Stolen Child: The Janna Chronicles 2 Page 5

  “Stay where you are!” A triumphant cry punctured her confidence and set her heart leaping with fright. Her first thought was to hide, but even as she searched for cover, the forester sprang out onto the path to confront them. She stepped back, cannoning into Edwin. He shouldered her aside and, with one almighty shove, sent the forester staggering to the ground.

  “Run!” he shouted.

  At least we’ve had a chance to rest, Janna thought, as she sprinted beside him. She felt proud that she could keep pace with Edwin even though she was a girl, but she knew she would also tire more quickly. Still she ran valiantly, following the trail down through the trees, through gloomy shadows under leafy canopies where every bush and thicket seemed to conceal a threat to their safety, and through open weedy clearings where she felt even more vulnerable to the hunt.

  “Stop!” The cry sounded behind them. The forester was in pursuit once more. Janna forced her aching limbs to work harder, and sucked breath deep into her burning lungs. To be caught by the forester was bad enough. To be caught after striking him to the ground and running away would invite a punishment too dreadful to contemplate. Flight was the only answer, their only hope of salvation. Fear added a burst of speed to Janna’s feet.

  They ran on. Janna felt now as though she’d passed into a new dimension, a place where her body no longer seemed part of her consciousness. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths; her feet flashed briefly in front of her, left, right, left, right as they sped onward, but she felt nothing past the desperate need to escape. She sensed Edwin check slightly and matched her stride to his, looking past him to see for herself what had given him pause. Only a narrow fringe of forest separated them now from water meadows and a river lying ahead. Behind them, the forester kept shouting, but in front of them danger also lay, in the form of a mounted man. By the stillness of his stance, and the direction of his gaze, Janna understood that he’d already spied them and that trying to hide from him was futile. Nor could they turn back. And so they kept on running, while he spurred his horse to meet them. They came together at the edge of the forest.

  “What frightens you? What do you run from?” In spite of his handsome mount and the elegance of his tunic, the man spoke in the Saxon language. Janna found the courage to answer truthfully.

  “We’re running from the king’s forester.” She kept the sword hidden behind her back, knowing that the man would suspect the worst if he saw it. His expression hardened. Janna wondered if she’d misjudged him. The king’s forest laws were popular with no-one save those of his favorites who’d been granted hunting rights in the royal forests. The Saxons especially had reason to hate and resent the edict set in place by William the Bastard, who had conquered their country and killed their king. Forced off their own lands, forced to work for their hated enemies, thegns and villeins alike were also prevented by forest law from cutting wood to build their homes, or trapping wild creatures to fill their empty bellies. Was this man on their side, or was he only speaking their language?

  “Take shelter in there. Hurry!” The man pointed at a long, timbered shed nearby. It was so close to the forest edge that Janna hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Our thanks,” she breathed, even as Edwin pushed her toward it. The door had hardly closed behind them when they heard a cheerful shout.

  “Master Roger! What brings you through the forest in such a hurry?” This time, the man spoke the language of the Normans, but Janna had been taught to speak it by her mother and she understood his words. Edwin, however, tensed.

  “He’s trapped us here like rats, and now he’s going to hand us over to the forester,” he hissed into Janna’s ear.

  “No, he’s not. Shh. Let me listen.” Janna bent and put her ear close to a space in the wooden palings. She heard the jingle of the bridle as their rescuer dismounted to talk to the forester.

  “Where are they, Serlo? Two youths? You must have seen them.” The forester also spoke in Norman French now. His voice was rough with fatigue; he struggled to catch his breath. The chase had taken its toll.

  “I’ve seen no youths. Are you certain they came this way?”

  A short silence confirmed that the man’s shrewd question had hit home. Just as Janna eased a sigh of relief, the forester said petulantly, “They were following the trail through the forest. They must have run past you.”

  “Do you doubt my word?” Their rescuer sounded resentful.

  “No, not at all. I’m merely surprised you haven’t seen them.”

  “If they realized you were after them, mayhap they’re still hiding in the forest. Did you have them in your sights all the while?”

  “I did not.” The forester’s voice was sharp, accusing. “One of the ruffians struck me such a blow that I fell to the ground. By the time I got after them, they had disappeared from my view. I was sure they were coming this way and so I made haste to follow them even though I can scarce move from the pain of the attack.”

  Janna stiffened, sure that the forester’s lie would make their rescuer think twice about his chivalrous action. While Serlo might be prepared to save villeins fleeing from a harsh and unjust law, he wouldn’t harbor anyone who’d resort to violence to escape from a king’s man. She peered through the crack in time to see the forester rubbing his head, an aggrieved expression on his face. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited through a long silence as their rescuer weighed the pros and cons of confessing his lie or continuing to shelter a pair of dangerous villains.

  “What are they saying? Do you understand any of it?” Edwin whispered nervously.

  “Yes. Shh.” Janna clamped a hand over his mouth and leaned closer to the gap between the wooden stakes, straining to hear what else might be said.

  “…but if I see them, I’ll be sure to keep hold of them and send word to you.”

  Janna felt slightly cheered as she understood what Serlo was saying. He had hold of them already, but hadn’t spoken of them to the forester. That must mean he was prepared to let them go free, once the danger had passed. She released Edwin, and put her eye to the crack, trying to see what the forester would do next. Fear slammed into her with the force of a body blow as she found herself staring directly into his eyes. Had he seen her? Did he know someone was hiding inside the shed? She dare not blink lest she betray their presence.

  “What are you…?” Edwin subsided into silence as Janna gave him a hard jab in the ribs. Her eyes stayed fixed on the forester, who continued to stare at her. Moments passed. Hours. Months. Years.

  And then the forester turned to Serlo and asked, “What’s in the shed over there?”

  “Nothing now, Master Roger.” Their rescuer gave a shrug. “It’s a winter shelter for my sheep, to keep them out of snow and flood, but it’s not time for that now. See how well my flock is doing.” There was pride in Serlo’s voice as with one hand he grasped the forester and deftly turned him around, while with his other hand he indicated a distant flock of white-faced sheep grazing peacefully under the watchful eye of their shepherd. The generous sweep of his hand also encompassed the fields beyond the river: plowed earth lying fallow, golden barley and ripening wheat. “We shall have a goodly stock of wool to sell at the fair this year, and a bountiful harvest too if the weather stays kind.”

  Janna felt a great warmth toward him as she understood how successfully he’d managed to deflect the forester’s attention from the sheepfold and their suspected whereabouts. Serlo kept a grip on the forester’s arm and, still talking, led him away, following the green wall of trees at the edge of the forest.

  Once she judged they were safely out of earshot, Janna whispered an explanation of what had transpired to Edwin, including the forester’s version of how he was attacked.

  “I gave him a shove and he fell over,” Edwin protested. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just wanted to buy us some time.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t hurt him. There was no sign of any mark on him, but that didn’t stop him trying to make a greater cause against
us. Lucky for us, his ruse didn’t work.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Nothing, for the moment. I don’t know where Serlo’s taken the forester. They may still be close enough to see us if we leave. Besides, where would we go? We can’t cross the river in daylight, and we certainly can’t go back into the forest while the forester is still about. I think we should stay here until nightfall. We can make our escape as soon as it’s dark.”

  Edwin grunted uneasily. “Serlo? Is that his name? He thinks I hit the forester. He thinks we’re dangerous. He may want to hand us over to the shire reeve instead, and claim a reward for his trouble.” He shook his head. “I think we should go now.”

  “It’s not safe. At least, not yet. Let’s wait a while,” Janna insisted.

  Edwin huffed a sigh. “It’s all very well for you to say wait. You’re not the one on the run. You didn’t thump the forester. You’re not suspected of stealing a horse either.”

  “You can go if you want to, but I’m staying here.” Janna sat down. To underscore her intention, she shifted around so that her back rested against the timbered frame of the shed. She stretched out her legs in front of her, and closed her eyes. For safety, she casually folded her hands over her purse. If Edwin decided to make a move, it would not be with any of her belongings—at least, not without a fight.

  “You still don’t trust me, do you?” His voice was amused.

  Janna was embarrassed that he’d read her mind so easily. Or was it shame for doubting him? Uncertain now, she recalled how he’d taken her hand, matching his speed to hers as he pulled her along. He hadn’t run away to save himself. Instead, he’d helped her hide from the forester.

  “No, I don’t trust you,” she said truthfully, pushing aside her uneasy conscience.

  “I’ve already apologized for stealing your purse. It’s safer for both of us if we stay together, but we have to trust and even pretend to like each other if we want people to believe that we’re brothers.”

  “Stay together? I thought you were leaving right now?” Janna opened her eyes to study him.

  “No. Not yet. You’re right. It’s not safe. We’ll go as soon as it gets dark.” He stretched out beside her.

  “Go where? We still don’t know the way to Winchestre.”

  “Shh. I hear voices. I think they’re coming back.”

  The voices grew louder. Janna tensed, waiting for betrayal, but the voices passed, becoming softer until there was silence once more. Just as she started to relax, the door of the shed was flung open with a sudden crash. A tall figure blocked the light, and blocked all chance of their escape. It was the horseman, Serlo. They scrambled to their feet to face him.

  Serlo was in his mid-years; his freckled face was burnished red by the sun and topped with a shock of red hair. From his commanding air and confident speech, Janna guessed he must be the lord of this manor. A quick inspection confirmed her guess: his tunic was made of good linen and decorated with a border of embroidery. His boots, although mud spattered, were made of fine leather.

  “Now,” he said, “you’d better tell me what really happened in the forest.” He planted his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Tell me the truth, for you can be sure I’ll beat it out of you if I suspect either one of you is lying.”

  Janna was thankful then that she’d understood his conversation with the forester, and that she’d repeated it to Edwin. They might otherwise have tried to bluff their way out of trouble, and would have earned themselves a beating for it. But how much of the truth should they tell? She stole a quick glance at Edwin, then looked away. One of them had to say something. It had better be her, for Edwin had far too much to lose. She would speak for both of them—and in as low a voice as possible.

  “We thank you kindly, sire, for hiding us from the forester,” she began, thinking it wise to flatter their rescuer as well as show themselves humble and well-mannered, so that he might think twice before believing all that the forester had said of them. As an added precaution, she addressed him in the Saxon tongue, not wanting him to know that she’d heard, and understood, his conversation with the forester.

  Serlo grunted acknowledgment, all the while looking them over as if to assess their worth. He frowned as he took in Edwin’s damp and tattered appearance, his half-starved, wild air. His attention moved then to Janna. She quickly looked away, not wanting to show her full face to him lest she betray her real identity. Instead, she studied the earthen floor intently as she launched into explanation. “We are two brothers from beyond the Welsh Marches, sire, come to seek employment wherever we may find it.”

  Their rescuer eyed them suspiciously. “Has your lord given you permission to leave his manor?”

  “We—we are not tied to anyone, sire.” Janna’s thoughts raced as she tried to come up with something to satisfy the man’s curiosity. “Our father was Welsh, a craftsman, but he died when we were just babes. Our mother found a living…” Janna flushed as the man’s eyes glinted in anticipation, “…working in an alehouse.” If the man believed her mother was a whore, he might well think the daughter one too! Except she wasn’t a daughter, she reminded herself. “My name is John,” she said hastily, “and my brother is called Edwin.”

  “You do not speak like a Welshman, John.”

  Janna felt a flash of triumph that he’d not seen through her disguise. “Our mother was of Saxon stock, sire, and often told us stories of her home near Winchestre, and of the kin she’d left behind. Now that she has died we come hoping to find some of them still living thereabouts, but we must find work along the way to support us while we search.”

  She was rewarded by the brief flash of sympathy in his eyes. But he was not yet done with them. “One of you struck the forester. Which of you was it?”

  Janna glanced at Edwin. As she opened her mouth to defend him, he said, “It was me, my lord. I gave the forester a hard push, to give us time to get away from him. He fell to his knees, but I swear to you that I did not hurt him. I did not strike him either.”

  “I should hand you over to the shire reeve for such an act.” Yet a faint smile curled Serlo’s lips.

  Emboldened, Janna asked, “Will you allow us to leave now, sire? If the forester is gone and it is safe?”

  “No.” The smile grew broader as the man shook his head.

  “No?” Janna’s voice skidded dangerously high. Sweat dampened her palms. Did he mean, after all, to give them over to the shire reeve for punishment?

  “There is much to be done on the manor, and I am short of labor, especially as half the villeins are struck down with some poxy disease. You may stay a while, and repay your debt to me by doing their work for them.” Serlo was no longer smiling. Janna knew that even though his words were couched as an offer, he expected to be obeyed. She glanced at Edwin, uncertain what to say or do. To her surprise, he nodded acceptance.

  “Good,” the man said briskly. “My name is Serlo. I am the reeve of this manor.” Janna felt a moment’s surprise that she’d so misjudged his position here. But Serlo was still speaking. “You will follow my commands and work in return for your bread and lodging until I no longer have need of you. Do not cross me for I will raise the hue and cry should you try to leave.”

  Janna’s heart sank. She fingered the shape of the small figurine in her purse, the mother hunched so protectively over her child. It gave her the courage to ask a question. “How long will you keep us here, Master Serlo?”

  “What does it matter? You said you were in search of work. I am offering it.”

  Janna wondered how to convey to him the urgency of her quest to find her father, without giving too much away. As she struggled to find the words, Edwin forestalled her.

  “We are grateful for your kindness, Master Serlo. Be sure that we will repay our debt to you in full.”

  “Come with me.” Mounting his horse, Serlo beckoned them to follow. Janna cast a glance at the sword she’d salvaged from the pond, now lying half hidden behind a ro
ugh wooden feed trough. Edwin caught her glance and shook his head. He started off after Serlo. Janna quickly stowed the sword out of sight, along with Edwin’s jug and pot, and scurried after the pair. Serlo had said that the shed stood empty through the summer. The sword should be safe enough for the moment, but she would come back for it once they were given permission to leave.

  It was a long walk over the marshy ground of the water meadows. Mud and dung stuck to Janna’s boots and she wished she had a pair of wooden pattens to protect them from the muck. Serlo led them across the ford and up to the manor house. He bade them wait while he entered the yard and dismounted to fetch some implements. To Janna he handed a heavy wooden mallet; to Edwin, two pairs of long-handled sticks, each pair comprising one stick with a Y-fork, and with a small sickle blade on the other. Once more he mounted, and walked them on and up into the fields beyond. Some of the plowed fallow land was studded with fat horned sheep and their long-tailed lambs. They nibbled at new shoots of weeds and grass, and dropped the dung that would be spread out to make the soil more fertile for the next cycle of planting. The earth was dark, marked with patches of white chalk and studded with flints that glinted in the watery sunlight. Scarlet poppies turned their faces to the sky, bright splashes of color among the green wheat growing nearby. Looking more closely, Janna could also see an abundance of prickly purple thistles, red deadnettles, charlock, dock and hairy pink corncockle. The flowers made a pretty picture, but Janna knew they would spread and choke the wheat if left unchecked.

  Weeding fields and spreading dung was back-breaking work. It was normally done by the villeins of the manor in return for a small plot of land and shelter for their families, yet these fields seemed almost deserted. She wondered how Serlo could be so careless with his lord’s property, and why his lord let him get away with it. Then she remembered the disease Serlo had mentioned, and understood why the reeve was forcing their service to his cause. She became aware that he was talking to them, throwing words carelessly over his shoulder as he rode along. She hurried to catch up with him and Edwin. To her dismay, the reeve’s words confirmed her fears.