Blood Moon (24 page)

‘Then elect the king as well.’

For some reason I found that the funniest statement of all. ‘Elect the king?’ I guffawed. ‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’

I was trying to remember the conversation I’d had with John about how a king governs hoping to impress Gil with my knowledge
of the realities of government. But I was finding it difficult to focus my thoughts. I took another swig of the excellent ale hoping it might help and squinted across at Onethumb. But he was preoccupied making Lena laugh with hand shadows in the firelight while Fitchet looked on morosely.

‘Anyway,’ I drawled. ‘That’s where we’re going – to tell the king all about it.’ I winked. ‘Only it’s a secret.’

‘And what do you think he’ll do when he knows?’ said Gil refilling my cup again with ale.

‘That would be telling.’ Actually, I hadn’t thought that far. But what did it matter? What did anything matter? ‘I must say you’re very bright for an outlaw,
if you don’t mind me saying,’ I complimented him. ‘You don’t sound like a commoner. What’s your tale, I wonder, or is it a secret?’ I grinned inanely.

Gil
shook his head. ‘No secret. We all have a similar tale to tell. Take Fra William here for instance.’ He indicated the Latin-speaker.

‘Ah!’ I said. ‘You see, I knew it. I knew he was some kind of cleric.’ I grinned at the man who frowned and shook his head.

‘He was part-time parish priest, part-time farmer,’ said Gil. ‘His crime was to speak out against the injustice of the law.’

‘As he should,’ I agreed. ‘That is his job - as a parish priest, not as a farmer I mean.’

‘Try telling that to the warden’s men. They took his ox. How many farmers do you know can plough a field without an ox? He was reduced to begging and was half-starved when we found him.’

I frowned. ‘
Oh that’s awful - truly. To lose his ox. Why did they take his ox?’

Gil shrugged. ‘Because they could. That’s the only reason they need
.’

I frowned pointing to Fitchet. ‘What about him - Foul-breath? By the way,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t tell him I call him that.’

‘Fitchet was a poacher. He took one hare too many.’

‘Then I have no sympathy. Poaching is theft. Ask my mother, she’ll tell you.’

‘Your mother?’

I nodded. ‘The Lady Isabel de Ix
-worth. She has lands hereabouts - somewhere.’ I looked vaguely around. ‘Erm, what did they do to him?’

‘Cut off his
nose.’

I winced.
That probably explained why he kept his mask on - and possibly why his breath was so foul. Maybe it also explained his interest in Onethumb recognising in him a fellow sufferer. I mentally chastised myself for my lack of charity and resolved to be less quick to judgement in future.

‘What about this one?’ I said pointing surreptitiously to the silent man uncertain if I’d like the answer.
‘Not sure about him,’ I said
sotto voce

‘Will Conyer,’ sighed Gil. ‘He too was a farmer.
Last harvest time he was summoned to the manor court.’

‘It’s every man’s duty to come to court when summoned,’ I pontificated.

‘True enough,’ Gil agreed. ‘Three days’ walk there and three back. With no sons and only daughters the grain would have rotted in the fields by the time he got home. So he was late going and missed the court.’

‘And was
justly punished for non-attendance?’

Gil nodded. ‘The wardens
had every right to do so. They burned his crop and his family starved. That’s forestry law for you.’

I grimaced again. ‘But this is Suffolk,’ I protested. ‘Forestry law does not run in Suffolk.’

‘We are not from
Suffolk. We are from Essex County. There the forestry law runs everywhere.’

‘And what about you? What law did you
fall foul of?’

‘My crime was to think my lord was a just man.’

I gave a wry grin. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, my friend, that sounds like peevishness.’

He smiled. ‘I was the manager to a great estate.’

‘A position of trust and honour,’ I nodded vehemently.

‘Indeed
. Twelve years of loyal service I gave. I was happy to do so. I married well. Life was good. My only sadness was that my wife died giving life to our only daughter.’ He looked across at Lena who was laughing at something Onethumb was doing. Fitchet had taken himself off somewhere.

‘
Pretty girl. Such a shame. And?’ I prompted.

‘When
Lena was fourteen she was raped.’

‘
Oh. I’m truly sorry for that,’ I said sincerely. ‘So your complaint was that your lord did not apprehend the rapist?’

‘My complaint is that my lord
was the rapist - or his son at any rate.’

‘You had proof?’ I said,
genuinely shocked.

‘How do you prove a thing like that? They offered her to marry a man forty years her senior. I brought a suit against the family but the magistrates favoured my lord. I was given the choice of accepting the marriage or lose my position.’

‘So you lost your position and fled to the forest.’

‘I had no choice,’ he confirmed, ‘once I’d strangled the son and drowned the child.’

That sobered me a little and I sat up. ‘Wait a minute. I’ve heard this story before.’ I pointed at him. ‘You’re Gil of Nayland. All Suffolk has heard of you. It was rumoured you were dead.’

‘Well,
now you know I am not - which gives me a problem.’

‘A problem?’
I said sitting up. In my fuddled state I did not immediately catch his meaning. By the time I did it was already too late and they were upon us. Onethumb was quicker than I but Fitchet was even quicker. In a moment we were both on the ground with our hands and feet tied together.

‘There’s no need for this,’ I protested. ‘We will not tell.’

‘I cannot take the risk,’ said Gil. He checked to make sure my bonds were secure and Fitchet nodded to confirm Onethumb’s were too. Then Gil stood up. ‘It’s a pity you had to recognise me, brother. Better you had not.’

This time even the Latin-speaker did not try to intervene but muttered prayers with his eyes tightly shut. As I watched Gil walk away I could feel Onethumb’s eyes burning into me. What had I said?

‘Nothing,’ I whispered. ‘I said nothing. I just told him why we were here that’s all. And then he told me his story. I recognised him.’

Onethumb rolled his eyes to heaven and I realised my error. For it may not matter what I said to him but it mattered very much what he said to me. Now that we knew who he was and that he was alive the hunt for Gil of Nayland could begin again. And Onethumb and I had the long night ahead of us to reflect on my stupidity – and on our likely fate in the morning.

Chapter 25

NEMESIS

I
awoke the next morning with fifty impish smithies hammering anvils in my head and my throat as dry as a sandpit. Onethumb must have drunk too much too for although already awake he was looking as deathly-white as I felt. We were quite alone. There was no trace of Gil or his companions, no indication that they had ever been there except that lying on the ground next to me were my boots, cleaned and oiled, and my satchel which I had lost down the gully and filled with enough provisions for several days’ travel. As I looked around incredulously I recognized things. There was the pile of sticks and leaves I had cut as makeshift footwear lying on the ground where I had left them, and there were the remnants of our last breakfast exactly where we had left them. I realized that despite having marched us around for over an hour the previous evening giving the impression that we were penetrating ever deeper into the darkest recesses of the forest, we had in fact gone precisely…nowhere. We were back exactly where we were when Gil and his friends apprehended us. I looked questioningly at Onethumb but he must have realised the same thing for he shook his head in bewilderment. The irony was that although we recognized where we were, we were no wiser where that was than we were before. But even this Gil must have understood for as the last of the morning mist finally lifted the London Road became visible just a few yards further on. Gil had opened up a gap in a thicket that was not there yesterday revealing the London road just a few yards beyond. We must have been this close to it all along.

‘If we hurry,’ I said excitedly to Onethumb, ‘we might still catch the king’s baggage train,’ so long as my head didn’t explode beforehand, I should have added.

Gathering up our belongings and not even waiting to break our fast, we dashed out through the opening and leapt the final few feet onto the road landing with a joyful crunch. But even as we landed on the gritted surface we were brought up sharp by a sight that struck terror in our hearts and dashed all our hopes in an instant. The white knight who had been following us for two days was barely a hundred yards further along the road sitting quietly astride his charger.

Poor Onethumb. If he could have screamed I believe he would have done so then. He fell to his knees
in despair. After all we had gone through to have gotten this close to our goal only to have it snatched away from us. I forced myself to my feet and shook my fist defiantly at the knight.

‘Come on then!’ I yelled at him. ‘What are you waiting for? Here we are!
You’ve got us at last! Do your worst!’

The knight made no reply, his magnificent destrier
adding clouds of vapour to the damp morning mist. We were too far away to see the rider’s face but we saw him lower his visor and take out his sword from its scabbard.

He was getting ready to charge.

I tried to drag Onethumb up but he seemed incapable of movement, his eyes transfixed with resignation on the white charger.

I pulled at his arm. ‘Onethumb, you must get up,’ I said hastily. ‘If you don’t you will die here.’

I tried to lift him but he would not budge - and it was then I had my idea. Some memory of whirling gears, the sound of laughter, surprise, applause. I looked at the figure on the horse. White Angel was he? We would see just how much of an angel he was.

I sat down and quickly started lacing my boots.
‘Onethumb,’ I barked. ‘Listen to me! You remember the gulley? Could you find it again?’

At first h
e shook his head. But then he slowly nodded.

‘Good boy. Go back and fetch some of the hemp rope from that wagon.
Do you understand? The rope, Onethumb! Fetch the rope!’

He nodded again and got to his feet. As he ran off I
got up to face the knight. He was coming. First a canter and then gradually gathering speed and momentum.

I waited no longer. I turned and ran from him as fast as I could back into the forest the way we had come not daring to look back but hearing the horse’s hooves getting nearer and louder behind me. Nothing on God’s earth can stop a charging knight at full gallop as I knew full well, but I was gambling that would be my advantage. I might have wished it was not autumn and the foliage thick enough to hide me but it made it easier to get through the thinning undergrowth. This, I thought, is how it must be in a real battle where fleeing foot soldiers are chased by cavalry and hacked to pieces. And this was a real battle with a real knight chasing me but feet away.

Just as he was almost upon me, I managed to leap a fallen tree trunk and I heard his mount rear up nearly unseating its rider. But it would be only a momentary respite for he would quickly regained control, circle to calm the beast and then get ready to give the horse its head. Once clear of the obstacle there would be nothing between me and the knight’s sword. I needed Onethumb
now
- but where was he?

And then he was back and slung around his neck was twenty feet of the hemp rope from the buried cart. But there was a problem. The rope was old and rotting from having lain in the open for so long – Onethumb demonstrated by easily tearing it. But we had nothing else. It would have to do. I quickly explained my plan to him. He looked doubtful but there was no time for discussion. We had but a few moments left. He understood and nodded. Once we were ready I took a deep breath, crossed myself and stepped out into the open directly facing the knight.

He looked down at me through his visor. What was going though through his mind? Surprise? Contempt? He had his sword resting at his side but now he raised it again and I could see now exactly why he was the White Angel for even in the dull light of the forest it glinted white-silver. Without haste he drew in his rein making the animal step back to view the terrain, and then began his run. No more choices now, I just prayed my calculations were correct. I waited what seemed like an eternity but can only have been moments as he bore down upon me closer and closer he cleared the fallen tree trunk and leaning over the side of the horse’s neck he raised his arm to strike. I waited until the least possible moment then yelled:

‘
Now
Onethumb!’

There was a whirling noise, a snap of twigs and
then – nothing. The White Angel came on. He was yards away.

‘I said “
now” Onethumb,’ I repeated. ‘Now! I really need you nowwwwww!’

Christ and the Angels and all the blessed saints
in heaven be merciful, with a jolt I went sailing twenty feet into the air right in front of the horseman’s face my legs and arms flailing about like the sails of a windmill. Surprised, the horse reared up in its tracks and then…disaster! Onethumb had been right about the rope. It was indeed rotten. I felt it slip, snag, then snap, and the next thing I was falling.

Now all was confusion. The horse stumbled and its rider was shot forward over its head and onto the forest floor. Another moment and I came crashing down on top of him. The horse ran off into the trees and then stopped leaving me lying prostrate across the rider’s torso. But he did not move. He was knocked out cold. Quick as lightning Onethumb was there with more rope and soon we had the man tied down
so he could not move under all that armour.

‘Ha ha!’ I yelled hysterically
dancing round him. ‘Ha ha ha ha! Now I have you my friend! Get up if you can. You brute! You cur! You knave!’

Onethumb, too, danced and somersaulted for joy. If he could speak I am sure he would have been whooping.

But our elation was short-lived. The noise of our antics had not gone unnoticed in the silence of the forest and other soldiers now appeared from every direction materializing like salt out of brine. We were surrounded. If we’d tried to run we would have been cut down before we made it to the nearest tree. I looked at Onethumb but he too was out of ideas. I tried to think but before I had a chance to do anything the two men in front of me parted and my worst fears were realised.

‘No!’ I gasped
stepping back, for facing me directly was Geoffrey de Saye.

I was too shocked to know what happened next but I believe the noise I heard was me screaming whereupon de Saye stepped smartly forward and removing his glove, placed his hand over my mouth and nose. Panic rose in me as I struggled to breathe but his grip was too strong. I just managed to see out of the corner of my eye one of de Saye’s men unsheathe his sword and bring it down smartly towards Onethumb’s head before the world swum away from me and everything went black.