Arcadia (45 page)

Maybe it was all a fantasy. No one else was behaving any differently. Callan was whistling, Kate was busy stirring a pot, her hair now held up with a short length of vine so it would not fall into her eyes. He got up cautiously. They both greeted him. Nothing in their words or expressions suggested anything amiss.

As they ate, Callan laid out the plan for the day. Make the fire, stack more wood, walk halfway back to Willdon, stopping to mend a bridge over the river which was in poor repair. Then one more night in the forest.

Work began; Kate prepared the sticks, he and Callan stacked them in triangles, about three feet high, then stacked longer ones around and on top, leaving only a small hole for the smoke to escape. Next the wooden structure was packed with leaves and turf to make it airtight, and finally covered with earth. Once this
was done, they were ready to drop the burning embers of the fire into the hole to set the structure alight, and finally seal it so that it would burn slowly, combusting the wood but not consuming it. That was the tricky part, which needed the charcoal burner’s skill.

The memory of his young days spent sitting all night with his uncle in the woods near his village made Jay forget more recent events. He lost himself in the work and was pleased to see how much he remembered, cutting short logs and sticks so they fitted perfectly, sealing the structure and making sure as much wood as possible would be burned.

Only towards the end did he get a reminder. They were nearly ready for the embers when Callan stood up and stretched himself.

‘That was a good morning’s work, young student,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised.’

Jay smiled.

‘She is good as well. I thought she’d just go through the motions, but she’s worked hard and well. Look at her! She even looks like a farmer’s girl now. If I could have her for a few months I’d turn her into a proper forester.’

‘I think she’s enjoyed herself. It must be oppressive, being so powerful.’

‘Well, maybe, but she’ll go back to her real life quick enough, I think.’

Jay knew instantly what was passing through the soldier’s mind.

‘When she does, everything else will go back to normal as well. You know that, don’t you, young Jay?’ He smiled in a kindly way.

Then he sank to his knees, a surprised look on his face, and pitched over onto the grass.

Jay backed away in horror as he saw the thick arrow that had gone straight through Callan and out the other side. The blood was already flowing copiously from both wounds, and he was transfixed by the sight until he heard a scream from the woods. It was Kate, who was struggling with two men who had grabbed
her. Ignoring all danger, she shook off her attackers and hurried towards Callan, going down on her knees to examine the damage. Stony-faced with fury, she stood to face the three men who came running up, swords and bows at the ready.

‘What have you done?’ she spat. ‘Why did you do that? Fetch me some water, quickly.’

They slowed as she spoke but did not seem inclined to heed her words until one man – tall and massive, who looked as though he could pick her up with one hand – grunted. ‘Do as she says,’ he said in a thick, almost incomprehensible voice. ‘Find me something to use as a bandage.’

He glared at one man in particular, who was carrying a bow.

‘You. Go back to the camp. I don’t need you here. You’ve done enough harm.’

The huge man sank down beside the twitching, moaning form of Callan and bent over him. ‘You’ve been injured. I’m going to have to take the arrow out, otherwise you’ll die. Do you understand? It’ll hurt, but I know what I’m doing.’

Callan nodded, his teeth gritted in pain. The man bent over once more and, with great force, took the arrow in both hands and snapped off the head as easily as Jay would have snapped a twig. Then, holding him with astonishing gentleness, he rolled him over. ‘Pull out the arrow,’ he said gently. ‘Can you do that?’

Kate bit her lip with nervousness. ‘One swift pull, evenly and straight. It’s the only way. Are you ready?’

She prepared herself, taking hold of the arrow with both hands, closed her eyes and, with a mighty tug, pulled. It came out in one go, and Callan’s screams echoed through the forest, making the birds fly off in fright.

‘Do you know how to bind wounds?’

She nodded silently.

‘Then I will hold him still. Bathe the openings with cold water and we will patch him up. Then we’ll take him to the camp and get him proper treatment.’

‘Will he live?’ Jay asked in a trembling voice.

‘I don’t know. He will if I have anything to do with it.’

As they walked through the forest, the mood of the little group was sombre. Even though he was a big man, Callan was borne in the arms of the giant who had tended him as though he weighed nothing. There was no time for a stretcher, he had said, and it wasn’t far.

It was Jay’s task now, his task alone, to protect the Lady of Willdon, who had fallen into the hands of a band of marauders. What could he do against swords and bows and knives? The only flicker of hope was that at least they did not see the magnitude of their prize. They had captured a scholar and his servant. If that deception could be made to hold up, then they had some small chance, perhaps. Otherwise they could demand any price for her return. If her absence was prolonged, the domain of Willdon could fall into chaos, sucking in the outside world with it. Willdon was the balancing force in the land; it had fulfilled this role for generations, and its glory was that it never sought to impose its power on anyone else. But what would happen if it was vacant?

He glanced at her as she walked dutifully beside him, her head down as a servant’s should be. In her small body, on her frail shoulders, rested the peace of Anterwold. At least she now looked like a servant with her bedraggled hair and ill-fitting dress, her bare feet. ‘She even looks like a farmer’s girl.’ So Callan had said, just before …

‘You will have to be Kate a little longer,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you know who these people are?’

‘I hope not. Are you prepared to be the hostage in my stead?’

‘Of course. I would die for you.’

‘Let us hope that will not be necessary. But thank you.’

‘Stop talking,’ called one of their captors, the man who had fired the arrow.

‘Why?’ Jay replied. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘Because …’

‘Leave him be,’ said the huge man, breathless from carrying
Callan but trying not to show his tiredness. They were short with each other. Jay could see quite easily that this had not been planned.

‘Where are you taking us?’

‘To our leader. He will decide what to do with you.’

‘Why should you do anything with us? We were walking in the forest.’

‘Why? This is our territory. Our forest. Our land. And you come scouting and spying.’

‘We were not.’

‘A scholar as well. What is going on? Is there to be an alliance? Are the scholars going to rouse up Willdon against us? Is that what this is about?’

‘No,’ said Jay in genuine astonishment. ‘If it was, no one would ever tell me about it. I’m just a student.’

‘Students don’t have servants.’

‘She’s not actually my servant,’ Jay said quickly. ‘She belongs to my master. Can’t you just let her go? She’s not important.’

‘She can work. We’ll treat her well. Besides, she could bring the Lady’s soldiers here. We’re not ready for them yet.’

*

Pamarchon was going around the outer perimeter of the camp to check it was secure, examining weapons, counting the stocks of arrows, ensuring there were enough bandages and medicines for the inevitable injuries that must come soon if he took his decision to launch the long-planned, often-delayed attack. When he came back, he discovered that there were captives, newly brought into the camp. One had been injured. He listened in fury to the account of how it had happened. It was exactly the sort of thing he always tried to prevent. Their existence and safety depended on the good will of those they encountered. A reputation for violence and brutality would lead to betrayal, sooner or later. It was not the first time this particular man had lacked the self-control
he had tried over the years to instil in them all.

‘You,’ he said, pointing to the sallow-faced, resentful man who had fired. ‘You don’t leave the camp again, unless you’re with others and unarmed. How does this keep on happening? How often do I have to tell people …? How badly is he injured?’

‘Badly. But he might live,’ said the huge man.

‘I will go and see him. What about the others?’

‘A young lad and a servant. The lad says he’s from Ossenfud.’

‘Bring him to me.’

*

‘Right, then, scholar. Our leader wants you. Get up.’

Jay was sitting on the ground, waiting. He was alone; when they had arrived at the camp, he had been taken to the very centre of it and told to stay put. They had pointed out how far he would have to run to escape, pointed out also how many people carried weapons. You wouldn’t stand a chance, was the message. He took their advice.

He sat for an hour until he was taken to a large tent, square and fully open on one side to let in the light. The floor was covered in cloth and cushions; there was a rough trestle table in one corner and a rolled-up mattress on the other side. Otherwise, the only furniture was a wooden chest. It was simple and not very comfortable.

He caught his breath, though, when he saw the tall man sitting on the floor. It was the man who had taken Rosalind away at the Festivity. Jay knew quite well that he had been recognised too.

‘Leave us alone, then,’ he said, and gestured for Jay to sit down.

‘The world seems to be an astonishingly small place these days,’ he began.

Jay’s face twitched in a sort of half-smile.

‘When I was told that they had captured some of the Lady’s scouts in the forest, I hardly thought it would be you, Master Jay. It is Jay, is it not?’

He nodded. ‘I’m not a scout. Nor was Callan. You shouldn’t have hurt him. He is a good man, and my friend.’

‘Callan, you say? The forester?’

‘Yes.’

He bowed his head. ‘Then I am truly sorry. I knew him once and liked him well. He is a good man. Had I been there it would not have happened. I will make my peace with him and, if necessary, with his family. He will get the best treatment and care we can offer. If he can be saved, he will be.’

‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Pamarchon, son of Isenwar, son of Isenwar.’

‘Isenwar?’

‘Yes. I trace my lineage back to the first level. Have you not heard of me?’

‘No. Why is your name not Isenwar as well?’

‘My brother bore that name, but he died. My children will bear it again, so it will continue.’

‘May your wishes be granted.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘Why do you live here? A name like yours …’

‘You come from Willdon and you do not know of the evil Pamarchon and his foul deeds? I am surprised, although perhaps you would not. I am sure my name has been erased for its infamy.’

‘I know nothing,’ Jay said. ‘I do not even know why you want me as your prisoner. Or my servant.’

‘What servant?’

‘Well, maybe not mine. She works for my master but I am responsible for her. He’ll be very annoyed if any harm comes to her.’

‘Your master is …?’

‘Henary, son of Henary, scholar of the first rank.’

‘That remarkable young woman, Rosalind,’ Pamarchon said, changing the subject abruptly. ‘Who is she? I was her companion for more than an hour, and I knew little more of her when we parted than when we met.’

‘You are not the only one,’ Jay said. ‘I have no idea who – or what – she is. You may form your own opinion of her beauty and charm. Where she comes from I do not know.’

‘Henary does?’

‘Perhaps. If so, he did not share his knowledge with me.’

‘He did with Lady Catherine, no doubt.’

‘I am not privy to their conversations. Why do you speak of her in such a tone?’

‘The Lord and Lady both? In what tone do I speak?’

‘Hostility and dislike.’

‘I suppose you find her charming and gracious.’

‘Yes.’

‘Perhaps I know her better.’

Jay looked uncomprehending. ‘Surely …’

‘I do not wish to discuss this. I want to know your reasons for being in the forest. Looking for us? Spying?’

‘Look at me,’ Jay said. ‘Am I your idea of a spy?’

‘You are not telling me the truth.’

‘I am. I met Callan the day I was selected. I am preparing my disquisition, which concerns a passage on the relationship between man and the forest. Henary arranged for me to spend a few days with him.’

‘Which passage?’

‘Level 3, upper 60s.’

Pamarchon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Those are monster stories. An unusual choice, surely?’

‘I’m impressed by your knowledge.’

‘You went into the forest to meet monsters …’

‘And met you,’ Jay finished coldly.

Pamarchon stood up. ‘Do as you are told, don’t be foolish and you will come to no harm.’ He went to the tent entrance. ‘I’m sorry for Callan,’ he said. ‘I mean that. You may visit him as you will, and you may have your servant back. You will be responsible for her good behaviour as well as her safety. You will be free to move around, if you give your word that you will not escape.
Otherwise I am afraid you will have to be placed somewhere you cannot escape. Do you agree to that?’

Jay was so pleased that he didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course.’

*

Kate was peeling potatoes when Jay found her again and, considering the circumstances, was doing quite well. Still, she was exhausted from the effort of caring for Callan, and was in shock at what had happened. Nor did she know much about peeling potatoes. Now she sat, frown on face, knife in hand, beside a huge pile of freshly dug, earth-covered potatoes large enough to feed everyone in the camp for days to come. She threw one into the pot beside her and stretched, rubbing her back to ease the pain that came from sitting too long in the same position.

‘You’ll be glad to know I have recovered my servant,’ Jay said as he approached and sat down next to her. ‘Your job once more is to look after my every need. And Callan, as much as you can and wish. No one suspects you.’