the scholar's sweetheart 16 cliffie bonus

 

Chapter 16

 

Jasper melted into shadows, as the door crashed open.

“I’ll give you something to bark about, you cur!” cried Swallow, crashing into the stables. There were several pained yelps, then silence. Swallow banged out again and back into the cottage.

“What a fool,” muttered Jasper. He eased open the stable door, and found the dog lying, panting in pain.

Jasper risked shutting the door and setting a light in a lantern.

“Easy, boy,” he said, running a gentle hand down the dog’s flank “Nasty bruises and I think he’s broken your leg.”

Jasper had the touch with animals, and the dog whined and tried to wag his tail.  Jasper had nothing but water to cool wounds, but he tore a strip off his shirt to splint the broken leg. He noticed a jar labelled ‘horse liniment,’ and opened it to sniff; it was still pungent, so he added it to the dog’s wounds, and slid it into his own pack. Then he put out the lantern, and led the mule out of the stable and down the path, where he tethered it, carrying the dog, which he made comfortable on a horse blanket from the stable, and left a bucket of water from the stable for both of them. There was a pump by the side of the stable, but he did not dare work it, only scoop such water as there was from the trough.  He tied three saplings together and threw another horse blanket over them as a makeshift shelter, and brought hay.

The cart was outside, and had been well-oiled. Jasper filled it with hay and straw, and pushed it slowly towards the front door. There was a curtain of sorts over the window, to keep out the cold of the night, and he moved the cart only when he could hear loud conversation and the odd burst of laughter.

He put hay under the windows both sides of the door and under the sill of the window on the side of the house with a trail round to the front. He fetched out the whittled wedges which he pressed into the casements as hard as he could without hammering. That sealed the parlour windows on both sides.  Jasper suspected that the men would fall to dicing before they went to bed, and that would keep them occupied. He managed to press in wedges to that window when they fell to quarrelling loudly, and blessed his luck. They could, perhaps, go upstairs and try to go out of the upstairs windows; but not if the roof was well alight before they realised the trouble they were in. He had found a can of lamp oil, and splashed it liberally on the threshold and the hay leading to the cart, and set a lighted shuttered lantern right by the door which would be knocked over into the lamp oil the moment the door opened.

Then he slipped away up the cliff, with some more hay, and stuffed it in the chimney. Chimneys smoked from time to time, and they would put the fire out, but it would help rob the room of good air and make them sluggish. Then he kindled a flame, pouring the rest of the lamp oil into strategic points of the thatch, at both ends, and on the roof of the stable block, and set light to the thatch.

It had been dry for days, and despite the mizzling rain, it went up like a torch. Jasper had to leap back as it leaped up, to avoid being burned, and beat a hasty retreat from the roof. There was a good downdraught from off the hill, teasing the flames and licking them into a more fervent ardour of pyrotechnic endeavour, such that by the time he had reached the ridge, the whole roof was ablaze, and the light of it a ghastly orange in the sky. Sparks flew up and smuts floated lazily down, and Jasper reflected this was what snow in hell would be like.   Jasper retired to his log, and waited. It also protected him from hot smuts, and if the fire spread to the trees, which he thought it should not, he could always retreat to his passageway below. He did not want to burn the forest, but he thought the nearest trees too far to do more than char a little at worst.

It would take a while for the men in the cottage to become aware of what was going on.  Had he but known it, their senses were even more dulled for Crowy having managed to steal some brandy. The roof was well alight, and the beams below the thatch, before Crowy asked, rather drunkenly, what the roaring was.

“Mus’ be a storm,” said Swallow. “It was raining when I went out after the dog. Like as not that’s why he was barking. Look, there’s flickers of lightning.”

“It’s awful red,” said Perun. “Hey, it’s a fire! We must of been struck by lightning!”

It was around about then that the three rogues thought of grabbing what they could, and saving their lives by running out of the door.

And inevitably, one of them kicked over the lamp as they all tried to exit at once, and the lamp oil went up with a dull ‘WHUMP!’ setting light to the cart right on the door, and for having its path blocked by the cart body, sucking right into the door of the cottage, and setting light to the somewhat brandy-flavoured gypsies. They had managed to spill some whilst drinking, and fire loves warm brandy.

Then the screaming started. 

Jasper heard it, and was briefly satisfied; but as it went on, he found he had to exit his hideout to be violently sick.

“Let ’ee burn, you murderous bastard an’ carry on burning as ’ee burn in Hell for eternity for burning my mother,” said Jasper, reverting to childhood vernacular. Then he crept back into his nest and sobbed for his mother and Lementina, who was a grandmother to him. He cried himself to sleep.

 

oOoOo

 

Evergreen and Evelyn entirely missed the excitement of the fire. For one thing, the cottage was on the other side of the ridge; and for another, they were both inside the tent, and did not see the flickering in the sky, since the greater part of the fire had burned down by the time Evergreen got up to feed their fire.  A timber framed building can be reduced to ash and charred beams in a couple of hours. It can then smoke and smoulder for a considerable time, depending on the thickness of the beams, regardless of how hard it may be raining, once the fire has taken the main thickness of a beam and is smouldering happily underneath it, making charcoal.

Having failed to realise there had been a fire, Evergreen came awake first, and Evelyn roused from endless restless half-dreams with a groan as he realised one leg was asleep from having had Bess partly on it. He wanted to relieve himself, and swore as he could not feel his leg when he tried to put weight on it. Somehow he limped to a distance to lean on a tree as he relieved the pressing need, by which time his leg had moved from numb to tingling and burning, as feeling returned.

“Numb?” asked Evergreen.

“Not any more; feels as if a dozen rats are trying to gnaw it off,” grunted Evelyn. “Your dog is heavy.”

“She knows better than to sleep on me as I kick her,” said Evergreen. “You’ve made her very happy.” The dog’s tail was wagging.

“The feeling is not mutual,” said Evelyn.

“Well, if you are mobile, I’ll leave you in charge of the fire and see about scouting,” said Evergreen.

 

 

Evergreen came upon the rough shelter with a mule and a dog in it first.  And Bess gave tongue and ran up the path.

“I’ll be back,” said Evergreen, and ran to follow Bess. The air was smoky and thick, the damp air holding down the smell of charring, and the acrid sweetish scent of burned bodies. Evergreen’s nose twitched. Crowy Heron had been known to use fire before against those who crossed him, and he proceeded with caution. He swallowed hard, wondering if he was about to find his childhood friend’s body burned beyond recognition, and if so, how he was going to break it to Evelyn.

He pushed on round the corner, and stood, mouth open, to see the blackened skeleton of what had once been a cottage, its massive beams charred and smoking, all fallen in. The chimney stood still in the centre, a monument to its sturdy construction.

“Well, damn!” said Evergreen.

Bess pawed at the cliff face.

“Evergreen?” said a voice.

“Jasper?” said Evergreen.

Jasper clambered over the cliff and scrambled down, and embraced his older friend wordlessly.

“Did you burn him out?” asked Evergreen.

“I burned them all in,” said Jasper, in grim satisfaction. “Crowy, Perun, and Swallow. Barricaded the door and set a trap for that to go afire if they opened the door, and it leaped back and caught them, from what I can gather. I... I just left the fire to do its job. They screamed an awful lot,” he said.

“Well, old man, let’s go find your da,” said Evergreen. “I left him in charge of the camp; is that your mule and dog?”

“It is now,” said Jasper. “I’m not sure the dog is going to live, Swallow was vicious, but if he didn’t damage anything inside with his great boots, the dog will live.”

“We can put him on the mule and look him over properly at the camp,” said Evergreen. “Your da has medicines with him.”

“I stole some horse liniment when I took the mule and the dog out of the stable,” said Jasper.  “Innocent beasts didn’t ought to die.”

“No, quite so,” agreed Evergreen. He thought Jasper a wounded creature himself, shying from touching a wound that could be better healed by dealing with it.

“Lementina was alive when we left,” said Evergreen, abruptly. “Her ladyship thought Cornelius got her there in time to save her life.”

“And... and Shuri?” asked Jasper.

This was it, thought Evergreen.

“Burned on the face and arms, and lost all her hair,” he said, “They say she might scar.”

“She... they think she’ll live to be scarred?” said Jasper.

“Last I heard,” said Evergreen. “Her and Cornelius both. Bad burns but being treated.”

Jasper gasped. “If she is badly scarred...”

“It was down one side. No problem with her eyes,” said Evergreen. “And see, there’s your da.”

“Papa! Oh, papa!” Jasper was a small missile who nearly bowled Evelyn over, as the tall man strode forward seeing the little figure with Evergreen.

“My son, oh, my son!” cried Evelyn, and then Jasper was sobbing in his arms. Jasper stumbled through how he had thought his mother and Lementina burned to death as Crowy boasted of killing Lementina, and so he burned him and his cousins.

“I am sorry that you had to do it as I was planning on killing them myself,” said Evelyn. “But well done for managing it.”

“You aren’t sore at me?” asked Jasper, his early vernacular creeping in.

“No, I’m proud of you for escaping and doing what you had to do,” said Evelyn. “I would have killed them with no more compunction than shooting a mad dog. Less; I’d have sympathy for the dog. If you feel remorse, you are a bigger man than I am.”

“Remorse? No. Only satisfaction that they cannot hurt anyone else,” said Jasper. “I wondered if there was something wrong with me for not being horrified. I mean, other than how horrible the screams were.”

“Just remember, that is what Crowy planned for Lementina,” said Evelyn.

“I thought he had killed her, and ma,” said Jasper, again. “It was revenge.”

“It was his intent, so it counts,” said Evelyn. “Well! We have some sandwiches and beer; let us eat breakfast, and go and collect the horses. We should be home for dinner as we can head straight there, not all around the houses.”

“Oh, papa! Have you healing salves? Swallow Heron kicked this poor dog,” said Jasper.

“Certainly, and proper dressings,” said Evelyn. Jasper saw to the nameless dog whilst Evelyn and Evergreen put out the fire and struck their makeshift camp. Jasper was glad he had kept the gay skirts in his pack, using one to make a sling for the injured cur.

 

Evelyn had not expected to be met by aggressive villagers with pitchforks.

“Thieves! You stole from me!” howled the innkeeper, leading them.

“I borrowed a spade, which I return to you now,” said Evergreen, handing it over. “And how dare you accuse his lordship of stealing, when what you charged for sandwiches and moth eaten blankets was daylight robbery!”

“Enough!” barked Evelyn. “If anyone stole from you, it was Crowy Heron and his cousins, who can’t answer for their crimes, being dead; but be assured, my young son here has been through enough of an ordeal having been kidnapped by gypsies and even having to wear the mismatched rags of the kind Crowy Heron thinks suitable, and I will not hesitate to shoot. I have a shotgun and two pistols, and I suggest you disperse and go home before I read the riot act upon you.”

His plainly educated tones and fine quality if rumpled clothes were enough to make some back down right away; the look of blazing fury in his eyes and the shotgun he produced accounted for the others. Jasper too was a convincing sight, despite his gypsy clothing, as his looks tended to pity him whilst he was going through a growing spurt, and the tear tracks on his face were unmistakable.

“Well, who’s going to put right what was stolen?” demanded the truculent innkeeper.

“You don’t deserve it, but I’ll pay for what was stolen,” said Evelyn in clipped tones. “And you had better have fed my horses and seen to their grooming.”

“I might not have had time...”

“Jasper, Evergreen, curry the horses, and this mule, and see to feeding them a good bran mash and if the stablehands give you a hard time, knock them down for their contumely,” said Evelyn. “I shall want to purchase a basket well lined with an old comforter for this poor dog, ill-treated by his former owner,” he said

If the rest were not enough, a word like ‘contumely’ completely collapsed the innkeeper. He arranged a basket which could be strapped to the mule for the transport of the dog, and muttered to his employee that only an aristocrat would be daft enough to take on care of a misbegotten cur which was likely useless and any normal man would hang it quickly to save the cost of a bullet in shooting it. It was as well for him that Evelyn did not overhear this comment.

The dog growled once at Evelyn, who fixed it with a steely gaze, and addressed it in the tones of One Who Orders. “Now then, sirrah! Why such bad language to your new master?” demanded Evelyn. “At rest, now.”

The dog subsided and tentatively wagged its stump of a tail.

“Poor old boy,” said Evelyn, presenting a hand to sniff and then doing the precise place on the cur’s ears which reduced it to drooling pleasure. “I fear you are no aristocrat to be named for any of the Hounds of Actaeon; I fancy you will be known as ‘Stumpy.’

Stumpy wagged what little tail he possessed. He might be in pain, but he discovered a ham bone in the basket, and he had already eaten that morning. He was grateful for a new owner who was not handing out more whipping or kicks.

Evelyn kept the motheaten blankets. He anticipated being home before nightfall, in taking a direct route; but it would not harm to have the means to camp; he had, after all, paid for them! Well-washed, the children could play with them in the garden.

 

oOoOo

 

Meanwhile, Cornelius had arisen, sore, but otherwise whole in spirit and demanded of Mrs. Hudson if he was to be released from durance invalid.

“You’ll do very well, I think, Mr. Reckitt,” said that worthy. “You can remove to your own room.”

“How is Shuri?” asked Cornelius.

“Doing well enough for a guest room,” said Mrs. Hudson. “Or to set out after Master Jasper.”

“Evelyn not home then?” asked Cornelius.

“No, sir,” said Mrs. Hudson.

“Lementina?”

“That one’s too stubborn to die,” said Mrs. Hudson, in satisfaction. “So long as I can keep her from infection. But she won’t travel again.”

“I’m adopting her as my mother and I’ll have a cottage built,” said Cornelius.

“Aye, that will do nicely,” said Mrs. Hudson.  “You’ll have to talk her round, though.”

 

the scholar's sweetheart 15

 

Chapter 15

 

Jasper woke to the sound of voices, having decided to doze until dusk. It was still light when the voices woke him. They drifted up the hillside, and if he strained he could hear what was said; Crowy’s voice, and two others, he thought, were Perun and Swallow Heron, Crowy’s cousins, who were brothers. As unpleasant as Crowy, Jasper did not want to fall into their clutches.

“She can’t have gone far,” he heard Crowy’s voice, frustrated. “She’s only a woman and she was half suffocated by the tent wrapped round her.”

“Hungry and thirsty too, I wager,” said Swallow, with a rough laugh.

There was a silence.

“She stole my beer, bread, ham, and cheese,” admitted Crowy.

There was jeering laughter from the other two.

“You’re slipping, Crowy,” said Perun. “Lookee!  If we find her for you, do we get a turn to poke her?”

“When I’ve schooled her,” promised Crowy.

“Reckon she might of gone over the hill?” asked Swallow.

“Talk sense! She’d have to climb the cliff here,” said Crowy. “If she’d gone out through the roof, well, yes, she could of walked onto the top o’ the cliff, but she never did. She went out o’ the window an’ I reckon she hung an’ dropped, it’s not far. She couldn’t go into a village, they’d of druv her out. She might of gone up if she went to where the slope’s gentle, but women when they run, they take easy paths, not difficult ones.”

Jasper had to concede that this was probably accurate for many women. It was, however, Shuri, who had taught him to go up when evading Fowk, as people do not look up. Jasper had once spent three horribly uncomfortable days in an oak tree with his mother until Fowk cooled off over whatever had enraged him, and they could go home.

“Shuri’s a cut above most women. I’m going up the cliff, and if nothing else, I can use it as a vantage point,” said Swallow.

“You’re an ornery cur. Speaking of which, where’s the dog?”

“In the wood,” said Perun. “I’ll get it; you get me down something o’ hers, an’ I’ll soon have her tracked, if Swallow will wait up a moment,” he added. Jasper could only hope that Crowy’s scent from carrying him in the tarpaulin was all the dog could find, since some of which was all he had left that had been in contact with him – the wig having enough of its own natural oils to mask his scent. With luck the dog would be confused.

Jasper slipped out to lay more sticks on his entrance side and pull debris over them, and scattered more wild garlic.  He dug a hole towards the other side of the hill, and took the opportunity to empty his bladder and bowels as a dog would be drawn to the stronger scent. He slithered back into his hide, and pulled debris into the small gap he needed to enter. Jasper had never been so frightened in his life. Crowy was a fearsome enemy but could be appealed to through greed. Perun was too stupid to recognise the opportunity to hope the son of a marquis could be held for ransom; Jasper was fairly sure that Perun would not see how Jasper could be ‘useful enough’ to a marquis to be worth anything. And Swallow! Swallow liked hurting, and giggled when people were in pain. If he only had a pistol, thought Jasper, he could shoot one and maybe outrun the others. He pushed aside the bracken he had pulled to cushion his nest, and dug frantically to add to the debris to make it harder to get at him.

And then, suddenly, as he was cursing that he had hit a root, the chalky ground beside the root started to trickle away, and formed a hole, beneath his hiding place!

“Dear G-d, thank you if this is what I think and the tree fell because of a sink hole,” said Jasper. In a hole, he could slash at hands with his knife, so long as it was big enough that they could not collapse it on him.

He had brought candles from the bedrooms in the cottage, and was glad they were good wax, not tallow dips. He kindled a spark to light one  and held it down into the hole. It looked to be about six feet deep and ran off one way further than the candle could penetrate.

Jasper widened the hole, dropped through his belongings, and slithered down himself, pulling bracken back over the top, and then cautiously relit the candle.

It was larger than he had thought, and where the candle flame had been unable to reach, he could see tool marks on the chalky wall; someone had dug flints from here sometime, long ago. How long, Jasper could not guess, but he suspected it was long enough to have been old when the witching sisters were burned. A spring bubbled up from the fallen-in dirt where the tree had once stood, and likely the one thing that had allowed it to grow so large, and yet, the thing that killed it by undermining it. It made it a bit of a squeeze into the cut passageway, but had also, paradoxically, probably been what opened it.

Jasper, considering that he had little choice at this point, set off down the passage, after first tasting the spring water, and then filling empty beer bottles when he found it was good. He hung on to a tree-root to do so, rinsing the bottles first, as the spring ran a short distance and vanished into a fissure, and Jasper had no desire to fall into a deeper sink hole cut by the spring as it disappeared into the chalk after being forced to the surface by a layer of clay.

 

oOoOo

 

Evelyn awoke to the rather timid shaking by a maid.

“If you please, sir, you asked for an early dinner, and it’ll be served in the parlour in ten minutes,” she said. “I’ve brung up your clothes, me ma an’ me washed an’ ironed them. An’ I’m sorry about your collar but we didn’t have much starch.”

“That will be fine,” said Evelyn, reaching for a coin from the commode to vail her. “I’m not a dandy.”

“You do look all a gentleman should be,” blurted out the girl, and blushed.

“Why, thank you,” said Evelyn. “My wife agrees. How is my dog?”

“Oh, she’s fine, sir, she got to eat first,” said the girl.

“Well, then, I have time for a quick wash, I think,” said Evelyn, starting to get out of bed.

“Eeep!” said the maid, fleeing, as Evelyn had stripped entirely to sleep. Evelyn grinned. She was a chatty child, despite her shyness, and Evelyn really did want to wash before dressing. Evergreen had roused too, and stripped the clothes he had not handed over for washing to take advantage of the hot water the girl had brought.

Half an hour later they were tucking into what was described as lamb with tarragon and thyme, served with celery and green onion chopped into rice.

“Acceptable,” said Evelyn. “I think the tup they served may have been in its second lambhood rather than being grass lamb, but it was well cooked.”

Evergreen giggled.

“I’ve never had lamb, so I wouldn’t know,” he said.

Half an hour later still, they were on the road towards Grovely Wood.

“I think that this must be one of the more sparsely occupied corners of England which isn’t actually moorland,” said Evelyn. “Well, we should get to... what did you say it was called?”

“Great Wishford,” said Evergreen. “I heard it used to be ‘Great Witchford,’ but it were for the wytch elms, not for witchcraft.”

“Do you believe in witchcraft at all?” asked Evelyn.

“Not at all in daylight and mostly not when I’m with someone like you,” opined Evergreen. “At night, somewhere creepy, I lay garlic about me as well as saying my prayers.”

“Nothing wrong with being thorough,” said Evelyn.

 

Night was closing in fast by the time they reached Great Wishford. They hitched their horses and went into the ale house. The main street seemed to have been recently built, and somehow felt wrong in its overwhelming modernity.

“We don’t serve your kind here,” said the landlord, with hostility.

“No? Dear me, how very unfriendly of you,” drawled Evelyn, with his best aristocratic tones.

“Oh, forgive me, milord, I thought you was gypsies,” said the landlord, grovelling.

“My son has been abducted by a gypsy and this excellent lad from a different tribe is helping me search,” said Evelyn. “There are gypsies, and gypsies, you know.”

“I still can’t serve him, matter o’ policy,” said the landlord.

“Fine, serve my horses and dog, and sell me bottles of beer and sandwiches,” said Evelyn. “Bring them out to me in the yard so we don’t have to sully your unchristian premises any longer than necessary and so I can go find my boy.”

The landlord lost himself in a plethora of oleaginous half sentences and apologies, and Evelyn ignored him, stalking out with Evergreen, awed, in his wake.

“We’ll search for an hour, unless Bess picks up a good trail, and then camp overnight,” said Evelyn. “I trust you to find us a good place to camp. I did not set out with expectations to camp, but we have good wool blankets, and if you can find somewhere suitable, it’s coming on to rain.”  He broke off to take beer and sandwiches and pay the landlord as Bess and the horses were fed. “Landlord, do you have any old horse blankets to sell us? And perhaps I can stable my horses here?”

The landlord looked cunning.

“My name is Finchbury. Evelyn, Marquis Finchbury,” said Evelyn softly. “If you even try to sell my horse whilst I am gone, you will wish I only handed you over to the law, because I will ruin you; and my horses will come home to me anyway because they are trained to do so. So remove any larcenous thoughts from what you laughingly call your brain.”

The landlord paled.

Any stories he had heard had probably been of Evelyn’s father, but Evelyn was not about to quibble if it got compliance.

They were provided with some rather motheaten blanket, for which Evelyn paid too much, and passed through the village following the road towards the wooded rise which lay to the south. They moved off the road and up into the trees on the chalk outcrop. 

Evergreen took his knife, a vicious-looking tool, and cut a sapling seven feet long and lashed it three feet up from the ground between two other saplings as Evelyn held things for him.

“We can use the old blankets to stretch out and peg down, and add bracken to them and bracken under other blankets to sit on, and if you would gather firewood before it gets too wet, my lord, I’ll dig a pit and get a fire going,” said Evergreen.

Evelyn knew how to gather firewood, at least, and meekly did so, piling it under the stretched out makeshift roof. Evergreen was lopping more branches, sharpening the ends to drive into the ground with a heavy flint, and lashing another branch between them to help hold the blankets out. Overlapped, he laid bracken over them, having made a slope shallow enough that they did not slide down, whittling pegs to drive through the old wool and into the ground. He nodded approval at Evelyn storing the wood inside, where the ends of the blanket flapped over. Bess was left, casting about, so far to no avail. Then Evelyn assisted Evergreen to dig a pit, piling the earth from it on the other side of the pit from the makeshift tent. The boy appeared to have acquired a shovel. Evelyn decided not to ask; the landlord had been disobliging and had overcharged for everything.

“Why a pit?” asked Evelyn.

“Hide the fire,” said Evergreen, digging into the side of the pit. “And keep it from the weather like this,” he made a hole in the side of the chalk, with an air hold down, by thrusting his knife in. He rapidly lit a fire and soon it was crackling away, the pile of earth and chalk behind it throwing heat back towards the tent. “In winter, you light a fire in a pit, and then dig another, and take most of the fire to the second, filling in the pit with hot embers to be under your bed,” he said. “It’s damnably cold for this time of year, but we can always shift fire and tent if it gets worse.”

“Indeed,” said Evelyn. “I note you lit it between two other saplings.”

“Which could be used to have a pole between to hang a pot,” said Evergreen.  “Bess isn’t getting anywhere, and I doubt she will after rain, but we can look for Crowy’s hideout. He’ll go out to hunt and fetch water if nothing else.”

Evelyn had to be content with this, and retired to the tent as Evergreen whistled to Bess and indicated that they should turn in for the night.

Evelyn had to admit that the warmth of the dog between them, under shared cloaks as blankets, made all the difference; and though he was neither comfortable nor especially warm, he was not especially uncomfortable nor cold. Evergreen got up from time to time to feed the fire, and Evelyn dozed rather than sleeping until the cold grey of a wet dawn oozed over the horizon.

“Set in to rain for several days now,” said Evergreen. “I’ll take Bess questing; you keep the fire in, and gather more wood. I’ll come and get you if she finds a scent. But I can smell smoke on the air, and more than just our fire. I’ll see if I can find out what it is.”

 

oOoOo

 

Whilst Evelyn and Evergreen were dining on mutton, Jasper made his way down an old mine shaft. It came out abruptly, though a fall of rock blocked the exit, but Jasper could feel and smell fresh air through it.  Carefully, he cleared the debris enough for his slender frame to slither out onto the hillside into crepuscular gloom. To his left, and below him, a rill burst out of a crevice, and Jasper suspected it might be the same watercourse which bubbled up in the cave. He drank his fill, and lifted an item from the water where it gleamed in the waning moon, and found it to be a mostly green copper pin or brooch, in some kind of arcane knot. He took it as a good omen, and wondered if it had washed from having been lost near the big fallen tree, carried by the water. He pinned it to his shirt as the best way to carry it, corroded though the pin was. It was not as if he cared much about Crowy’s shirt, after all.

“Ma’ll like you, if she’s alive,” muttered Jasper.

This reminded him of his intentions.

He made a stealthy way back up the hillside, and could hear Swallow calling out.

“She’s been here, Crowy; I found a shelter, but she ain’t there now. The dog wanted to scrabble but there’s nowhere for her to have gone. I had to cuff the beast to get it to stop, and try to find where she’s gone, and it’s my belief she went down to the village.”

“They don’t like gypsies there,” said Crowy.

“No, but if they didn’t drive her out, she’s likely in the lock-up, waiting for a whipping,” said Swallow, with a giggle. Jasper shuddered, imagining the man fondling himself at the thought.

“She might even be grateful at being rescued, at that,” said Crowy. “You go back to the cottage; tie the dog in the stable and feed the mule. I’ll see if she’s in the lockup and steal some more food.”

 

Jasper grinned, savagely to himself. He gave them time to get down the cliff and returned to his hideout. It had been pulled apart at one side, but it would keep off the rain which was just starting. He spent his time repairing his shelter, to wait for Crowy to return, disappointed in not finding Shuri in the rude hut which constituted the village lockup, but doubtless successful in the stealing of food. This took Crowy a little over an hour, and it was fully dark when he returned, complaining that they had plainly driven Shuri out, and he was sick of the hunt, and that they should go back to find her with her tribe.

This firmed Jasper’s resolve. He could smell smoke from the cottage chimney; and, had he but known it, from the fire his father and Evergreen lit, having narrowly missed walking into Crowy on larceny bent. He gave them time to boil water for whatever meal they were making, and slipped out of his hideout, and slithered down the cliff on the stable, or blind side of the house.

The dog barked, and kept barking.

 

the scholar's sweethaert 14

 

Chapter 14

 

 Jasper, waiting for Crowy to give up searching for Shuri, reviewed in his memory the layout of the cottage and all points of potential exit. There was another window on the end, into what was essentially a parlour or living room as well as the window on the front; which could probably be wedged with a sliver of wood in the hinges. The front door opened into the kitchen with a door to the left into the living room, and the chimney beyond it on the wall between. The stairs must be in the parlour, and considering the window outside, had a window on the minute landing since there had not been a second window at the front in Crowy’s room, nor stairs, and therefore there must be a landing of sorts. Jasper did not much care how that was configured but suspected that the stairs crossed the chimney breast. There was no door into the stable from the kitchen. There was no other door into the chalk besides the larder. That meant there really was only one way out. The cart had been left by the stable, not in it. By the fact that the roof was the same height, there was probably a hay loft above it.

Jasper firmed his jaw. Crowy Heron had said that he had pinned down the tent flap so that Mother Lementina would burn to death in her tent. And his mother had been sharing a tent with Lementina. Jasper knew what fire could do, and that hot pitch from the tarpaulins that made the tents would drip onto skin and cling. Crowy had intended Lementina’s death, and at her age, he had probably succeeded. But with the tent cramped for holding two women, not one, the realisation that his mother had also almost certainly perished or been at best horribly wounded so that she would not want to live came crashing down on him. Jasper crushed his hands into his mouth and bit down on them to muffle the howl of anguish and fury which wanted to rip out of his soul via his mouth.

“Crowy Heron, if you love fire, you shall die by fire,” Jasper vowed, licking the blood from his knuckes where his sharp white teeth had penetrated the skin in his distress, as a blood pact with himself. He thought of the distress to Woodlock, and to Cornelius, either of whom would also die to save Shuri and Lementina. And doubtless Crowy expected Woodlock at least to die in the attempt to save the tribe herb wife. It would be easier to assume the leadership of a broken, leaderless tribe.

“Crowy Heron, you are a murderer. You are anathema to me. It is my right to avenge myself. You will die at my hand for the murder of my mother and for the two men who mean more to me than any but Papa,” he said out loud. “This I swear, and as I swear, so shall it be.”

And then he cast himself down on his front and sobbed, all the emotion of the last few days released in silent, heartrending tears.

He heard the cottage door bang again, as Crowy returned, and he sat up to plan, with cold, efficient intensity. And part of that planning was to whittle wedges to thrust into hinges of the old casement windows.

 

oOoOo

 

Having got back on track, Evelyn and Evergreen headed back for the inn where the trail had been lost, but the day was well advanced and traffic up and down the street spread the pungent odour of horse and cattle dung, as carts came and went, and a drover drove his herd.

Bess ran about, casting around to find a scent, but lay down suddenly, and sighed.

“Poor old girl,” said Evelyn. “She’s all in. As I see it, we have two choices.”

“Oh, please don’t shoot her!” cried Evergreen.

“Shoot her? Why on earth would I do that?” asked Evelyn, in horror.

“Because she ain’t no good to you no more,” said Evergreen.

“Well, I’d never even consider such a wicked idea unless she was hurt too badly to heal,” said Evelyn. “The two choices I came up with – and you might have others – were either to leave Bess here and pay for her keep whilst you and I press on; or that we stay here with her, and set out after a long rest tonight.”

“Can we be sure they’d treat her right?” asked Evergreen.

“They’d better, or I’ll see the landlord out on the street,” said Evelyn, his brows coming together.

“I sort of forget you’re a marquis until you do that ‘someone is going to hurt,’ look,” said Evergreen. “It makes you suddenly scary.”

“I don’t want to scare you, but being scary means, usually, that I don’t have to hurt anyone,” said Evelyn. “But I do take your point. I’m not sure I trust any man I don’t know with an animal. Then, unless you have a better idea, we stay here, and set off tonight for these here woods. If Bess were smaller she could ride with one of us, but although Phebe has been known to take her mop on a horse, I can’t see Bess being amenable.”

“She’s used to follow the tribe carts,” said Evergreen. “A good rest and a meal and plenty to drink, and she’ll be like new. He sighed. “I thought we’d be back by now,” he said. “Ain’t it eating you up inside?”

“The fear for my son is ripping my guts out,” said Evelyn. “But I won’t help him if I have nothing left to give, and I won’t find him without Bess. And a good gypsy tracker like you, who, moreover, knows how Jasper thinks.”

Evergreen nodded, sagely.

“A hunter who knows intimately what he’s tracking does better than a better hunter who doesn’t know his quarry.”

“So I thought. And we both know Jasper.  We don’t know if Crowy has penetrated his disguise, but when we catch up, we shall have to be ready to play along if Jasper has managed, somehow, to continue to pull off the imposture. Or to negotiate if he does know he has Jasper.”

“If you offer him money, he’ll change the deal.”

“I had already worked that out. But it buys us time to rescue Jasper – if, indeed, he has not already rescued himself.”

Evergreen grinned.

“I back Jasper to wriggle out of any trap,” he said.

They left their horses with the groom, a solitary hand, at the back of the ‘White Swan,’ and Evelyn strode in.

“Back again? Did you find him? That ain’t your son, surely?” said the barkeeper.

“Crowy pulled a trick on me and doubled back,” said Evelyn. “But my dog’s exhausted, and so is the lad who is helping me. I’ll take two rooms if you have them or one if I must, and an early dinner for us in a private parlour, and I’ll pay for the night, though I dare say I’ll be leaving much earlier.”

“I’ve only the one room, milord,” said the barkeeper.

“Ah? Then that will have to do,” said Evelyn.  “Hot water please, for washing; I won’t ask you to stretch to a bath, nor washing linen.”

“I can have your linen washed and ironed dry in three hours, milord, and the boy’s,” said the innkeeper.

He did not turn down the extra two guineas Evelyn offered for this service, and brought Evelyn a jug of coffee and two mugs himself when he came to collect Evelyn’s drawers, shirt, and neckcloth.  Evergreen had kicked off his boots, curled up on the bed and fell asleep.

“You’re a lifesaver,” said Evelyn, and added, soberly, “Possibly literally if I can rest well and be after Crowy Heron.”

He drank the coffee, but was soon asleep himself.

 

oOoOo

 

 Cornelius awoke with little hands slapping his hands away from his head.

“Phebe?” he was surprised.

“I’m in charge while Mama and Mrs. Hudson have a rest,” said Phebe. “I know it’s sore and itchy but keep your hands off it.”

“Yes, nurse,” said Cornelius, meekly. “How are the other patients?”

“Lementina woke up long enough to swear with words I don’t know, and demanded that I make a concoction I didn’t know, so I did so, under her eye, and she took it and bade me give it to anyone else with bad burns, and I know she’s a herb wife so here’s yours,” said Phebe, handing him a glass.

Cornelius sniffed it suspiciously, mentally shrugged, and tossed it off. The he shuddered and gagged.

“That’s... noxious,” he wheezed.

“Lementina said you’ll need to be ready to shift to the necessary shortly so be warned,” said Phebe. “It’s got willow bark in it, but it’s also a blood cleanser and body cleanser. Once she’d used the Jordan, she looked a lot better, but she’s sleeping again. And I think Shuri is stirring, so be sure and finish in the Bramah closet before she needs it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Cornelius. “I... oh, yes, right, I’ll be back.”

“Wash your hands thoroughly,” said Phebe.

Cornelius fled without retort, and after a most unpleasant ten minutes, he had to admit that although he was as weak as a kitten, he felt better in himself.

He got back to his bed as Shuri was getting up, and Phebe helped her to the Bramah closet. The maid, Mary, brought Cornelius a bowl of what smelled like chicken soup and a buttered roll.

“Thank you,” said Cornelius.

“They ain’t so bad, the gypsies,” said Mary. “I was taken in by the other Mr. Reckitt to think so.”

“My brother is sick in the head, I fear,” said Cornelius. “I hope he can be helped, but it was pure wickedness to involve you.”

“The old woman looked at me, an’ she said ‘You’re having trouble with your courses,’ and she told me to take Fennel tea. Ooh that has helped! It felt bad at first, but it’s a most awful relief now. Not that a man knowns anyfink about such things,” she added, going red.

“I know in theory,” said Cornelius. “I fancy Mother Lementina’s cures make things briefly worse and then better in the long term.”

“That’s generally how it works,” said Shuri, returning on Phebe’s arm. “I saw myself in the mirror in the necessary; if either you or Woodlock still love the freak I am at the moment, I am blessed.”

“You are your own sweet self with a bit of damage,” said Cornelius.

“Stop flirting and eat your soup,” said Phebe. “Mary will get one for Shuri, there’s a stockpot keeping warm for when people need it.”

Cornelius turned obediently to his meal. He had noticed that his own looks were somewhat impaired but had been lucky not to have any damage to his face. He currently looked like a medieval monk, with a bald pate and a ring of curls around it. Shuri was a mess. Her hair had burned off on one side with pitch in it and the burn had extended onto her cheek. It had not, fortunately, touched her eyes.

“Mother Lementina made me write down what to do for a salve, and I’ve been making it,” said Phebe. “I’m quite capable if told what to do, so when you have eaten, I am going to take off your dressings and put salves on. I did Mother Lementina’s and it’s drawing out the fluids, so you will need to have dressings on to soak it up, and live with looking silly.”

“I think we can handle that,” said Cornelius. “I am trying not to rip into my arms.”

“Good, continue to not,” said Phebe.

When he had finished eating, she put salve on his head, and on his back, making Cornelius blush as she just pulled up his nightgown to remove the dressing, slather his back with salve, and re-cover it, and then did his arms. It was mostly the backs of his forearms, and soon he felt more comfortable.  Shuri was treated likewise; apart from her head, face, and neck, it was mostly the forearm for her, too.

“You need to drink plenty, and keep going to the closet,” said Phebe. “I’ve made up some honey water for you both, with a nip of cider vinegar in it. And when I come back, I want to see your carafes empty.”

She brought each of them a carafe and glass.

Cornelius managed to wait until Phebe had left the room to dissolve into laughter.

“She is bossy, isn’t she?” said Shuri. “Takes after Imogen.”

“Yes, you can see Imogen’s influence. I’m glad; Phebe was very cowed when she first came here,” said Cornelius.

“And how do you really feel about my looks?”

“Beautiful, because your lovely eyes are alive, sparkling, and vibrant, not staring unseeing and dead,” said Cornelius. “I... I feared I had lost you, but I knew you would be the first to urge me to take Lementina to safety.”

“Well, you’re right there. By the sound of it, doing so has saved her life, and I thank you. She has been my mother in all ways.”

“Then if it is I whom you choose, she shall be mine, also, and when she wishes to rest, she shall live with us.”

“Thank you.”

“And what’s more, if you choose Woodlock, I will be a good son to Lementina anyway,” said Cornelius, “And I will have a cottage to live with her and care for her.”

“Don’t let him get away,” said Lementina’s voice, wispy and thin, but clear. “Woodlock is a brother to you, girl, and he’ll find a good woman.”

“Can I get you anything, Lementina?” asked Cornelius.

“Some of that honey water, please,” said Lementina. Cornelius went in search of some more and was shooed back to bed by Phebe who brought the drink to Lementina.

“Papa has been gone a long time with Evergreen,” she said.

Cornelius exchanged a look with Shuri.

“What’s going on?” asked Shuri.

“Crowy took Jasper, wrapped up in your tent, we think, believing him to be you,” said Cornelius.

Shuri drew a long, shuddering gasp, and her eyes were wide.

“Crowy Heron has a hideout in Grovely Wood,” said Shuri. “He boasted of it to Fowk. I wonder if we should go and see if Evelyn is on the right trail. And maybe go ourselves...”

“I think Mama would say, ‘no,’” said Phebe.

“Please ask if she will come,” said Cornelius. “She knows something of how Shuri feels.”

 

Imogen bustled in.

“I’m worried too,” she said. “But Evelyn has enough on him to identify himself, if anything had happened to him and Evergreen, I expect we should have heard. I wonder if Crowy doesn’t know some tricks about doubling back and setting false trails.”

“He does,” said Shuri. “Imogen, Jasper is my baby....”

“If they don’t arrive overnight, you can go in a carriage,” said Imogen. “With a coachman so Cornelius does not rip the skin off his arms, and with plenty of quilts. And I’ll let Woodlock know, if he wants to go too.”

“He will; Evergreen is his brother,” said Cornelius.

“Fine. I will give you each a small drop of laudanum to sleep deeply, so you are rested and healing. I don’t like it, but I know it will only fret you more not to be doing something,” said Imogen.