Trouble in the Forest Book Two

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “You should warn them,” said Scarlet sarcastically. “I’m certain they’ll heed you.”

  “It would be better for us all if they did,” said the Red Friar. “I’ll sleep in the wagon, so no one will disturb it.”

  “Commendable,” said Scarlet, preparing to climb into the loft. “There are going to be contests with arms today—quarterstaves, swords, jousting, and the like. Archery tomorrow, cross-and-jostle, and bear-baiting.”

  “A pity we will not see it,” said the Red Friar.

  “We’ll hear about it in the taverns,” said Scarlet, and reached the top of the ladder. “Rest well, Trinitarian.”

  “And you,” said the Red Friar, fighting the urge to run out into the sunlight and end his wretchedness at last. He cursed himself for lack of courage as he climbed into the wagon and made himself a pile of unpainted cloth to rest upon. As he stretched out upon his make-shift bed, he wondered if he would ever find the fortitude to end his unnatural existence. His miserable conclusions accompanied him into uneasy sleep.

  What deSteny and Prince John Feared

  SIR HUMPHREY’S Guard found three dead men this morning,” said deSteny without ceremony as he entered the reception room set aside for Prince John’s use. It was almost mid-day and there was a newly laid fire blazing on the hearth taking off the chill of the wind.

  “Only three? During such festivities as these, I am amazed the number should be so few,” said Prince John, looking up from the book he was reading. His writing table was near the window to take advantage of the light, and so was in the coldest part of the room, which the Prince compensated for with a surcote of boiled wool over his narrow—sleeved bliaut. He closed his book and set it aside on the end of the writing table.

  “Oh, there were more, as you might expect, but these three were pale as wax and their throats had been worried, as if by wolves,” said deSteny, and waited to be given permission to sit. “They were not men of Nottingham, and they had all taken refuge for the night with cobblestones for a bed.”

  “Then they—our undead foes—are inside the gates, as you maintained they were,” the Prince said heavily, motioning to the chair on the other side of his writing table.

  “Of course. That was what we intended would happen, but not these deaths; I wouldn’t have supposed they would take such risks, not while they are within the town walls, and in danger of being trapped. They are daring us to find them, and showing their contempt for us at the same time, as if they cannot be caught. You and I aren’t as strong as we want to believe we are,” said deSteny, a certain hopelessness in his words. He was very tired, having been on night patrol with the Guard, but he could not permit himself to rest during the day. There was too much for him to do to take time for repose. There would be a chance to sleep after the Fair. He straightened up in his chair and made an effort to be alert.

  “But three men killed already. That is not so good a sign, is it,” said Prince John. “They are playing with us—you’re right about that.”

  “If they care so much as that, to play with us,” said deSteny.

  “Well, they must have some intention to shame us, or why would they come into the city this early?” Prince John asked.

  “To spare themselves the notice of coming late to the Fair, for surely they know they would be conspicuous among late arrivals. I don’t know what we’re going to do with so many strangers in the town—Hood and his men will use that against us,” said deSteny. “And perhaps they will avail themselves of the greatest number of victims to demonstrate their power.”

  “A very discouraging notion,” said Prince John. “The more so because it may be true. They may want to make the most of this time, more’s the pity.”

  “This turn of events puts a bigger obligation upon us to destroy them. They have been dangerous from the first, but now they’re arrant,” said deSteny, and saw Prince John nod. “They are brazen in their hunting, for they seem to imply that they do not fear that they may be discovered.”

  “Which is all the more reason we must apprehend them and bring them to book,” said Prince John.

  “I concur, Your Grace,” said deSteny with a gesture of respect. “And I am determined to unearth these vile creatures.”

  “You have done that before,” Prince John warned. “You have fought them face to face, and you know better than any of us how dangerous these vampires are. What Brother Tancred wrote, you lived.”

  “And lost my faith, as he lost his life.” DeSteny seemed embarrassed by this observation. “That was years ago, and far away. It has little to do with these times, or this place.”

  “You fought them, and lived to tell about it, which no one here can boast of, not as you did,” said the Prince. “You achieved what no others have. Only you never discuss it, from what I have learned.”

  “What is there to discuss?” deSteny asked the air.

  “What you did,” said the Prince levelly.

  “But in the Holy Land things were different,” said deSteny.

  “You were still serving Mass,” said Prince John. “You carried no weapon but your walking staff. I realize much has changed.”

  “Isn’t that enough?” deSteny asked, feeling at once relieved and appalled that Prince John knew of his past.

  “It has cost you much,” said the Prince thoughtfully.

  “Not nearly so much as some,” said deSteny, wincing at his memories.

  Prince John saw that deSteny was distressed. “You did your utmost.”

  “Utmost wasn’t enough,” deSteny told him.

  “How do you endure it?” Prince John asked as he studied the struggle on deSteny’s features.

  “As I said, another time and a different place,” said deSteny, sounding weary.

  “What you did made it possible for you to survive,” said the Prince.

  Abashed, deSteny looked away. “I can’t deny that, little as I may think it can be useful now. Tell me how you want to proceed.”

  “You may want to tell me,” said Prince John. “You are cognizant of what these beings are, far more than the rest of us. You can stand against them—”

  “I may not be able to,” deSteny said in muffled accents. “They are strong here, and well—organized, not the maniacal haunts of the Holy Land, who attack like the desert wind. Here they are clever and they fight like wolves, in packs, with a plan.”

  “That may be true. They have dared much, because no one has been able to stop them from preying on the living. You have the knowledge most of us lack, but now your resolve is weakening, leaving us without a champion.”

  “I’m no champion,” said deSteny brusquely.

  “Then you may become one, and claim the vindication you deserve,” said the Prince, giving deSteny a chance to respond before he went on. “If not you, then whom shall it be? Is there anyone who knows as much as you do, who has your experience? You do not expect the Bishop to oppose them, do you? He is already afraid of shadows. To ask him to go up against Hood and his vampires, what would you think he might do?” He waited for an answer, not actually expecting one.

  “I know you’re right,” said deSteny. “And at another time I would need no urging, but no more.”

  “I don’t hold your decision against you,” said Prince John, “although some might. You may still refuse, if you believe you must; I cannot compel you to undertake this fight. I wouldn’t if our circumstances were not so dire. I understand this is grievous to you, but I must ask how you remained—not unscathed, but alive.” He rose and began to pace. “Not that I wish to bring up what you would rather forget, and I would not do unless I felt—as I do—you are the only man in England who can defeat Hood and his band. If this is more than you can bear, then tell me now that you won’t act—”

  “Oh, no. I will not do that,” said deSteny with a sad little laugh. “
I know my duty even though I haven’t kept my faith.”

  “Your faith, or your lack of it, is between you and God, since you have the chrism, and that cannot be taken from you,” said the Prince. “And your ordination hasn’t been rescinded. I understand that you have upheld your vows, so there is no burden of sin.”

  “Only doubt,” deSteny interjected. “According to Bishop Tilton, that is worse than Pride.”

  “The Bishop is a worthy man,” said Prince John as he stood in front of the fire. “But in these matters, he is not experienced. No other man in England has seen what you have seen and lived. Who else is able to take on these beings but you?”

  “I cannot tell you that, but I doubt I have the strength for such a battle. Too much has happened since that time. I have stayed chaste and aware of my vows out of habit, and for the sake of my oath to uphold the Church, not from the certainty of God’s presence,” said deSteny with a shrug. “No one thinks me a priest, least of all me.”

  “Whatever your reason may be, you are uncompromised,” said Prince John.

  “That I am,” said deSteny.

  Prince John stood up straighter than before. “Then shall we prepare?”

  DeSteny laughed, but the laughter was bereft of humor. “Prepare. You know what Brother Tancred has advised. That much we have put in motion.” He cocked his head and regarded Prince John with a combination of hope and abhorrence. “Given what we are facing, how much more can we prepare?”

  “I want you to tell me that,” said Prince John.

  “You know as well as I how enormous a jeopardy to the living our foes are. I have done what Brother Tancred recommended.” DeSteny faced the Prince directly. “I have done all that I know to do. You may know better perhaps, since you have studied the problem far more than anyone in England.”

  “Studying is not fighting. You have faced these creatures—”

  “And fled,” deSteny interjected.

  “And lived,” Prince John corrected him with purpose. “You are the only man I know who can advise me from his experience, and is alive to answer questions. I cannot have you falter now, Sheriff. I depend upon you to put my knowledge to the best fighting use.”

  “How do you want this done? Through battle of arms or of faith?” DeSteny felt impossibly tired.

  “Won’t both be needed?” Prince John put his hands together in contemplation.

  With a shrug, deSteny answered, “Perhaps.”

  “You know which will succeed more than I. You are the one who let the vampires come into Nottingham. You must have some strategy in mind,” said Prince John. “Tell me what you recommend and I’ll listen to your advice.”

  DeSteny sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve been trying to decide what is to be done for months now. When I faced those creatures before, I failed.”

  “But who can tell me more than you can? You seemed to have stood beside Brother Tancred and from that encounter you know the danger they pose; you have escaped them, and that means a great deal to me. There is much you have put behind you, but this is no longer a prudent course. You may not have prevailed before, but you know more now, and these vampires are not ready for a direct fight. They don’t anticipate it. That may be our only advantage, and it will be a brief one.” Prince John waited for a long moment. “I will do my utmost to assist you in any way I am able to, if only you will tell me how I am to do this. So long as it doesn’t contravene the rule of the King, I am at your disposal.”

  “We must identify them first, and with so many strangers in the town, this isn’t readily done. They do not move about much in the day, but many other than vampires work in the dark as well,” said deSteny.

  “And many don’t venture into churches,” said Prince John. “So Brother Tancred’s methods of passing through the army camp carrying a pyx and a monstrance will not succeed here, and you must find other means, mustn’t you?”

  It took deSteny some little time to answer. “I have been thinking about this ever since Mother Barnaba showed me Brother Tancred’s book, and wanted to come up with some way to defeat them. You know how you—what I might do if I had the opportunity.”

  “And what did you decide? You are certain that the vampires are inside the walls of Nottingham.” Prince John leaned forward. “We are at the point when we must face them or capitulate, giving them run of the Great North Road, which neither of us wishes to do.”

  “No, I’d say not,” deSteny conceded.

  “If they remain unchecked through the dark of the year, they’ll be much harder to stop. Last year we saw them become more powerful and audacious, and we have been trying to make sure this isn’t allowed to happen again. My officers tell me they cannot fight Hood in the forest because it is too dense and treacherous. Hood’s men know every stump and rill. Our soldiers have no such skill.” He came back to the writing table. “Think about this, deSteny: Nottingham is nothing without the Great North Road. If merchants and villagers and crofters cannot safely use the road, then everything in Nottingham is lost. Within a generation, the forest will claim all but its stones, and only rats and the undead will thrive here. For the sake of your town, if not for the travelers on the road, I ask you to help us.”

  “I understand,” said deSteny.

  “You have the vampires in the town. You all but invited them here, didn’t you? Surely you had something in mind. What are you trying to accomplish?” Prince John’s persistence brought a cynical smile to deSteny’s somber features.

  “You won’t let this go, will you, Your Grace?” he answered.

  “I have heard just enough from you to convince me that you have contrived the means to trap them,” said Prince John. “I am wholly in agreement with you. But I would like to know what you are prepared to do, and how you intend to do it, beyond setting this trap. How shall you close it on them?”

  “I have no surety that it will catch anything more than a few desperate thieves.” DeSteny sighed. “I’m not certain the plan will work.”

  “Who is, when dealing with such as the heinous creatures of Sherwood?” countered Prince John. “All we can do is plan, plan again, and hope. So long as we don’t assume we cannot fail, we have a chance for success.” His fingers brushed the cover of his book where it lay. “I don’t think anyone supposes that there is only one way these creatures are defeated.”

  “Two or three at most,” said deSteny, trying to sound encouraged.

  Prince John went back to the fire. “Then I trust you have one plan for each way.”

  “Two plans, but not a third,” deSteny admitted.

  “The first being men-at-arms dressed as ordinary folk, heavily armed, set to mingle with the Fair-goers,” said Prince John. “The second?”

  DeSteny sighed. “I have asked the priests to bless all the wells in the town so that all water is holy water, which will kill any vampire who drinks of it. It may also have some virtue if the vampires should drink blood of someone who has drunk holy water, provided the living man was shriven and in a state of grace.”

  “That last is a gamble,” said Prince John, “knowing how Fair—goers conduct themselves.”

  “This ploy I have asked the Bishop to keep in petto so that no one beyond himself and two priests will know of it.” DeSteny pressed his lips together as if to emphasize the need for secrecy. “Now you know, and I.”

  “Not even Sir Humphrey has been told?” asked the Prince.

  “No,” deSteny said. “For he keeps nothing from his men—as he must—and if the garrison hears of it, so will every man, woman, child, and undead creature within the walls.”

  “Two plans. A third would be wise,” Prince John recommended.

  “So I think,” deSteny agreed. “All right. I will do my best to contrive one, as soon as possible. I have a notion or two already, that may enlist the aid of some of the
town’s less savory people.”

  “That is the least of my worries,” said Prince John, “provided you do not use felons.”

  “No, I think not, but perhaps men who are not of the highest repute.” He touched his forehead as if to stimulate his thoughts. “I’ll mull this over a while and report my conclusions to you.”

  “Tonight, do you think?” Prince John encouraged him.

  “It must be tonight, I believe.”

  DeSteny nodded. “I am trying to contrive something.”

  “Your contrivance had best succeed,” Prince John said, testiness making him abrupt, and adding weight to his command.

  “I’ll do what I can,” said deSteny in a resigned voice.

  How Hood and Maid Marian

  evaded Sir Gui

  JUDGING draft horses came to an end. Sir Gui awarded a small brass bell to Clim of Saint Anne’s Bridge for his strong-bodied bay: size alone dictated the horse would win, for he stood sixteen hands, two inches, by three inches the largest stallion in the competition, and by far the strongest in pulling. The bay had dragged four huge logs the length of the trial field and hardly had to work at it. At least the choice had been easy, so that Sir Gui didn’t have to face opposition in his prize. Preliminary jousting would begin after mid-day Mass, and Sir Gui wanted to make the most of this break in his busy day. It was coming on to rain, the first drops falling lightly.

  “Sir Garland,” said Sir Gui to his companion, a splendid young courtier in russet velvet from Antioch, the gift of his Crusader uncle, “we need a place to get ale or mead, and quickly. I’m parched.”

  Sir Garland deLumirelle had arrived the day before with a company of young nobles from Warwickshire, eager to make the most of the Fair. Knowing horseflesh very well, he had been glad to assist Sir Gui in judging the pulling competition, and, at the conclusion, had offered Clim ten gold angels—more than Clim could hope to earn in three lifetimes—for his bay stallion; he had accepted Clim’s refusal with a shrug, saying only that the offer would remain open, in case Clim should change his mind. Now he looked about the street, as if he expected a page might emerge from one of the doors with brimming cups for them, or the people hasten up to offer their best viands to him. Then his face brightened. “A tavern, my lord. The Spotted Horse.”