A Curse of Ash and Embers

by Jo Spurrier

  The woman gestured at me. ‘This lass says she’s been hired to Black Oak Cottage. She’s just walked down from the Overton road by herself. All six miles of it, on her own.’

  The man looked from her to me. His eyebrows were long and tufted, and they climbed to his bushy hairline.

  ‘It’s not that far,’ I said, though my sore feet disagreed.

  ‘And she’s got another four miles to go to Black Oak,’ the woman said, as though I hadn’t spoken. I winced inwardly. ‘She’ll be expected. If she doesn’t arrive, and someone comes looking—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I see the matter,’ the man said. ‘Not enough time to get there and back before dark, not on foot. Even on a horse’d be pushing it.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I think I saw Attwater head into the tavern after he delivered those furs. He’s camped out that way. I’ll see if he’s still here.’ With that he strode outside, leaving the door to smack into the bell again as it swung closed behind him.

  I suddenly felt very uncertain. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong, ma’am.’

  ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘It’s not your doing. But you should have had someone with you, it’s irresponsible to let a young girl travel so far from home alone. I’d like to have words with your father, though I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.’ She bit her lip, and I realised what I’d taken for disapproval was more likely concern. ‘Did you see anything out there? No, I don’t suppose you did or you wouldn’t be . . . well, unless you’re already an apprentice?’ She raised her eyebrows, looking at me expectantly.

  I felt completely lost. ‘I . . . Ma’am? Forgive me, but I don’t understand.’

  ‘You don’t? You don’t know what’s going on here? Well, not that any of us do,’ she muttered, ‘except for the one out there in the cottage.’

  ‘Ma’am,’ I pleaded. Every time I thought I couldn’t get any more bewildered, she kept opening her mouth.

  ‘Is this your first job, lass?’ She pursed her lips so tight they looked like the mouth of Ma’s drawstring purse.

  ‘It is, ma’am. But I don’t understand what you’re saying. Is there something dangerous out there?’ I suppose this countryside was a lot wilder than what I was used to at home, but I hadn’t felt at all uneasy on the walk. Now the shopkeeper had me worried that I should have been. Then I remembered the footprints I’d tripped over in the road, but I quickly dismissed them again. It was some lads’ prank. It had to be.

  ‘You’d best ask your mistress,’ the woman said. ‘She ought to be able to explain it.’ She muttered something else under her breath. I didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded as though she said, ‘Then maybe you can tell us.’

  She looked as though she were about to say something more, but her gaze shifted to the door at my back. ‘Ah, good, here comes Grigg with Mr Attwater. Nice to meet you, Miss Forster. Farewell. Good luck.’

  The man called Grigg opened the door, ‘. . . some little lass from down on the plains. Here she is.’

  If Grigg reminded me of a bear then Attwater — what kind of a name was that? — brought to mind a hound. He was tall and thin with long, lank hair and a sorrowful look on his face. The most interesting thing about him was his bright blue eyes. He smelled of beer.

  ‘Miss Forster,’ he said, looking me over. ‘I hear yer headed for Black Oak Cottage.’

  I nodded. ‘My name’s Elodie.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, we’ll get ye there by sundown so long as we get moving smartly. Night comes on fast here in the hills.’

  ‘Attwater will see you there safely,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘He’s a good man.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, sir,’ I said, and realised then that Attwater was already striding away. With a hasty nod I hurried out the door after him.

  He checked his stride after a dozen paces, when he realised I couldn’t keep up with his long legs. He’d slapped a ragged leather hat onto his head as he left the store, and carried a stout walking stick. On his back was a pack-frame with a leather bag lashed to it, mostly empty from the look of it, and his clothes were a mix of leather and much-mended cloth. He looked like the sort of man Ma would have ordered me to stay away from back home, but the shopkeeper vouched for him, for what it was worth.

  ‘Thank you for showing me the way,’ I said.

  ‘No hassle,’ he replied. ‘I’d be heading right by it.’

  ‘And I’m sorry to pull you away from the tavern.’

  He chuckled. ‘Ne’er mind that either. Ye’ve saved me from drinking away all me coin.’ He fell silent for a moment, sucking on his teeth, and then glanced back at me from under the floppy brim of his hat. ‘Do you know who it is ye’ll be servin’ at Black Oak?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Don’t call me sir,’ he said. ‘We’re all equal before the Lord and Lady, ain’t we? Well, I don’t suppose many folk would agree, but that’s the way I see it. P’raps that’s why I’m happier running trap-lines out in the woods than livin’ here in town.’

  I kept my head down, trudging along. In the time I’d spent in the shop, the day seemed to have turned from mid-afternoon to late. There were clouds building, and the shadows around us were growing long and cold. ‘Attwater? What can you tell me about this place?’

  ‘Lilsfield or Black Oak?’

  ‘Either,’ I said. ‘Both.’

  ‘Don’t know that there’s much I can tell. All I know is some strange things been goin’ on. But let me ask this, how’d ye get this job?’

  That question again. I scarcely had any more answers than I did when I’d left home. And anyway, at the pace he was setting I didn’t have the breath to try and explain it. ‘Don’t rightly know,’ I said. ‘A letter came to say I’d been hired, but I didn’t even know Ma and my stepfather had sent off for the position. It must have been at the market a few weeks ago, I suppose.’

  ‘Which market is that?’

  ‘Down at Riverton.’

  ‘Down on the plains?’ he asked. ‘That’s a fair way to go to find a hireling for up here.’

  I had no idea why that hadn’t occurred to me before. Were there no girls nearby who could be taken on? It seemed very strange. ‘I guess none of the local girls would be interested,’ I said, keeping my voice light.

  ‘P’raps not,’ Attwater said. ‘And if that was a few weeks back, well . . . there’s a few things that have happened since then. A fair few things.’

  He meant something by that, I could tell it in his voice. But I had no idea what and I was sick of trying to wring information from those who were of no mind to give it, so I didn’t bother to ask. Instead, I said, ‘What’s she like, the mistress of Black Oak Cottage?’

  ‘Ye don’t know her name?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘The old one was a nasty piece of work,’ he said. ‘But she’s gone now. The new one, Aleida, she’s a little better, so long as ye don’t get on her bad side.’

  I mulled on that for a few minutes. The impression I’d got from Lem and Ma was that I’d been hired by an old woman, someone who needed a strong young back to help with the day-to-day. But come to think of it, when Yosh read the hiring letter to me there’d been no mention of the kind of work I’d be doing.

  ‘Do you have witches down Riverton way?’ Attwater said.

  ‘Witches?’ If I hadn’t been minding my manners so carefully, I might have scoffed at him. ‘No. There’s an apothecary in Riverton, though, and I met a wizard on the way here.’

  ‘A wizard, hey? A real one?’

  ‘Oh yes. He has a degree from the University and everything,’ I said.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘How about that.’

  I knew full well when I was being condescended to, and scowled down at my feet. I couldn’t blame him, anyway, I’d reacted the same way when Brian introduced himself.

  ‘What are you saying?’ I said. ‘My new mistress is a witch?’

  ‘And what would ye say to that?’

  ‘I’d say you must think I’m s
ome little girl to be scared of fire-side tales.’

  ‘No, lass. If ye were, ye wouldn’t have made it six miles from the big road all on yer lonesome. I just don’t like the fact that ye’ve been sent all this way without a clue what ye’re getting into.’

  ‘And what am I getting into, exactly?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know. Or else I’d tell ye meself, Elodie.’ There was honesty in his blue eyes. ‘Just have a care. Keep yer wits about ye, all right?’

  ‘The shopkeeper,’ I cursed myself for not learning her name, ‘she asked if I’d seen anything as I walked into town. What’s out here?’

  ‘Don’t rightly know. There’s just been some tales.’

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Attwater seemed a nice fellow, but getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth. ‘But you’re a trapper, right? You’re out on your own all the time.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You haven’t seen anything?’

  ‘I’ve seen plenty. Earth torn up, trees pushed over, ripped out of the ground. Things howling in the night.’

  I pursed my lips. ‘Big things? Things that could leave tracks six inches deep and longer than my arm?’

  He gave me a glance from under the floppy brim of his hat. ‘What’d ye see, lass?’

  ‘Just footprints,’ I said. ‘Looked like they were made by a giant chicken. I figured it was boys playing around.’

  ‘Ah, that one. Up towards the Overton road, ye say? He gets around, then.’

  I watched him with narrowed eyes. He was playing tricks on the new lass, surely. ‘You’re not worried, camped out here on your own?’

  ‘Nope. I got a little cave. It’s even got a crack in the roof to let smoke out. Whatever’s out here, from what I’ve seen, they’re too big to get in.’

  ‘But you walked all the way into town anyway.’

  He shrugged. ‘Man’s gotta make a living. Just like ye do, young Elodie.’

  The smell of beer on Attwater’s breath came to my mind, and I suddenly wondered why he’d been lingering in the tavern — I’d assumed it was like the farmers in Riverton on market day, drinking their profits; but now I wondered instead if he’d been drinking down the courage to walk back along these lonely roads. Of course, that meant he had to be telling me the truth, and I had some grave doubts about that.

  It was near dark when Attwater stopped at a fork in the road, not that one could really call it a road anymore. For most of the way it had been wagon tracks, two muddy ruts cut into the ground, but some way back it had reduced to a single path, more a game trail than a road. But here a smaller path branched off to the side, and the sun was too far gone for me to tell which direction the branches led.

  ‘Ye want that one,’ Attwater said, gesturing to the right-hand path. ‘’Fraid I can’t see ye all the way there, girl, I ought to press on meself.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Thanks for walking with me.’

  ‘It’s not far, just a few hundred yards. Stay on the path, an’ ye can’t miss it.’ He held out his walking stick. ‘Take this, though. Just in case.’

  I wasn’t sure I should. Ma and Lem had both laid into me over and over again how I should never accept gifts, how all it did was put you in someone’s debt. But it was a strong, stout stick, peeled of bark and rubbed with oil. It would be a nice thing to have even if there weren’t strange beasts lurking in the forests around, beasts that scared even a tough, solitary woodsman like Attwater. ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘but I don’t know how to find you to give it back. And I don’t know when my new mistress will give me leave to return it.’

  ‘Jus’ keep it,’ Attwater said. ‘I can make another. It’ll give me something to do of an evening.’

  ‘Then I’m grateful,’ I said with a bob of my head. ‘Safe journey.’

  ‘And to ye, Miss Elodie,’ he said, tugging on the floppy brim of his hat. And with that he was off again, striding away into the darkness.

  With a shiver I gathered myself, clutching Attwater’s staff in both hands. Hopefully my mistress would not be annoyed that I had arrived so late; with my boots and skirt splattered with mud and my plait coming undone. Thinking of a warm and cosy kitchen, well-lit by oil lamps and a fireplace, I squared my aching shoulders and marched on into the gloom.

  The path was narrow and winding, leading through gnarled and twisting trees that I thought would block the road from view even in full daylight. I kept looking ahead for a light through a window, something warm and welcoming. A couple of times I thought I spotted a gleam only to lose it again in the trees’ tangled branches as I felt my way through them carefully, the staff held ahead of me for fear of spiders’ webs.

  And then, with one final turn of the contorted path, I was there. Such as it was. It was too dark now to see much but I could make out a cottage of stacked stone, thickly covered with moss. Some of it was in ruin, the walls crumbled to rubble, and the part of it that still stood didn’t seem much better. The roof, just a shadow against the dark sky, sagged in the middle like a sway-backed horse. The shutters on the windows hadn’t been repainted in years, and they were firmly shut — in fact it looked like if you tried to open them they’d be more likely to fall off. There wasn’t so much as a gleam of light around them or under the stout, scarred wood of the door.

  I stared at the door for a long moment with my jaw hanging open, while my stomach shrivelled into a hard, sour knot. There was no one here.

  No, that had to be wrong. The people in the village, Attwater — they wouldn’t have sent me to a deserted house. Surely?

  I looked around, trying to pick out the path that had brought me winding through the trees. It was dark enough now that I wasn’t sure of finding my way back to the road where Attwater had left me, let alone all the way back to Lilsfield. Besides, I was tired and hungry, my feet hurt and it was getting cold. I didn’t even want to think about whatever beast was out there that had the local folk so scared.

  Doing my best to ignore the shiver that ran down my spine, I drew myself up, clenching my jaw and gripping Attwater’s walking stick tight, and marched up to the door.

  The steps that led up to it were covered with moss. My foot slipped, tearing a chunk of moss away, black in the fast-fading light, scraping my shin and making me yelp in pain. Moving more carefully, I hobbled up to the door and rapped with my knuckles. I must be mistaken, I thought. There’s bound to be someone here. No one would hire a new servant and then take off before they arrived. Surely. They must be saving candles or something.

  I waited, and waited, holding my breath and straining my ears for any sound. But there was nothing.

  I rapped again, this time using the walking stick. Still nothing. I tried calling out, even pounding on the door with my fist, but there was nothing. No sound, no movement, no life at all.

  The hard knot in my belly grew tighter and tighter, twisted up like a shirt wrung out on laundry day. My throat seemed to be closing up and my cheeks felt like they were burning in the chill night air. They don’t want me, a little voice in the back of my head said. Your own family didn’t want you, they sent you away, and if they don’t want you why would anyone else?

  Oh gods, I was going to cry. I could feel the tears prickling behind my eyes, stinging in my nose. I gulped a breath, trying to blink them away before they could spill, drawing myself up and imagining I was as cold and hard as ice, as crystal. Useless, traitorous things, tears. I tried the door one last time, pounding with my fist, shouting with a voice that cracked and broke. But, just as before, there was nothing. The night was utterly silent.

  Then I couldn’t hold it back anymore. My legs were too tired, my feet too sore, my shoulders rubbed and strained from the straps of my pack-basket. My legs folded beneath me and I slumped down on the doorstep. I let Attwater’s walking stick fall, and pulled a fold of my petticoat up to my face as I began to weep.

  What could I possibly do now? There was nowhere to go, and it was too dark to walk anywhere, anyway. I
’d have to spend the night here, curled up on the doorstep like a dog. Lem had often threatened to toss me out of the house at night, but he’d never actually done it. He’d laugh himself stupid to see me now, I thought.

  Tomorrow I could walk back to Lilsfield, but what then? I’d never catch up to Yosh, and besides, I couldn’t go home. I just couldn’t. The pendulum said I’d never have to go back, it said I’d be free! Lord and Lady, I felt stupid now for believing in the wretched thing. But the idea of returning home in disgrace made me sob even harder. Everyone would think that I truly was useless, worthless. Couldn’t even get work as a hired girl to sweep up ashes and empty chamber-pots.

  I gulped down the cold air and scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, trying to dry my cheeks, but it was a wasted effort — they kept coming faster than I could wipe them away. Sod it, I said to myself, I’m not going home, I’m not going to prove them right. There must be work somewhere, there must be. I was trying very hard not to remember the tales you always heard, the stories of young women foolish enough to take their chance in the wide world, and all the evils that befell them.

  The stone of the doorstep was hard and cold under my backside. I wriggled out of the pack-basket straps and hunted inside for my blanket, then I shook it out to wrap around my shoulders. If I had a bit of light maybe I could gather some branches and twigs to lie upon, but it was too dark now — I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to the doorstep and what little shelter it gave. No, this was it. I was in for a wretched night, it seemed.

  The tears eased, leaving me feeling drained and empty, and I resigned myself to the night; trying to think of anything but my empty belly and parched throat or what might be lurking out there in the darkness, which lay thick as ink around me. I stared blankly into it, wondering if the Lilsfield tavern could use a pot-girl or if a passing bullock driver would let me ride with him in return for cooking his meals or washing his clothes . . .