The Silver Falcon (20 page)

It was a waste of time to wait for the sun to go down. If he stayed away from the forest paths during daylight, there was no chance he would meet anyone.

By the time dusk began to fall, not a single person had crossed his path. Suddenly he heard the pounding of heavy hooves on the forest floor.

“There he is!” someone shouted. William turned fearfully. Three riders, one of them pointing in his direction, were hard on his heels. Odon and his men.

He started running like a hare trying to shake off his pursuers. But still he could hear them close behind. William was gasping, and his foot hurt. He ran toward a row of trees and suddenly found himself on the edge of a steep bank. He hesitated for only the briefest of moments, then leaped over the edge, rolled over several times, and ended up on a broad path through the forest. He crossed it and slid down another bank until he reached a section overgrown with bushes. He could scarcely keep his footing, and he was in danger of falling back down the slope. William clung
tightly to the bushes, tried to steady his breathing, and waited to see what would happen.

Nothing happened for some time, and he was beginning to feel safe when he heard the stamping of horses’ hooves again. William pressed himself to the bushes, hardly daring to breathe.

“Hey, you there,” an overbearing voice rang out.

Odon!

“We’re looking for an outlaw who broke out of the dungeon at Thorne. Have you seen him?”

William closed his eyes. Apparently there were some travelers on the path above him. In his haste he had not noticed them, but if they had seen him and now betrayed him, he was lost.

“No, my lord. I’m afraid we’ve seen nobody since dawn,” a man’s voice replied deferentially.

“Leave it alone. Come here,” a peevish woman’s voice cried.

A shrill, anxious child’s voice answered, “But my doll’s fallen down.”

Now William could see it, too. The rag doll had fallen into the very thicket where he was hiding. He ducked down, but it was no use. The dirty face of a girl no older than five suddenly appeared before him. The child looked at him wide-eyed.

William’s heart was beating so loudly he thought it might leap out of his chest at any moment. He put his finger to his lips, hoping the girl would understand his gesture and not give him away.

“Mama!” the child said loudly over her shoulder.

William closed his eyes and held his breath. He thought he was lost for sure.

“I’ll reach her in a moment,” the girl called to her mother.

William breathed again, relieved, and opened his eyes.

The child reached out her hand toward the battered doll and tugged at it, but the doll’s raw wool hair was tangled in the branches.

William untangled it carefully and held out the doll, smiling. To be safe, he put his finger to his lips again and pulled even farther back into the bushes.

The girl stood up and disappeared from view.

“Look, my lord, isn’t she beautiful?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, William had to smile. The girl was probably holding out the doll to Odon and aggravating his fury.

“Let’s go. On,” Odon ordered, evidently annoyed, without addressing the girl.

“A goblin gave her back to me,” the girl said in her high voice.

“Yes, of course,” her mother replied. “Come, we need to go.”

William watched them go, peering out through the bushes. The mother, a young peasant with the waddling gait of a pregnant woman, pulled the little girl behind her. The man who had spoken to Odon carried a large sack over his shoulder. They were probably on their way to the next market. The child looked back a few times and smiled at him shyly, then disappeared among the trees.

William decided not to go any farther for the moment. It was safer to wait for nightfall, even if that meant he would make slower progress, for hardly any moonlight would shine into the woods through the thick canopy of branches. In order to avoid going round in circles or walking in the wrong direction, he would have to follow the path. Odon and his men had ridden northward, so he would head south. William took the last provisions from his bundle and began to eat.

Although he chewed slowly and deliberately, to make the most of his frugal meal, it was not enough to satisfy him. After his privations in the dungeon and the opportunity to fill up since escaping, his hunger felt worse than before. It was as if he had grown out of the habit of hunger and had to get used to it all over again.

Weak and despairing, William continued on his way as soon as the pale light of the moon permitted. He kept thinking he could
hear Odon and his men. He would hide hurriedly and not creep out of his hiding place until he was sure he had been mistaken. His pursuers had probably been sitting in front of a cheerful fire for some time, filling their bellies and discussing how they would continue the search for William tomorrow. They’ll give up eventually, he thought. I just have to hold out for long enough without getting caught.

Enid crept closer cautiously. There was a young stranger over by the stream, shivering by the knee-deep water that gurgled over some large stones. He retched on his own feet and stumbled a few steps. Then he fell to his knees, bent double. He was in great pain.

Enid flitted to another bush closer to him so she could watch him better without being seen. The dirty, threadbare shirt the man wore over his dark chausses had certainly seen better days. He looked like a vagrant, but Enid did not feel afraid of him.

The young stranger, visibly distressed, ran his hand through his lank, almost shoulder-length dark hair. He was wheezing, his lungs rattling as if they were getting no air. His eyes brimmed with tears, and slender threads of saliva dripped from his mouth.

Enid was certain she was seeing the signs of poisoning, but she could not think of any poisonous berries nearby.

The man writhed in agony on the ground, groaning loudly and holding his belly.

Colic, thought Enid sympathetically. It occurred to her that perhaps he had eaten some fiber cap mushrooms. They were very poisonous and grew in huge quantities beneath the trees around there. More than once David had tried to make a meal of them, for some varieties smelled deceptively like pears. They could easily attract an ignorant, starving traveler.

“Beware of strangers,” said her inner voice.

“I can’t just leave him here suffering,” she replied in a whisper. The stranger did not look as though he was in any condition to do her harm. Since he was likely to die if he did not get help, Enid went to him, examined the vomit, and found her suspicions confirmed. He had not really chewed the mushrooms; some he had bolted almost whole.

“Come,” she said briskly, raising him up and putting his arm around her shoulders for support. She hauled him toward her hut. He stumbled along beside her in a daze, meekly allowing himself to be led by her.

“Oh God, my stomach,” he groaned, and Enid wondered whether all men were as inept as David, for her brother was the only man she knew. She had always steered clear of the few strangers that came through this part of the forest, just as Nana had taught her.

Fat beads of sweat stood on the young man’s forehead and dripped down his temples. His shirt was also damp with sweat. Enid’s nose wrinkled. Even if his face was nice to look at, he stank horribly.

The stranger must have come into the forest on foot, she thought. She had not seen a horse or a mule anywhere in the area. His torn shirt, stiff with dirt, and the weakened body she could feel through his shirt, led her to the conclusion that he was on the run. Enid shrugged despite herself. It didn’t matter to her. After all, her mother had once fled into the woods, too. She would help the stranger and ask no questions. He probably had good reasons for his flight. And if he made trouble, David and she would get rid of him as soon as he recovered. First, though, she had to make sure he survived. Then, perhaps, he would tell her why he was on the run.

As they approached the hut, David came running up. “En?” He looked at her questioningly.

“We must bring him inside.” She pointed first at the stranger, then in the direction of the hut.

David nodded, grinned awkwardly, and took the man by the hand.

Enid laid down the stranger on her pallet and searched her provisions for the right ingredients. She possessed more than three dozen small clay pots, which she had fashioned herself out of earth and baked in a small oven. They were filled with herbal extracts, essences, and tinctures, including juice from the deadly nightshade plant. It had to be carefully administered, for it could be deadly. Taken in the right dose, however, it was the only remedy for fiber cap poisoning.

Cautiously, Enid let a few drops of the liquid trickle into a half-filled cup of water.

In the meantime, the stranger had become unresponsive. Enid raised his head carefully and poured the mixture into his mouth. Then she took off the poor fellow’s dirty clothes. She gave his emaciated body a cursory wash and covered him with a wool blanket when he began to shiver with cold. Compassion filled her as she watched over him. His muscles relaxed gradually, and the expression on his face softened. The antidote was starting to work.

Relieved, Enid took his things, went to the stream, and washed them with the stale urine she kept in a clay tub for this purpose. She scrubbed his clothes until the stains were completely gone and rinsed them thoroughly. Her hands raw and red, she wrung out the wet garments and hung them from a tree. The balmy air and the wind would dry them quickly, despite the overcast sky.

When Enid entered the hut again, the young stranger was just recovering his senses.

“Where am I?” he whispered. His cheeks were sunken with hunger and, like his thin lips, still pale with fatigue.

“Shh.” Gently but firmly, Enid pressed him down. She turned away and started preparing a meal. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him following every movement of her hands. She offered him a full wooden bowl, and he eyed its contents suspiciously.

“Eat!” Enid raised her right hand to her mouth, made a lip-smacking sound, and smiled encouragingly.

At first hesitantly, and then more and more eagerly, the young man ate.

Enid watched him with unconcealed curiosity. Now that he was a bit cleaner, he looked handsome. His arched eyebrows emphasized his green eyes, which were all the more expressive for not being particularly large. They sparkled like small gemstones when he looked at her. Enid looked down uncomfortably and found herself looking at his slender, powerful hands. Would it be pleasant to be touched by them?

“Thank you very much.”

Startled, Enid looked at him in dismay. It took her a moment to realize that he was holding out the empty bowl. When she went to take it, his hand brushed against hers. She smiled at him shyly. When he returned her look, she felt strangely weak.

“Where are my clothes?” He pulled up the blanket to his chin, as if suddenly ashamed at his nakedness.

“Still drying.” As usual, Enid illustrated her words with a gesture and pointed outside. Except for David, who did not understand very much, she had not spoken to anyone since Nana’s death. They had been alone for so long!

“You undressed me? Did you wash them?” The young man cleared his throat with embarrassment.

Enid nodded without looking him in the eye.

“Thank you. They were in sore need.” He rubbed his eyes the way small children do when tired and then closed them. Shortly afterward, he fell asleep.

Enid gave her brother some food and then sat by the stranger’s bedside for a long time, watching him. She relished the wonderful new sensation of physical longing until she too fell asleep.

The next day, she mended his now-dry clothes and then made food for them all. The stranger slept almost the whole day and then
the whole night, waking only in order to have a drink, take some nourishment, or relieve himself in the pot she had put out for him.

The sun was almost at its zenith when the young man awoke a few days later. After a hearty meal, he announced that he now felt strong enough to get up and go on his way.

Enid tried to convince him to stay on his pallet and not leave, but his mind was made up.

Disappointed, she handed him his clothes and went outside so that he could get dressed.

“You saved my life and gave me shelter. I feel ashamed, for I cannot return your kindness,” said the stranger regretfully once he had dressed and joined her outside. “I have nothing to give you. But I will include you and your husband in my prayers from now on.”

“David is my brother,” Enid replied, shaking her head as a diffident smile flickered on her lips.

“Your brother?” He nodded his understanding and looked curiously at David.

Was he happy that she had no husband? For a moment, Enid thought she saw something on his face akin to relief.

“Forgive me, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is William, William FitzEllen.”

“Enid.” She could not manage to say more. As she looked into his green eyes, it was as if her brain was incapable of forming a single sensible thought.

“Enid. A lovely name. Thank you, Enid, for letting me use your pallet. It was yours, wasn’t it?”