Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm (16 page)

Mistress Hulle
gathered up her skirts and hurried to the porch. Harald Gascoigne
was already there, peering short-sightedly up the street. She
smacked his arm with her gloves.

'Your son is
leading my Geoffrey into bad ways.'

'W…What?'
Harald stuttered.

'Your William
is up there with my Geoffrey.'

Harald
squinted into the crowd. There was no sign of William but Robin
stood out like a brilliantly plumed cockerel amongst a flock of dun
hens. The girls had him on his back and were trying to undress him.
His tunic was up by his armpits and his hose down about his
ankles.

Mistress Hulle
gasped in horror.

'How could you
have chosen such a debauched young man as a companion for your
son?' She averted her eyes as Robin struggled to his feet. His
undergarments were being ripped apart and distributed like
trophies. He pulled his tunic down below his knees and ran barefoot
to the house.

'I tried to
tell you but you wouldn't listen.' He looked reproachfully at
Elizabeth. 'It's May Eve. They're always looking for a cockerel to
pluck.'

His
humiliation was lost on Mistress Hulle. 'Where's my son?'

Robin stared
back in bewilderment.

'Did you see
William and Geoffrey?' Elizabeth asked.

'They're up
there with the Draper boys and Molly.'

'Molly!'
Mistress Hulle threw out her arms. 'They're with a girl?'

'No. Molly is
a dog.'

Elizabeth
decided not to correct him. Strictly speaking, Molly wasn't a dog.
Molly was a bitch and she was on heat. There could be no worse time
for an animal in her condition to be out on the streets. The spring
festival aroused passions of the coarsest nature. It would be only
a matter of time before some reveller found her a mate. They'd
perform to the cheers of the crowd and Geoffrey Hulle would give a
graphic description of their antics when he got home.

'Mistress
Hulle, I see the vicar is looking neglected.'

Elizabeth
steered her in John Duffield's direction and hurried after Robin
who had fled to the rear of the house where he shared a garret with
the stable hands. She found him sitting on his bed examining
scratches to his legs and more sensitive parts.

'Mistress!'

He pulled his
tunic down in alarm.

Elizabeth
failed to notice his look of embarrassment.

'We've got to
get Molly and the boys back.'

Robin's
expression hardened.

'I'm not going
up there again.'

'I'm not
suggesting you should. One of the other lads can do it.'

'No, they
can't,' Robin backed away. 'They're up there already.'

Elizabeth
turned away. 'Go and get dressed in new clothes. The Master will
replace any of your garments that were lost and make sure you are
properly rewarded.' Her voice dropped. 'I'm sorry, Robin. I should
have listened. It was very unkind what they did. Please don't think
too badly of me.'

She returned
to her guests feeling acutely embarrassed. She had sons of her own.
They were older than Robin and she was accustomed to seeing them in
a state of semi-undress. She'd come to think of Robin as a member
of the family, a sort of adopted son. He quite clearly didn't see
it like that. Bashful Robin thought she was making sexual advances.
She did her best to mix with her guests and was talking to Richard
Rochell's wife when the sound of barking told her something was
badly wrong.

'Mistress
Baret, pray …'

The vicar
tried to engage her in conversation as she hurried out. Elizabeth
brushed past him and headed for the yard. Robin was there in his
archer's uniform. He had a loaded crossbow and was pointing it at a
huge hound that was trying to force an entry. Its passions were
directed at Molly who was panting on the other side of the
gate.

Walter Gallor
was in the street.

'Put down that
bow.'

'Call off your
dog.'

'I'll call him
off when you submit to a lawful command.'

'If that
mongrel comes closer, I'll shoot his balls off.'

Elizabeth
could not condone Robin's language but admired his spirit.

'Master
Gallor,' she shouted. Pray, call off that hound.'

'I'll do that
when you stop interfering with my preserve.'

'I do not know
what you are talking about.'

'You will.'
Walter lurched forward. 'That bitch has been used to undermine my
authority.'

'Call off your
dog.'

'I'll not do
so until you hand over that bitch and command your servant to
surrender his weapon into my hands. I've had enough of how you
people use sods like him to do your dirty work.'

Walter's spiel
was brought to an end by his hound. The big beast was unable to
control its passion for Molly and hurled itself at the gate. The
flimsy structure disintegrated. Robin squeezed his trigger and his
bolt found its mark. Blood spurted from the dog's neck and it
crashed to the ground.

A crowd
gathered. No one expressed sympathy for the dying hound. Young men,
who had made fun of Robin, rushed to make a hero of him. He was
hoisted on their shoulders and carried to the Half Moon Inn. Girls
pelted him with flowers and shouted his name.

'Robin. Are
you coming to the maypole dance?'

'We've seen
what you've got, Robin.'

'We want to
see what you can do with it ...'

Excited
screams followed. Elizabeth shut her ears. She wasn't prudish but
was offended by such language when it came from such young lips.
The daughters of the peasants mated at the first opportunity. The
aristocracy weren't any better. They treated their daughters as
pawns, marrying them off as soon as they became nubile. Many a
young girl's growth had been stunted by a precocious pregnancy.

Elizabeth was
thankful she had been born into a genteel society that knew the
virtues of propriety and moderation. She was twenty when she
married John and he was almost thirty. Like most young businessmen,
he had first to establish himself before taking a wife. She guessed
Mistress Hulle came from a similar background and shared her
values. But that did nothing to soften her attitude towards the
woman.

The sound of
sobbing returned her attention to the hound. Walter had it cradled
in his arms, doting over it like a bereaved father.

'You'll not
get away with this, you filthy bitch.' He turned to face her. 'The
father abbot knows your sort. He'll make you pay for it.'

***

Alice and
Harald left the reception at the Baret house and ventured into the
swampy area to the south of the abbey. It was where the monks
discharged the outflow from the extensive system of conduits and
drains that served the monastery. Ponds stocked with carp allowed
the effluent to settle before seeping into the water meadow and the
river beyond. It was a magical night. A full moon was in the sky
and bats flew overhead. Alice heard their shrill cries and was
comforted by them.

The bats
seemed to be telling her something. She remembered that, as you
grew older, it became harder to hear their high-pitched shrieks.
They were as loud and clear as when she was young. Their message
was clear. The bats were telling her she was not too old to get
married and have children.

'Can't you
feel the magic?'

She put her
arm around Harald but he failed to respond.

'Harald, why
all this angst?'

'I'm sorry,'
he sighed. 'I can't stop thinking about William. I had so many
plans for him. He was going to get a proper education and become a
lawyer or a priest. Now, I know there's no chance. He's just like
Guy at the same age. He's totally out of control and there's
nothing I can do about it.'

'Won't your
mother help?'

'She adores
him as he is.'

Alice touched
his cheek and felt his tears.

'Harald,
nothing is so bad that it can't be put aright.'

'I see no way
out of this misery.'

'That's
because of your dark cloud.'

She placed a
kiss on his lips.

'What
cloud?'

'The one that
follows you around. You need to have a bit of fun. Stop thinking
about William and start to think about yourself.'

'I'm too old
for fun.'

'Oh, Harald.
What an awful thing to say. You're still young. Can't you hear the
bats? They're trying to tell you something.'

Harald thought
for a moment. 'Old people can't hear the bats anymore. Is that what
you mean?'

'That's right.
If you're young enough to hear the bats then you're young enough to
take me to the maypole dance.'

'But that's
for fifteen-year-olds.'

'Don't be
ridiculous,' she prodded him playfully. 'Ralph and Henry are
going.'

'You mean the
monks?'

'Yes. And they
want us to go with them.'

'But monks
aren't allowed to go to dances.'

'Oh, Harald.
Monks do lots of things they're not supposed to … especially if
they work in a scriptorium.'

'But they'll
be recognised and so will we. People will start talking. They don't
expect to see the matron of the almshouse on Dancing Hill. The
vicar has preached sermons on it. He says the maypole is a
representation of the male member and an abomination in the eyes of
the Lord.'

'John Duffield
gets lots of things wrong.'

Alice gave him
another prod.

'The maypole
represents a tree. The festivities are about new growth. That's why
people make costumes of leaves. Ralph and Henry have made costumes
for us. You'll love yours. No one will recognise you when you put
it on.'

May
Day

William
squatted beside the wheels. The Draper boys had arrived with the
tallow but there was no sign of Geoffrey Hulle. That didn't worry
him. He'd written Geoffrey out of his plans. The vile traitor would
be hiding in his den, scared to go out because of his parents.
William wasn't scared of anyone. Mistress Baret had told him to
stay in his room but he wasn't going to take orders from her. Robin
could have stopped him but he had been given the evening off. Robin
was down at the maypole with some girls.

The Draper
boys wrapped straw round the spokes of the wheels and coated them
with tallow. William occasionally intervened, telling them when to
bind tighter and when not to bind so light. If the need arose he
would do it himself but leaders didn't do that unless they had too.
Leaders kept a close eye on what was happening and told others what
to do.

He took his
tinderbox from his belt and checked the cord. It was smouldering
robustly and the tinder was dry. Satisfied, he returned the box and
looked around. The maypole was set on a grassy knoll. A band was
playing and people were gathered around. Most were wearing garlands
of flowers and leaves. Others had gone to a lot more trouble. There
were people dressed as animals and people wearing costumes made
entirely of leaves.

His attention
settled on a group of four. There was something oddly familiar
about them. At first he couldn't tell why. Then one of them made a
gesture that was unmistakable. William could scarcely believe his
eyes. The mole was down there fiddling nervously with his seeing
glasses. He'd stopped thinking of Harald as his father. Guy was his
father. He'd known that all along. Even as a little boy he could
feel the bond.

He identified
the other members of the group as Sister Alice and a couple of
randy monks. They probably thought no one would notice them. That
was a laugh. They stood out like daisies on a mule's arse. William
was reminded of the costumes the mummers wore when they came to
town to do sexy plays about Robin Hood and his merry men. The mole
looked like a leafy version of Friar Tuck and Sister Alice reminded
him of Maid Marion.

Down on the
grassy knoll, Harald felt ill at ease. The people crowding around
weren't merely younger, they belonged to a totally different class.
Some of his servants could be amongst them. The thought of being
recognised was mortifying. On top of that, he didn't like dancing.
His feet never moved with the music and his poor eyesight could
never cope with the half-light that seemed to be an essential part
of such gatherings.

His costume
was another source of worry. Ralph said a cape of leaves and a
painted mask were normal attire for the May Day festivities. Harald
wasn't so sure. No one else had gone to so much trouble. The girls
made do with flowers and the boys were content with bits of
greenery they'd torn from the hedgerow on the way to the dance.
Harald's inclination was to grab Alice and run. They were
ridiculously dressed and far too old to be prancing around with a
mob of smelly adolescents. He turned to Alice.

'I think we
should leave.'

She looked
vexed. 'But it's not started yet.'

'I don't think
we should be here.'

'Harald, pray,
don't spoil this evening for me. I've always wanted to dance the
maypole. I've never had the chance before.'

'We're too
old.'

'Don't say
that. We're young enough to have fun and do all sorts of things.'
She took his hand. 'Do you know what to do?'

Harald shook
his head.

'Then I'll
tell you.' She pointed to the maypole. 'Do you see those
cords?'

Harald
squinted into the setting sun and saw a cluster of red and white
ropes hanging down from the top of the pole.

'When the
Green Man blows his horn you must run out and grab one.'

'Why do I have
to run?'

'Because, if
you don't, some big lad will get there first.'

Harald
couldn't think of anything more dangerous than fighting a
twenty-year-old for possession of a rope. His heart sank as she led
him to where Ralph and Henry were standing. The two monks took up
positions on either side of him.