protest. He
couldn't
sleep in the hut, away from the safety of the abbey walls. But then he thought,
It isn't any safer
inside
the walls
.

“Yes, of course, Prior,” Brother Snail said.

The prior turned back to William. “Find Master Guillaume and ask him what you can do to help.”

William watched the prior walk away with Brother Gabriel limping along beside him.

Brother Snail gave William a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. William knew the monk was worried by the thought of him being alone in the hut at night. “It really is for the best if you stay away from Brother Martin for now, Will.”

Something in the monk's voice hinted that there was more to William's banishment from the kitchen than met the eye. “This is about more than a broken pot, isn't it?” William asked with a frown.

Brother Snail hesitated, then sighed and said, “Brother Martin has been having nightmares these last few nights. About you.”

“Me?” William stared at him in astonishment.

“The prior knows about the bad dreams, and he most probably feels things will settle down if you are away from the kitchen for a while. Brother Martin is tired and his temper is short, so it's probably for the best.” Brother Snail patted his arm. “You will be far more comfortable sleeping in my workshop, I am sure.” The monk turned to go, but looked back at him with a gleam in his eye. “But don't break too many of
my
jugs or bowls, will you?”

William grinned. “I can't make any promises.”

William waited until Brother Martin left the kitchen for vespers before fetching his mattress and blankets and his spare clothes. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realized until that moment just how much he had come to loath working alongside Brother Martin. He hefted his bundled belongings more securely in his arms and, without a backward glance, set off for Brother Snail's workshop. In an odd kind of way, it almost felt as if he was going home. Shadlok and the hob were sitting by the fire when William reached the hut. The hob had taken William's flute from its hiding place and was trying to play a tune. Shadlok was watching him with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. William carried his bedding over to a corner of the room and dumped it on the floor.

“You are sleeping here now?” Shadlok asked.

William nodded. “Brother Martin doesn't want me in the kitchen anymore.”

“You can share the floor by the fire with me,” the hob said, looking very pleased with this turn of events. He laid the flute across his knees and grinned up at William.

“Thank you.” William grinned back.

“What did you do to anger Brother Martin this morning?” Shadlok asked.

“I dropped a jug.”

Shadlok looked surprised. “He tried to kill you just for that?”

“He'll use any excuse to beat me,” William said tightly. He was quickly coming to hate Brother Martin.

“I could put a curse on him,” Shadlok said. There was a glint in his eye, and William wasn't sure if he was being serious.

“What kind of curse?”

“Whatever you want,” he said, shrugging. “I could turn him into a fish or make his hands shrivel to stumps. I could make him fall asleep and not wake again.”

William smiled uncertainly. “You could really turn him into a fish?”

Shadlok nodded. “Just say the word and it will be done.”

“Or a frog,” the hob suggested hopefully. “Or a worm.”

For a moment, William was sorely tempted to accept the fay's offer. He could imagine Brother Martin as an ugly old carp, mouth opening to bite on a sharp hook . . .

It was a struggle, but reluctantly he shook his head. “No, it wouldn't be right.”

“It is your choice,” Shadlok said with the hint of a smile. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”

Oh, don't tempt me
, William thought.

The hob stared up at William in concern. “The one-eyed brother man is full of anger, like a boil waiting to burst. One day he will go
sploff
.” He clapped his paws together with a sharp slap.

“Well, I really hope I'm not there when he does,” William said with feeling.

The hob picked up the flute again. His fingers were too small to cover the holes properly, so the tune he played consisted of just a couple of notes, but he played them with his usual enthusiasm. William sat down across the fire from Shadlok.

“Brother Martin has been having nightmares about me. The prior thinks it'll be better if I keep out of the kitchen for now.”

“The prior is right.”

“Do you dream?” William asked curiously. “Do you even
sleep
?”

Shadlok shook his head. “Not in the way humans do. When I sleep, it is more a stilling of the mind.”

“What about you?” William reached out a foot and nudged the hob.

“I dream about the forest,” the hob said, lowering the flute. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he stared into the fire, and a faraway look on his face.

“You miss it, don't you?” William said gently.

The hob looked up at him. “Sometimes I do. But I would miss you and the snail brother and Shadlok just as much if I were back in the forest.” He held the flute out to William. “I would like you to play now.”

For a while, William played, and peace settled around the hearth. At last, Shadlok stirred himself and said, “It is time you learned a more challenging tune.”

He took the flute and began to play a tune William had never heard before. His long fingers moved gracefully over the holes in the instrument, and the song lilted and spun and glowed through the firelit room.

William listened, rapt. He had never heard such beautiful music before. Not even Robin's playing was
this
good. Even the hob sat perfectly still for once, a look of awe on his face.

When the last few notes died away, William shook his head. “I will
never
be able to play like that.”

The fay handed the flute to William. “That does not mean you cannot try.”

And try William did. With Shadlok's patient instruction, he caught a shadow of the song. Frustration welled up inside him as he strove to get closer to the beauty of Shadlok's playing, but his fingers felt clumsy compared to the fay's, and at last he lowered the flute and frowned at Shadlok.

“It's just too hard.”

Shadlok sat forward and threw a stray branch into the fire. “Few things worth having are easily won. You must practice until playing comes as naturally as breathing.”

William snorted. “That's easy for you to say.”

The fay raised an eyebrow, and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I had to learn once, just as you are now.”

William looked at him curiously. “Who taught you?”

Shadlok looked down, and the light left his face. It was as if a door had closed between them. He stared into the fire in silence for a while, then he got to his feet and walked over to the door. “Be sure to bolt this behind me,” he said without looking back at William and the hob, and with that he was gone.

William stared at the closed door thoughtfully. He had touched a nerve, it seemed. “He doesn't like talking about the past, does he?”

The hob leaned over and poked a finger into William's chest. “It hurts him, in here.”

“I wonder if he'll ever trust us enough to tell us what happened to him, why he was exiled from his own world,” William said, “and why he and the Dark King are enemies.”

The hob yawned sleepily. “One day, he will.”

William fetched his bedding and unrolled his mattress. He bolted the hut door, then pulled off his boots and settled himself for sleep. With a contented sigh, the hob lay down beside him, and within minutes, they were both sound asleep.

C
HAPTER
FIFTEEN

L
ife at the abbey settled into a routine over the next few days. Peter was sent to Yagleah with a message from Prior Ardo to Edgar the carpenter, asking him to come and start boarding up the church and chapter house windows. He arrived with his son, Hal, and a cartload of timbers on Wednesday morning and set to work.

William divided his time between helping Brother Stephen with the animals, Brother Snail with the garden, and the stonemasons with the church. On Saturday morning, a week after the collapse of the tower, William was wheeling another cartload of stone from the church to the stonemasons' shed when he saw a group of people emerge from the passageway beneath the gatehouse. There were four men, a woman, and two young children. They were dressed in ordinary working clothes and carried baskets and a couple of sacks. Brother Stephen herded them across the yard. He saw William and waved him over.

“Fetch Prior Ardo,” Brother Stephen said. There was a bemused look on his face. “Tell him we have . . . pilgrims, here to see the holy relic.”

William frowned. They'd come to see the bowl? Taking a closer look, he recognized two of the men. They were from Yagleah, and he often saw them at Weforde market.

“Hurry, boy!” the monk said, flapping a hand at William. He seemed at a loss to know what to do with the pilgrims and the gifts they'd brought. William glimpsed a couple of chickens, squashed into a wicker basket, and a honeycomb in an earthenware pot. The villagers had washed their faces and hands and cleaned the worst of the grime off their clothes. They stood close together and stared around at the abbey buildings, openly curious.

Prior Ardo was in the cloister, sitting on the stone bench by the chapter house doorway, eyes closed and hands clasped. It was almost time for none, and Brother Gabriel stood nearby, bell in hand, ready to call the monks to prayer.

“Pilgrims,” William said, running up to the prior, “out in the yard.”

“What?” The prior's eyes snapped open. He stared at William as if he had taken leave of his senses.

“Pilgrims from Yagleah, to see the bowl. Brother Stephen sent me to fetch you.”

The prior looked startled, but then his face lit up with excitement and he turned to Brother Gabriel. “God has answered my prayers! The first pilgrims to our abbey, Brother. The first of many, God willing.”

The prior and Brother Gabriel went to greet the villagers and accept their offerings. William stared after them in dismay. It no longer mattered that the bowl was not the Grail. Word of the abbey's holy treasure had spread quickly through the surrounding villages, and excitement was growing. He could shout the truth from the rooftops, but nobody would listen. The people in the yard had come to see the Grail, and that was just what the prior intended to give them.

A makeshift shrine was set up at the western end of the north aisle. William was sent to fetch a small table from a storeroom, and the bowl, in its jeweled oak box, was placed on it. Brother Gabriel set wax candles in silver holders on either side of the bowl.

“Do you want me to light them?” Brother Gabriel asked.

The prior shook his head. “No, there's no need for that.”