The Gallows Curse (34 page)

    Raoul's
face brightened a little. Drinking and whoring, now that was something he was
good at. A week or two in Norwich maybe wouldn't be so bad after all. And if he
couldn't find this girl, he could always tell Osborn she'd been seen boarding a
cart or a boat out of the city.

    Raoul
was still smiling to himself as he mounted the steps to his bed, picturing the
slender, lithe body of the king's mistress, so deliciously young and helpless.
Yes, he deserved a little treat and if the wenches in Norwich were half as
enticing as the king's whore, this was one task he might actually enjoy.

    
Fox
— There are some mortal families which are descended from foxes, and if someone
in that family is about to die, many foxes will gather near the house. A mortal
who is bitten by a fox will live only seven years more.

    He
who would find courage must wear a fox's tongue to make him bold. He who would
be cured of a swollen leg must carry a fox's tooth. The liver of a fox washed
in wine and dried will sooth a cough. If a mortal has a thorn embedded in him,
he should lay a fox's tongue on it through the hours of darkness and when dawn
breaks the thorn will be drawn out. The ashes of a fox drunk in wine will cure
a mortal of complaints of the liver. Bathing in the water in which a fox has
been boiled will ease the pain of gout, and if a bald man rubs his pate with
fox fat, his hair will be restored.

    Witches
may take the form of foxes and often when the fox is chased it will seem to
vanish and the huntsmen will find only an old woman standing there.

    For
though its corpse heals men, the living fox is to be feared, for it is the
symbol of the Devil, and if a fox should pass a mortal on the track, it is a
dark omen that a terrible event shall follow.

    The
Mandrake's Herbal

    Osborn's
scrawny little clerk looked like a helpless, naked baby bird behind the great
wooden table which had been pulled into the centre of the manor courtyard. The
sallow- faced man nervously shuffled ledgers and parchments from one side of
the table to the other, then began counting the freshly cut quills in his pot,
as if the exact number was of vital importance. Osborn, irritated, rapped on
the table with the handle of his riding whip to get the little man's attention.

    'I
want every rent paid in full today, no excuses. If they cannot pay they leave
the crofts or workshops this same day. Likewise their field strips, any man who
cannot pay for land he is renting will have it ploughed up.'

    The
clerk opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the thunder gathering on Osborn's
brows, thought better of it and nodded vigorously enough to show that he
wouldn't dream of disagreeing. Raffe too stood silent. A few weeks before he
would have tried to argue with Osborn, but he'd learned that only made the man
more savage in his dealings. Better to say nothing and simply ignore the
instructions. He could manage to hide the odd late payment, that's if the
little scrivener could be trusted to keep his mouth shut and not go squealing
to his master. But Raffe was confident that he could persuade the clerk, once
Osborn was safely out of the way.

    As if
he could hear Raffe's thoughts, Osborn turned to him. 'See to it that you send
men round the village to remind people it is Lammas.'

    'I
doubt there's a newborn babe in the village who doesn't know what day it is
today. The crofters have been counting the days down till they can drive their
stock to common pasture on the hay meadows, for some of the beasts are skin and
bones and the grass is so parched there's nothing left for them to graze.'

    'Then
they should learn to make better provision for them,' Osborn said. 'But just
you make sure that in their eagerness to get their beasts out to graze they
don't forget their first duty is to me. I am leaving this morning with my
brother to wait upon the king's pleasure, and in my absence you will ensure
that every last penny is collected in. I will hold you accountable for any sum
that is missing. So you'd better see to it that every man turns out with what
he owes, and if there are any too sick or feeble to come in person, I expect
you to go to their crofts and fetch it.'

    He
searched Raffe's face, looking for the slightest flicker of rebellion, but
Raffe concentrated on keeping his expression impassive.

    'Did
you hear what I said, Master Raffaele?'

    Raffe
allowed himself a dangerously insolent pause, before saying calmly, 'Yes,
m'lord, I heard you.'

    The
whip twitched in Osborn's hand. Raffe saw the warning but unlike the clerk, he
did not flinch. He was thankful Lady Anne was away visiting a sick cousin, for
she would certainly have tried to intervene on the villagers' behalf, and
Osborn had still not forgiven her for challenging him over Elena and Athan. She
could not afford to make him angry again.

    Osborn,
after another furious scowl at Raffe, bellowed to the gateman, 'Stop gawping
like a halfwit, man. Stir yourself and open the gates.'

    Walter,
who had been standing with his hand ready on the beam for almost an hour
waiting for his lord's signal, jerked into action and lifted the great beam off
the brackets and flung the gates wide.

    If
Osborn had been hoping for a throng of eager villagers waiting to pay their
dues, he was sadly disappointed. A couple of old men hobbled up to the table
and began counting out their pennies with a painful slowness as their gnarled,
swollen hands fumbled in worn purses. Osborn waited with growing impatience as
his clerk re-counted the old men's pennies with equal slowness, terrified of
making an error while his master was watching. Finally, Osborn turned on his
heel and strode back to the stairs leading to the Great Hall, flogging each
step with his whip as he climbed them.

    Though
the villagers were noticeably absent, there was no lack of activity in the
courtyard. Osborn's men and servants scurried back and forth loading the small
travelling chests and making ready Osborn's favourite hawks and Hugh's hounds
for the journey, for who knew how long the king would keep his lords kicking
their heels at court? Raffe reluctantly crossed towards the Great Hall. It was
one of his many duties to see that nothing was lacking and to chivvy slow or
clumsy servants, a duty he was increasingly coming to loathe when the brothers
were in residence. He could barely disguise his delight at the news that Osborn
and Hugh were leaving. He prayed the king would detain them for weeks, or even
months, but that was probably too much to ask.

    Raffe
stopped as he caught sight of a young lad he didn't recognize mounting the
steps before him. He stood out immediately from the other boys in the manor.

    'You
there, come down here,' Raffe ordered.

    The
lad turned and obediently retraced the few steps. He was barefooted, dressed in
a pair of mildewed leather breeches with a curious smooth eel-skin cap stuck so
firmly to his head that it looked as if he had a bald black pate.

    'Marsh-man,
aren't you?' Raffe said. 'What's your business here?'

    'Come
to see her ladyship.'

    'The
Lady Anne? And what makes you think you can just walk in here and expect a
noble lady to see you?'

    The
boy scowled, thrusting out his lower lip. 'Weren't my idea to come, he said I'd
to bring her a message.'

    Raffe
caught the boy by his arm and dragged him into the shadows beneath the
undercroft.

    'Now,
who sent you and what's the message?' Raffe demanded.

    The
boy jutted his chin out obstinately. 'He said I wasn't tell no one 'cept her.'

    'Lady
Anne is away from the manor visiting her sick cousin. She'll not be back for
three or four days.' Raffe's eyes flicked up to the Hall above. 'Listen to me,
boy. The man up there, Lord Osborn, is dangerous, and there's no love lost
between him and Lady Anne. If he discovers she's hiding something from him, her
life will not be worth living. Now, tell me what you were supposed to tell her
and I'll see she learns of it the instant she returns.'

    Anxiety
creased the boy's forehead. He gazed from Raffe to the stairs and back again,
evidently trying to weigh up who to trust.

    'It'll
be too late by then. He said he must get word from her tonight.'

    'Who,
boy, who told you this?' Raffe urged.

    The
boy cocked his head on one side like a raven and looked slyly up at Raffe. 'He
said she'd give me a silver penny for the message.'

    Raffe
seized the boy's jerkin and shook him impatiently. 'I'll give you a clip round
the ear if you don't tell me, which is nothing to what Lord Osborn will do to
you if he finds you here. He'll flay your hide to the bone to get the truth out
of you.'

    The
boy's eyes widened in alarm. He tried to wrest his arm from Raffe's grip, but
with little success. 'I'll tell you, master.' His eyes darted round the
courtyard, fearful of being overheard. 'There's a man hiding on the marshes.
Says he must get a boat to France afore he's discovered. Said he was told the
Lady Anne would help him.'

    'Who
is this man?'

    'He
never said his name.' The boy's expression suddenly changed. 'I nearly forgot,
he said I was to give her this.'

    The
lad fumbled for something under his shirt and thrust it into Raffe's hand.

    It
was a tin emblem in the form of a wheel, the symbol of St Katherine. Raffe's
heart suddenly began to thump in his chest. This man on the marsh, could he be
a French spy? Had one of them escaped the fire after all? But how had he come
to know of Lady Anne and be so convinced she would help him? Her own husband
and her son had fought for England. She would never betray her own country to
the French, not her, Raffe would have wagered his life on it. So what on earth
was she mixed up in?

    The
boy held his hand out, anxious, but plainly determined not to leave without his
promised penny.

    Raffe
fished in the small leather purse that hung on his belt. The boy's eyes gleamed
as he saw the silver penny in Raffe's hand.

    'You
came by boat.'

    'Coracle,'
the lad answered, not taking his eyes from the coin.

    Raffe
gnawed at his lip; a boy's coracle would not hold the two of them, especially
not when one of them was Raffe's size.

    'There's
a place upstream where the river splits in two around an islet. You know it?'

    The
lad nodded.

    'This
silver penny is yours if you meet me there next to the water meadow at sundown.
Wait at the back of the islet, the shrubs on it will hide you from the track.
There'll be another silver penny for you if you guide me safely to this man and
home again.'

    The
boy nodded reluctantly, gazing longingly at the silver as Raffe dropped it back
in his leather purse. Raffe saw his disappointment and hesitated. Would he
wait? It was much to ask of a young lad to be so patient for so many hours, and
despite the promise of coins, he might easily get bored and leave. On the other
hand, if he gave him the penny now, he might simply vanish anyway.

    'Stay
here,' Raffe instructed.

    Raffe
swiftly crossed to the kitchens, thankful that those inside were too
preoccupied stirring and sweating over the fires to take any notice of him. He
grabbed some bread, onions and a couple of fat mutton chops and, wrapping them
hastily in a bit of sacking, returned to the boy.