Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger (25 page)

‘Our friendship was forged through a lot of dangerous times. We had to depend on each other and trust each other. My life was often in your father’s hands. And your mother’s,’ he added. ‘That’s a better basis for friendship than sneaking around drinking stolen wine behind the stables.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said. She could see his point. She enjoyed the prestige and respect she had earned as a Ranger’s apprentice. She had seen how people looked up to her. And she could see how a stupid escapade like the night before could destroy that respect.

‘It’s time to grow up, Maddie,’ he said.

‘I suppose it is,’ she replied.

She went to bed early that evening, shortly after they had finished a simple meat of grilled beef strips and boiled, buttered potatoes. Will also prepared a salad of some bitter green leaves, lacing it with a light, astringent dressing.

It was all simple, nourishing food, calculated to drive away the last remnants of her terrible hangover. As she finished and took her platter to the kitchen basin, Will gestured to the coffee pot.

‘Like a cup?’ he asked.

She hesitated, then remembered the wonderful sense of relief that she felt from that milky, sweet coffee earlier in the day. ‘Why not?’ she said.

He turned away to hide a slight smile as he poured a cup for her, then added milk and honey.

She drained the cup, marvelling at the way the liquid eased the last remaining vestiges of her headache. Then she yawned.

‘I think I’ll turn in.’

He nodded. He had turned his chair toward the open fire and he was staring into the twisting, writhing flames.

‘Night,’ he said.

She made her way to her room, yawning continuously. Her bed had never felt so welcoming.

It was well after midnight when she woke. The moon had slid across from one side of the cabin to the other, its light now slanting through the window in the opposite direction from where it had been when she fell asleep.

She wondered what had woken her. Something had intruded on her sleep, she was sure. She lay still, holding her breath for a few seconds. Then she heard it. The low murmur of voices.

She sat up, quietly laying the blankets to one side. One part of her mind registered the fact that the dull headache was finally gone. She looked at the gap under her bedroom door. There was no slit of light showing there. The lamps were obviously out in the living room, although she could make out a dull flicker thrown by the dying coals in the fire.

She turned her head and listened keenly. There it was again. Voices. Or, more correctly, one voice, pitched low and almost inaudible. If it hadn’t been for the silence of the early morning, she might never have heard it.

She rose and made her way to the door, easing it open. The hinges were well greased and made no sound – Rangers liked it that way. She smiled at how quietly she could move now. After months of training with Will, she had learned to step lightly, avoiding obstacles and learning where the floorboards that might give off a warning creak were to be found.

She stepped silently into the living room, then frowned as she saw that the front door to the cabin was open.

That was unusual. Will always made sure the door was locked from the inside when he retired for the night. Moving back into her bedroom, she reached to where her scabbard hung from a peg and silently drew her saxe from it. Then she made her way to the front door, avoiding the three loose floorboards that were set to create a loud screech of wood on wood and warn of any intruder.

The murmuring voice could be heard more clearly now. It seemed to be coming from the end of the porch – the spot Sable usually occupied. Maddie glanced cautiously around the open door, ready to recoil instantly if anyone was looking in her direction, careful not to touch the door itself. The bottom of the door dragged against the floorboards of the cabin. Originally, she had thought of this as sloppy workmanship, until Will explained that it was another alarm device, in case someone tried to enter. Unlike the interior doors, this one was designed to be noisy. To open the door silently, one had to lift it on its hinges.

Which was obviously what Will had done. She could see him sitting, with his back to her, on the edge of the porch. Sable was sitting beside him, leaning her warm body against his, her tail moving in slow sweeps on the porch floorboards as Will talked to her, pouring out his troubles.

‘. . . I miss her so much, girl. I wake up in the morning and think she’ll be there. Or walk into a room and expect to see her. Then I remember that she’s gone, and my heart wants to break all over again.’

He’s talking about Alyss, Maddie realised. Suddenly she felt like an intruder, listening in to Will’s private thoughts. She wanted to turn away and creep back to bed. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Curiosity got the better of her.

‘She was everything to me, girl. Everything.’

Sable’s tail swirled in a sympathetic thump against the boards. Will put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him, burying his face in the thick fur of her ruff.

‘Oh god how I miss her. It’s like there’s a huge hole in my life. But I can’t cry for her. I’ve never cried for her and that hurts so much. Why can’t I cry, Sable?’

Again, Sable twitched her heavy tail in understanding. Will fell silent for a minute or so.

‘Pauline says the pain will gradually grow less. It’ll be easier to bear. But when will that happen? It seems to be just as fresh, just as deep, every day that passes.’

Maddie, embarrassed by her eavesdropping, turned to move away. But Will’s next words stopped her.

‘Thank heavens for Maddie. At least she gives me something to take my mind away from the pain and the grief. She’s the one bright spot in my life.’

Me, she thought. I’m a bright spot in his life?

‘If she gets past this current nonsense and settles down, she could be an excellent Ranger. She’s smart. She thinks fast and she’s an excellent shot already – particularly with that sling of hers. She could open the way for a whole lot of
girls to follow her into the Corps. It’s a shame I’ve only got her for one year.’

Maddie shook her head in wonder. She had no idea that Will thought of her so highly. He had certainly given her no sign of it.

‘Well, it’s late, girl. I’m for bed. Thanks for listening.’

Maddie heard the heavy thump of Sable’s tail on the boards once more. Then she heard the scraping sounds of Will coming to his feet. Moving silently, she fled across the room to her door. She had it almost closed when she heard Will lifting the front door to re-enter the cabin. Then the soft
clack
as the latch closed. Faintly, she heard the
slither-thump
of Sable sliding her forefeet out before her as she slipped down to a lying position.

Maddie waited till Will had crossed to his own room. As he closed the door carefully, she matched his action, so that any slight sounds of her own door latch engaging would be covered by his.

She lay carefully on the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. It was a chilly night and she was cold all over. She shivered once, then relaxed. She lay for a long time with her eyes open, thinking over what she had heard.

Eventually, she went to sleep. But a firm resolve had formed in her mind. She would make amends for her behaviour with the three village teenagers. She would never let Will down like that again.

And she would regain his trust in her.

IN LATER YEARS
, Maddie often reflected on how the smallest event can have the most profound result. Four days had passed since she had woken with that blinding, nauseating hangover. Her young, fit body had expelled the poisons she had drunk on that dreadful night and now she was back to normal and ready for any activity.

Although she felt physically better, the memory of the hangover persisted, and she had vowed never to drink alcohol again.

She had apologised profusely to Will for the way she’d acted and he had nodded silently, accepting her words. But, like him, she knew that they were just words, and words were easy. Deeds were more difficult and she had resolved to show him how true and heartfelt her words of apology were. She applied herself to her training and her lessons with a new diligence.

He noted this, but said nothing. He would wait to see how long this new energy and application would last. It was early days yet.

They were finishing lunch one day when there was a knock at the cabin door. Several minutes before the knock, Tug and Bumper had both sounded an alert from the stable as they sensed someone approaching the cabin. Whether it was an enemy or not, they had no idea, so their warning was a neutral one. On the other hand, Sable was outside in her usual position at the end of the porch, and she had made no sound. That indicated to Will that whoever was approaching posed no danger.

He rose and moved to the door. At the last moment, he twitched his cloak aside to free the hilt of his saxe. Then he seized the latch left-handed and threw the door wide open. The movement was intentionally sudden, designed to give him an immediate view of the entire porch area – just in case someone was lurking to one side, out of sight. The animals may have detected no threat, but they were animals. They weren’t infallible.

On this occasion, however, they were proved correct. The person standing outside the door could hardly be described as threatening. He leapt back in surprise as the door flew open, startled by the unexpectedly sudden movement.

He was a small man, shorter than Will and painfully thin. His arms were like sticks, although there was sinewy muscle there. He obviously earned his living by hard labour. He was stoop-shouldered and his hair was beginning to recede from his forehead. His face was lined.
Maddie estimated his age at around sixty, and weathered by years of hard work in the outdoors – in rain, hail or shine. He wore a farmer’s smock – threadbare and patched in many places – and carried a shapeless felt hat in his hands.

‘What can I do for you?’ Will asked.

The man bobbed his head nervously. He had never been in such close proximity to a Ranger and he found the experience somewhat unsettling.

‘Aah . . . hmmm . . . sorry to trouble you, Ranger. Didn’t mean to disturb you or nothing . . .’ he said uncertainly.

Will decided not to reply with the obvious –
If you didn’t mean to disturb me, why did you knock on my door?
He felt that such a reply would confuse the man even further and make him more nervous than he already was.

‘Did you need help of some sort?’ Will asked.

The farmer considered the question, rotating his hat several times as he did so.

‘Name is Arnold, Ranger. Arnold Clum of Split Oak farm.’ He gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. ‘Off to the south there some ten kilometres.’

An impressive name for what was probably an unimpressive farm, judging by the state of Arnold’s clothes and his obviously meagre diet. Will realised that Arnold, like most countrymen, was going to take the long way round answering the question.

‘Been farming there most of my life,’ Arnold Clum continued, confirming Will’s suspicions about roundabout answers. ‘It’s not a big farm, mind you. Just a small holding. We grows a few vegetables – not too many. The soil is
rocky out there. And we keeps some sheep. Mostly though, we depend on the hens. The wife keeps them.’

Maddie had risen from the table and moved to stand slightly behind Will. Arnold Clum noticed her and bobbed his head, tugging at a nonexistent hat brim. The hat, after all, was in his other hand.

‘Afternoon, miss,’ he said politely. He stared at her, confused. She was dressed as a Ranger, but she was a girl. He found the two facts hard to reconcile.

‘Maddie is my apprentice,’ Will said, by way of explanation. ‘You can call her “Ranger Maddie”.’

‘Ah, yes, well . . . afternoon, Ranger Maddie,’ Arnold said.

Maddie smiled at him. She decided she liked being referred to as Ranger Maddie. She felt it gave her a certain cachet – although she wasn’t totally sure what cachet might be. It was a term she had heard used once and she thought it might have something to do with prestige.

‘We’ve got maybe twenty, thirty hens and one rooster,’ Arnold continued, focusing his attention back on Will. ‘Keeps us in eggs, of course, and from time to time we kill one for the pot. Nice to have a bit of meat from time to time,’ he added. Unconsciously, he licked his lips at the thought of a chicken going into the cook pot. His expression was so wistful that Will was willing to bet ‘from time to time’ was no more often than once a month.