‘We’re calling her Eleanor after Marian’s mother.’
John laughed again, delighted. ‘Listen to her howl! Look at the strength of her little punching fists. Something tells me we have a future Forestwife here.’
The happy parents smiled down at Eleanor.
John turned, looking out towards the round shape of the cave mouth, lightening now as the sun rose. ‘I must have been dreaming,’ he said, ‘but I thought I saw an aged she-wolf, here in the cave with me.’
Magda gasped. ‘I knew we saw a wolf,’ she said. ‘I saw it slip away as we came.’
‘Don’t look so fearful, daughter,’ said John. ‘Perhaps I did see it. The creature looked straight at me with eyes golden and bright as fire but then turned her back on me, settling down by the cave mouth. I must have been crazy with the sickness but I swear it seemed for all the world as though she were guarding me.’
Magda fell silent and wondering, remembering Marian’s story of her mother’s wolf spirit in the woods. She hugged the new little Eleanor tightly in her arms, rocking her gently back and forth. ‘Thank you Old One,’ she whispered.
Back in the Forestwife’s clearing the weather had turned so bitterly cold that each morning brought new deaths,not from wounds or starvation but simply from cold. It troubled Marian greatly that these people should be losing their lives for the need of warmth.
The day after Magda had gone Marian took Brigit and Gerta with her to raid the empty convent of the Magdalen. Brigit did not like the idea much. ‘The sisters are our friends,’ she protested.
Marian smiled as she strode through the icy paths. ‘You do not know Mother Veronica as well as I,’ she said. ‘If they were here they’d give us their last scrap of food, their last warm rug. And I know where they keep their cloaks and the warm woollen habits that they weave and stitch so carefully.’
‘Are we going to steal nuns’ clothes?’ Brigit was still worried.
Gerta put her arm about her. ‘Believe me, honey. This is what the nuns would want, if they could see the ragged folk who shelter with the Forestwife. Their cloaks and habits will save many lives and without them there’ll be more frozen corpses to bury in the morning.’
Marian knew the small convent building well and it was easy to remove the neat stack of woven nuns’ clothing that had been prepared for next winter’s use. Gerta had been right, for the following morning brought no deaths and for once Philippa did not have to get out her spade. The strange sight of old men and little children wrapped in nun’s veils and habits made everyone smile.
Robert and James returned to Barnsdale in the middle of January with others who’d fought with them. They found the clearing quiet and organised.
‘You have done well,’ Robert stared about him at the orderly queues for food, the careful, industrious stacking of firewood. ‘I dreaded to find it a smoking ruin like so many that we’ve seen.’
‘Have they punished the people enough?’ Marian asked. ‘Have they given up their murderous task yet?’
Robert shook his head, his face grim. ‘They head up north towards the borderlands, too fast and too many of them for us to follow. We have lost many friends. We are weary and bruised. Mother Veronica is returning to the convent; the sisters are badly in need of a rest. We wonder now what will happen when they return south, as they must eventually do.’
‘Do the rebel barons fight back?’ Marian asked.
Robert put his arm about her. ‘Some do, some give in at the first sight of so many mercenaries, all well-armed. Pontefract’s lord has surrendered to the king, and York and Richmond. They say Robert de Ros still holds out at Helmsley.’
‘His serfs and peasants will suffer whichever way,’ Marian said bitterly.
The men stayed in the clearing, licking their wounds, resting and feeding, though Marian’s hard won stocks of food were beginning to dwindle. In the dark
John laughed again, delighted. ‘Listen to her howl! Look at the strength of her little punching fists. Something tells me we have a future Forestwife here.’
The happy parents smiled down at Eleanor.
John turned, looking out towards the round shape of the cave mouth, lightening now as the sun rose. ‘I must have been dreaming,’ he said, ‘but I thought I saw an aged she-wolf, here in the cave with me.’
Magda gasped. ‘I knew we saw a wolf,’ she said. ‘I saw it slip away as we came.’
‘Don’t look so fearful, daughter,’ said John. ‘Perhaps I did see it. The creature looked straight at me with eyes golden and bright as fire but then turned her back on me, settling down by the cave mouth. I must have been crazy with the sickness but I swear it seemed for all the world as though she were guarding me.’
Magda fell silent and wondering, remembering Marian’s story of her mother’s wolf spirit in the woods. She hugged the new little Eleanor tightly in her arms, rocking her gently back and forth. ‘Thank you Old One,’ she whispered.
Back in the Forestwife’s clearing the weather had turned so bitterly cold that each morning brought new deaths,not from wounds or starvation but simply from cold. It troubled Marian greatly that these people should be losing their lives for the need of warmth.
The day after Magda had gone Marian took Brigit and Gerta with her to raid the empty convent of the Magdalen. Brigit did not like the idea much. ‘The sisters are our friends,’ she protested.
Marian smiled as she strode through the icy paths. ‘You do not know Mother Veronica as well as I,’ she said. ‘If they were here they’d give us their last scrap of food, their last warm rug. And I know where they keep their cloaks and the warm woollen habits that they weave and stitch so carefully.’
‘Are we going to steal nuns’ clothes?’ Brigit was still worried.
Gerta put her arm about her. ‘Believe me, honey. This is what the nuns would want, if they could see the ragged folk who shelter with the Forestwife. Their cloaks and habits will save many lives and without them there’ll be more frozen corpses to bury in the morning.’
Marian knew the small convent building well and it was easy to remove the neat stack of woven nuns’ clothing that had been prepared for next winter’s use. Gerta had been right, for the following morning brought no deaths and for once Philippa did not have to get out her spade. The strange sight of old men and little children wrapped in nun’s veils and habits made everyone smile.
Robert and James returned to Barnsdale in the middle of January with others who’d fought with them. They found the clearing quiet and organised.
‘You have done well,’ Robert stared about him at the orderly queues for food, the careful, industrious stacking of firewood. ‘I dreaded to find it a smoking ruin like so many that we’ve seen.’
‘Have they punished the people enough?’ Marian asked. ‘Have they given up their murderous task yet?’
Robert shook his head, his face grim. ‘They head up north towards the borderlands, too fast and too many of them for us to follow. We have lost many friends. We are weary and bruised. Mother Veronica is returning to the convent; the sisters are badly in need of a rest. We wonder now what will happen when they return south, as they must eventually do.’
‘Do the rebel barons fight back?’ Marian asked.
Robert put his arm about her. ‘Some do, some give in at the first sight of so many mercenaries, all well-armed. Pontefract’s lord has surrendered to the king, and York and Richmond. They say Robert de Ros still holds out at Helmsley.’
‘His serfs and peasants will suffer whichever way,’ Marian said bitterly.
The men stayed in the clearing, licking their wounds, resting and feeding, though Marian’s hard won stocks of food were beginning to dwindle. In the dark
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