The Crowfield Demon (27 page)

Shadlok shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Help me to get Sir Robert to his bed. I can't carry him on my own,” Master Woodcote said to Shadlok. He glanced at William. “Open the bedchamber door, boy, it's behind the hanging on the end wall, and pull back the bed coverings.”

William hauled the heavy coverings to the foot of the bed and stood back as Shadlok and the steward lowered the unconscious man onto the mattress. William saw an angry red burn on Sir Robert's forehead where the demon had touched him.

“Fetch Brother Snail. He may be able to help Sir Robert,” Master Woodcote said. “Put the carpets and furniture back as quickly as you can, before anyone sees something they shouldn't.” He frowned over his shoulder at them. “I am sure I don't need to tell either of you not to talk about what has happened here today with anyone. All they need to know is that Sir Robert was taken ill.”

“Nobody will believe that,” William said. Too many stories were already flying about, thanks to the stonemasons.

“They will believe what they are told,” the steward said grimly.

Between them, William and Shadlok laid the carpets and dragged the furniture back into place. When they had finished, William asked, “What will happen now that the demon is free?”

“Nothing good, I am sure.” Shadlok opened the rest of the shutters. The late afternoon sunlight splashed gold on the floor and lit up the colors in the carpets. Everything looked much as it had before, but there was a subtle change, as if in spite of the light coming through the windows, a shadow had settled over the chamber. The expensive luxury of the room had dimmed and there was an atmosphere within the walls that left William feeling on edge. Traces of the demon seemed to linger on the dusty air.

William was glad to escape from the chamber. He ran all the way to the kitchen, ignoring angry mutters from the stonemasons when he passed them in the kitchen yard. He found Brother Snail sitting by the hearth, a cup of warmed and spiced small beer in his hands. The color had returned to his cheeks. His damp habit had been wiped clean of mud and was drying in the heat from the fire.

“Master Woodcote wants you to come and see if there's anything you can do for Sir Robert.”

“What's wrong with him?” Master Brice asked, sounding surprised.

“I don't know,” William said truthfully, “but he's unconscious.”

Brother Snail set the cup down on the hearthstones and pushed himself up out of the chair, gripping the back for support. “I will come immediately.”

The cook looked worried. “I'll send for Dame Alys, Brother. She's skilled at healing people and can help you.”

“I don't think that is necessary,” the monk said, with a quick glance at William. “Thank you for your hospitality, Master Brice.”

“You're sure?” the cook said doubtfully. “People here at the manor usually send for the dame when they're ill. Young Wat can run and fetch her. He has a nimble pair of legs and will be back with her in no time.”

Brother Snail didn't look happy at the prospect of the wise woman coming to the manor, but he said nothing. Perhaps he realized that Master Brice was likely to send for her anyway.

William accompanied Brother Snail as far as the door to the manor house. “I'll go find the hob and tell him what's happened,” he said.

The monk nodded and said, “We will have to take word of our failure to the prior at Bethlehem. It's too late to set out today, but you and Shadlok must go first thing tomorrow.”

“We can't leave you here by yourself,” William protested, “especially if Dame Alys comes to the manor, not now that her demon is free.”

“It doesn't matter, Will. Nowhere is safe now. I might just as well be here tending to Master Robert as hidden away at Bethlehem.” Brother Snail sounded weary. He bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment. His next words seemed to cost him dearly, and there was deep sadness in his voice when he spoke again. “And when you have delivered the message to the prior, you and Shadlok should leave Crowfield. He will take care of you. Find somewhere far from here and begin your life again.”

William stared at him, too shocked to speak for a moment. “You want me to
leave
? But what about you and the hob?”

The monk patted his arm. “We will take our chances, but I will rest easy knowing you are safe.”

William shook his head. “No, I won't go. I'm staying and so is Shadlok.”

The monk opened his mouth to argue, but William turned and walked away without giving him a chance to get a word out. He knew Brother Snail meant well, but the monk didn't know him at all if he thought William could live with himself after abandoning the two people he loved most in the world. He knew the hob wasn't a
person
as such, but the hob and Brother Snail were his family now. He had already lost one family, he wasn't about to lose a second.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY

T
he hob was delighted to see William safe and unharmed, but his happy mood quickly faded when William told him that the attempt to bind the demon had failed.

“Maybe it will go away now that it's free,” the hob said hopefully. He was still invisible, but William could see the hollow in the straw where he was sitting.

“It might,” William said, stroking Matilda's face. But somehow he didn't think it would.

The hob was silent for a while. The straw rustled, and something long and dark moved through the air as if of its own accord. To his surprise, he saw that it was a bone whistle.

“I found this and thought you could play it until Shadlok makes you a new flute,” the hob said.

William took it from him and turned it over to inspect it. The bone was dark and shiny from years of use. He put it to his lips and softly blew a wavery note. He felt for the holes and blew again. The whistle was a crude instrument and had fewer holes than his flute had, but after a few attempts, he managed to play a recognizable tune.

“Where did you get it from?” William asked.

“It was in a wooden box in a shed,” the hob said, sounding very pleased with himself. “There were spider's webs all over the box, and dust. I don't think anyone wants it, so you can have it now.”

“Hmm, I'm not sure that's such a good idea,” William said. Stealing from Sir Robert, even if it was only a long-forgotten whistle, was not a wise thing to do, but perhaps he could borrow it for a while.

“Play the summer song,” the hob said.

William rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling. “Very well, but just the once.”

“Or maybe twice,” the hob said.

William leaned against the wooden partition and began to play.

At dusk, Shadlok came to find him.

“I have been looking for you,” the fay said. Matilda whickered with pleasure at the sound of his voice. He stood beside her and stroked her neck.

“I'm keeping out of the way,” William said. The hob was curled up beside him, still safely invisible, sleeping off a meal of hazelnuts and apples, which he had found in one of Sir Robert's well-stocked storerooms, and a great deal of
cuckooing
.

“That is probably for the best,” Shadlok said. “Rumors of what has been going on here today are rife, and word is out that Sir Robert is ill. It is fair to say we are not popular,” he added wryly.

William made a face. He had no doubt about
that
. “How is Sir Robert?”

“There is nothing wrong with Sir Robert's body,” Shadlok said. “The demon has blighted his mind. He is conscious now, but he mumbles and mutters and does not know who or where he is. I think there is very little the monk can do for him, and whether or not he will recover remains to be seen.”

“Is Dame Alys here?”

“Why would she be?” Shadlok asked sharply.

“Master Brice was going to send for her.”

“Well, if he did, she did not come.”

“Is the demon still close by?” William asked.

“No, it seems to have gone, but I am sure we have not seen the last of it.”

There were a couple of apples in the straw, left over from the hob's meal. Shadlok helped himself to one and held it on his flat palm for Matilda. Her soft lips scooped it up and she munched it contentedly, her eyes half closed. A small smile touched the fay's mouth as he watched her.

William glanced down at the patch of straw where the hob was snoring softly. “We'll stay here in the stable tonight.”

“Very well.” Shadlok gave Matilda a last pat. “We will set out for Bethlehem at dawn. Be ready.”

William nodded and settled himself deeply in the straw. For now, he felt reasonably safe. The demon had gone for the time being and apart from Sir Robert's illness and the burnt circle in the floor, had done no damage. It was not how William had feared the summoning would go. Nevertheless, as he felt sleep creep over him, he pushed away the frightening thought that the demon was simply biding its time. Sooner or later, it would be back.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

T
he sound of shouting and yells woke William from a deep sleep at dawn the following morning. Matilda was stamping and skittering around the stall, whinnying in panic. Her hooves narrowly missed William as he lay in the straw. He rolled out of the way and stood up.

And then he smelled it. Smoke. Fear tightened his chest. He glimpsed flickering yellow light through chinks in the timber walls of the stables. This was no dream. Something was on fire.

“Brother Walter?” William called, reaching down to feel for the hob in the straw, but the hob was not there. The smoke was getting thicker. William grabbed Matilda's halter and, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, led her to the stable door. He lifted the heavy wooden bar and shoved, but the door didn't move. Someone was pounding on it from outside, but the door was stuck fast.

William tried to calm the frightened mare, but Matilda wasn't listening. She kicked out wildly, and William had to throw himself out of the way to avoid being hurt. The mare thrashed around and turned to charge wildly through the stables. Answering whinnies came from the other stalls.

William looked around for something to force the door open, and saw several hay forks and rakes hanging from pegs on the wall. He grabbed the heaviest-looking one and swung it with all his might, battering at the door. The heavy timbers held, and as the smoke caught in his throat and stung his eyes, he knew he was wasting his time. But he couldn't leave the animals trapped inside to burn to death. He ran as fast as he could from stall to stall, releasing each horse in turn. They jostled and pushed each other in terror. There was no sign of the stable boys, but whether they had somehow managed to escape or had been overcome by the smoke, William didn't know. A gash of light in the gable wall cut through the smoke. William waved his arms to drive the horses toward it. The light grew and, above the screams of the terrified horses, William heard the sound of axes splitting wood and saw hands reach through the gap to haul the timbers away. The horses started to stream through.

Smoke-blinded and barely able to breath, William stumbled to the last stall. The horse inside was stamping and snorting, desperate to escape. As William pulled open the door, the horse balked and kicked out, and a rear hoof caught William on the side of his head. Bright light shattered into splinters behind his eyes, and the world went dark.

William opened his eyes. His head was fogged with pain and shapes swam in and out of his vision. He groaned and tried to sit up.

“No, do not move.” It was Shadlok's voice. Gentle fingers felt his head. “There is nothing broken, but you have a cut on your scalp.”

William tried to remember what had happened, but all he could see was a confusing muddle of smoke and terrified horses. None of it made any sense. He pushed Shadlok's hand away and struggled to his knees. Shadlok held his arm to steady him, and William peered blearily around.