Kate SEDLEY - The Holy Innocents

Grizelda nodded slowly. ‘Félice was not only a companion, but also a source of livelihood. I was able to sell her eggs in Totnes market and the scrapings from the coop to the washerwomen of the town for bleach. Bird droppings help make an excellent lye, as you probably know.’ Her worried gaze met mine, and she shivered. ‘I can’t believe those devils were here, prowling around my cottage, while I slept in ignorance inside. It makes my flesh crawl to think of it.’

I hesitated, unwilling to commit myself, but at the same time racked with guilt at the thought of her sleeping here alone. Having once stumbled upon her holding, it was probable that the outlaws would return to steal the cow and pig they had been forced to leave behind. Reluctantly, I said, ‘I propose selling my wares in Totnes today, but I can return at sundown, should you wish it. If you can provide me with bracken and a blanket, I shall be comfortable on the floor. It’s what I’m used to.’

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she touched me fleetingly on the arm. ‘You’re very kind, Master Chapman, but I have no need to impose upon you. I have a friend in Ashprington. She and her goodman will give me and the animals shelter if I ask it.’

I breathed a silent sigh of relief, then caught the mocking look of understanding in those deep brown eyes. Flushing slightly, I urged, ‘Let me beg you to do so, for tonight at least, and for some nights to come, if they can shelter you.’

‘I shall visit my friend as soon as you have left. Now, let me get you your breakfast. We have the last eggs Félice laid before she was taken.’ Her voice trembled, and she turned abruptly on her heel, moving in the direction of the cottage.

I was about to follow her, but suddenly stood rooted to the spot. Had I been a dog, my hackles would have risen.

Grizelda, pausing to look over her shoulder, called, ‘What’s the matter?’ When I did not reply, she retraced her steps a little. ‘What is it?’ she insisted.

For answer, I shook my head, waving her to silence and scanning the encircling trees, but, except for the distant drilling of a woodpecker, all was still and silent. Cautiously, I advanced to the edge of that pillared darkness and padded between the ivy-covered trunks, some with yawning holes wide enough for owls to nest in… Then, from the corner of one eye, I detected a flash of movement and spun about to meet it, cursing that I did not have my cudgel with me. It was in the cottage, where I had abandoned it when Grizelda and I went out to inspect the hen-coop.

The scarecrow figure who came at me had a knife. I saw the bright flash of the blade as he raised it, ready to strike.

Grizelda, who had come running, screamed at the sight of it, fortunately deflecting my adversary’s attention and giving me that necessary moment’s grace in which to grab his wrist in a crushing grip, before twisting his arm up behind him. The man yelped with pain and dropped his knife from fingers which suddenly had no feeling. I let him go, stooping quickly to obtain possession of the weapon before he could retrieve it. Then, while he was still nursing his injured wrist, I put one arm in a stranglehold about his neck, pinioning him with the other clasped around his body.

‘Run back to the cottage and get something to tie him up with,’ I commanded Grizelda.

She did not move, however. ‘I know this man,’ she said. ‘He’s not one of the outlaws, if that is what you’re thinking. His name is Innes Woodsman, and he’s slept rough in the woods around here for a number of years. When my father was alive, he did occasional jobs about the holding for his meals and shelter in the wintertime. Let him go, Chapman. He’s harmless.’

‘No man is harmless who carries a knife such as this.’ And with a jerk of my head, I indicated the wicked-looking blade which I had tucked into my belt.

Grizelda raised a determined chin. ‘All the same, I owe him a favour. I should be grateful if you would turn him loose and say nothing to anyone of this incident.’ She added a shade defiantly, ‘To please me.’

I released my prisoner with great reluctance. ‘Very well, to please you,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m keeping the knife. He’s too ready to use it on strangers.’

Innes Woodsman spoke abruptly, in a vicious, rasping voice. ‘It’s my hunting knife. I need it for killing rabbits and the like.’

I eyed him with abhorrence. The strong sense of evil, which had alerted me to his presence, remained with me and refused to be shaken off.

‘If it’s a hunting knife, why did you try to kill me with it?’

The narrow, weather-beaten face took on a shifty look and he made no answer.

Grizelda said quietly, ‘He probably thought it was me. Oh, he wouldn’t really have harmed me,’ she added swiftly, in explanation. ‘He intended giving me a fright, that’s all. He bears me a grudge.’

I was appalled. ‘And you’re willing to let him go? The rogue should be handed over to the Sheriff and clapped in gaol.’

‘No,’ she answered firmly. ‘He has some reason for his resentment. It would be unjust to imprison him.’ She looked straitly at the woodsman. ‘This is your last chance for clemency, Innes. My patience is wearing thin. If you don’t go away from here and leave me alone, I shall take Master Chapman’s advice and lay a complaint against you.’ She tilted her head to one side and, as a shaft of sunlight struck between the branches of the trees, I saw something which, surprisingly, I had not noticed before, the faint, white puckering of a longhealed scar, running from her right eyebrow halfway down her cheek. She went on, ‘I suppose it wasn’t you who stole my hen, Félice?’

Innes Woodsman spat viciously. ‘I wouldn’t touch that scrawny bird if you paid me.’

Grizelda nodded. ‘Very well, I believe you. But remember what I’ve said and go away from here or I’ll carry out my threat. I mean it.’

‘I’m not going without my knife,’ he answered sullenly.

She turned to me. ‘Give it to him, please, Chapman. He needs it to survive.’ I complied, but with the greatest misgivings. She smiled her thanks and, when the man had sloped out of sight amongst the trees, took my arm and squeezed it.

‘Now, let’s return to the cottage and I’ll cook you those eggs.’

I cleared my plate and scraped up the remains with a crust of black bread. The eggs, beaten and thickened over the fire, had tasted delicious, flavoured with the fat from a small lump of bacon. Grizelda, seated beside me on a bench I had dragged up to the table, pushed a plate of oatcakes and a crock of honey towards me.

‘Now that you’ve blunted the edge of your appetite, let me ask you a question. How did you know that Innes was there, in the woods? I’m sure you could neither have heard nor seen him from where you were standing, alongside the coop.’

I spread honey, thick and golden, on an oatcake and bit into it before replying. ‘I… I had a sensation of evil somewhere close at hand.’

I half expected her to eye me askance, but she didn’t. ‘You have the sight?’ she asked me.

I took another bite of oatcake, wiping the honey from my chin with the back of my hand, and glanced furtively towards the open doorway, as though I were afraid someone might be outside, listening. I lowered my voice.

‘Not truly, no, but now and then, I have dreams, and, on occasions such as this morning, a sense of being threatened. You don’t find that… heretical?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t have the gift myself, but my mother did, a little. She kept it a secret from everyone but me, for fear that she might be branded a witch.’ There was silence for a moment or two while I munched my way through yet another oatcake.