MARIAN AND ROBERT lived together in peace and safety through the winter months. The little sea-battered town stayed free from frost and snow, though the wind was bitterly cold. They made good friends amongst the folk who lived in that isolated place and celebrated Christmas at Whitby Abbey. Marian learned much of seashore plants and healing lore from her new wood-gathering friend.
It was the end of February when news came to them that King Richard’s ransom was paid. Count John had fled to France, fearing his brother’s return.
Robert was strong and well, though scarred like a fighting dog. Marian watched him sadly from the clifftops as he paced along the beach with his bow, sending arrows whizzing over the rocks. Since they’d heard of Richard’s hoped-for return, Robert had done nothing but practise his shooting to strengthen his drawing arm.
She sighed. ‘He’s like a restless wolf,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Who could hope to tame such a one?’
She could not hold him there much longer, that was clear enough, and at the same time a picture of Agnes and the Forestwife’s clearing came into her mind, and then followed a picture of the Seeress’s lonely cell. A strong surge of longing made her smile to herself.
‘And I must go too, for I know now where I belong.’
She turned back to the cottage with a sigh, and began to pack their small possessions into bundles.
‘What do you do?’ he asked, when he returned.
‘’Tis time to go,’ she told him.
He did not deny it, but stood in silence watching her. Then at last he caught hold of her and hugged her.
‘I have been happy here,’ he whispered. ‘Happier than ever before. But my King has need of me.’
Robert begged a good strong horse that would carry them both, with the same agreement that Muchlyn had made. They’d leave it safe in the Bishop’s stable at Howden.
Marian took charge of their directions, for Robert had no memory of how he’d reached Baytown. They turned reluctantly away from the sea at Whitby, and crossed another heather sea – the moors – still rich with amber and purple hues. Then they travelled on to the Forest of Galtres, and there they made their camp.
They built a good fire, and sat beside it late into the night. A lone wolf howled out in the shadows and Robert leapt to his feet, an arrow gleaming in his bow. He took aim and bent his bow. The grey wolf could be seen clearly, its yellow eyes glinting in the firelight. Marian braced herself to hear its death cry, but it did not come. Robert lowered the bow. The wolf sat down in the distance, still watching them.
‘Why?’ she asked.
Robert sat down beside her. He shook his head, miserably scratching at the ground with the arrow. ‘I shall watch him, as he watches me. I doubt he’ll come closer. I know . . . what it is to be hunted. I have more in common with yon grey beast than I do with most of my own kind.’
His words made Marian shiver. She stared across the fire at him. He’d taken to wearing her hood almost all the time. His face was still lean, his eyes glittered hard and clear in the reflected firelight.
‘And now,’ he whispered, ‘I know what it is to take a man’s life.’
Marian stared at him. ‘Gisburn?’
‘Aye.’
‘Was he the first?’
He smiled bitterly at her. ‘Did you think I killed my uncle, then?’
She hung her head.
He reached across and took up her hand. ‘Believe me, Gisburn was the first, and I would wish him the last.’
Marian clung tightly to his fingers. ‘You had no choice. ’Twas kill or be killed.’
He nodded. ‘No choice indeed.’
‘Can you not give up this fighting, then? Must you still fight with Bishop Hugh?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘’Tis all that I can do.’
Later Marian lay awake beneath their blanket, her arms wrapped tightly about him. She was filled with sadness. There would never be another night like this, alone together in the woods.
They wandered a little from their pathway, and went to the west of Howden.
‘I shall take thee to Barnsdale first,’ said Robert. ‘Then ride back to Howden.’
With relief they entered the rough shelter and safety of the great wastes of Barnsdale. They were close to the Forestwife’s clearing when Tom spied them from the branch of a tree.
Marian waved and called to him, but he dropped down to the ground, and hobbled away towards the cottage.
Robert slowed the horse to a walk and turned to Marian with a puzzled frown. ‘Something is wrong,’ she whispered.
Then John came striding towards them from the clearing. The grim set of his face did nothing to calm their fears.
Robert climbed down from the horse and waited till his friend came close.
‘What is it, John?’
The big man shook his head. ‘I don’t know how to tell. ’Twas a se’enight since. I was making ready to travel north to find thee both.’
Marian sat still upon the horse, her stomach heavy as lead.
‘Is it Emma?’ she asked.
John shook his head. ‘Nay. ’Tis Agnes.’
‘What?’ They both cried out at once.
‘She is dead.’
Marian bowed her head, and covered her face with her hands.
Robert stood stiff and pale, blinking at John.
‘’Twas William of Langden.’
‘How?’ demanded Robert.
John sighed. ‘’Twill take a bit of telling. Philippa’s oldest lad came with an urgent message from Langden, but I fear we had gone to the Magdalen Assart to help them build more shelter for the sick. Only Tom and Agnes were here.’
‘What message?’ Marian knew the answer.
‘The one we’d all dreaded,’ said John. ‘William of Langden had discovered old Sarah when she wandered from the shelter of her cottage into the spring sunlight. He had her set in the ducking stool, demanding that she tell him where the wicked nuns and the outlaw Philippa were hiding. The villagers were terrified at what he’d do so they sent the lad to find us.’
The big man paused, and dropped his head into his hands, close to tears.
‘We were not there.’
‘What happened?’ Robert demanded, his voice quiet and cold.
‘Tom set off to the Magdalen Assart to find us, as fast as he could, but Agnes . . . Agnes broke her rule. She left the clearing and went straight to Langden with Philippa’s boy.’
Marian’s lips moved slowly. ‘She . . . left the forest?’
‘Aye. The villagers say that poor Sarah would tell him naught, though he ducked her again and again. It was too much for her, I fear she’s dead too. But they say her mind was clear enough at the end. She swore that William would be cursed by the Forestwife. That made him more furious than ever. He had Philippa’s husband thrown into the lock-up, and her children dragged from their home. He had them roped together on the village green, threatening to duck them next if nobody would tell him where to find the wild women of the woods. The villagers were horrified, but then came Agnes, all alone. She marched straight up to William of Langden, and she did curse him. They say that he turned white with fear and rage, and had his men throw Agnes into the pond.’
‘He drowned my mother?’ Robert spoke low, his hands shaking.
‘He tried to.’
‘Did none go to her aid?’
‘Yes, someone did. The villagers were astonished. Lady Matilda came all weak and shivering from her sick bed, led by her daughter. She faced up to her husband and quietly demanded that he cease his cruelty and let the women and children go free. They say that lady Matilda’s daughter took a knife from her belt and calmly cut the children’s bonds. Then the villagers grew bold with the lady’s presence, and pulled Agnes from the pond, but I fear ’twas too late.’
Robert’s fist clenched around his bow. ‘I shall kill that man.’
‘No need, he’s dead. As soon as Tom found us, I set off for Langden, with Philippa and Brother James. We ran as fast as we could, and Brother James set Snap to go racing ahead. Snap reached the village before us. He flew at his old master and tore his throat. Most of his men-at-arms stood by, unwilling to go to his aid. The others fled. I think that even they had little stomach for their work. The villagers carried Agnes up to the Manor, and set her in Lady Matilda’s bed. She lived for two days, and Mother Veronica went to nurse her, but she had taken a lung fever and she died.’
Marian keeled forward in the saddle, and John caught her. Robert stared blankly at them both.
Reluctantly they entered the clearing. They went . . . not to the cottage, but to stand by the newly-turned earth beside Selina’s mound that was Agnes’s grave.
Emma came slowly to them from the house, her stomach swollen with the child. Philippa followed, and then came Tom, pale and hesitating. Marian turned to her friends, wishing to hurl herself into their arms, but there was something solemn in the formal way that they approached her. Then she saw that Emma carried the girdle of the Forestwife. She held it out towards Marian, offering it.
Marian shuddered and stepped back.
‘No,’ she cried. ‘’Tis not for me.’
John put his arm about Emma’s shoulders. ‘Marian . . . it is for thee. Agnes spoke to us, before she died.’
Marian shook her head, she could not bear to hear.
‘What?’ said Robert. ‘What was it that she said?’
Philippa answered him. ‘She said that she understood it all at last. That we must not grieve, for ’tis all come about as fate would have it. Marian was ever meant to be the Forestwife.’
Marian stared white-faced at Philippa. ‘I cannot. Philippa, it should be you.’
But Philippa shook her head. ‘I have waited for your return, but I must go back to Langden and all my little ones now that William is dead.’
Emma offered the girdle again. ‘Do not be afraid. I will always be here to help you,’ she promised.
Marian lifted the beautiful thing from Emma’s hands. She could not look at Robert. Tears poured down her cheeks as she fastened it around her waist. Emma and Philippa wrapped their arms around her on either side, and led her to the cottage door.
Later, they all sat talking quietly. There was a great deal more to tell. The Langden reeve and bailiff had sworn loyalty to Lady Matilda and her daughter, and though the woman was not strong, she’d already made great changes on the Manor. She’d invited the nuns back and begged their help and advice. Mother Veronica had taken courage from the protection that Lady Matilda offered them and gone back to their convent. They’d left two Sisters at the Magdalen Assart, opening it up to any who needed a home.
‘They know they may hide in the woods again at the first sign of trouble,’ said John. ‘Miserable though we are, it seems there’s something good come out of this. But Brother James feared for Snap, and he’s taken his dog and gone off with Muchlyn and Stoutley to see if they may serve Bishop Hugh.’
Marian stared about her in distress. How could she be the Forestwife? She felt the loss of Agnes bitterly. How could she manage without her? Who would tell her what to do?
‘What of the Seeress?’ she asked.
‘She is safe in her cell,’ Emma told her.
‘I must go to see her,’ Marian said.