Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm

by Mike Dixon

  ***

  Mistress Hulle supervised the servants as they loaded the provisions into the storeroom, checking each item on her list. When she was certain that everything was properly in place, she locked the door, secured the key on her waistband and hurried upstairs to her husband's office. Robert Hulle was working at his drawing board, preparing plans for the vaulting below the abbey tower. He looked up when his wife entered.

  She appeared flustered.

  'It's Geoffrey.'

  'Yes …' Robert put down his stylus.

  'He's with those Draper boys. I've seen them. They were running wild in Cheap Street. You told him he was to have nothing to do with the Drapers and he's disobeyed you. It's that Gascoigne boy … he's the ringleader.' She pointed an accusing finger at Robert. 'It was your idea that Geoffrey should make friends with him. I warned you but you wouldn't listen and this is where it's led.'

  'I could have been mistaken,' Robert admitted.

  'You certainly were. That William is out of control. He's growing up far too fast. His voice has changed. I don't want him to have anything to do with my son. He'll lead him into bad ways.'

  'I am aware of what you are saying,' Robert nodded in agreement. 'Brother Simon has told me about the Gascoignes. William's father is decidedly odd and the rest of the family are little more than brigands. We should be thankful they spend most of their time in France.'

  Mistress Hulle wrung her hands and continued to fret.

  'Geoffrey has told me things that make me blush.'

  'What sort of things?'

  'He says there's a man who dresses up on May Day. He puts on the head of a donkey and the robes of a friar. They call him the teacher. He gathers the young people together and tells them things they ought not to know. He says they have to find a lusty lad and a willing girl or the crops won't grow and everyone will starve. Then they go off into the woods and do unmentionable things together.'

  'Did Geoffrey say anything about the headless man?' Robert asked.

  'What headless man?'

  'The one who roams the woods around the bottomless pit that lies in a hollow over the hill beyond Nether Combe … that was his last story.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'Nor do I, my love.'

  'Robert, you are not taking this seriously.'

  'I am, my love. I'll speak to Geoffrey about William Gascoigne. Our son is a sensible lad. He'll soon realise he's mixing with bad company.'

  ***

  Simon Draper held the bar and William Gascoigne wielded the hammer. Geoffrey Hulle stood anxiously to one side. The boys had found an abandoned wagon and were removing the wheels. They needed them for an amazing feat of valour they were going to perform at the May Day dance. It had something to do with King Arthur and his knights and William had worked it out. The blazing sun and the goddess were somehow involved. Geoffrey didn't get the connection. His concern was for the owners of the cart. It was like those used to transport stone from the Ham Hill quarries to his father's yard.

  'Are you sure they don't want it anymore?'

  William rested the hammer on the soft ground and looked up.

  'If they did they wouldn't have left it here.'

  'But the axel is broken. They could be coming back.'

  'Then they should have got here before we did.'

  William rained down more blows and the wheel detached. Geoffrey winced as it rolled to where the other wheel was lying.

  'I think we should leave them alone.'

  'Scaredy Mouse!' Simon Draper pulled a face.

  'No. I'm not. It's just that they don't belong to us.'

  William squatted on his haunches and watched them argue. He wasn't going to join in. Leaders didn't do that … leaders gave orders. He waited for the boys to calm down then pointed to a grassy knoll beside the road to Dorchester.

  'We've got to get the wheels up to Dancing Hill.'

  'I think we should leave them here,' Geoffrey said.

  William bore down on him.

  'Do you want to be a true member of our valiant company?'

  'Yes,' Geoffrey wheezed.

  'Then you must show proof.'

  'What do you want me to do?'

  'We are preparing to demonstrate our loyalty to an ancient tradition handed down by knights of old.' William tried to sound like King Arthur. 'The goddess has led us to the holy wheels. Now we must find pitch and tallow.'

  'There's pitch on that sailcloth the monks threw away,' Geoffrey said.

  'And lots of tallow in Wat Gallor's yard,' Simon added.

  William considered the options. Raiding the monks' rubbish dump held no fascination for him. Old women with crooked backs could do that in full daylight and run no risk. The other proposition was far more appealing. It would take real cunning to get into Wat's yard and make off with his tallow. The big butcher had recovered from his fight with Robin. He was one of the hazards they'd have to face. The other was his guard dog. It was a cross between a hunting hound and a wolf and had jaws that could take the head off a sheep with one bite.

  He decided that the Quest for the Pitch was below the dignity of a true knight. But the Quest for the Tallow presented real challenges. It was the sort of errand King Arthur would give to one of his noble band. William's thoughts turned to Guy. He'd taught him more in an afternoon than the mole had in an entire year. The mole knew nothing about fighting. Guy knew everything. Guy said the first thing was to know your enemy. You had to study his strengths and weaknesses. Then you took advantage of the weaknesses and turned his strengths against him.

  He thought about Walter. The butcher's weakness was his big mouth and impulsive behaviour. His strength was his huge body and colossal hound. His strength had worked against him when he'd grabbed Sister Alice. So, how could the hound be put to similar use? William's mind cranked through the possibilities. The big beast could commit some outrage in the bishop's deer park. He rejected that idea. It was plausible but had no relevance to the Quest for the Tallow. Somehow, the dog had to render the sacred substance into their hands. He kept thinking and was nearing a solution when the sound of a band took his attention.

  A procession was coming from the town. He watched it cross the river. Young men with a maypole were followed by a troop of dancers. They wore garlands and sung a song about buttercups and daisies. William guessed it had more to do with sex than flowers.

  ***

  Elizabeth Baret smiled at the vicar as she stirred the bowl with a silver spoon. Entertainment was an essential part of life in their small community. Despite differences in class, there was a common feeling amongst people of refinement and education. They liked to think of themselves as genteel. You could be as poor as a church mouse and still be accepted into their company. John Duffield was one of the latter. He had a small stipend as vicar and drew income from rental properties bequeathed to All Hallows. He peered at the sparkling liquid.

  'Elderberry flowers from the first blooming and dried hips from the autumn harvest,' Elizabeth said. 'Sister Alice prepared them with her own hand.'

  A look of caution appeared on the vicar's face.

  'You said the potion was prepared by Sister Alice?'

  'The ingredients came from her.'

  He shuffled awkwardly. 'Perhaps wine would be more appropriate.'

  Elizabeth lost interest. She found the vicar boring and a growing commotion demanded her attention. A crowd of young people had gathered up by the Half Moon Inn. She heard William's voice and guessed he'd sneaked out to join them.

  'Pray, excuse me.' She hurried to the front door where Robin was on duty. The young man was dressed in a page's uniform that was far too young for him.

  'Where's William?'

  'Don't know,' Robin shrugged.

  'I thought I heard him with those people up there.' Elizabeth pointed towards the inn. 'Go and see if you can find him. He should not be mixing with such company.'

  Robin's face fell. 'Do I have to go dressed like this?' />
  'You must find out what your charge is doing.'

  'Can't I change into something else first?'

  'I think you should go at once,' Elizabeth said sternly. 'William's father is here. He won't be pleased to learn that his son is running wild on the streets. You're supposed to be looking after him.'

  Robin left obediently and Elizabeth returned to her guests. Her husband, John, was speaking to Robert Hulle. The master mason was dressed in the robes of his guild and looked very distinguished. Mistress Hulle stood by his side in a dark dress, trimmed with white lace, and looked ill at ease.

  'I saw you talking to that young man by the door.' Her eyes twitched anxiously. 'Was it about the boys?'

  'What boys?'

  'William Gascoigne and my son Geoffrey, of course.'

  Elizabeth tried to ignore the harsh tone. 'I thought I heard William out there. I asked Robin to go and see.'

  'Isn't he the one who assaulted the bailiff?'

  'There was a most unfortunate incident in which Bailiff Gallor fell and hurt his back. It arose from a misunderstanding.'

  'But is he a suitable companion for boys of such an impressionable age? That's what I want to know. Geoffrey has come back with tales of a most disturbing nature.'

  'What sort of tales?'

  'They're about a man who dresses up as a priest with a donkey's head. He does it on May Day and encourages the young people to engage in practices that are too shameful to describe.'

  It was an old story and Elizabeth wondered if there was any truth in it. Girls of her social class were kept under strict supervision and taught the virtues of sexual modesty. The same could not be said of the peasants. The country folk seemed to regard fertility as an end in itself. They hung onto views from a remote pagan past. The vicar had preached sermons on it. A growing commotion caused her to look towards the door. Male voices were crowing like cockerels and girls were clucking like hens.

  Mistress Hulle gathered up her skirts and hurried to the porch. Harald Gascoigne was already there, peering short-sightedly up the street. She smacked his arm with her gloves.

  'Your son is leading my Geoffrey into bad ways.'

  'W…What?' Harald stuttered.

  'Your William is up there with my Geoffrey.'

  Harald squinted into the crowd. There was no sign of William but Robin stood out like a brilliantly plumed cockerel amongst a flock of dun hens. The girls had him on his back and were trying to undress him. His tunic was up by his armpits and his hose down about his ankles.

  Mistress Hulle gasped in horror.

  'How could you have chosen such a debauched young man as a companion for your son?' She averted her eyes as Robin struggled to his feet. His undergarments were being ripped apart and distributed like trophies. He pulled his tunic down below his knees and ran barefoot to the house.

  'I tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen.' He looked reproachfully at Elizabeth. 'It's May Eve. They're always looking for a cockerel to pluck.'

  His humiliation was lost on Mistress Hulle. 'Where's my son?'

  Robin stared back in bewilderment.

  'Did you see William and Geoffrey?' Elizabeth asked.

  'They're up there with the Draper boys and Molly.'

  'Molly!' Mistress Hulle threw out her arms. 'They're with a girl?'

  'No. Molly is a dog.'

  Elizabeth decided not to correct him. Strictly speaking, Molly wasn't a dog. Molly was a bitch and she was on heat. There could be no worse time for an animal in her condition to be out on the streets. The spring festival aroused passions of the coarsest nature. It would be only a matter of time before some reveller found her a mate. They'd perform to the cheers of the crowd and Geoffrey Hulle would give a graphic description of their antics when he got home.

  'Mistress Hulle, I see the vicar is looking neglected.'

  Elizabeth steered her in John Duffield's direction and hurried after Robin who had fled to the rear of the house where he shared a garret with the stable hands. She found him sitting on his bed examining scratches to his legs and more sensitive parts.

  'Mistress!'

  He pulled his tunic down in alarm.

  Elizabeth failed to notice his look of embarrassment.

  'We've got to get Molly and the boys back.'

  Robin's expression hardened.

  'I'm not going up there again.'

  'I'm not suggesting you should. One of the other lads can do it.'

  'No, they can't,' Robin backed away. 'They're up there already.'

  Elizabeth turned away. 'Go and get dressed in new clothes. The Master will replace any of your garments that were lost and make sure you are properly rewarded.' Her voice dropped. 'I'm sorry, Robin. I should have listened. It was very unkind what they did. Please don't think too badly of me.'

  She returned to her guests feeling acutely embarrassed. She had sons of her own. They were older than Robin and she was accustomed to seeing them in a state of semi-undress. She'd come to think of Robin as a member of the family, a sort of adopted son. He quite clearly didn't see it like that. Bashful Robin thought she was making sexual advances. She did her best to mix with her guests and was talking to Richard Rochell's wife when the sound of barking told her something was badly wrong.

  'Mistress Baret, pray …'

  The vicar tried to engage her in conversation as she hurried out. Elizabeth brushed past him and headed for the yard. Robin was there in his archer's uniform. He had a loaded crossbow and was pointing it at a huge hound that was trying to force an entry. Its passions were directed at Molly who was panting on the other side of the gate.

  Walter Gallor was in the street.

  'Put down that bow.'

  'Call off your dog.'

  'I'll call him off when you submit to a lawful command.'

  'If that mongrel comes closer, I'll shoot his balls off.'

  Elizabeth could not condone Robin's language but admired his spirit.

  'Master Gallor,' she shouted. Pray, call off that hound.'

  'I'll do that when you stop interfering with my preserve.'

  'I do not know what you are talking about.'

  'You will.' Walter lurched forward. 'That bitch has been used to undermine my authority.'

  'Call off your dog.'

  'I'll not do so until you hand over that bitch and command your servant to surrender his weapon into my hands. I've had enough of how you people use sods like him to do your dirty work.'

  Walter's spiel was brought to an end by his hound. The big beast was unable to control its passion for Molly and hurled itself at the gate. The flimsy structure disintegrated. Robin squeezed his trigger and his bolt found its mark. Blood spurted from the dog's neck and it crashed to the ground.

  A crowd gathered. No one expressed sympathy for the dying hound. Young men, who had made fun of Robin, rushed to make a hero of him. He was hoisted on their shoulders and carried to the Half Moon Inn. Girls pelted him with flowers and shouted his name.

  'Robin. Are you coming to the maypole dance?'

  'We've seen what you've got, Robin.'

  'We want to see what you can do with it ...'

  Excited screams followed. Elizabeth shut her ears. She wasn't prudish but was offended by such language when it came from such young lips. The daughters of the peasants mated at the first opportunity. The aristocracy weren't any better. They treated their daughters as pawns, marrying them off as soon as they became nubile. Many a young girl's growth had been stunted by a precocious pregnancy.

  Elizabeth was thankful she had been born into a genteel society that knew the virtues of propriety and moderation. She was twenty when she married John and he was almost thirty. Like most young businessmen, he had first to establish himself before taking a wife. She guessed Mistress Hulle came from a similar background and shared her values. But that did nothing to soften her attitude towards the woman.

  The sound of sobbing returned her attention to the hound. Walter had it cradled in his arms, doting over it like
a bereaved father.

  'You'll not get away with this, you filthy bitch.' He turned to face her. 'The father abbot knows your sort. He'll make you pay for it.'

  ***

  Alice and Harald left the reception at the Baret house and ventured into the swampy area to the south of the abbey. It was where the monks discharged the outflow from the extensive system of conduits and drains that served the monastery. Ponds stocked with carp allowed the effluent to settle before seeping into the water meadow and the river beyond. It was a magical night. A full moon was in the sky and bats flew overhead. Alice heard their shrill cries and was comforted by them.

  The bats seemed to be telling her something. She remembered that, as you grew older, it became harder to hear their high-pitched shrieks. They were as loud and clear as when she was young. Their message was clear. The bats were telling her she was not too old to get married and have children.

  'Can't you feel the magic?'

  She put her arm around Harald but he failed to respond.

  'Harald, why all this angst?'

  'I'm sorry,' he sighed. 'I can't stop thinking about William. I had so many plans for him. He was going to get a proper education and become a lawyer or a priest. Now, I know there's no chance. He's just like Guy at the same age. He's totally out of control and there's nothing I can do about it.'

  'Won't your mother help?'

  'She adores him as he is.'

  Alice touched his cheek and felt his tears.

  'Harald, nothing is so bad that it can't be put aright.'

  'I see no way out of this misery.'

  'That's because of your dark cloud.'

  She placed a kiss on his lips.

  'What cloud?'

  'The one that follows you around. You need to have a bit of fun. Stop thinking about William and start to think about yourself.'

  'I'm too old for fun.'

  'Oh, Harald. What an awful thing to say. You're still young. Can't you hear the bats? They're trying to tell you something.'

  Harald thought for a moment. 'Old people can't hear the bats anymore. Is that what you mean?'