Chagrined, Letty nodded and retrieved her cloak from the peg by the door. Wrapping a shawl over her head for extra warmth, the girl slipped out the door without a word. Bertha waited for a moment, and then nodded to Dove. “Follow her home, and make sure she’s capable of walking in the dark. With the mud out there, she’ll probably land in a few puddles.”
“Of all the girls…”
“Stop your grousing. This town will need someone trained in good sense when I’m gone, and it’s not like the villagers are going to welcome you into their homes.”
“I thought you had to have sense to begin with in order to have it trained. You can’t train a horse to plow if there isn’t a horse there to train.”
Laughing, Bertha stood and went to wash before she crawled into bed, her body aching with fatigue. Dove glanced around the room at what hadn’t been done in her absence and pulled on a second pair of gloves. Lifting the door latch, she stepped out into the night, scowling under her cloak hood at the necessity of following a silly girl home.
It didn’t take long to catch up to Letty. From fifteen yards away, Dove saw the black blob stumbling around and through mud bogs, whining with each misstep. She hesitated and wondered if she should help the girl see where to go or if it would make things worse. Dove didn’t want Letty in their house. She didn’t like the idea of an apprentice getting in her way and taking up her time. However, she wasn’t heartless. She knew walking home in the dark would be frightful for a girl unused to walking near the Wyrm Forest and along the trees near the fields. To get home, Letty would have to walk down the main road and past the tavern each night. People would tease her, and girls like Letty got their feelings hurt when people teased them.
Rather than step out to help, Dove stayed behind and watched out for the girl. If Letty started to do something foolish, then she could hurry and stop her. After a lifetime of avoiding “the Ge-sceaft,” it would be difficult to trust someone like Dove in the darkness. It was better this way.
Philip saw Letty walking home and started to speak to her, but the sight of Dove creeping along behind stopped him. He waved, his arms full of wood as he entered the fletcher’s cottage, and called out a good night, before he hurried inside to clean up the mess. He suspected Dove’s errand and knew she’d have to turn back again once Letty reached home. The fact that neither girl was limping was, in his opinion, a good sign.
Once outside again, he watched as two black spots moved along the road. One disappeared into the Woods’ yard, making him smile. He’d been right. Despite her distrust and dislike of Letty, Dove had made sure the girl made it home. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.
“Dove!”
“Don’t say it, Philip. I’m just doing what I’m told.”
Philip grinned at her, trying to think of some way to prod her into a lighter mood. Alas, before he could open his mouth, she was off, her small frame quickly disappearing in the darkness. Her high eerie voice wafted through the trees— almost as a warning to anyone who might be traveling nearby.
Chapter 16
Promises
News of Dove’s return spread through the village and the castle before dawn broke the next morning. Symon Wood arrived with Letty near daybreak and threatened Bertha with all kinds of evil if she didn’t agree to cancel the contract. “You said it couldn’t have survived. You said it was harmless. It chased my girl yesterday!”
Unruffled, Bertha sank onto the bench near her table and leveled pewter eyes at the irate man in her cottage. “I also said it was possible for her to return. Ask the religious nut you called in. He’ll attest to it. The girl was just frightened to find someone in her cottage. She thought she was protecting our home. It won’t happen again.
“Did you know she followed my Letty home last night? The child arrived trembling with fright.”
“She followed your daughter to ensure Letty’s safety and at my order. She may be strange and frighten you, but she obeys me. She knows where her food comes from.” Bertha was glad Dove wasn’t present to hear the exchange. The child was used to being feared and rejected— even by Bertha, but it would sting to be forced to help someone and then be attacked for it.
“If anything happens to my daughter, anything at all, I will see that Lord Morgan comes after you.”
“You do that, Symon Wood. You do that. You go tell his lordship that you will demand he injure the girl that saved his daughter’s life— twice. Let’s see just how successful you are with that.”
“Fairy tales.”
With eyes wrinkling with laughter and age, Bertha jabbed a gnarled old finger into his chest. “I have a suggestion for you. Go ask the lord of the castle about the girl. As for me, I care not what you think of my opinion. But, for your own peace of mind, ask. Lord Morgan will confirm that the girl will not harm your daughter.”
Before Symon or Letty could reply, Dove appeared at the edge of the tree line, carrying a fish in a net. As she neared the stunned, shivering, and arguing group, she nodded at Letty. “You’re back. Is the porridge going?”
“Well—”
With a glance in Bertha’s direction, Dove sighed. “And you claim this is supposed to make my work easier. Hmph.”
“You heard her, girl,” Bertha said to Letty. “Get inside and learn how to make porridge— my way.”
As Letty disappeared into the cottage, closing the door behind her, Bertha crossed her arms and glared at Symon. “This is how it is. This is how it has always been. You make the contract; you keep it. I have promised your daughter’s safety. It isn’t in my interests to have an apprentice that can’t learn for fear. Trust me.”
The man knew he was defeated. The law was on Bertha Newcombe’s side. He had willingly entered the contract. She had not abused his daughter or in any other way violated the contract. He’d been duped, and he knew it. “I’ll kill that thing if it harms my daughter.”
“You won’t have to. She won’t.”
The wind whipped the sea, sending the salt spray almost to the top of the Nicor Cliffs. Dove and Philip sat looking out over the white capped waves, shivering against the cold that buffeted them with each gust. The afternoon sun was slowly sinking into the western sky, giving it an amber glow.
“You promised.”
“I know.” Dove didn’t know what to do. “What does I AM say about promises?”
“Well, there is one place where the Bible says, ‘let your yes be yes and your no, no,’ but…”
“What does that mean?” She waited for him to answer. He always did. Sometimes he said he didn’t know, but if he didn’t, he found the answers for her.
“Broðor Clarke says it means that you don’t swear a bunch of oaths for things and you keep your word. There’s some other verse about not making vows and things that he said it was related to, but I can’t remember it accurately.”
“What if you promise two different people the opposite thing?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, ideas flooded his mind as he pondered her question. Had she made promises to someone else? Who? Surely not Letty— the girl still irritated Dove by her mere presence. Why would Bertha care? Broðor Clarke would have spoken directly to him, and Tom wouldn’t speak to Dove. That only left Head Archer Peter or Lord Morgan.
“Philip?”
“Who, Dove? Who?”
“I can’t tell you.” She shifted uncomfortably. Her hood moved so she could see him better. He barely heard her whisper, “How can I not?”
“You promised, Dove.”
“So you keep reminding me.” Frustrated, Dove did something she never remembered doing before. She whined. “I’m never going to promise anyone ever again.” Ducking her head, she sighed. “Your god is smart, Philip. Promises are bad things.”
To his own disgust, Philip realized he was sulking. He’d grown accustomed to being Dove’s sole confidante. Now he’d learned that she was keeping secrets from him. “Dove—”
Her hood jerked upward and the wind nearly caught it. For the first time since he�
�d befriended the village outcast, Philip didn’t duck his head. If he saw her, it was her own fault— and Dove noticed. Just as she was ready to snap at him for being childish, she had an idea.
“Wait! I promised I wouldn’t tell, but…”
“But?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t show you.” A trace of amusement hovered in her voice.
“When?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Lessons…” Philip vacillated between the weekly Bible lessons with his friends and learning what his friend kept hidden from him.
“We can go Friday.” The disappointment in her voice was keen.
“We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll ask Broðor Clarke to tell me the story later. He’ll understand.”
Dove shook her head. “Your friends—”
“I think you forgot something.”
There it was. She smiled at it— the slight mocking tone in his voice whenever Philip felt superior to her. “What is that, O wise one?”
“You’re my friend too. We’ll go.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Very funny.” He didn’t sound amused.
“So, tell me more about David. What happened after Goliath?”
“He became friends with the king’s son, Jonathan.”
Standing, Dove shook out her cloak, grabbed the slingshot she’d brought along with her on the off chance she saw a winter rabbit, and strolled toward Wynne Holt, beckoning Philip to follow. “So, introduce me to Jonathan,” she urged as they strolled across the sward that separated the trees from the edge of the cliff.
The wind beat at their backs as they made their way to the clearing. The wind wouldn’t be as strong there, and Philip could tell her stories for hours. As Dove listened to Philip describe the special friendship between David and Jonathan, she spun in circles, her cloak fanning out beside her. She often appeared to have wings as she darted through the trees, running from her many tormenters.
“I think Jonathan was a wonderful man. He was such a good son and friend.”
“Good son?”
“Yes! He protected his fæder from committing a crime— from murder! That is a wonderful thing. Not all sons have that chance, but…” She stopped spinning when she realized Philip no longer followed. “What?”
“You’re such an odd girl, Dove. You always say the last thing I expect to hear.”
To Philip, Dove was taking a long strange route to the stone steps along the south side of the cliffs. It almost reminded him of— “Dove, we’re not going to find the unicorns in broad daylight. Why are we going—”
“I’m leaving an apple. The unicorn likes apples.” Inside she thought, I hope.
“So, what are you going to show me?” Philip was growing more intrigued the longer they tramped through the trees.
“If I tell you, I break my promise. We wait, and I show you. Simple.”
“Aaaahgggh. You’re not normal, Dove!” His impatience pierced with every word. “Girls don’t keep secrets!”
She stopped midstride. Philip began to grow nervous, thinking he’d angered her. At last, she turned slowly on one foot and crossed her arms. “You don’t say…”
The noises of the forest were the only sounds that breached the silence between them. Seconds passed, but still neither spoke. Philip snickered first. His eyes widened in horror as her shoulders and arms shook. He thought he knew her so well, but to make her cry… Then he heard it. A snort. Dove snorted like a drunken woman in the tavern! Shrill peals of laughter finally erupted from her as if a dam had burst.
“Your face—” she gasped. “You should have seen your face.”
Philip rearranged his features into a menacing glare and took one step toward her. That’s all it took. Dove turned and fled, dodging and twisting through the trees. Philip was stronger and swifter, but Dove’s agility, combined with her endurance, kept her out of his reach. In her attempt to evade his capture, she went much further away from the stone steps than she’d planned. Soon the muscles in their legs burned from exertion and their lungs demanded relief. Twice his fingers brushed her cloak, but each time she darted out of reach.
A large rock jutted out of the cliff, and Dove scrambled behind it seconds before Philip stumbled around the edge, panting. “Boo!”
“Aaak!” Philip dropped to the ground, heedless of the damp, and rested his forearms on his knees. He wiped perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve as he took in great gulps of air. “I didn’t expect” he gasped, “you to stop. You scared me.”
“It was the goal…”
“You look like you could run some more,” he wheezed.
“I’m tired, but I could, I guess.” He couldn’t see it, but she winked at him. “I get lots of practice running. I can run for a long way before I get tired.”
“Where are we?”
She glanced around her. “I don’t know. I’ve never come this far before.”
While Philip rested, Dove wandered around the trees. They grew denser the further south she walked until it seemed as though there was hardly room for her to move between them in places. Then she saw them. “Philip!”
They examined them together. Dozens of hoof marks in the soil. Most were obscured by the leaves and pine needles that carpeted the forest floor, but in places where the wind or animals had exposed a bit of earth, a clear print was visible. While Philip touched and examined several perfect imprints, Dove waited for a verdict.
“It’s not a horse’s hoof, but it doesn’t look like a stag either. I’m not sure what it is.”
She nodded in agreement. “It’s a unicorn, maybe more than one.”
“But shouldn’t a unicorn have a hoof like a horse?”
“Why should it? We’ve never seen one, so how do we know?” Dove wandered around the edge of the trees and the shrubs that flanked the cliff, trying to see where the creature might have gone, but saw nothing.
“We could ask Lord Morgan! His grandfæder had one. Surely, he’d know if unicorns have feet like horses.”
Satisfied with that suggestion, Dove turned away from her hunt, and returned to the tracks. “Come on, Philip. You have other things to see today. We’ll ask Lord Morgan and then return.”
Two eyes blinked from behind shrubs only yards from where Dove stood moments before. Standing nearly motionless, the eyes waited for Dove and Philip to disappear around the point of the rock and then slowly stepped through a low archway in the brambles that grew along the cliffs. Once the intruders were completely out of earshot, those eyes looked behind him and raced to warn others.
Chapter 17
Secrets
“You’re sure the dragon won’t come in here?” Philip whispered nervously. He hated showing the fear in his heart, but when one has come face to face with a real fire-breathing dragon, it is hard to face that prospect again calmly.
“Look around us. You’ve seen that thing fly over the clearing. There’s no way it would fit in here. I don’t think Lord Morgan’s horses could fit in here.”
“What about breathing? If he found out we were here, and he got mad…”
“We’d know he was coming,” Dove assured him. “It got colder when he left the caves. If he started coming this way, we’d notice it get warmer.”
“If you say so.” It didn’t feel right, not to Philip, but the boy had his pride. Why, he was nearly a man! He couldn’t let a little girl like Dove show more courage than he did! “So what do you have to show me?”
“You’ll see. We just have to wait. Meanwhile, tell me about the man in the tree again.”
Philip laughed. “You just like it because you’re such a little thing.”
“Who cares? I can do almost everything you do even if I am smaller. By the time I’m your age, I bet I can do more too.”
He had to admit she was probably right. “Well, in one of the towns Jesus visited, there was a man— a tax collector. The Jews hated tax collectors. Broðor Clarke says it is because tax collectors were dishonest and made people p
ay more than the law said and kept the difference.”
“I love this story,” Dove interjected. “I think Jesus was wonderful.”
“You know, Jesus wants us to believe in Him. He wants us to confess that He is I AM—”
“So you’re always telling me. I don’t want to hear about that; I want to hear about the man in the tree.”
Philip sighed and returned to the story. Sometimes he thought he’d never convince Dove to see who Jesus really was. “Well, Jesus came to Jericho where Zacchaeus lived, and the man wanted to see Jesus. There were great crowds of people that day, and Zacchaeus was too short to see over the crowds, so he ran ahead and climbed up in a tree so he could see.”
“How did he know about Jesus?” Dove always asked the question.
“We don’t know. The Bible doesn’t say.” Philip’s answer never varied.
“But why do you think—”
“I’m not permitted to tell the story with what I think. I’m only allowed to share what I know. It’s wrong to add to the words that God gave us.”
“If your god wanted to control all his stories so much, he should have given us more information.” Dove was still inclined to want to speculate about the unspoken parts of the Bible, but Philip had learned Broðor Clarke’s lessons well.
“Do you want to hear this story or not?” Philip took her “humph” for a “yes” and continued. “So, as Jesus came to the tree, He looked up into it and said, ‘Zacchaeus, come down from there. I am coming to your house today.’” Philip waited for Dove’s predictable response. She loved how Jesus accepted the man that no one else liked, but this time, she surprised him.
“How did he know Zacchaeus was in the tree? Did someone tell him?”
“We don’t know, Dove, but Jesus is God. He is I AM. He knows everything.”
“And he was kind to that man even though no one else liked him,” she sighed. She said that every time he told the tale.
“We’re supposed to treat everyone the way we want to be treated. Jesus said so. “‘In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you, for this is the Law and the Prophets.’”
The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series Page 31