The Forest Queen Page 11

  Nell colored and gave her husband a smart smack across the shoulder, then opened her mouth in a silent laugh and leaned over to kiss the place she’d hit. Kent put his arm around her and returned the kiss, softly, on her forehead.

  I glanced at Bird without meaning to and saw him watching them with a smile and a sadness in his eyes at the same time. But then he caught me looking, and he turned to tend the fire.

  The hammock was a vast improvement over the hard, damp cave ground; my back was dry, and the curve of the fabric was like being cradled in a gigantic, benevolent hand. But I still found it hard to drift off. I’d never been able to sleep on my back, always feeling too exposed to some nameless nightmare, but the hammock wouldn’t let me curl up in my usual sideways ball; I had to keep my legs stretched out, or the fabric would twist in on itself and I’d take a tumble. So I lay first on my right side, then on my left, trying unsuccessfully to find comfort, and fighting with the hammock to keep my balance every time I moved.

  Finally I faded into unquiet dreams. The cave grew richly appointed, even more so than my chamber at Loughsley had been: it was like a room inside a palace. I lay in bed wearing a silver gown that glowed like moonlight. The bodice and the sleeves were too tight.

  As I moved to get up, they only grew tighter, and my voluminous skirts tangled around my legs, tying me down. Then I saw that the sheets and canopy were glowing like moonlight too, and their fabric was the same as my gown, and I wasn’t wearing a gown at all but was naked in bed, unable to move, and someone was coming toward the door—​a faceless bridegroom, a monster whose face I would die upon seeing—​and I tried to scream, but the silver sheets filled my mouth and I could make no sound, the silk was pushing into my lungs and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—​

  “Silvie, wake up. Silvie.”

  I opened my eyes with a strangled gasp. There was a dark shape above me, a person, but I knew it wasn’t a monster, not anyone who would do me harm.

  “Bird.” I reached out, and the relief of knowing that no shining silk tied my arms down was so great that I felt tears start in my eyes. I touched Bird’s cheek. There was just enough light from the fire that I could watch him close his eyes and lean against my hand. “Bird, I was dreaming . . .”

  “I know. I’m sorry to wake you.” He didn’t understand. I shook my head, wanting to explain, but he went on before I could.

  “There are people outside. I’ve woken Kent and Nell. The others . . .”

  I was already standing. “We’ll keep them safe.” I slipped the dagger he’d given me out of its sheath and flexed my fingers around it. They were still stiff and swollen, but not nearly as painful as they’d been earlier. Mae Tuck was worth thanking the Lord for, indeed.

  “Let’s go.”

  With that last whisper Bird melted into silence so complete that even the shape of him seemed less defined, less real. He flowed toward the mouth of the cave like a liquid shadow, his hunting knife in hand. I followed him, dagger at the ready, and only just spied Kent and Nell behind the lip of the cave’s opening. Kent held something that looked as if it might be a chisel, which didn’t surprise me; what did was the log Nell wielded over her shoulder like a club. Her gentle face was set and watchful, and silence, of course, was something she understood all too well.

  I knew somehow that it was me, not Bird, they’d look to for a signal. I slowly leaned around the edge of the cave’s entrance, holding my breath. For some reason I thought of how I’d held my breath as my mare jumped at the last Hunt Ball.

  Just don’t be John, I begged of the darkness. Don’t be John or his friends. Be anyone but them.

  Without the light of the fire I could hardly see. What little light there was came from the faint luminescence of the moss growing on the small, gnarled witchwood trees.

  Strange as it seemed, I could smell them before I saw them. I’d grown so used to the scents of the forest, the vivacity of green growing things and running water and rotting leaves, that the new scent was almost an assault. I remembered the stagnant, rank air in the Woodshire Village prison; this was nothing in strength to that, but it had the same sour tang.

  Unwashed men, for certain; and several of them.

  I took my first step outside the cave, beckoning cautiously behind me so that Bird, Kent, and Nell would follow, but only slowly.

  Just don’t be John. My heart was thumping in my ears and waking up the pain in my hands again.

  Where are they? I thought, trying to follow my nose.

  And then I stepped on one.

  “Aie!”

  I jumped backward, colliding with Bird. The man I hadn’t seen stood up slowly, groggily, revealing a burly stature and a face darkened with a thicket of black beard—​or at least, it looked black in the darkness my eyes were slowly adjusting to. I brought my dagger quickly to his neck.

  He rubbed his face. All around the cave entrance other men were grumbling, pulling themselves to their feet . . .

  They’d been sleeping.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a croak; it was too much to hope that it would stay as strong as it had when Kent and Nell and Nellie had appeared at the cave door just the day before.

  I’d thought we were so hidden, so alone. So free.

  I looked closely at the bearded face before me, and then around at the men in the clearing. None of them looked like John’s friends. They wore ragged clothes, and their faces were lined and rough; they showed years of hardship, even the younger ones. No noblemen these, no rich merchants’ sons of the kind John would deign to associate with.

  I breathed deep with relief. Still, I thought I knew them . . .

  Just as I had the thought, I heard Bird’s surprised murmur. “Simon!” he said. I looked over, keeping my knife to the bearded man’s throat, and watched as Bird sheathed his own knife and held out his hand to the man he stood over, to help him up.

  “Simon, from . . . from the jail?” I looked down at the bearded man, and my fuzzy sense of memory locked into place.

  He had been one of the prisoners there. I stared.

  The man stared back, waiting patiently, still showing me his palms.

  I took a few more deep, slow breaths, and I retreated a step. Unlike Bird, though, I kept my knife in my hand.

  “I need you to explain what you’re doing here,” I said. “Waiting to take us at first light, is it? Has my brother put out some reward now, for bringing me home?” I began to feel sick at the thought.

  “Mistress,” said another man, a younger one, without rising from his place on the ground. “We’ve come here to join your cause. To follow the forest’s queen, for our old king’s shown us no justice.”

  I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment, but that made me feel so tired that I immediately forced them open again.

  I’d run away. That was my cause. There was another girl who’d needed to run away, too, and we’d helped each other, and Bird had come because . . . well, because he was Bird. And when Little Jane needed more help than he and I could give, we’d found someone else to help her; and with the Masons, it was really more of the same. Only more people who needed to run away, needed to hide for a while; and that it was my brother they needed to hide from endeared them to me. I didn’t have a cause.

  But looking at these rough men, who were breathing fresh air, walking on earth, for the first time since they’d entered Woodshire’s jail . . .

  I couldn’t tell them that they’d come for a cause that didn’t exist.

  I resheathed my knife, and like Bird I offered my hand.

  He gave me a bow instead, and I was glad when I remembered my injuries. I flexed them again, feeling a few new cracks where the blisters had begun to dry out in the night. It was strange, how quickly and how often one could forget physical pain . . .

  “If you need refuge, then you’re welcome here,” I said, “but don’t think I’m—​building an army, or rising against my brother, or anything like that. We’ve been making a
safe place here for those who need it. That’s all. In fact—” I smiled, realizing just how useful this band of rogues would be. “In fact, you can help us with the making.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t bear to get back into my hammock again that night; the tight fabric around my limbs no longer felt like an enveloping hand, but rather too much like the sheets that had bound me to that huge canopied bed in my dreams.

  So I sat the night out, keeping watch, just in case . . . I didn’t know what. I believed they were here for the reasons they’d said, but I kept thinking of Little Jane inside the cave, of how recently she’d been hurt by a strange man—​and when images of what she must have suffered pushed their way into my mind, wasn’t I sure it had happened in some quiet and secluded place, and that the man who’d raped her had been as huge and burly and rough as some of these men were?

  Looking around at them, most of whom had gone back to sleep almost at once when our little interview was over, I felt almost ashamed to think it.

  But I stayed up and kept vigil over the cave entrance nonetheless. Little Jane would be safe and peacefully asleep as long as I had it in me to keep her that way

  Bird and the Masons went back inside, and I soon heard the rumble of Nell’s snore. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and settled into the idea of passing the rest of the night alone and wakeful.

  But after a while, Bird joined me. He brought a cup of smoky just-brewed tea and pressed it into my hands, then sat down next to me on the ground, leaning back against the tree where I knelt.

  He said nothing; nor did I. When I’d finished my tea I leaned against his shoulder, and he tilted his head so it rested against mine.

  You’re safe now, too, something inside me whispered. You’re safe enough to sleep. I yawned, nestling myself closer to Bird, and my hand slipped into his. He ran his callused thumb over my bandages. I remembered the day before, the kiss that wasn’t a kiss.

  But for Little Jane’s sake I had vowed not to sleep for the rest of the night. I pulled away from Bird and scooted a good foot away along the ground. “Thanks for the tea,” I said as I straightened my spine, to take the sting out of it. He shook his head and turned away from me.

  * * *

  In the gray light of dawn, I saw that there were even more men in the clearing than I’d thought: at least two dozen. It had to be . . .

  “Every prisoner at the Woodshire Jail,” said Simon, watching me count them; he and Bird had been making breakfast. “They were right apologetic about it when they tied me up, but I told them I was damned if they’d leave me to the young master’s tender mercies . . . begging your pardon, mistress. I told them if they weren’t going to kill me that I might as well break out with them, and live as an outlaw myself. Better than what’s waiting for me when the young master sees this—​meaning you no offense, mistress.”

  I leapt off the ground, my cloak swirling around me. “For the Lord’s sake, stop calling me mistress!” I said. “Where are my fine clothes, my white horses, my dancing shoes, out here in the forest? I eat around the fire, I wash my clothes in the stream and hang them on the brambles to dry, I tear my hands to shreds, I hunt my own food . . . How many times must I say it?”

  Sitting cross-legged at the cave entrance, Simon looked as if he’d just been blown over by a strong wind. Beside him, Bird was hiding laughter behind his wooden cup.

  “In fairness, Silvie, it’s the first time you’ve said it to this lad here,” Bird told me, grinning, “although I’ll guess it’s the last time you have to say it to anyone, now.”

  I didn’t know what he meant until I saw him looking around the clearing, but when I followed his gaze I realized that all the men were awake, sitting up and blinking and obviously having listened to the little rant I’d just delivered.

  I could have been embarrassed, but I didn’t have the patience for it. “You’re welcome in Woodshire Forest, gentlemen,” I said. “Please call me Silvie.”

  ELEVEN

  The Robbing of Loughsley

  I stepped off the branch, holding my breath. I let all my weight slowly come down on my right foot. Every muscle in my body was quivering, tense.

  The floor of the tree house held.

  I laughed and bounded across it into Mae Tuck’s arms. “It’s done!” I cried.

  The Mae hugged me tight, and I hugged her back, my at-long-last callused hands catching on her wimple.

  “A new home for all of us,” she said, “the Lady and Lord be praised.”

  I looked around the small room I’d entered, at the puddle of golden forest light coming in the door, and I smelled the warm honey smell of hewn wood all around us. This was one of seven similar tree house rooms, built in a cluster that spread over the sturdy branches of the three biggest trees near the cave. There were several open platforms too, in between, and from them we could look down and have a clear view of the ground without revealing our presence. Even in winter, there were enough evergreens and ivies to keep us partly concealed. One could cross from room to room and even shoot a bow from the platforms; that seemed like a miracle to me.

  I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Little Jane, smiling with pride as she surveyed the product of her direction and design.

  “Well, it’s your first time up here, Miss Carpenter,” I said. “Did we do your ideas justice?”

  My voice was light, for I knew we’d done well. But Little Jane blushed and ducked her head.

  “Of course you did, Silvie,” she said. “Everyone did . . . oh, wonderful work. Everyone should be proud.”

  “How could we not, with such a teacher?”

  But that just made her blush more. “Everyone should be proud,” she repeated.

  That included her, I wanted to say, but I could see she didn’t want to be praised.

  I led her back outside, where eight or nine of the rogues, as I’d fondly come to think of them, were reclining on one platform, talking and laughing with each other. Bird was there, too, sitting a little ways apart on an overhanging branch—​and so was Nellie, sitting quite close to him. Seraph glowered at them from a branch nearby, I was pleased to see.

  I lectured myself not to bristle.

  “Ah, Silvie,” said Will Stutely, the bearded man I’d confronted the night his band arrived. “We were waiting for you and the Mae, and our carpenter. Now, those of us up here are all for another day’s hard work”—​the men chuckled—​“but the lazybones on the ground say it’s time to, ah, celebrate our accomplishment. Hey, lads?”

  His deep voice carried, and an answering whoop came from below us.

  “Asides which, any new home needs a blessing to warm it up, as any clergywoman worth her salt will know.” He nodded to Mae Tuck, who stood just behind me.

  “Oh yes,” said the Mae, very seriously. “And a happy gathering is the very best sort of blessing. Especially”—​her eyes were twinkling—​“if there’s ale.”

  The whoops sounded below again, louder still.

  I stretched my arms above my head, smiling. “I certainly agree, and I’d be delighted not to wield a hammer for a day, too. We’ve all earned the right to celebrate.” I ran through our remaining stores in my mind, wondering what we could most easily spare. The men certainly did their share of hunting, and they gathered tubers and late apples and greens for us too, but with so many mouths to feed, we were barely getting by.

  “Right!” said Stutely. “It’s settled, then.” He leaned over the edge of the platform. “We’re off to the pub, my lads!”

  I felt my face pale with embarrassingly prim horror. I stepped back and elbowed Little Jane. “Have you ever been to a public house?” I asked her.

  She laughed, but the laugh was as nervous as I felt. “I’ve never even heard of one that lets women inside,” she said. “Leastways, not women who aren’t . . .” She trailed off.

  I nodded sagely. “Ladies of ill repute,” I said. “Ladies of pleasure.”

  Mae Tuck’s laugh boomed out. “And w
hat are we?” she asked, clapping both of us on the back. “Each one of us is reputed ill these days—​outlaws, to be frank. And as for pleasure, we’ve plenty of that out here, haven’t we, girls?”

  I looked down at my callused hands, and I felt the tired, wholesome ache in my arms, the ache that came from helping to build houses that, the Lord and Lady willing, would keep us all sheltered for who knew how many months or years to come. I thought of the feeling my days had now, busy and sometimes worried, but still freer and more joyful than any of the plush, rigid days I’d spent at Loughsley. I thought of roast dinners by the fire, cups of tea at all hours of the day, the heartrending freshness of the forest air in morning. The comfort and freedom I’d felt the first night out here, with Bird sleeping by my side and all the restrictions of my old world fallen away.

  Ill repute and pleasure.

  I smiled at Mae Tuck. “Indeed,” I said. “Well, girls, we’re off to the public house.”

  * * *

  “It jumps!”

  The rogues broke out laughing. I wiped the ale’s foam from my lips, embarrassed, but I had to laugh with them.

  Even Little Jane was laughing, but I was glad to see that. In the pub where Mae Tuck had brought us, a homely place called the Rose and Chestnut in some little village I’d never heard of, we were all feeling free and happy. “Haven’t you ever had ale before?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ve drunk brandy, on the hunts, or in the dead of winter after a day of skating on the frozen lake, when the blood needs warming up, and Mae Tuck’s bramble wine of course is delicious,” I was babbling. “But I’ve never had a drink that fizzes and pops in the mouth like this one.”

  “Never had ale!” She shook her head. “Not even when the water’s bad?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”