Joseph Delaney - The Spook’s nightmare

It suddenly began to drizzle and my master quickly seized the Bestiary from me, closed it and put it in his bag, out of harm’s way. It was his last book and he didn’t want it damaged any further.

‘What are the islanders like?’ I asked.

‘They’re a proud, stubborn people. They’re warlike too, with a strong force of paid conscripts called “yeomen”. But a small island like that would have no chance if the enemy looked beyond the County and chose to invade.’

‘The islanders ain’t going to welcome us, are they?’ Alice said.

The Spook nodded thoughtfully. ‘You could be right, girl. Refugees are rarely welcome anywhere. It just means extra mouths to feed. And a lot of folks will have fled the County and headed for Mona. There’s Ireland further to the west, but it’s a much longer journey and I’d prefer to stay as close to home as possible. If things are difficult, we could always head west later.’

As we approached the island, the waves became less choppy, but the drizzle was heavier now, and blowing straight into our faces. The weather and the green rolling hills ahead reminded me of the County. It was almost like coming home.

The fisherman put us ashore on the south-east of the island, tying his boat briefly to a wooden jetty that jutted out over a rocky shore. The three dogs leaped off the boat in turn, happy to be back on dry land, but we followed more slowly, our joints stiff after being confined in the boat for so long. It was just minutes before the fisherman put out to sea again. Silent and grim on the voyage across, now he was almost smiling. His debt to the Spook was paid and he was glad to see the back of us.

At the end of the jetty we saw four local fishermen sitting under a wooden shelter mending their nets; they watched us draw near with narrowed hostile eyes. My master was in the lead, his hood up against the rain, and he nodded in their direction. He got just one response: three of the men kept their eyes averted and continued with their work; the fourth spat onto the shingle.

‘Right, wasn’t I? We ain’t welcome here, Tom,’ Alice said. ‘Should have sailed further west to Ireland!’

‘Well, we’re here now, Alice, and we’ll just have to make the best of it,’ I told her.

We advanced up the beach until we came to a narrow muddy path, which ran uphill between a dozen small thatched cottages, then disappeared into a wood. As we passed the last doorway, a man came down out of the trees and barred our path. He was carrying a stout wooden cudgel. Claw bounded forward and growled at the stranger threateningly, her black fur bristling.

‘Call the dog back, lad. I’ll deal with this!’ the Spook shouted over his shoulder.

‘Claw! Here – good girl!’ I called, and reluctantly she came back to my side. I knew that even by herself, she was well able to deal with a man carrying only a club for a weapon.

The stranger had a tanned weather-beaten face and, despite the chilly damp, had his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He was thick-set and muscular, with an edge of authority about him, and I didn’t think he was a fisherman. And then I saw that he was actually wearing a military uniform: a tight brown leather jerkin with a symbol on the shoulder – three running legs in a circle; legs that wore armour. Under it was a Latin inscription: QUOCUNQUE JECERIS SABIT. I suspected that he was one of the island’s yeomen.

‘You’re not welcome here!’ he told the Spook with a hostile glare, raising his club threateningly. ‘You should have stayed in your own land. We’ve enough mouths of our own to feed!’

‘We’d little choice but to leave it,’ said the Spook mildly. ‘Enemy soldiers burned my house and we were in peril of our lives. All we ask is to stay here for a short while until it’s safe to return. We come prepared to work and earn our keep as best we can.’

The man lowered his club and nodded. ‘You’ll work all right, if you’re given the chance – just as hard as all the others. So far, most seeking refuge from the County have been coming ashore at Douglas, to the north. But we knew some would try to sneak in like you lot, so we’ve been keeping watch,’ he said, looking first at the Spook and then at me. I saw him note our distinctive hooded cloaks, then our staffs and bags. Even those on Mona would recognize the garb and accessories of our trade.

Next he studied Alice, looking down at her pointy shoes, and I saw his eyes widen. He quickly crossed himself. ‘What’s a spook doing in the company of a witch?’ he demanded.

‘The girl’s no witch,’ the Spook replied calmly. ‘She’s been working for me copying books. And this is my apprentice, Tom Ward.’

‘Well, he won’t be your apprentice while he’s here with us, old man. We’ve no call for those of your trade and have our own ways of dealing with witches. Once sorted, those chosen will all work on the land. It’s food we need, not your hocus-pocus.’

‘Sorted?’ asked the Spook. ‘Explain what you mean by that!’

‘We didn’t ask you to come here,’ growled the yeoman, lifting his club again. ‘The lad’s young and strong, and will certainly be put to work. But some go back into the sea – and we might have different remedies for others…’ His gaze fell on Alice.

I didn’t like the sound of that, so I stepped forward to stand beside my master.

‘What do you mean by “back into the sea”?’ I demanded.

The Spook rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘Take it easy, lad. I think we both know what he means.’

‘Aye – those who can’t work are food for the fishes. Old men like you. And as for witches,’ the yeoman said, scowling at Alice, ‘you’re not the first to have tried to sneak ashore this past week. You’ll all get what’s coming to you. We have our own way of dealing with your kind!’

‘I think we’ve heard enough,’ said the Spook, rain dripping off the end of his nose. He lifted his staff and held it across his body in the defensive position. The man gave a mirthless grin and stepped forward aggressively.

Everything happened very fast then. The stranger swung his club at my master’s head, but it didn’t make contact. The ‘old man’ was no longer there. The Spook stepped to one side and delivered two rapid blows. The first cracked his assailant on the wrist to send the club spinning from his hand and a cry of pain bursting from his lips. The second thwacked him hard on the side of the head to drop him unconscious at our feet.

‘Not exactly the best of starts, lad!’ said my master, shaking his head.

I looked back. The four fishermen had come out of their shelter and were staring at us. The Spook followed my gaze, then pointed up the hill. ‘Best we put some distance between ourselves and the shore,’ he said immediately, striding out at a furious pace that had Alice and me struggling to keep up.

We climbed up through the trees, the Spook some distance ahead.

For the next half-hour or so my master did his best to take a route that would throw any trackers, even hounds, off our trail. We walked up to our knees in two different streams, once leaving by a different bank, the next time by the same. When he was finally satisfied, the Spook led us northwards at a slower pace.

‘We’d have been better off taking our chances in the County,’ Alice remarked. ‘Don’t care how many streams we cross, they’ll hunt us down now for sure. Soon find us on an island this size.’

‘I don’t think Mona’s that small, Alice. There’ll be plenty of places to hide,’ I told her. I hoped I was right.

The Spook had reached the summit of a hill and was staring off into the distance.

‘Think they’ll make a serious effort to find us?’ I asked him, catching up at last.