While Angels Slept (30 page)

Gillywiss
stopped in his rummaging, ears poised and listening.  The voices were drawing
closer and without delay, he shoved Cantia’s items back in the bag far more
carelessly than he had the first time and cinched the bag up.  Then he kicked
it over against the wall and rushed to the door, opening it just as several
people came upon the cabin. 

Hunt heard the
loud voices and ran to his mother, who gathered him upon her lap and held him
tightly.  Cantia also made sure to position herself between Arabel and the
door, both hiding and protecting the girl. Gillywiss had the door wide-open as
the group approached.

“What is your
trouble?” Gillywiss boomed.

Men were
muttering and women seemed to be weeping. “Marna is having her child,” a woman
said fearfully. “It cannot be born without help. We must send for a physic.”

Gillywiss was
confused. “What do you mean it cannot be born without help?” he demanded,
looking to the group. “And where do all of you think to go? It looks like a
mob.”

“We were
collecting money to pay the physic,” one man said.

Gillywiss waved
at them irritably. “We cannot bring a physic here,” he snapped. “If we bring
someone from the outside into our lair, the authorities will know where we are.
All of you know this. There are many wanted men here, men who will not be
jeopardized. Do what can be done for Marna but there will be no physic.”

“But…!” a
woman’s voice pleaded.  “We cannot simply let her die. Marna and John have
waited for this son and…!”

“And they have
already lost three,” Gillywiss sounded angry and impatient with them. “This
child will be dead like the others.  Go back to your homes and let God’s will
be done.”

“She is your own
sister, for the love of God!”

“And she
understands that I cannot allow our people to be put in jeopardy for her sake.
Two lives are not worth many.”

“I will help
her.”

The soft voice
came from behind Gillywiss, inside the hut. Startled,  Gillywiss, as well as a
few of the people milling outside, turned to see Cantia moving forward in the
darkness.  Her lovely face was serious and calm.

“I will see what
I can do,” she said evenly. “I have helped birth many a child. Perhaps I can do
something.”

The women seemed
willing, the men hesitant.  Cantia’s gaze was unwavering upon Gillywiss as she
hoped he would allow her to help the woman and perhaps thereby gain even more
sympathy from the man in her quest to be released.  When she should have felt
guilty of her ulterior motives other than the milk of human kindness, she
couldn’t muster the will.  She was determined to do anything she could in order
to secure their release and this was a brilliant opportunity. 

“No,” Gillywiss
said flatly.

“Aye!” a pair of
women cried, moving for Cantia and reaching out to grasp her.  “Let the lady
help!” one of them wept.

The women had
Cantia by the wrist, pulling her from the hut.  Gillywiss started to protest
but he was drowned out as more women took up the cry and began parading Cantia
across the dark encampment, heading for a cluster of huts off to the northwest.
 Annoyed, he went in pursuit.

Cantia was most
interested to realize that the group of women had been able to override
Gillywiss’ wants.  She tucked that knowledge back in her memory, wondering if
she would have need of it at some point, as the women took her to a hut wedged
beneath a pair of big oaks.  The structure was made from rocks and sod, just
like the others in the clandestine village, and the door itself was very nice
and looked as if it might have been stolen from a manse or even a church.  It
had saints and gargoyles carved into it. Cantia was looking at the door
curiously when it abruptly opened.

More women were
inside the cramped hut, the smell of smoke and some kind of herb very heavy in
the air. It was dark and crowded inside, and Cantia suddenly felt a little
uncertain as someone gently pushed her inside.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good
idea after all.  But she heard groaning and struggled to adjust her eyes to the
dim light. On a pallet in one corner of the room, a heavy-set woman lay on her
back and moaned.  The sound was enough to drive the uncertainty out of Cantia.

Dropping to her
knees next to the miserable woman, she went to work.

***

“Hunt, you
must
,”
Arabel hissed. “No one is watching us right now.  You must escape and tell my
father where we are.”

Hunt was looking
at Arabel dubiously. “But I do not know where we are,” he said. “And what about
my mother?”

Arabel thought
quickly. Her mind was very cunning, like her father’s, as she tried to think of
a way out of their predicament.

“I would go if I
could,” she whispered. “But I cannot. You are our only hope, Hunt. Your mother
is in trouble and I fear what they will do to her.  Can you not see that?”

Hunt nodded
solemnly, fearfully. He was too young to fully grasp what kind of trouble his
mother was in, or they were in generally, but he knew the situation was bad. And
he was scared now that his mother had left them. Brow furrowed, he plopped next
to Arabel as she lay on the makeshift pallet of rushes and musty skins.

“What do I do?”
he asked. “How do I go home?”

Arabel put her
slender hand on his wrist. “Do you remember the night we were captured that the
moon was very bright?”

Hunt nodded. “It
was big, like a big white wheel of cheesth.”

Arabel smiled at
his lispy tongue. “Aye, it was,” she said. “When we left Rochester, the moon
was on our left, to the east. Do you remember that too?”  As Hunt nodded again,
she continued. “If you go outside now, the moon should be in the same place. It
is so bright that you will be able to see.  If the moon was on our left when we
headed away from Rochester, if you keep it on your right, you should be heading
back towards Rochester. Do you understand?”

Hunt’s face
scrunched up a bit as he thought on her words.  Arabel could see he didn’t quite
understand what she was saying so she rubbed her fingers in the dirt beneath
them and proceeded to smear it across Hunt’s left arm.

“That is your
left side,” she said. “You want the moon to be on the side that does not have
dirt smears on it.”

Hunt lifted both
arms, looking curiously at the dirt, until his face eventually washed with an
expression of understanding.  He grinned and slapped at his right arm.

“The moon thould
be over here,” he said happily.

Arabel nodded.
“Aye,” she was thrilled he was coming to understand.  But her excitement was
damped by the fact that a very young boy would be running off into the wilds in
an attempt to save them all, out into the wilderness where any number of things
could happen to him. It was a terrible gamble. “I am afraid for you all alone
in the woods, Hunt, but I fear we have no other choice. I think you are very
brave. I think you can save us all.”

Hunt wasn’t
particularly thinking about the danger. He was a little too young to completely
grasp the concept because in truth, he’d spent his entire life safely protected
at Rochester. Wandering the countryside had never been an option for him. But
he did like that Arabel had called him brave.

“Knights are
brave,” he said.

Arabel grinned.
“You are a very brave knight. Will you save us, Hunt?”

He nodded
firmly. “I wish I had my sword.”

Arabel looked
around their hut; there wasn’t anything she could see that remotely resembled a
weapon. 

“Perhaps a sword
would only slow you down,” she suggested, trying to discourage him from making
a weapon the focus of his mission. “If you do not have anything heavy to carry,
you can run swiftly, like the wind.  If you see trouble, then you will hide. A
sword would make it difficult to hide.”

It made no
sense, and it was somewhat a lie, but Hunt thought seriously on her statement.
Arabel was growing increasingly anxious for him to be on his way, terrified
with every moment that passed someone would appear and Hunt would be unable to
slip away.  Hunt didn’t seem to have the same sense of urgency that she did.
She grasped the young man by the hand and squeezed.

“You must go
now,” she insisted softly but firmly. “Leave this hut and run far away from
this camp until you see the moon, then keep it on your right side.  Keep
running, Hunt, until you come to a town or a church.  Ask the people there
where Rochester Castle is and ask for their help.  If you tell them my father
will reward them for helping you, it should make asking for assistance a simple
thing.”

Hunt pondered
her instructions, finally nodding his head and jumping to his feet.  He brushed
off his dirty knees.  As Arabel watched with anticipation, Hunt went to the hut
door and put his hand on the crude wooden latch; in fact, the entire door was
crude and not very well made, as if someone had pieced it together with scraps
of wood and branches. Dried grass or moss plugged up the holes.   Hunt pulled
at the moss, tossing it to the floor, until there was a big enough hole to look
through.  The child peered out into the darkness.

“It isth very
dark,” he turned to Arabel after a moment, his expression uncertain. “Where did
my mother go?”

Arabel could see
that he still didn’t completely grasp the situation and struggled not to become
short with him.  It was as if they kept back tracking on what she had explained
to him but then she had to remind herself that the child was only five years
old.

“I do not know,”
she said with strained patience. “That is why you must run, Hunt. You must find
help. I know you can do this. You are a very brave knight, are you not? Perhaps
my father will reward you with a real sword for your courage.”

Hunt was
intrigued with the thought. “Can I kill someone with it?”

“If you must.”

Hunt grinned.
“Then we can have a grand funeral,” he threw up his arms happily. Then the arms
came down and he cocked his head. “Are you sure he will give me a real sword?”

“I promise.”

Hunt believed
her. He had no reason not to, mostly because Tevin had already given him a new
sword so he knew the man was good for such a thing. Moreover, Arabel was sure
he could be brave and save them all, and that meant a good deal to his little
heart.  He wanted to save them.

Scooting to the
door, he peeked out of the hole he had made to see that the camp seemed to be
very quiet for the most part. With a glance at Arabel, who nodded her head
encouragingly, Hunt very carefully pulled open the door.  It was dark outside,
with trees  and bushes of matted foliage around them, but there were no people
at all.  He could see bonfires in the distance as people moved about and cooked
their evening meals, but there was no one in close proximity of their hut. It
appeared they had all headed off with his mother and Gillywiss. The vacancy of
the immediate area fed his bravery.

“I’m going,” he
hissed loudly at Arabel. “I will bring an army back.”

Arabel nodded
eagerly. “Remember to keep the moon on the side of your body that does not have
the dirt smears.  Run until you find someone who can take you to Rochester!”

Hunt just waved
her off and quit the hut, pulling the door shut behind him.  Arabel lay there,
listening to his soft footfalls fade off as the crunching of the earth and
grass grew faint.  Once the sounds had faded completely, Arabel felt rather
hollow and desolate. She wondered what she was going to tell Lady Penden when the
woman returned.  She wondered what would happen if they never saw Hunt again. 
He was a very little boy, now out in a very big and dangerous world.

Closing her
eyes, she wept and prayed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Simon and
John rode for the Dartford Crossing to carry the news of the new Earl of East
Anglia and to assess who currently had charge of the bridge, Tevin took a
rather large party towards Darland in search of Cantia, Hunt, and Arabel.

Myles rode with
him as the three hundred man army traveled south. He was originally supposed to
ride for the bridge but changed his mind; he thought he would be better served
riding with Tevin if for no other reason than to keep the man calm. Moreover,
Val had asked it of him and he would not disappoint her.

After making
arrangements for Geoff to be prepared and delivered to Rochester Cathedral, and
assembling the two separate armies, it was late afternoon by the time Tevin’s
party left Rochester and he was seriously edgy because of the delays. Fortunately,
the day was clear with scattered clouds, making their travel easy enough on the
rutted roads. Armed to the teeth, they were prepared for anything. Moreover,
Tevin had murder on his mind and the entire troop was aware of it. This was
more than a rescue; it was vengeance. Du Reims was out for blood.

As Val had told
them, approximately an hour south of Rochester saw them come across the bodies
of Dagan and Gavril. Gavril had a knife in his throat while Dagan had taken a
big arrow to the body.  Tevin stood over the man, gazing down at him, knowing
the arrow hadn’t killed him right away.  There was a huge amount of dark, gooey
blood underneath and around him, suggesting he had slowly bled to death.

Sickened,
terrified for Cantia and his daughter, Tevin struggled to keep a level head as
he had a few of his men take Dagan and Gavril back to Rochester.  Meanwhile, he
pushed himself to focus on finding whatever trail the attackers had left behind
because he found it easier to cope with his feelings if he focused on finding
any evidence of their departure.   Somewhere in this expanse of grass, weeds,
mud and trees had to be clues. He was determined to find them.

Eventually, he
had about a hundred of his men carefully combing the area for any signs of Cantia,
Arabel and Hunt.  Tevin, Myles, and the remainder of the army remained on the
road, studying it for hoof prints or any recognizable pattern, but eventually
realizing that it was a futile quest because the hard-packed road wasn’t easily
giving up its secrets. Whatever foot of hoof prints there had been had
dissolved or blown away long ago.