Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger (32 page)

‘There’s no more work, so there’s no reason to stay. I’ll see what I can find out about this story man tonight. But unless there’s something important comes up, we’ll move on to the next village.’

Maddie nodded. She cocked her head. In the near distance, she could hear the rush and gurgle of the river. When they had first arrived, it had seemed so cheerful and friendly, she thought. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

‘I won’t be sorry to go,’ she said.

Later that night, nursing a tankard of small ale, on the pretext of having a nightcap before going to sleep, Will broached the subject with Danvers.

‘Do you have a spinner living in the village?’ he asked, trying to sound casual.

Danvers shook his head. ‘Village isn’t big enough to support one,’ he said. ‘From time to time we get itinerants passing through. As a –’ He was about to add something but, at that moment, a rowdy group of ploughmen called loudly for more ale. He shrugged apologetically and moved away. He was caught up serving for some time and Will finally finished his drink. He had no further reason to stay in the bar, so he quietly left, heading for bed.

He wondered briefly what the innkeeper had been about to say, but decided it was probably unimportant. The important question had been answered. There was no local storyteller.

ESSELDON WASN’T QUITE
as big as Danvers Crossing. It wasn’t situated on a river, so there was no flour mill, and none of the associated buildings and services, such as storage silos and sack makers. Nor, of course, was there a ferry service.

But it was a pleasant little village, built along the usual lines, with one main street, and houses and businesses ranged along either side. At the far end of the village, at the crest of a small hill, stood the ever-present inn. No matter how small a settlement might be, there was always a place where the locals could gather to relax and to eat and drink. And accommodation where travellers could spend the night.

As before, Will asked for, and obtained, permission to sleep in the inn’s stable. He had been well paid by Rob Danvers, and with the money he’d earned, he could have afforded a room at the inn. But he was maintaining the character of a wandering labourer. Such a man wouldn’t
waste valuable coins on fancy accommodation. A roof over the head and clean straw to bed down on were enough for such people.

When it came to work, however, the news wasn’t good. Jerome, the innkeeper, shook his head dubiously when Will raised the subject.

‘No farm work,’ he said. ‘The harvests are over so there’s no work in the fields now for a few months. And if there’s any repair work to be done, most farmers do it themselves. As do I. You can ask around, of course, but don’t expect too much.’

Will nodded glumly. ‘Thought as much,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll spend maybe a day or two and see what’s on offer. Best get our things into the stable.’

He seized the handles of the handcart and put his weight to it, wheeling it into the stableyard, then into the small stable itself. He looked around, pointing to a pile of fresh straw in a bin.

‘Let’s get some of that spread out so we can sleep on it,’ he said.

Maddie found a wooden pitchfork and began to heave bundles of straw onto a dry portion of the hard earth floor, working so enthusiastically that a cloud of fine straw particles rose in the air, visible in the beams of sunlight that made their way through gaps in the stable wall. Aside from one elderly draught horse, the stable was unoccupied. After she had moved a suitable amount of straw, and sneezed several times in the process, Will took the pitchfork from her hand. It was midafternoon. By now, if Esseldon was like most villages, the local children would have been released from their chores and be relaxing in the
few hours of spare time they’d have before their evening tasks had to be done.

Of course, in a village as small as this, there was no school. If the children had any formal instruction, it came from their parents. In most cases, that meant they had little formal learning. The ability to read and write was rare.

‘Why don’t you head out and get to know the local kids?’ he suggested.

She dusted herself off, went to sneeze, then suppressed the urge with a forefinger pressed up under her nose.

‘Should I ask about Maurice Spoker?’ she asked. Maurice Spoker was the Esseldon boy mentioned in Liam’s notes. Will considered this for a few seconds, then shook his head.

‘Not right away. You can always do that tomorrow. Use the same story – that I’d heard about his disappearance in the tavern and warned you to be careful. For the moment, see if there’s been any sign of a storyteller here in Esseldon.’

He frowned. There obviously had been a spinner in Danvers Crossing. The children had mentioned him, after all. And as Maddie told it, he seemed to make them nervous. It was odd that Danvers knew nothing about him. Then a thought struck him. He had asked if there was a spinner living in Danvers Crossing. Perhaps the story man was an itinerant. Maybe that was what Rob Danvers had been about to say when he had been interrupted.

‘In the meantime, I’ll do the rounds of the houses in the village, seeing if there’s any work to be had.’ He paused, looking at his bandaged left hand, which he had gouged
painfully when a chisel slipped the day before. ‘With any luck, there won’t be any.’

Maddie nodded and headed out the stable door. She assumed that there would be a place where the local children gathered – the common or the village green, perhaps. She found that the latter was the favoured place. It was an open, grassy space set in the middle of the village, where any resident could graze cows or sheep or run hens or ducks. There was a pond in the middle that was used for watering the animals.

As she approached, she could see half a dozen young people on the grass. One of them stood up as she came nearer, drew back his arm and threw a rock into the pond.

Maddie watched as it splashed into the water. There was a small wooden raft drifting on the pond’s surface. It was obviously the target he had aimed at. The others jeered or cheered as his throw missed by a metre. He grinned and sat down. Another boy stood in his place, viewed the floating target carefully while he weighed a rock in his hand, then drew back his arm and threw.

His cast went well wide of the target and again a chorus of jeers rose from the others. He glanced back and saw Maddie approaching. He said something to the other children and they all turned to look at her. She waved shyly and sat on the grass about five metres away from them, drawing her knees up.

The group decided that there was no further purpose in staring at Maddie and went back to what they had been doing. Obviously, there was a contest going on among the four boys in the group. A younger boy stood now and
threw in his turn. His stone raised a splash a few centimetres from the target, setting it rocking. The two girls cheered. The other boys glared at him. The fourth boy stood and threw, but he was in too much of a hurry. His stone landed short, skipped once, then sank. The younger boy laughed.

Maddie was idly fingering her sling, which she wore tied around her waist. She looked around and saw several smooth stones in the grass beside her. Picking two up, she rose and walked closer to the group, as the first boy stood to throw again. His throw was closer this time, and again, the target was set rocking. He became conscious that Maddie was standing close by and looked at her curiously.

‘Good shot,’ she said, pointing to the target, bobbing up and down in the centre of a widening circle of ripples. ‘Can I have a go?’

‘Girls can’t throw,’ he said. He didn’t say it in a scornful or derogatory way. It was a simple statement of fact as he saw it.

Maddie smiled. ‘I’m a girl. And I can throw.’

She had the attention of the entire group now. One of the other boys shook his head, a tolerant smile on his face. The two girls, she saw, were quite interested in her assertion. They didn’t look as if they believed her, but they were willing to see her try, hopeful that she might live up to her claim.

‘Let her have a go, David,’ one of the girls said.

The boy looked at her, then back at Maddie, and shrugged, standing aside.

‘Why not? But it’ll cost you two pennigs to compete. First one to hit the target wins it all.’

She continued to smile at him while she reached into her belt purse and produced two small copper coins. She handed them to him.

‘You’ll be sorry to lose them, I’m sure.’ The boy smiled.

Maddie shook out the sling and set a stone into the pouch. She stepped forward quickly, before anyone could see exactly what she was doing. She set her left foot forward, letting the sling hang down at the end of her extended right arm, then swung it up and over as she stepped into the shot. The rock whizzed away with enormous speed.

The water around the float erupted as the rock smashed into it, sending splinters of wood and a large water spout into the air.

The village children sprang to their feet, amazed at the power and accuracy that Maddie had just shown. The youngest boy, whose throw had been the closest to the target so far, was wide eyed as he looked at the smashed float. Then he noticed the sling dangling from Maddie’s right hand.

‘What’s that?’ he said. She held the sling up for them to see.

‘It’s a sling,’ she said. She smiled at them. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t take your money. I had an unfair advantage.’

David stepped closer, frowning as he held out a hand for the sling. She passed it to him.

‘It’s just a few pieces of cord and a leather pouch,’ he said.

‘Yes. But it gives you a lot of extra power when you throw. Do you want to try it?’

He nodded and she showed him how to load a stone into the pouch, then stand side on, with his right arm stretched back and the sling hanging down behind him.

‘Let it swing back and forth a few times to get the feel,’ she said. ‘Then whip it up and over and, when it’s pointing at the target, release the end.’

His first few attempts were wildly inaccurate, as he released either too early or too late. The stones flew high into the air above them, or splashed wildly into the pond a few metres from the bank. But gradually, he began to get the hang of it.

‘Try to feel as if your forefinger is pointing at the target as you release,’ Maddie told him. He did so and sent a stone whizzing through the air, raising a large fountain of spray to the left of the remnants of the little raft. He turned to her with a delighted smile.

‘This is terrific!’ he said.

‘With a bit of practice, you’ll start hitting what you’re aiming at,’ she told him. Instantly, the young boy who had thrown closest to the raft reached out for the sling.

‘Let me try!’ he said. Maddie coached him in the correct technique and he let fly. His cast was better than David’s first attempts. He threw another three stones. Two of them slammed into the water close to the shattered target. On the third, he became over eager and swung too hard. As a result, he released late and the stone thudded into the ground, short of the edge of the pond.

Maddie looked at the girls. ‘Do you want to try it?’

They looked at each other hesitantly. ‘Can girls do it?’ one asked.

David jerked his thumb at Maddie. ‘Well, she’s a girl and she can do it all right!’ He grinned. So the two girls, Eve and Joscelyn, took their turn with the sling. Eve quickly grasped the principles and was soon hurling stones
with considerable power and accuracy. Joscelyn wasn’t as quick to pick it up, but she managed several reasonable throws. All of the children were fascinated by the simplicity of the weapon – and the power they could achieve when they cast.

‘We could hunt with this,’ David said, admiring the sling before handing it back to Maddie.

She nodded. ‘Yes. You can easily take rabbits and birds with a sling.’ She looked around at them. ‘Tell you what, let’s meet again tomorrow and I’ll show you how to make one. Just bring some leather thongs and a scrap of leather for the pouch.’

There was a general chorus of excitement and agreement. Maddie put the sling away and they sat on the grass in a companionable group.

That’s it, she thought. They’ve accepted me. She stretched her arms over her head and let her gaze wander round the picturesque little village.

‘So, what do you do for entertainment here?’ she asked.

David shook his head and the others mumbled incoherently. Obviously, life in Esseldon wasn’t overly exciting.

‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘Nothing happens here.’

‘Oh. That’s a shame. So you don’t have a story man or anything like that?’ she said casually. In spite of her apparent nonchalance, she was watching them closely and she saw the startled reaction that galvanised the group. They looked at one another, then at her. There was a sudden start of fear in their eyes.

‘What do you mean – a story man?’ Joscelyn asked.

David shot a glance at her, too late to stop her asking.

Maddie shrugged. ‘You know: a spinner. Someone who tells ghost stories at night round the fire.’

There was a long silence. The discomfort among the other children was almost palpable. She continued, maintaining her innocent air.