by Linda Finlay
Rowan grinned, knowing how true that was.
‘Happen I’ll remember once I’ve had a nice long nap,’ he said, wincing as he got to his feet.
Rowan stroked the ribbon around her wrist.
‘Your mother used to do that when she was worried, too. Said that ribbon would tighten itself around her when she needed alerting to something wrong. You’ve got her gift, so just you take heed of what it’s trying to tell you, young un,’ he said, whistling to his dog.
Rowan watched through the open door as, dun-brown collie at his heels, the shepherd hobbled his way across the yard, heading towards his hut in the hills. She was about to call after him and offer him a ride on the cart, then remembered it wasn’t here.
Gazing at the new lamb sleeping beside its mother, she thought about what Davey had said about the owlers. Surely even Fanny couldn’t persuade her father to deal with the hoodlums he deplored. Those evil men were known to offer higher than the market price for the sheep’s wool and then turn on those who’d been tempted by their offers. Often they’d had their farms razed or were found dead in their beds.
The rattling of a cart disturbed her musing and, jumping to her feet, she was just in time to see Fanny, dressed in her finery, climb up beside the driver. Anxious to find out why her father and Sab had left without her, and where her stepmother was going, Rowan raced out of the barn.
‘Hey, Fanny …’ she called, but before she’d got even halfway across the yard, the cart had disappeared in a cloud of dust. Peering through the settling haze, she thought that she recognized the set of the driver, but couldn’t recall where from.
It was midway through the afternoon when Fanny came bustling into the kitchen. Rowan finished setting a pot of broth to simmer over the fire, then turned to face her.
‘There you are, Fanny. I need to speak to you about …’ she began.
‘Not now, child, can’t you see I’m busy?’ Fanny snapped, struggling under a load of parcels. As Rowan watched her disappear up the stairs, she heard the rattle of a cart disappearing down the lane at speed. By the time she’d raced outside, she was too late to make out anything other than an outline of the driver before the cart turned the corner and was lost from view. There was definitely something familiar about him, she thought, making her way back inside.
Not long afterwards she heard another cart drawing up and her father appeared, shrugging off his jacket and cap.
‘Weather’s definitely warming, my dear. Oh, Rowan, it’s you,’ he said, looking round from the peg. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Better?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Fanny said you had a bad stomach. You know woman’s …’ he stuttered to a halt, blushing as red as the flames in the fire.
‘Ah, there you are, husband of mine,’ Fanny said, appearing at his side and kissing his cheek. ‘Don’t you worry, my dear, I’ve been looking after Rowan whilst you’ve been away. We women have to bear these things stoically, don’t we?’ she said, throwing Rowan a defiant look.
‘But it’s not …’ she began.
‘Now don’t embarrass the girl, Edward. Let me take care of her,’ Fanny simpered. ‘Did you do well at the market?’
‘Yes,’ he said, smiling now that he was on safe ground. ‘Sab sold all your bread and cheese, Rowan. He’s taken orders for more of those scarves and caps you made, too. Said people were very complimentary about them.’
‘Where is Sab?’ Rowan asked. At least he’d tell her what had been going on.
‘Let Edward sit down before you bombard him with questions,’ Fanny scolded, placing a proprietary hand on his arm. ‘I’m sure you’ve been busy and could do with a rest, couldn’t you, my dear?’ she asked, making to lead him towards the parlour.
‘That’s very kind of you, Fanny, but I must help Sab with the milking. Did you have a good day?’
‘Well, I had Rowan to look after, of course, and, as you can smell, our supper is cooking.’
‘But you never –’ Rowan began, indignant that her stepmother should lie so glibly.
‘Well, you go on out to that cow place and I’ll make sure your supper’s ready and waiting when you come in,’ Fanny said. Edward looked from his wife to Rowan, shrugged, and then in the time-honoured way of men who sense trouble, hastily put his cap back on and disappeared outside.
‘What is going on, Fanny?’ Rowan demanded. Her stepmother gave her supercilious smile, her eyes remaining cold.
‘You’ll find out soon enough, Rowan, believe you me,’ she smirked, before disappearing into the parlour and slamming the door behind her. Rowan made to follow, then thought better of it. She’d speak to Sab when he came in for his supper.
However, he didn’t appear for his meal.
‘Said he was still full up from his meat pie,’ her father said, when she tackled him. ‘Now sit down and have your own meal,’ he added. But Rowan had too many unanswered questions to even think of eating.
Deciding she’d have her supper later, she went outside to find Sab. She didn’t know what was going on but she intended to find out.
He wasn’t in the shippon, and although she searched the barn and around the darkening farmyard she couldn’t find him anywhere. It was almost as if he was staying out of her way, she thought. Whatever was going on, she vowed she’d get to the bottom of it.
Over the next few days, though, it seemed as if Sab was playing cat and mouse with her. She’d no sooner catch a glimpse of him than he’d disappear. Or, if she did manage to catch him, Fanny would materialize and he’d scarper so fast, his shadow would have had difficulty keeping up with him. Strangely, he never appeared at meal times. When Rowan asked her father where he was, he claimed Sab was catching up with the chores he’d got behind with when he was laying the path, adding that he’d asked for cold meat or cheese and bread to be left for him to eat in his hayloft.
Deciding she’d had enough of his strange behaviour, and determined to have it out with her father, one morning she waited until he’d finished his breakfast. When he finally pushed away his empty dish, she said, ‘Father, I need to speak to you about Sab.’
‘Ah, yes. Good job you reminded me, Rowan. Sab said to tell you that he’d be obliged if you could help me turn the cattle out into the field today as he has other jobs to see to,’ he said, his weathered face breaking into a smile as he got up from the table.
‘But, Father –’ she began.
‘I know it’s early in the season, Rowan, but Fanny’s been going on at me something dreadful about needing the shippon for her things, and the weather’s warmer now, isn’t it?’
Realizing her father’s mind was on his beloved cows Rowan knew she’d be wasting her time talking about anything else.
‘Do you still want me to switch them?’ she asked.
‘Why, yes, Rowan. It wouldn’t do to turn them out without protection. We don’t want anyone putting evil on them, now, do we?’
‘Tonight is Eostre, Father, so will you and Sab be up at the top field tonight?’
‘Indeed we will, Rowan. Funnily enough, Fanny was asking about that only last night,’ he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his cap. ‘Happen she’ll make a good farmer’s wife yet,’ he said, chuckling.
‘I’ll clear these dishes and then collect a fresh bough,’ she promised, turning away before her expression betrayed her true thoughts. Anyone less likely to make a good farmer’s wife than Fanny she’d yet to meet.
‘And I’ll get the cows ready,’ her father said. ‘I don’t mind telling you, it’ll be a relief not to have Fanny nagging me about it. Once planting and sowing’s finished, Sab can swill down the shippon, give it a limewash and then she can move all her blooming stuff in,’ he muttered. Before Rowan could ask him about Sab, he’d disappeared out of the door.
Rowan followed, selected her switch from the rowan tree beside the door and stood ready at the entrance to the shippon. As her father drove them out, she struck each beast lightly on the back, saying: ‘May the milk ris
e in the udder as the sap in the stick.’ Then, leaving her father to herd them up to their field, she buried the rowan switch and completed her chant.
As she made her way to the dairy, she didn’t see Fanny watching her from her bedroom window.
That night, as Rowan waited for the moon to rise high enough in the sky, she pondered on the strange events of the past weeks, trying to work out how long it had been since Sab had begun ignoring her. After she’d carried out her ritual she would go on up to the top field and have it out with him, she determined. Slipping out of bed, she carefully untied her mirror from the door and tiptoed down the stairs. Although there was little chance of Fanny catching her, for it was nearly midnight and her stepmother would be fast asleep, she didn’t want to take any chances.
With her mirror glinting in the moonlight, and dressed only in her nightdress, she made her way up to the old oak. Carefully casting her circle, she placed the mirror in the centre. After giving the tree a greeting hug, she put her back against the trunk and slid to the ground, tapping into the natural energy around her. With her eyes tightly shut, she cleared her mind until she could feel the life rising through its roots, trunk and branches. Then jumping to her feet, she skipped around the huge, old tree, chanting:
Daylight and darkness of equal length,
Balance our –
Suddenly the red ribbon yanked her wrist hard, making her wince and break off the reciting of her charm. Her hand made to soothe it but before she’d even had time to ease the band a sack was thrown over her head from behind. As she gasped for breath she felt herself being lifted roughly into the air and carried over the rutted ground. Desperately, she tried to struggle free, but heard a man’s coarse laugh as her captor tightened his grip.
CHAPTER 13
Rowan opened her mouth to scream but the sour smell of the sacking made her retch. She didn’t know what was happening, only that if her body didn’t stop jolting up and down soon, she was going to be sick all down this man’s back. He came to an abrupt halt, and she felt herself swung into the air before being dropped unceremoniously onto hard bare boards. Momentarily stunned, she lay trying to collect her thoughts. Then, as her strength started to return, outrage burst through her. How dare anyone treat her in such a manner? Anger lent her the determination to manoeuvre herself into an upright position, but no sooner was she sitting up than she was roughly pushed back down again. Feeling a tightening around the hessian, she gasped. Her assailant was tying her up like a parcel.
‘You fool, you should have knocked her out,’ she heard Fanny whisper. ‘You’ll need to sedate her or she’ll holler so loud Edward and Sab will hear up in the top field.’
‘I ain’t being responsible for anything like that,’ the gruff voice grunted.
‘Do it,’ she hissed. ‘Here’s the necessary paperwork, now scarper.’ Rowan heard Fanny’s footsteps hurrying away.
‘What about the rest of my money?’ the man called after her.
‘You’ll get it when I hear the job’s been done,’ Fanny snapped. ‘Now scram.’
Rowan heard the farmhouse door slam. Realizing she was now at the mercy of this man, she began shivering uncontrollably with fear. Then she felt herself manhandled again, the rope untied and the sacking peeled away. A shadowy figure loomed over her and she just had time to register the musty, musky smell of his cologne before a filthy cloth was thrust over her mouth, replacing it with an overwhelming bitter stench. Her last conscious thought was that she was being abducted, and then she knew no more.
She woke to the rattling noise of a wagon being driven at speed over cobbles. Her head felt muzzy and she was incredibly thirsty. What was happening? Where was she being taken? She struggled to sit up but was overcome by a wave of wooziness and slid helplessly back to the floor. She just had time to register the sacking was only loosely tied and that something thick and warm was covering her, before she lost consciousness once more.
Next time she came to, her head felt clearer, but it still took a few moments to register they were stationary. Heated voices were coming from nearby and as she listened it became clear that it was about money for a delivery that needed to be made. As she tried to manoeuvre herself into an upright position the warm cover was suddenly torn away and before she could utter a word she was once again hoisted into the air, tossed over a bony shoulder and dumped unceremoniously onto another hard surface. Then she felt the crackle of an old canvas being thrown over her.
‘There you go mate, all yours,’ that same gruff voice muttered. ‘No helping yourself to any of the goods now.’ His coarse laugh was followed by the sound of a horse and cart driving away at speed.
Another man’s voice, seemingly softer than the other, called to his horse, and once again Rowan was on the move. Before long the cobbles were replaced by smoother ground but she could tell from the laboured way the horse was plodding that they were climbing uphill. Obviously she’d been transferred to another cart, but where was she being taken, by whom and why? Although her brain was functioning better now, it took her a few moments to remember she’d been snatched from the farm. But why? Was this Fanny’s way of getting rid of her? And where was she being taken? By listening carefully, she could pick out muffled birdsong so it had to be daytime, although she couldn’t see any light coming through the sacking. She could hear the bleating of sheep all around, so they must be travelling through countryside. This time she had no thick cover to keep her warm and she shivered from the cold air and perhaps, too, from fear.
Someone called to the horse and the cart jolted to a halt, then lurched as the driver leaped to the ground. Wriggling and writhing, Rowan desperately tried to free herself and had just managed to work the rope loose when she heard a scream. The sacking was gingerly peeled back and she found herself staring into the bewildered face of a young lad. Above him mist swirled and she shivered, her breath rising in plumes in the cold air.
‘What the … ?’ he began, looking shaken. ‘Who are you?’
It was such an incongruous question, Rowan burst out laughing. Once she started, she couldn’t stop and, realizing she was bordering on hysterics, she pulled herself together. By which time the lad seemed to have recovered his composure.
‘I was told this was a delivery of meat,’ he said, shaking his head so that his dark, matted hair flapped against his scrawny shoulders.
‘Charming,’ Rowan spluttered, struggling to sit up. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, determined to find out what was going on.
The lad shook his head again, his blue eyes wary. ‘I didn’t know you was alive. I mean I thought you was rations for the asy–’ He stuttered to a halt, fearful he’d said too much.
‘Asy? What asy?’ Rowan asked.
‘Look, miss,’ the lad said, ‘I don’t want no trouble. I’ve to make this delivery or they’ll want their money back and then me and my sisters won’t have no supper. If they comes after me I’ll be the dead meat,’ he muttered.
‘Who are they? And where are you taking me?’ she asked. But the lad, already fearing he’d said too much, wouldn’t be drawn.
‘Wish I’d never stopped to relieve myself. Look, we’re on the moors and if you leg it you’ll be lost in no time. We’re nearly there now anyway, so if you promise not to try and escape, I won’t tie you up again.’
For the first time, Rowan stared around her. She could just make out huge dark rocks looming starkly through the mist, which seemed to be thickening even as she watched. A few twisted, apparently lifeless trees were dotted here and there, but there was no sign of civilization.
Mistaking her look, the lad jumped back into the cart and snatched up the reins, calling over his shoulder, ‘Don’t you try and jump, miss. The peat bogs here are treacherous. Many a man’s been caught bog hopping and been sucked right down till they’ve swallowed him up whole. Horrible way to go,’ he added, shuddering. Then, with a shout to the horse, he drove the cart forward, only to slow a few moments later as he tossed an old blanket back to h
er.
‘That’ll keep the worst off yer,’ he shouted, before urging the beast to go faster.
Realizing it would be foolish to try to escape, Rowan bunched up the sacking to use as a pillow, then lay back and pulled the cover over her. It was rough and smelled of horse but as the mist enveloped her like a ghostly shroud she was grateful for its warmth. She now knew they were on Dartmoor but had no idea in which direction they were headed. The lad had said they were nearly there, so she would wait until they arrived and then find out where it was. By the way the cart was veering this way and that, he must be carefully picking his way and she didn’t want to distract him. She’d heard her father talking about how treacherous the moors could be, and the idea of escaping only to be sucked into a bog seemed sheer stupidity.
Thoughts of her father made her heart leap. He’d be wondering where she was by now. How long would it be before he came searching for her? Then she remembered hearing Fanny’s voice when she’d lain trussed up in the first cart. Her heart sank. What treachery had her stepmother come up with now?
She lay on the floor of the cart, watching the grey mist whirling eerily around her until eventually the lad yanked on the reins and the cart rumbled to a halt. Rowan pulled herself up onto the bench, wrapped the blanket tightly around her, then peered into the gloom. Ahead, a forbidding black granite building rose out of the murk. Before she had time to move, there was the jangle of keys followed by a clank, and the huge iron gate in the centre of the edifice squeaked open. There followed a swift exchange between the lad and a guard before the cart rumbled forward again. As they neared the austere-looking building, Rowan eyes widened in horror. It had high slit windows that were fortified by bars.
No sooner had the cart stopped again than two more uniformed figures appeared. One of them inspected the papers the lad was holding out, whilst the other helped Rowan down from the cart. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than the cart moved off at speed, and she could only watch as it was swallowed up by the murky shadows. The gate clanked shut behind her and the second guard, who had a huge moustache, took her firmly by the other arm. Before she had time to ask what was going on, she was marched up some stone steps and through an imposing iron-bound, studded door that was dominated by a huge keyhole.