Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (61 page)

"Thank you, but I think we can make it back to Stratford before it begins to rain," Valentine reassured her, much to Simon's relief.

"Already gettin' cool in the evenings. Winter's comin' on. Hate to think of them without shelter," Maire Lester fretted, wringing her hands as if Hartwell Barclay's neck was stretched out between them. "Ye'll be stayin' overnight in Stratford, then be headed toward Coventry in the mornin'? Follow the road that way?" she asked.

"No. I do not think they would have come by the North road. It is too far out of their way, especially if they didn't go through London. And no one they might have gotten in contact with in London has seen them. We traveled west along the main road out of London. We came north through Cirencester. Although we expected to find the children here, we asked of them in every village along the road and we heard nothing. No one had seen them passing through. We know they took the cart and a team of oxen, so they would have to follow the roads, and no one has seen them," Valentine said, tapping his gloves against his thigh impatiently. "We thought to travel into Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire this time, perhaps they took the road through Oxford. 'Tis well traveled."

"Aye, they might. Even if they came up through London, then came as far north as St. Albans, they might have gone west there; the road meets with the one comin' out of Oxford. Ye might hear about them there. They might have gone north at the crossroads, come up past Buckingham and Towcester. Since ye already traveled the main road, there's a short cut ye can take that'll take ye right to the road somewhere between Burford and Minster Lovell. If they been through there at all, then someone will have seen them," she told them, going on to tell them how to find the shortcut. "Lord, but ye've got a lot of country to cover," she predicted, none to hopefully.

"It may take time, but we will find them," Valentine Whitelaw promised.

Maire Lester continued to stand outside the quiet farmhouse after she'd watched the three riders disappear down the road and even after the first light rain started to fall. With a feeling of helplessness, she turned and entered the house, wondering where Lily Christian and her young brother and sister were.

"Are we there yet, Lily? How much longer?" Dulcie demanded with a shiver, eyeing the deepening shadows of the
world
that seemed to be closing in around them while they rumbled along the lane wending through the thickly wooded slopes.

"How many nights have we camped out without seein' a livin' soul?" Farley asked of no one in particular as he walked beside the oxen, guiding the plodding pair along the lane.

"Seems like we been traveling through this valley fer years," Fairfax commented from his position at the side of the cart, his heavy shoulders, eased against the side every so often, helping the big wheels through the worst of the ruts. "And I'm not certain I want to see anyone."

"Why's that, Fairfax?" Tristram asked, tossing a couple of sweet berries,
plucked
from a thicket they'd passed, into his mouth in quick succession as he walked behind with Raphael trotting at his heels.

" 'Cause we be strangers hereabouts. And 'cause, most likely, they'd be poachers," Farley answered. "And we don't want to get mixed up with the likes of them or any royal keepers out lookin' fer them. So no venison pie tonight," he advised.

Tristram glanced around worriedly, swallowing nervously when he saw a herd of fallow deer grazing under the trees nearby. "You don't think there are any poachers hiding around here, do you, Farley? I feel like there are eyes watching us from the underbrush."

Farley shrugged. "Could be they been busy stringin' their nets up between the trees, then they'll have their dogs run the deer into them. Makes a decent enough livin', I s'pose, if ye stay a step ahead of the keeper," he warned with a chuckle.

"Heard tell, Farley, that some poachers even have false bottoms to their carts. Don't reckon young Master Tristram and ol' Ruff have been doin' a bit of poachin' and we're sittin' on a load of venison?"

Tristram sighed. "I wish I had," he said, thinking of a thick roast of venison sizzling on a spit.

"Are there still wolves in these woods, Lily?" Dulcie asked, pulling her feet up into the cart just in case.

"I thought I heard one howling at the moon last night," Tristram said, mimicking a wolf despite the warning look Lily gave him.

"Prraaack!
Wolves!
Aaaaaoooooooh!"
Cisco repeated the howl, causing Dulcie to squeal loudly in fear, while Cappie, echoing her cries, ducked beneath Tillie's arm and tried to hide behind her ample form where she sat half-leaning against the side of the cart, her swollen feet dangling over the back.

"Ye know, now ye mention it, Master Tristram," Fairfax said, rubbing the blond beard covering his square chin, "I thought I heard someone, or something, prowling about our camp last night."

"Probably a wild boar. Ye don't look so good, Tillie dear," Farley said, noticing the greenish tinge to her face.

"She kind of looks the color of green peas," Dulcie commented helpfully.

"She's seasick," Tristram said, stepping away
from
the cart.

"Seasick in a cart?" Fairfax roared with laughter.

" 'Tis the same motion as aboard ship," Tristram said knowledgeably. "Back and forth. Back and forth. Up and down. Up and down. Swishing your innards back and forth, up and down, back and forth."

Lily, sitting astride Merry, eyed her brother with growing irritation. "I think you have explained well enough," she told him rather shortly, causing Tristram to eye her more closely lest she be coming down with the same ailment Tillie was suffering from. He sighed, mumbling an apology, but continued to watch his sister. She'd been so quiet since they'd left London and since Romney Lee had died. At night, when she thought everyone was asleep, he had heard her weeping and in the morning she sounded like she was coming down with the sniffles.

"If ye hadn't taken the wrong road back there in Cirencester, bet we'd be in
Stratford
already," Farley complained.

"If ye hadn't fallen asleep, then I would've had somebody to ask, now wouldn't I? Not that ye wouldn've known any better than me which road was which," Fairfax charged, not willing to shoulder the blame.

"Well, anybody who's got any sense can tell which way the sun is risin', can't they? Ye was headed east, Fairfax, not north!" Farley maintained. "That last village we was in was Burford. Now, if we was goin' through Burford, which we shouldn't have been if ye'd been on the right road, then we wouldn've been goin' west, not east. We should have been in Northleach, headin' toward Stratford."

"Well, I can't be expected to know everything, Farley," Fairfax answered stoutly, thinking some people were beginning to expect too much from a fellow. "I never been outside of East Highford till a few months ago."

"No harm was done," Lily said
placating
. "We just lost a couple of hours. We're headed in the right direction again. If this shortcut takes us across-country like that farmer
said
, then we'll end up having saved hours and we should join the main road north of that other village."

"I sure hope that fella knew what he was sayin'; smelled pretty strongly of ale, if ye asks me. Don't think he knew what we was talkin' about half the time; probably went and tried to milk that bull he had out to pasture," Farley muttered, wishing he'd a spot of ale to quench his thirst rather than the fresh water he'd had to make do with for the last few days.

"Don't know if it be such a good idea to be way off the main road like this, Mistress Lily," Fairfax said worriedly, glancing over his shoulder. "What if we was to get stuck, or lose a wheel, or what if this path don't go anywheres near this road? No one would ever know what happened to us. 'Tis awfully lonely out here," he said, noting the rolling hills that rose around them, and where it seemed only wild hare and hart roamed.

"Well, one of us could always walk to the nearest village. That farmer said there was one called Chipping something not too far north of here," Farley suggested, but the look of worry on Fairfax's face bothered him. "What ye really be worried about?"

Fairfax hunched his shoulders, glancing uneasily at Lily Christian riding Merry a few strides ahead now. "I didn't take too kindly to the way them ruffians we passed on the road was eyein' Mistress Lily. She's too pretty, Farley, to be ridin' around on that big white horse, no gentleman with her for protection from the likes of them. Ain't a man this side of London who hasn't thought about her after she's caught his eye. And she's damned hard to miss. I've been real worried, that I have, Farley. They might not think she's
a gentlewoman, seein' how she's with us. And nobody is likely to mistake us fer gentlemen."

"Aye, ye be right there," Farley agreed, eyeing his brother up and down. "Well, I reckon we can handle any trouble that comes along," Farley added, beginning to feel some of his brother's uneasiness. "Ye say ye thought ye heard something in the bushes last night?"

"Aye, prowlin' around 'twas. Ye know, I been feelin' fer the last few days like someone's been watchin' us. Just like Master Tristram has."

"Someone watchin' us?" Farley said with an incredulous glance around. "Who? No one knows we're here, nor even who we be. And them fellas, ye didn't see them until yesterday. Just yer nerves, Fairfax. Ye know how ye get when ye ain't
eaten
proper."

"Aye, s'pose ye be right. And, like ye says, Farley, the two of us can take care of anyone who thinks they got business with us when they don't," Fairfax said, a mulish look on his face that gave fair warning.

"It kind of looks like 'tis goin' to rain," Tillie said, eyeing the clouds with a frowning glance. "I hope we can find some shelter fer the night. 'Tis gettin' late. Maybe we should stop soon," she suggested, the green tinge to her face deepening when the wheels rolled over a large hump in the road.

"Just a little farther, Tillie dear," Farley told her. "Be on the lookout fer a nice-sized tree, Master Tristram. We'll pull right up under it, give us some protection fer tonight. Get our fire goin' and maybe trap a hare or a nice, fat trout, and if it starts to rain, then we'll sleep underneath the cart. Look fer a tree well back from the lane, that way we'll have plenty of privacy, Master Tristram. That's a good lad," he said, and only Fairfax knew that his brother intended for them to remain unseen by anyone passing along the lane.

Valentine Whitelaw glanced around. Nothing. Ahead, stretched the road. Behind them, stretched the road. And yet no shortcut.

They had left the inn in Stratford early, just after breakfast. They had wasted little time in reaching the road and turning south. They'd traveled along the narrow, muddied track, searching for the shortcut Maire Lester had told them about. But, if they had followed her directions correctly, they should have seen the old windmill a couple of miles ago. They had missed it.

"I think we've missed the shortcut, Uncle Valentine," Simon said. "I've looked and looked, but I haven't been able to see any windmill. I guess we'll have to follow the road all the way to Cirencester. We'll be hours and hours now."

"We have no other choice, unless we go back to Stratford and ask directions again," Valentine said, feeling time slipping away from them while they sat there in the middle of the road.

"Why don't you ask him? He looks like a local," Simon suggested as they watched a young man of less than twenty approaching along the road. He did not see them at first, so lost in his thoughts did he seem, but upon spying them blocking his path, he quickened his step.

"A good day to you, gentlemen. A fine morning, 'tis, after a storm," the young man greeted them, a bright curiosity in his eyes as he stared at them, his gaze lingering longest on the Turk.

"And a good day to you. We were told there was a shortcut through to the road to Oxford. We are strangers to this shire and unfamiliar with the countryside. Maire Lester, who told us of this path, directed us to an old windmill. Have you knowledge of this path?"

"Maire Lester? The name is familiar. Ah, Moll Crenshaw's sister. Yes, I remember now. I visited the farm not less than a week ago when a troupe of actors was passing through
Stratford
. I fear she found them most tedious. But I must confess to having been entertained by their conversation and talk of London. Although, 'twas Maire Lester who entertained us the most with her stories of the family she once worked for. Now, the shortcut you speak of, sir, is not more than a mile or so back the way you have come. 'Tis understandable you missed it, for 'tis beyond a grassy bank, where the honeysuckle grows thick and sweet and where I have spent many an enjoyable hour lying beneath a stout oak; however, 'tis easy to miss if you are not familiar with the lane."

"But where is the windmill Maire Lester told us about?" Simon questioned. "I don't see how I could have missed it?"

" 'Tis enringed by ivy. One might believe 'tis a lofty cedar stretching to the sky. One night, a lone rider passing along this lane claimed to have seen the moon riding astride the sails. 'Tis the only time I've heard of it spinning since a noble roe was
wended
through the heart and died beneath the windmill's shadow. They say it stopped singing with the winds out of sadness. 'Twould certainly have been an enchanted night," he said with a smile. "I am going that way, so I will
point it
out to you," the young man offered, beginning to walk down the lane.