Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  Farley shrugged. "Could be they been busy stringin' their nets up between the trees, then they'll have their dogs run the deer into them. Makes a decent enough livin', I s'pose, if ye stay a step ahead of the keeper," he warned with a chuckle.

  "Heard tell, Farley, that some poachers even have false bottoms to their carts. Don't reckon young Master Tristram and ol' Ruff have been doin' a bit of poachin' and we're sittin' on a load of venison?"

  Tristram sighed. "I wish I had," he said, thinking of a thick roast of venison sizzling on a spit.

  "Are there still wolves in these woods, Lily?" Dulcie asked, pulling her feet up into the cart just in case.

  "I thought I heard one howling at the moon last night," Tristram said, mimicking a wolf despite the warning look Lily gave him.

  "Prraaack! Wolves! Aaaaaoooooooh!" Cisco repeated the howl, causing Dulcie to squeal loudly in fear, while Cappie, echoing her cries, ducked beneath Tillie's arm and tried to hide behind her ample form where she sat half-leaning against the side of the cart, her swollen feet dangling over the back.

  "Ye know, now ye mention it, Master Tristram," Fairfax said, rubbing the blond beard covering his square chin, "I thought I heard someone, or something, prowling about our camp last night."

  "Probably a wild boar. Ye don't look so good, Tillie dear," Farley said, noticing the greenish tinge to her face.

  "She kind of looks the color of green peas," Dulcie commented helpfully.

  "She's seasick," Tristram said, stepping away from the cart.

  "Seasick in a cart?" Fairfax roared with laughter.

  " 'Tis the same motion as aboard ship," Tristram said knowledgeably. "Back and forth. Back and forth. Up and down. Up and down. Swishing your innards back and forth, up and down, back and forth."

  Lily, sitting astride Merry, eyed her brother with growing irritation. "I think you have explained well enough," she told him rather shortly, causing Tristram to eye her more closely lest she be coming down with the same ailment Tillie was suffering from. He sighed, mumbling an apology, but continued to watch his sister. She'd been so quiet since they'd left London and since Romney Lee had died. At night, when she thought everyone was asleep, he had heard her weeping and in the morning she sounded like she was coming down with the sniffles.

  "If ye hadn't taken the wrong road back there in Cirencester, bet we'd be in Stratford already," Farley complained.

  "If ye hadn't fallen asleep, then I would've had somebody to ask, now wouldn't I? Not that ye wouldn've known any better than me which road was which," Fairfax charged, not willing to shoulder the blame.

  "Well, anybody who's got any sense can tell which way the sun is risin', can't they? Ye was headed east, Fairfax, not north!" Farley maintained. "That last village we was in was Burford. Now, if we was goin' through Burford, which we shouldn't have been if ye'd been on the right road, then we wouldn've been goin' west, not east. We should have been in Northleach, headin' toward Stratford."

  "Well, I can't be expected to know everything, Farley," Fairfax answered stoutly, thinking some people were beginning to expect too much from a fellow. "I never been outside of East Highford till a few months ago."

  "No harm was done," Lily said placating. "We just lost a couple of hours. We're headed in the right direction again. If this shortcut takes us across-country like that farmer said, then we'll end up having saved hours and we should join the main road north of that other village."

  "I sure hope that fella knew what he was sayin'; smelled pretty strongly of ale, if ye asks me. Don't think he knew what we was talkin' about half the time; probably went and tried to milk that bull he had out to pasture," Farley muttered, wishing he'd a spot of ale to quench his thirst rather than the fresh water he'd had to make do with for the last few days.

  "Don't know if it be such a good idea to be way off the main road like this, Mistress Lily," Fairfax said worriedly, glancing over his shoulder. "What if we was to get stuck, or lose a wheel, or what if this path don't go anywheres near this road? No one would ever know what happened to us. 'Tis awfully lonely out here," he said, noting the rolling hills that rose around them, and where it seemed only wild hare and hart roamed.

  "Well, one of us could always walk to the nearest village. That farmer said there was one called Chipping something not too far north of here," Farley suggested, but the look of worry on Fairfax's face bothered him. "What ye really be worried about?"

  Fairfax hunched his shoulders, glancing uneasily at Lily Christian riding Merry a few strides ahead now. "I didn't take too kindly to the way them ruffians we passed on the road was eyein' Mistress Lily. She's too pretty, Farley, to be ridin' around on that big white horse, no gentleman with her for protection from the likes of them. Ain't a man this side of London who hasn't thought about her after she's caught his eye. And she's damned hard to miss. I've been real worried, that I have, Farley. They might not think she's a gentlewoman, seein' how she's with us. And nobody is likely to mistake us fer gentlemen."

  "Aye, ye be right there," Farley agreed, eyeing his brother up and down. "Well, I reckon we can handle any trouble that comes along," Farley added, beginning to feel some of his brother's uneasiness. "Ye say ye thought ye heard something in the bushes last night?"

  "Aye, prowlin' around 'twas. Ye know, I been feelin' fer the last few days like someone's been watchin' us. Just like Master Tristram has."

  "Someone watchin' us?" Farley said with an incredulous glance around. "Who? No one knows we're here, nor even who we be. And them fellas, ye didn't see them until yesterday. Just yer nerves, Fairfax. Ye know how ye get when ye ain't eaten proper."

  "Aye, s'pose ye be right. And, like ye says, Farley, the two of us can take care of anyone who thinks they got business with us when they don't," Fairfax said, a mulish look on his face that gave fair warning.

  "It kind of looks like 'tis goin' to rain," Tillie said, eyeing the clouds with a frowning glance. "I hope we can find some shelter fer the night. 'Tis gettin' late. Maybe we should stop soon," she suggested, the green tinge to her face deepening when the wheels rolled over a large hump in the road.

  "Just a little farther, Tillie dear," Farley told her. "Be on the lookout fer a nice-sized tree, Master Tristram. We'll pull right up under it, give us some protection fer tonight. Get our fire goin' and maybe trap a hare or a nice, fat trout, and if it starts to rain, then we'll sleep underneath the cart. Look fer a tree well back from the lane, that way we'll have plenty of privacy, Master Tristram. That's a good lad," he said, and only Fairfax knew that his brother intended for them to remain unseen by anyone passing along the lane.

  Valentine Whitelaw glanced around. Nothing. Ahead, stretched the road. Behind them, stretched the road. And yet no shortcut.

  They had left the inn in Stratford early, just after breakfast. They had wasted little time in reaching the road and turning south. They'd traveled along the narrow, muddied track, searching for the shortcut Maire Lester had told them about. But, if they had followed her directions correctly, they should have seen the old windmill a couple of miles ago. They had missed it.

  "I think we've missed the shortcut, Uncle Valentine," Simon said. "I've looked and looked, but I haven't been able to see any windmill. I guess we'll have to follow the road all the way to Cirencester. We'll be hours and hours now."

  "We have no other choice, unless we go back to Stratford and ask directions again," Valentine said, feeling time slipping away from them while they sat there in the middle of the road.

  "Why don't you ask him? He looks like a local," Simon suggested as they watched a young man of less than twenty approaching along the road. He did not see them at first, so lost in his thoughts did he seem, but upon spying them blocking his path, he quickened his step.

  "A good day to you, gentlemen. A fine morning, 'tis, after a storm," the young man greeted them, a bright curiosity in his eyes as he stared at them, his gaze lingering longest on the Turk.

  "And a good day to you. We were told there was a shortcut
through to the road to Oxford. We are strangers to this shire and unfamiliar with the countryside. Maire Lester, who told us of this path, directed us to an old windmill. Have you knowledge of this path?"

  "Maire Lester? The name is familiar. Ah, Moll Crenshaw's sister. Yes, I remember now. I visited the farm not less than a week ago when a troupe of actors was passing through Stratford. I fear she found them most tedious. But I must confess to having been entertained by their conversation and talk of London. Although, 'twas Maire Lester who entertained us the most with her stories of the family she once worked for. Now, the shortcut you speak of, sir, is not more than a mile or so back the way you have come. 'Tis understandable you missed it, for 'tis beyond a grassy bank, where the honeysuckle grows thick and sweet and where I have spent many an enjoyable hour lying beneath a stout oak; however, 'tis easy to miss if you are not familiar with the lane."

  "But where is the windmill Maire Lester told us about?" Simon questioned. "I don't see how I could have missed it?"

  " 'Tis enringed by ivy. One might believe 'tis a lofty cedar stretching to the sky. One night, a lone rider passing along this lane claimed to have seen the moon riding astride the sails. 'Tis the only time I've heard of it spinning since a noble roe was wended through the heart and died beneath the windmill's shadow. They say it stopped singing with the winds out of sadness. 'Twould certainly have been an enchanted night," he said with a smile. "I am going that way, so I will point it out to you," the young man offered, beginning to walk down the lane.

  "Thank you. That is most kind of you..." Valentine Whitelaw paused, unable to thank the obliging man by name.

  "Will. William Shakespeare. I live in Stratford. My father owns a shop there. He is a glove maker."

  "Master Shakespeare. I am Valentine Whitelaw, and this is my nephew, Simon Whitelaw, and this is Mustafa, my friend and most trusted companion," Valentine made the introductions. "We are in your debt, sir, for we would have lost valuable time if we had missed this shortcut."

  "Oh? Indeed, sir, then I am most heartily glad to have been of some service to you. I trust your business will be concluded to your satisfaction," he replied politely.

  "You haven't by any chance seen three young people, strangers to these parts, traveling in a cart pulled by oxen? They would be in the company of two men, one large, the other short, and a woman? And, they might even have had a monkey and a parrot, as well as a mastiff traveling with them?" Valentine questioned.

  "No, I am afraid I have not seen them, and I would surely have remembered such unusual traveling companions-although, I am reminded of something... Ah, they are the very same ones Maire Lester spoke of, yes? You are searching for them?"

  "Yes, they've run away from their guardian, who mistreated them, and we have to find them," Simon said.

  "How unfortunate. They seem to have led a life full of misadventure," Will Shakespeare said. "I do wish you well. Whitelaw?" he murmured. "The name sounds familiar. Have I heard it before, sir?" he questioned, gazing at the Turk more closely, his eyes narrowed with interest as if he longed to know the reason why a Turkish gentleman was traveling with an Englishman in the heart of England.

  "My uncle is a famous privateer. He has sailed with Drake, and now he is captain of his own ship, the Madrigal," Simon told the young man proudly when Valentine remained silent.

  "Of course. I am honored, sir. I have heard of your exploits. I have listened with great interest to news of such travels. Would it be too much to ask, sir, if you might share with me a few descriptions of the New World while we walk along the road? I would like to learn more of those strange lands and your travels," he requested, and for the next half hour his questions came without end while he listened attentively, his eyes aglow with dreams as yet unfulfilled.

  "Perhaps one day you will travel to the New World and be able to see it for yourself," Valentine said with a smile for the young man's wide-eyed interest.

  "Oh, I doubt that, sir, for I am to wed in two months' time. I shall not wander far from Stratford. I doubt I shall even travel as far as London," Will Shakespeare announced. "There 'tis, the windmill. If you look carefully, you might be able to make out the sails," he said, pointing to a bulky shape through the trees, and Valentine Whitelaw was not surprised that they'd missed it the first time. "It has been a pleasure, sir. Godspeed you on your next voyage. Master Simon, Mustafa," he nodded to them.

  Valentine Whitelaw bid him a friendly farewell before he sent his horse up the grassy bank, toward the windmill.

  "So long," Simon called when William Shakespeare glanced back and waved, and while Simon watched, the young man disappeared along the road.

  "Dulcie, aren't you hungry?" Lily asked in concern, placing her hand against Dulcie's forehead.

  Dulcie sneezed a couple of times in response, then grinned up at her sister through a tangle of black hair. "I'm starved," she said, fidgeting beneath Lily's hand while her sister tried to brush some order into her curls.

  "I thought we were going to eat rabbit last night," she demanded.

  "Farley couldn't catch one," Lily said, trying to hide her own disappointment at the stale loaf of bread and narrow wedge of cheese they'd had to divide up for dinner. They'd eaten the last of the meat pie they'd bought in Burford for dinner the night before, and the last of the fruit and nuts had disappeared at lunch.

  "What about that fat trout?"

  "Farley couldn't see in the dark, dear," Lily explained. It had taken Farley and Fairfax so long in their unsuccessful try to catch a rabbit, that it had grown dark before they'd had a chance to try their luck in the shallow stream that ran through the trees nearby.

  "Things will be different today, I promise," Lily said, kissing Dulcie's wide brow. The sun was shining and Farley and Tristram had gone ahead to make certain the narrow track they were following was passable. Lily raised her face to the warmth of the sun. The rain, falling in cold sheets the night before, hadn't helped their dispositions, especially when it had put out their fire and the smoke had drifted eerily though the trees and hung in a haze over their camp while they'd huddled on the cold ground beneath the cart.

  "Cappie's not hungry. He's been stuffing himself on berries and nuts all morning," Dulcie said enviously while she watched the monkey select another berry from the small pile he'd collected during his early morning foray in the woods. His velvet cap was covered with stickers from the brambles he'd explored, and he'd lost one of the tinkling bells from its pointed tip, which seemed to concern him, for he kept pulling his hat off and examining it closely.

  Fairfax had reloaded the cart and wandered off to explore. Tillie was sitting in the space enlarged for her in the back of the cart in case she wanted to lie down and nap during the day. She was mending a pair of Farley's hose, while Cisco walked his perch on the rail, mimicking the chirping of birds and other animals he'd heard during the night. Hearing a startled neigh, Lily looked over in surprise to where Merry had been grazing peacefully in a small meadow, a long length of rope keeping him from straying too far. He was standing still, staring off into the trees. He neighed again, then when there was only silence, he began to feed.

  Raphael, who'd been lying at Dulcie's feet, stood up, his ears perked as he listened to something in the trees. Lily was startled to hear him growl and see his fur rising along his spine with warning.

  Lily handed Dulcie the brush and walked away from the cart to stare at the shadowy copse just the far side of the meadow.

  "Fairfax? Is that you? Hello! Is there anyone there?" she called, shielding her eyes to stare more deeply into the trees. "Fairfax?" Lily called again, but there was no answer.

  "What is it, Lily?" Dulcie demanded, coming to stand between Lily and Raphael, who'd followed just a step behind Lily like the good watchdog he was.

  "I don't know. Probably a doe and more startled than we," Lily said, shrugging off the strange sensation she'd had of being watched.

  "Oh, look! There! 'Tis Tristram and Farley, and Fairfax is with them!" Du
lcie cried, racing to meet them as they approached from near the copse of trees Lily had been staring into just moments ago.

  "Guess what, Lily?" Tristram said, hurrying ahead.

  "You saw the road?" Lily guessed, her spirits lifting.

  "Well, not exactly, but we did see a farm," he explained. "And we saw some people. There was a woman out feedin' the chickens, with a couple of little children hanging on to her skirts. I saw her husband coming out of the barn with some cows."

  " 'Tis through them trees, other side the dale. I was figurin' that I might amble on over there with some of those fancy ribbons and sweet-scented sachets ye made and never got a chance to sell, Mistress Lily. Thought I'd trade them fer some food. Few eggs, bread, cheese, maybe even a nice roast chicken. Reckon the lady down there might want some pretties she can't get without a long trip into the nearest village. And from the look of them kids of hers, I'd reckon she don't get into the village very often. And, of course, I'd be sellin' the ribbons mighty cheap," Farley explained. "Even thought I'd dig into that trunk and get a couple of knives we don't use. Reckon they'd come in handy on the farm. Always use them fer something."

  "Can I go too?" Tristram cried.

  "Well, I don't know, Master Tristram. Ye'll have to ask Mistress Lily."

  "You may go, but I expect you to give Farley a hand," Lily warned.

  "Oh, I will, Lily. I will!" Tristram beamed.

  "I've been thinkin', Mistress Lily, that the young master might be able to entertain the little ones, keep 'em busy, while I'm about my business. Ye still got them little boxes ye been jugglin'?"

  "I can juggle?" Tristram asked, racing away to find the colored boxes before waiting for an answer.

  "I was also wonderin', mistress, if ye've still got that one puppet. Ye, know, the only one that survived the fire?" Farley asked curiously.