Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (5 page)

“Let me start at the beginning, Pip. Long ago.”

They sat huddled up to the hearth and Sam gave Pip a plate of something hot. He ate it so fast he barely took any notice of what it was, and sat back in his huge chair.

“It’s a hundred years now since these streets were newly laid,” said Sam, who was easing gently into his tale. “Craftsmen came to build up the timber frames and lay the stone. Cobbled walkways were sunk into the dry earth. Rooflines poked into the sky and chimney pots belched out smoke as the streets filled with people. The city was new then and there was the happiness that comes with a fresh start. For a good while it was peaceful, but then something awoke in the forest. The trees began to creak and groan. Not the creak and groan that is normal for a tree when the wind blows or the branches stretch out to grab hold of the sunlight. No, a painful long-lasting sound that signified some sort of change.

“Hollows appeared in many of the trees. People claimed that something had hatched out from the Spindlewood. A darkness hung about the forest and the air turned heavy and oppressive. Animals disappeared from the woods and the birdsong stopped. Rumors whispered among the people and soon even the hardest of hunters and woodsmen were afraid to enter.

“And then they came. Creatures from the forest, wood witches, and other things, creatures of all kinds and in great numbers.”

Pip shivered and moved a little closer to the fire.

Surely what Sam told him wasn’t true, it was just a story to teach him a lesson.

Wasn’t it?

“I don’t do fairy stories,” said Sam. “Not at this time of night!”

He watched the boy’s expression and let the tale sink in.

“Did you say
creatures
?” asked Pip.

“You heard me right,” said Sam. “Creatures. All kinds of things that lurk and skulk in the twilight, that nest in shadowed streets and prey upon those foolish enough to venture out.”

Suddenly, Pip’s home in the Oakes Orphanage and even the cabin aboard Snark’s pirate ship seemed like heaven. He had gone from bad to worse.

“I should go from here,” he started. “Right now.”

“That’s not as easy as you might think, young Pip. Even if you made it through the city to the gates, they would turn you over to the authorities. Any children discovered in the hollow are imprisoned until they are old enough to fight against the forest armies. And any adults found concealing children face a far worse fate!”

“What! But can’t you smuggle me out?” asked Pip, with a lump well and truly placed in his throat.

“And then what? You’re so far from anywhere you would perish if you tried to make it alone, and if I was caught they’d hang me at the gallows.”

“I thought that tales of beasts and witches belonged in storybooks,” exclaimed Pip, staring deeply into the fire.

“Of course,” said Sam. “But right here is where those stories came from!

“Where the forest meets the city there is a gate. In the past, people left things there, for the beasts, of course. They believed it would prevent them from stealing their children, from making prisoners of them in their bid to take the city.

“I do not wish to frighten you, Pip. But it is important that you stay safe. Children are becoming a thing of the past. When the wars began the creatures emerged from their lairs and took the little ones, imprisoning them in the forest. As the problem grew the people of the city became careful to lock up their young and keep them out of sight. The creatures used their companions to seek out more little ones. Wolves and crows, rooks and ravens. Before long many children were gone and to prevent further disaster no one was allowed to bring children into the hollow.

“Now the streets are empty of young life. Many people still have children and hide them away, but no one knows where or how many or if indeed it is true at all. No man trusts his neighbor. What fool would reveal the hiding place of his most prized possession?

“The authorities search for children too. Young life is a threat to the safety of the city. They come in the night: voices in the early hours, shouts and yells, banging at the doors, shaking the timber frames. Raids, spot checks, call them what you will. It takes a crafty child to escape imprisonment by the authorities.

“For now you must keep your head down. Don’t even look through the windows. It’s most important you’re not seen by the crows. For the taste of an old carcass they would betray your darkest secret.”

“What kind of a place is this?” shuddered Pip. “And why are you helping me?”

“It is a place to be feared and avoided,” said Sam. “And I am sorry that you came here not knowing that, but now that you are here and in my care, we must make sure you stay hidden. I have my own reasons for helping you.

“If you hear horses’ hooves and voices and doors banging in the night, you must be ready to move. Make sure you sleep with your boots on. It’s my golden rule.”

Pip was left to sleep by the fireside. The shutters were closed and the burning logs would keep him snug through the early hours. But the scene was almost like the one from his dream.

While he slept his parents took their places in the empty chairs. Twisting knotted branches of Spindlewood wound around the carved wooden legs. Deadly forest creatures curled around the tendrils and crawled across the floor.

When he awoke he was sweating. What was this place? He was so haunted by Sam’s story that he now wished desperately not to be there at all. He toyed with the idea of leaving in the night, but the thought of meeting something ghastly in the winding streets was too frightening to bear. Flickering firelight caused dark dancing shadows to play on the walls. He closed his eyes tight and curled up in his blanket.

At first light Sam appeared. He’d made a breakfast of eggs and ham with home-baked bread and fresh milk. Funny how things always seemed a little better in the daytime.

“Not so fast, Pip,” warned Sam. “You’ll make yourself ill. You’re safe now. You’ll be fed and watered for as long as you’re here. Take your time.”

“I still don’t know why you are being so kind to me,” insisted Pip. To be treated so well was something he had never experienced before. Usually, such an act would be accompanied by drunkenness or followed by a beating.

Sam smiled. There was something of the gentle giant about him. He had a huge but calm presence.

When Sam was convinced that Pip had satisfied his appetite, he stood up and beckoned him to follow.

Pip jumped from his chair, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He followed Sam through the house. They wound up a staircase at the back of the building to the first floor and up a second narrower set to another. The passages grew slimmer and the spaces smaller.

Eventually they reached a turn in the corridor, where what appeared to be a panel turned out to be the entrance to a room at the top of the building. Sam put his hand through what looked like an accidental hole in the wood. He lifted a latch and entered. What Pip saw wasn’t what he had expected. There, perched on a makeshift bed, was a boy perhaps slightly older than himself and much bigger, with a portly face and a round belly. Almost a miniature version of Sam. He jumped up and held out his hand.

“I’m Toad,” he said. “Pleased to meet you!” He had a wild look in his eyes and an expression that told Pip it was the first time he had seen another child in some time. He looked somehow familiar and, on closer inspection, Pip realized that he had seen a penciled portrait of him on the wall in the downstairs rooms of the tavern.

Pip stared around the room, taken aback. There were drawings and sheets of writing pinned to the wall, and small models made from wood. Then he looked back at Toad.

“I like to keep busy!” Toad laughed.

“I’m Pip,” he replied and they shook hands. The boy Toad seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of his new companion.

“His real name is Thomas,” said Sam. “And he’s my son. Now you can see why I helped you, Pip. I must attend to the tavern. Keep your heads down and I’ll return later.” He closed the door and was gone.

“Make yourself at home,” said Toad. “You’ll be getting to know this place pretty well.”

Pip stared around the room. It was tiny. He didn’t want to know the place well. He wanted to leave. Toad’s bed was a large wooden box filled with sheets and comfortable-looking cushions and pillows. Something similar had been swiftly put together in the opposite corner.

“That’s yours,” said Toad. “We keep a spare in case we take in any strays from the city.”

“Strays?”

“Escaped children, wandering alone. If you don’t take them in, they’ll be preyed upon by the forest folk or picked up by guardsmen. Either way, you’re imprisoned.” Toad seemed so matter of fact about the whole thing that Pip felt his stomach turning again and his heart sank into his belly.

“It’s an unwritten rule among the elders,” claimed Toad. “Or at least, among those who are hiding children. They must all be ready to help each other out should the need occur. It’s quite normal.”

Pip told Toad his long tale. Of Mister Oakes and the orphanage, and how he had worked at the stables and taken care of the horses, riding through the ravines, splashing through the running water, and heading out over the hills.

“It sounds incredible,” said Toad. “One day you’ll return and I’ll come with you. You can show me how to ride a horse.”

Pip stared at Toad. “You’re right. It is incredible, but somehow I never realized it, not until now. I would give anything to be back there. I need to get out of here.”

There was a tapping at the window in the sloped roof above. Fluttering, cooing.

“Just a dove,” said Toad. “I never used to see them, but lately this one has joined me every morning. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others.”

They looked up and watched it dance on the tiles, backward and forward at the window. There was a telescope and a curtain with a circular hole in it so that Toad could poke the lens through and look out over the city unnoticed.

“Come and take a look,” said Toad. There was a stepladder underneath the window, resting against shelves of books and paper and wooden boxes filled with junk. Toad climbed the stepladder, and Pip joined him on its top step. He stared through the telescope, taking a moment to get used to the view through the lens. He could see the treetops of the forest and the sun melting the rooftop snow. Then he steered downward into the square.