Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger

by John Flanagan

  ‘Maybe she was his wife?’ she suggested.

  ‘Maybe.’ Will didn’t sound convinced. Again they sat silently, considering the puzzle. Finally, Maddie spoke.

  ‘What else was in the strongbox?’

  There were two other sheets. Will unfolded the first and smoothed it out. It was a list of the three villages marked on the maps, with details of the relative sizes of each.

  ‘All about the same size,’ he said. ‘Large villages. Not large enough to call a town. Or to have any elected law officers.’

  As villages grew into towns, they became more organised. Sheriffs were appointed to keep the peace. And a town watch was usually recruited to carry out the sheriff’s orders. Smaller villages tended to do without such hierarchy.

  ‘That might be significant,’ Maddie said. ‘What’s that final sheet?’

  Will unfolded the third piece of paper and his eyebrows rose as he read its contents. He moved the list of villages aside to study the map once more, then sat back, thinking hard.

  Maddie leaned over to study the final sheet of paper.

  ‘These are the names of the people from the three villages,’ she said.

  ‘And they’re not headmen or councillors,’ Will replied. ‘Look: Peter Williscroft, twelve, and a date that’s three weeks ago. Then Carrie Clover, fourteen, and another date. Five days after the one for Peter Williscroft.’

  ‘And Maurice Spoker, four days after Carrie. He’s eleven,’ Maddie said.

  ‘What do the dates mean?’ Will said.

  ‘Maybe they’re birthdays,’ Maddie suggested.

  Will screwed up his lips, looking doubtful. ‘Maybe. If so, they were all born around the same time. But in different years.’

  ‘Maybe something happened to these children,’ Maddie suggested.

  Will looked at her. ‘Like what?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe they died. Or went missing. Something like that.’

  ‘Possibly. It’s a dangerous world, after all. There are wolves in this part of the country. And you still see the occasional bear.’

  ‘Let’s assume I’m right for a moment,’ Maddie said, ‘and they’re dead or missing. Why hasn’t anyone seen a link between three children from three villages in the same fief who have gone missing in the space of two weeks?’

  ‘They’re probably unaware of it. Look how widely separated they are. The people in, say, Danvers Crossing are probably upset about Carrie Clover. But they’d have no idea that two other children of similar ages have disappeared from two other villages. There’s not a lot of communication between villages like this.’

  ‘How did Liam know?’ Maddie asked.

  Will shrugged. ‘It’s part of a Ranger’s job to know what’s going on in a fief. We travel round the villages, collecting news and information, looking for unusual events. He probably saw this pattern across the three villages.’

  ‘And someone killed him before he could do anything about it,’ Maddie said.

  Will held up a cautioning hand. ‘That’s assuming that these three are missing, or dead, or that something bad has happened to them. There could be a lot of explanations for those dates.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as I don’t know.’

  ‘But think about it, Will. It must be something like that. After all, Liam went to the trouble of hiding those names and dates in his strongbox. So they must mean something important. And somebody killed him. He must have been asking questions about those three kids and whoever took them found out about it – and arranged his accident.’

  ‘It’s a reasonable hypothesis,’ he admitted, ‘but that’s all it is.’ Maddie had a vivid imagination and he needed to rein it in. All too often with a situation like this, there was a temptation to arrange the evidence to suit the theory, and ignore any that didn’t fit.

  ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions,’ he continued. ‘I think it’s time we did a little investigating. I’ll need to get some equipment from the castle first thing.’

  ‘A handcart?’ Maddie said, looking at the shabby little vehicle that Will had brought from the castle. ‘What do we want with a handcart?’

  ‘It’s to carry all our worldly belongings,’ Will told her. ‘We’re posing as an itinerant worker and his daughter. I’ll be looking for work and you’ll be tagging along with me.’ He paused, then reached into the cart and tossed a patched, ragged dress to her. ‘While I think of it, you’d better dress the part.’

  Maddie regarded the tatty garment with distaste. ‘Do I have to wear this rag?’ she asked.

  Will nodded. ‘Bit of a giveaway if you’re wearing a Ranger cloak and carrying a bow,’ he said. ‘We don’t want people to know who we are. All too often, country folk clam up when they see a Ranger. What we have to do is go into these villages and nose around. Odds are you’ll have better luck with the local kids than I will with their parents. Kids tend to talk to other kids, while they’ll be more wary around adults.’

  ‘What about our horses? What will we do with them?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘When we reach a village, we’ll hide them in the woods close by. A farm worker would hardly own one horse, let alone two. Mind you, Tug’s not going to be too pleased about all this. He’s going to have to pull the handcart for us and that may well be beneath his dignity.’

  Indeed, Tug was incensed when he saw the small cart.

  You expect me to pull that? I’m not a cart horse, you know.

  ‘And I’m not an itinerant farm worker,’ Will told him. He’d glanced around to make sure that Maddie was out of earshot before he answered the horse. ‘But we’re undercover, and it’s an excellent disguise.’

  I’m not letting people see me pulling this.

  ‘You don’t have to. We’ll unharness you when we get close to the villages. You can wait for us in the woods.’

  And who’ll pull the cart then? Tug wanted to know.

  ‘I will. It’s a handcart, after all. And people will see me doing it.’

  People will see you? Lots of people?

  ‘Dozens of them, I should think. I’ll even wear a big straw hat with a raggedy brim.’

  That sounds fair to me.

  As it turned out, Tug pulled the little cart easily. It was quite light and even with Will on his back, he wasn’t overburdened. His pride was another matter, however, and he snorted angrily at Will whenever they passed anyone on the road.

  Danvers Crossing was the closest village and Will selected it as their first destination. They stopped on the road about two kilometres before they reached the village. They found a small glade some ten metres in from the road with plenty of fresh grass and shade for the horses. Will unhitched Tug from the wagon. There was a large water skin hanging from the rear tray of the cart and he used it to fill a leather bucket for the two horses.

  ‘I’ll come out to check on you tonight,’ Will told the horses. ‘For now, stay silent.’

  The last two words were a command taught to all Ranger horses. It ensured that Bumper and Tug would remain in hiding in the glade when people passed by, and make no sound. Both horses nodded their heads several times, understanding the command. Then Will took hold of the cart’s two shafts and started out down the road to Danvers Crossing, Maddie tagging along beside him.

  As he reached up to place an old straw hat with a ragged brim on his head, Will was convinced he could hear Tug sniggering.

  DANVERS CROSSING, AS the name suggested, was situated on the banks of a small river. Maddie had expected that the crossing might be a shallow ford, but the river was deep and the current swift. Crossing was effected by means of a large flat-bottomed punt, which ran on thick rope cables set on either bank.

  It was a pleasant-looking village, with its groves of willows stooping down to the water and providing cool, shady retreats along the bank. The gurgle of the river was ever present in the background. Maddie found it to be a soothing sound.

  Aside from the punt, the village itself was typica
l of its kind, with a blacksmith, a tavern, a small tannery, a lumber yard with a sawpit and a seed and grain merchant’s shop. Set by a river as it was, it was logical that Danvers Crossing also boasted a flour mill, the massive grinding wheels driven by the fast-flowing river. Farms from the surrounding countryside would bring their grain to the mill to be turned into fine-ground flour.

  In addition to these businesses, there were the villagers’ homes – most of them small structures, and all of them single storey, built in the ubiquitous wattle and daub method, and with steeply sloping thatched roofs. They stood on either side of the main street. Side lanes between them led to barns and sheds and other outbuildings. All in all, there were about thirty such dwellings.

  The tannery stood at the near end of the village street. Maddie wrinkled her nose as they trudged past it.

  ‘Yuck. What’s that dreadful smell?’ she asked.

  Will, bent to the shafts of the handcart, looked up at her. ‘You don’t want to know,’ he said.

  There was a sizeable space between the tannery and the first of the village buildings proper. The next was the smithy, and they could hear the dull clink of hammer on metal, and the rhythmic roar of the bellows as the blacksmith’s assistant kept a constant draught under the bed of glowing charcoal. It was a logical arrangement, and one that could be found in most villages. Businesses like the tannery, with its unpleasant smell, and the smithy, with its inherent risk of fire, were kept at arm’s length from the houses, the taverns and inns.

  A few villagers were on the street and they glanced at the newcomers with interest and, in some cases, suspicion. One or two of them nodded and Will replied by touching his hand to the battered hat he wore.

  As they moved further into the village, he glanced up and saw the two-storey building that stood in pride of place by the riverside.

  ‘That’ll be the tavern,’ he said quietly to Maddie. ‘In a place like this, it’ll also serve as the inn, I imagine. We’ll head there first.’

  Danvers Crossing was too small to boast a separate tavern and inn, as he had suspected. The building by the river served both purposes, with a long tap room, where meals were also served, and bedrooms for rent on the upper storey. There was a grassy bank outside where the tavern keeper would set up tables in good weather, so that patrons could enjoy their ale and their food in sight of the river.

  Will brought the cart to a stop outside the tavern and straightened up gratefully, stretching the stiffness out of his joints and massaging the small of his back with his fists. The handcart was a little low for comfort. As a result, the person pushing it was forced to adopt a crouch. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. Maddie waited impatiently as he slowly surveyed the village and the river.

  ‘What now?’ she asked, and he glanced at her, shaking his head slightly.

  ‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘Country folk never hurry. Just relax and smell the roses.’

  She looked around. ‘Roses? I don’t see any roses. The only thing I can smell is horse manure.’

  There was a stableyard and stable beside the tavern. Obviously, it was for use by the tavern’s patrons. Equally obviously, there had been more than a few of them, and their horses, in recent times.

  ‘Figure of speech,’ Will said. ‘I can hardly say Relax and smell the horse dung, can I?’

  Maddie allowed a half smile to twist her lips. ‘The two thoughts don’t really go together.’

  Will nodded absently. ‘Well, we’ve relaxed enough. Let’s go in.’ As they headed for the door, he said, ‘Leave the talking to me.’

  ‘You’ve told me that – several times,’ Maddie replied.

  He glanced at her. ‘Just making sure it’s sunk in,’ he said, and led the way inside.

  The tavern was dark inside, with only a small window in the side wall to provide daylight to the tap room. There were four lanterns hanging from the central ceiling beam and a fire flickered in the massive grate to one side. That was for cooking as well as providing warmth, Maddie realised.

  The roof beams were low, and even Will, who was not the tallest of men, had to stoop as they made their way into the tavern, approaching the bar. The tavern keeper looked up at them with mild interest. He was busy wiping out a row of tankards.

  ‘Something to drink?’ he inquired. ‘And maybe a bite to eat?’

  Will frowned at him. ‘Yes to the drink. Ale for me – small ale, that is.’

  Small ale was ale and water mixed in equal proportions. That is, the proportions were equal if the tavern keeper was honest. All too often, small ale was more water than ale. But it was cheaper, as well, which was why Will ordered it.

  ‘What about food?’ the innkeeper asked again, as he placed a tankard in front of Will. ‘We’ve a good chicken stew today. Chicken with dumplings and farm vegetables and a good crusty loaf for three pennigs a serve.’

  Will pursed his lips, considering. ‘We’ll share one,’ he said. The price was actually more than reasonable, but he was playing the role of an itinerant worker and such men had to watch their coins.

  ‘Be an extra coin for a second plate and spoon,’ the innkeeper replied.

  Will scowled at him. ‘Hmmmph!’ he snorted. ‘I suppose I’ve no choice. All right then.’

  The innkeeper gestured to Maddie. ‘Will she want something to drink? I’ve fresh cider if she wants.’

  ‘Water will do her fine,’ Will said, maintaining his penny-pinching character. The innkeeper poured Maddie a beaker of water and shouted their food order to an unseen worker in the kitchen behind him. He leaned his elbows on the bar as Will and Maddie sat opposite him.

  ‘Travelling through?’ he asked.

  He was friendly enough. Probably wondering if he could rent them a room, Will thought.

  ‘Travelling, yes,’ Will replied. ‘Whether we go on through depends on whether I can find work here.’

  ‘That might be a possibility,’ said the tavern keeper. ‘What sort of work are you looking for?’

  Will shrugged. ‘Anything. I can turn my hand to most things. Farm work, fencing, repair work, carpentry. You name it.’

  ‘Not much farm work at the moment,’ the innkeeper said. ‘But I’ve got a few repairs need doing round the tavern here. Carpentry and some painting.’

  Will looked up at him, interest in his eyes at the prospect of work. ‘Well, I’m your man for that.’ He held out his hand. ‘William’s the name. William Accord. This here’s my daughter, Maddie.’

  They shook hands. ‘Good day to you, Maddie,’ said the innkeeper. Then, speaking to Will again, ‘My name’s Rob. Rob Danvers.’

  Will raised his eyebrows in interest. ‘Danvers? Is the village named for you then?’

  Rob Danvers shook his head. ‘My great-grandfather,’ he said. ‘He built the first punt across the river. Mind you, in those days, there were all sorts of brigands and bandits in these parts. Not like today.’

  ‘Aye, things have quietened down in recent years,’ Will answered. ‘So how many days’ work do you think you’d have for me?’

  Danvers shrugged. ‘Two or three, maybe. But you’d have a good chance of picking up more if you’re here in the tavern – and I put in a good word for you. You could rent a room here for you and your daughter, be right on site.’

  Will wrinkled his nose at the idea – and the expense. ‘Rather sleep in your stables if that’s no problem to you,’ he said.

  Danvers shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Be cheaper that way. But a good deal draughtier.’

  ‘We’ll rug up,’ Will told him. ‘By the way, while I’m working, I’ll need someone to look after Maddie here. I don’t want her running wild all over the place. Any of the village women be prepared to do that sort of thing?’

  A young girl emerged from the kitchen with their food. Will took a bite, chewed and swallowed before he spoke again. Maddie piled into hers with gusto. After a long morning on the road, the chicken stew was delicious. She glanced up at Will’s next question.

&nb
sp; ‘Someone in the next village said there was a family here whose daughter had moved away. Maybe they’d be interested?’ Will paused, pretending to search for the name. ‘Clover, it was. Said their girl was about Maddie’s age.’

  Rob Danver’s face clouded over. He stood up abruptly.

  ‘Carrie Clover didn’t move away,’ he said shortly.

  Will raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘So she’s still here then?’

  Danvers shook his head. ‘She disappeared. Some weeks back. Just disappeared one night.’

  ‘Run away, did she?’ Will asked.

  The innkeeper paused, then replied. ‘I wouldn’t be too surprised. Her parents didn’t treat her so well. You’d often see her with bruises on her face. Or red eyes from crying. Pity too. She was a likeable little thing.’

  ‘Maybe she met a boy and ran off with him? Wouldn’t be the first time.’

  But Danvers shook his head once more. ‘Had a boy she was sweet on. He’s still here. No, you ask me, she got tired of the beatings and ran off.’ He leaned forward, conspiratorially, ‘Unless, of course, someone took her.’

  ‘Took her? What for?’

  Danvers shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Maybe for ransom?’

  ‘Is her family well off then?’ Will asked, but Danvers shook his head, negating his own theory.

  ‘Father’s a ploughman. Just manages to make ends meet. He’d never be able to pay a ransom.’

  ‘Then why abduct her, if you knew there was no chance of any ransom?’

  Danvers moved his head back and forth as he pondered the question. He hadn’t really considered his theory in any depth before. He was simply used to saying, in darkest tones, that ‘somebody took her’.

  ‘Dunno. But she’s gone, that I know.’ He paused. ‘Was I you, I wouldn’t go asking the family about it, neither. Clover’s a bad-tempered type. Likely to fly off the handle if he thinks you’re blaming him for her going.’

  Will considered the point for a few seconds, then nodded his head in agreement.

  ‘Thanks for the warning,’ he said. ‘If I run across him, I’ll make sure I don’t mention it.’ He paused, as if digesting that thought, finished off his meal, then glanced at Maddie.