TOM LED HIS little sister, Nan, into the clearing. She was walking well now and growing strong, but Marian caught a hint of fear in the child’s wide-eyed expression, and in the tense grip she kept on her brother’s hand.
‘Why, what ails thee little Nan?’
The child shook her head and hid her face in Tom’s rump. He laughed and pushed her from him.
‘’Tis naught but the weeping in the forest that upsets her.’
Marian smiled, with a slight puzzled frown. ‘And what weeping is that, Tom?’
‘Has tha not heard it, lady? It often comes to me when I’m on my way to visit thee. I can’t rightly say where it comes from. Some days it seems to come from all around.’
‘Nay. I cannot say as I know what tha means. The forest is full of creaks and sighs, but most have a reason. ’Tis thee that’s taught me so. If tha hears it again, come tell me quick, so that I can listen.’
But the strange wailing in the forest was soon forgotten, for Tom’s mother, Alice, came following them through the forest to the clearing, carrying her new baby in her arms. She was out of breath with walking fast, and all upset at the news she’d heard from Langden village. Agnes and Emma appeared from inside the cottage, disturbed by the anger in her voice.
It seemed that a man who had worked the land for the manor had died of a fever, and no sooner was the man buried than the lord of Langden had turned his old demented mother from her home.
‘As we know only too well,’ Alice cried, ‘there is no place at Langden for those who cannot work. He is a cruel master indeed. We found poor Sarah wandering in the forest three days since, half-frozen and hungry, quite out of her wits.’
Marian’s eyes blazed with outrage. Agnes shook her head.
‘I’ve known it happen before,’ said Emma.
‘But that is not all,’ Alice insisted. ‘We took Sarah into our hut and fed her, but not a word of sense could we get from her. So my husband went to Langden, as near as he dared to go. He’s just come back with worse to tell.
‘There is a woman who lives in Langden, she was my friend, Philippa, the blacksmith’s wife. She was angry when we were turned from our home, but like them all she kept silent for fear. But she has not kept silent now. Old Sarah’s treatment was too much for her. She led a gang of villagers up to the manor house and they marched into the great hall. Philippa shouted at William of Langden that Sarah should be brought back and cared for.’
Both Agnes and Emma gasped. ‘What came of it?’ asked Marian.
Alice bit at her lip. ‘She is clapped into a scold’s bridle, and fastened to the stocks. William of Langden has sent to the Sheriff to have her declared outlaw. They will brand her and chase her from Langden land.’
‘Branded? Do you mean they’ll burn her?’ Marian demanded.
‘Aye. Burn her with the outlaw’s mark. ‘Twill be there on her forehead for all to see.’
‘What of the other villagers? What of her husband?’
‘They say he sits and weeps in his forge. If he complains, he’ll lose his living. Who shall feed their children then?’
They stood together in silence, their faces pale and tight. Only Marian could not keep still; she paced up and down clenching her fists.
‘Come settle down, my lovey,’ Agnes begged. ‘’Tis a harsh thing indeed to treat this poor woman so. But we must know when there is naught to be done.’
Suddenly Marian stopped her pacing.
‘Nay, Agnes, there is something we may try. We cannot stop her being outlawed, but she shall not be branded. We must get her away from Langden tonight.’
Marian, Emma, Tom and his mother set out for the village as soon as dusk fell.
Agnes walked with them just to the edge of the clearing, Alice’s baby in her arms, for the Forestwife must stay behind. She caught at Marian’s arm, her face drawn with worry.
‘Must tha do this, lovey? We can be safe here in the heart of Barnsdale. Must tha go looking for trouble?’
For a moment they all hesitated, frightened of what they planned.
‘I cannot leave Philippa to be burned and shamed,’ said Alice. ‘She was ever my good friend, but you owe her naught.’
‘’Tis not for your Philippa, that I go,’ said Marian. ‘’Tis for thee and thy man, and young Tom here. ’Tis for all the ills this lord of Langden did thee.’
‘Bless you,’ whispered Alice.
Agnes sighed, but she reached up to kiss Marian.
‘Tha’s a fierce rash little lass, but maybe I begin to see what part tha plays.’
Marian hugged her. ‘We’ll be back before tha knows.’
They moved off quietly, into the forest night.
Tom and Alice knew the way so well that the journey was not difficult. They moved stealthily, their cloaks wrapped close for warmth and disguise. Marian’s fingers kept fastening around the handle of the sharp meat knife that she’d stuck into her belt; checking and touching, and wondering if she could use it should the need arise.
At last they came in sight of the stocks, set on the village common. The surrounding huts were quiet.
The blacksmith’s wife stood tall and upright, her shape a dark shadow in the moonlight. She was unguarded, for who in that place would dare to rescue her? Marian looked up at that still figure. The heavy metal bridle stuck out around her head, ugly and humiliating. How could she stand so straight up there, alone and cold, yet refusing to sit or droop? A strong woman indeed. She began to understand why Alice cared so.
A bubble of hot anger burst over Marian, her doubts and fears fled. ‘Look at that foul bridle,’ she hissed to Emma. ‘How can we get it off her?’
Emma shook her head hopelessly. ‘Only they will have the key.’
‘There is but one man who can cut it off,’ said Alice. ‘That man is her husband.’
‘Will he risk it?’ asked Emma.
‘He’d better,’ said Marian.
Tom was sent to the forge to warn the blacksmith and make sure that all was ready.
‘Right,’ said Marian gripping tightly onto the handle of her knife. ‘Let us get her now.’
Once they had made their move they went fast, creeping swiftly towards the stocks.
‘Hush Phil, ’tis Alice.’ Tom’s mother murmured low, so that Philippa would not be afraid, and know she was with friends.
Marian quickly cut through the rope that fastened the woman to the stocks, then, supporting her on either side, they made their Way to the forge.
The blacksmith had candles lit, ready to set to work with his smallest knives and files.
It was clear the job could not be done instantly. Alice made Philippa sit. She stroked her hands and spoke soothing words. The blacksmith was smaller than his wife, but his muscles braided his arms like corded rope. He worked hard and fast, choking and weeping all the time. Emma kept a look-out by the outer door.
Marian lifted a curtain at the back of the forge. Six children slept soundly in pallets round a glowing fire. Philippa had much to leave.
‘There’s a barking dog, and light up on the common,’ Emma cried out, before the work was done.
‘No time left,’ said Marian.
The blacksmith gave a powerful great rasp with his file, Philippa groaned and the metal snapped open. She was white-faced and staring as they lifted the burden from her head, and pulled the metal thong gently from her mouth. Dark blood trickled from her lips and fresh blood ran down her cheek. The last sharp effort had gashed her face.
Alice pulled her to her feet, and they were off, their cloaks whirling through the door.
‘Do not leave me with this,’ the blacksmith cried, picking up the hated bridle.
‘I’ll take it, sir,’ said Tom.
‘Phil . . . ippa!’ the blacksmith’s cry followed them out, into the cold dark night.
There was running and shouting and blazing torches coming closer as they headed for the forest. Several of the villagers saw them go, but the captain and his armed guards were bravely pointed in the wrong direction. The village was finding its courage once again.
They set off running through the forest, and at first all went well, but soon concern for Philippa slowed them down. She was a tall, well-built woman, but as they moved further from Langden and her ordeal, the stubborn pride that had kept her going began to drain away fast. She shivered and shook and made strange sounds.
‘’Tis all we can expect,’ Alice cried out, frantic for her friend. ‘Those wicked bridles mash the tongue. We must get her to the Forestwife.’
The last mile was a hard struggle, and they almost carried Philippa between them, but at last they reached the clearing and the blacksmith’s wife was given into Agnes’s tender care.
All through the next day Philippa was nursed and tended. She was carefully spoon-fed, but slept heavily and made no sound. Alice watched her anxiously, and whispered her fears to Marian.
‘I’ve known a scold’s bridle so hurt the tongue that they never speak clear again.’
Marian had her own doubts. After the first wild pleasure in their success, she’d grown miserable at the sadness of Philippa’s situation. The sleeping children by the fireside kept creeping into her mind.
Early that evening Philippa stirred and opened her eyes. She held her hand out to Alice, but stared with surprise at the tiny hut crowded with women. Tom squeezed in through the doorway, sensing that something was happening, followed by one of the goats and a clucking hen.
‘We’ve little to welcome thee with,’ said Marian. ‘We took thee from the stocks to save thee from branding. I fear we’ve scarred tha face instead.’
Philippa put her fingertips to the cut, feeling gently and wincing, but then she pulled herself upwards until she sat. Much to their surprise, she would not rest with that, she pushed away Alice’s supporting hand, and struggled to her feet. Then she stood tall and straight, as they’d seen her by the stocks, but now her eyes burned bright with triumph.
She moved her mouth awkwardly, as though chewing.
They all held their breath.
Then slowly but clearly she spoke. ‘We have defied the manor.’
Tom raised both his arms and clapped and cheered. The goats and chickens squawked and bleated in reply, and the hut was filled with laughter and uproar.
The blacksmith’s wife did not return to her bed, not that day nor any day. She took a quick look around the clearing and told Agnes that the Forestwife was in need of more shelter. Everyone was quick to agree, and the following days were full of cutting and sawing and hammering. Tom’s father came to give his advice, though he could not do much of the work. It was Philippa who did the heavy lifting and sawing, throwing herself into it with relish, speaking steadily and with good humour, though slowly.
Alice came through the woods every day, to give help and see her friend. She brought old Sarah with her, who wandered round the clearing happy as a child and got in everyone’s way. Once the alarm was raised when Alice noticed that the old woman was missing and work had to be stopped while they searched and brought her back.
Marian blinked back tears when she saw Philippa quietly stroke the cheek of Alice’s baby, or stoop to pat little Nan’s head.
Gradually a lean-to grew on the side of the hut, making twice as much room as before. It was sturdily built and smelt of fresh oak, so that those who slept beneath the Forestwife’s roof slept safe and warm and dry.
