William held the back out to her. “Of course, mum. Anything in this room. Feel free to use anything you can find here. If you can’t find it, ask one of us and maybe we have it tucked away.”
She accepted the bag, looped the strap over her shoulder, and grinned. “Oh, this will make collecting so much easier. Thank you.”
The two men looked pleased to be able to help and Frank pointed out a stack of peck and bushel baskets. “If you need storage baskets, those are available, mum. We’ll be making more as soon as the snow starts flying and we can’t get out, so don’t be shy.”
She just shook her head in wonder before addressing William. “How do you do all this?”
He shrugged. “We just keep busy. Thomas keeps us supplied in meat and the gardens keep us in vegetables. Frank brings barrels of flour and dried beans and such when he comes back from Kleesport, so we don’t have to spend every waking moment searching for food, like some do, mum.” He waved a hand around the storage room. “That gives us time to make stuff we need, to hunt for stuff we can’t buy, and generally lets us stockpile goods we’ll need for later.”
Tanyth stopped gaping at the stores and regarded William. “Are you the mastermind behind all this?”
Frank chuckled and William looked embarrassed. “No, mum.” He jerked a thumb in Frank’s direction. “Frank here was one of my father’s warehouse managers. He’s the one that keeps this all straightened out.”
She inclined her head to him in a small bow. “My compliments to you, sir. I can’t remember seeing anything like it in all my travels.”
Frank smiled softly. “I spent a lot of time driving freight wagons, mum. Before I went to work for this rapscallion’s da.” He nodded at William. “When Will here asked me how to organize it, well, mum, we started plannin’ and the next thing you know...” He held out his hands, arms to the side, “... it happened.”
William smiled. “We couldn’t have done this without Frank. And we need to figure out what to do about the lorry wagon. It was pretty nerve wracking not knowing where you were.”
Frank grimaced and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Yessir. When that axle gave out, I was wondering how we’d deal with that myself. Luckily I wasn’t far from Mossport and was able to get somebody to carry a message to the wainwright.” He sighed. “It sure woulda been handy to have another person on the wagon so one of us coulda walked while the other guarded.”
William nodded and then explained to Tanyth. “We’ve been having this conversation off and on for a year. If we send somebody with Frank, then we lose a pair of hands here. None of the kids are of an age yet where they’d be much use on the road and it’s a long run in and back.”
Frank shrugged. “Mostly, it’s not a problem. I drive in. I drive back. Got loaders on both ends. But then something like this happens and I’m sittin’ a-side the road waiting for somebody to come by. Can’t leave the horses. Can’t leave the cargo.” He shrugged again, helplessly. “It worked out this time, but ever’body here worryin’ wasn’t helpful.”
Tanyth nodded her understanding. “I can see where that’d be. You’ve got–what? One more run in this season?”
The two men nodded. “Ya. Be going back out in a few days.” Frank rubbed his lower back. “And I’m pretty glad we’ll be holed up for a few months. That seat is getting’ mighty tired of my backside.”
They all laughed.
“Thank you for the bag, William. There’s a grove of nut trees that’ll be happy to share with me tomorrow, I think.” Tanyth smiled and nodded to Frank. “Nice to meet you, Frank. Good luck with the seat.”
She left the two men in the darkening store room, talking about the price of a barrel of flour against a barrel of clay, and wended her way through the gathering dusk with the gleaner’s bag looped over her shoulder. As she approached her hut, the sound of hoof beats from out on the Pike signaled an approaching rider. As the rider got closer, she could hear the jingling of the messenger’s bridle. One of the King’s Own, bearing more dispatches, this time away from Kleesport. She wondered if it were the same young woman she’d seen only two days before but heading in the other direction.
The proximity to the main road gave her pause. The hamlet was rich although it looked like any other collection of hovels in countless other wide spots in the road along the way. Perhaps its obscurity was as good a protection as they’d need. What reivers or bandits would bother with a cluster of hovels? The thought bothered her, but perhaps she was borrowing trouble.
As she rounded the last corner on the way to her hut, a dark shape took wing from where it had been resting on the ridgepole of her roof. The large raven glided effortlessly into the forest and disappeared so suddenly and silently–without even a squawk–that she wondered for a moment if it had been real. Shrugging off the cold chill, she crossed the short distance to her door and ducked inside, closing and latching it carefully.
Chapter 9
Storm Clouds
The following dawn found Tanyth slipping out of her hut, bag over her shoulder, and staff in hand. She knew that taking one or more of the children might have been more effective. Small quick hands might be useful in finding nuts among the leaf litter, but she wanted to survey more as well. For that, the short legs and extra care would be more liability than asset so she set off alone before the sun peeped over the tree line in the east.
In a matter of minutes she was back at the chestnut stand and quickly scooped several handfuls of the ripened nuts into the sack. With the equinox just around the corner, it was perfect timing for the early nuts and she looked up at the spikey pods yet to open, judging that there might be a bumper crop as the fall wound on.
The chestnuts in the bottom of the bag gave it enough heft that it stopped flapping as she walked without being too burdensome to a woman used to carrying her life on her back. She continued due north, parallel to the Kleesport Pike, for a few hundred yards before turning westward to walk in the general direction of the clay quarry. She hoped her path would lead to the stand of cattails that Thomas had recommended. One thing she missed, and she’d need to check with Thomas on it, was a meadow. Many of the plants she knew best grew either in a meadow or on the verge of one where trees offered some protection but didn’t block the sun completely.
Looking up at the arching forest canopy she could see sky in only a few places and the forest’s shadows danced around her. The forest floor was relatively open with the tall, straight oaks offering few obstacles to passage. The mature trees stood well apart, having choked out competition at ground level decades before. The ground rose in elevation as she moved away from the Pike and she soon came to the small pond.
Trees grew nearly up to the edge on the easterly side and her eyes traced the ground’s contour to the south. The rising sun had cleared the treetops and cast bright morning light on a brushy sward and a lush sweep of cattails on the far side of the pond. The green fronds swayed in the morning breezes. The darker spikes that gave the plant its name punctuated the stand here and there. From where she stood in the shadow of the forest, the brilliantly lit scene seemed like something from another world. She felt as if she looked out of the window of some vast cabin at a woodland garden just outside.
A soft splashing sound from the south told her where the pond’s main outlet lay. The brilliant sun glinted off the water in places, but clearly illuminated the sandy bottom of the small pond. Streamlined shadows moved across the sand. It took her a moment to find the fish that made them, so perfectly did they blend in against the pale sand.
She made her way to the south around the end of the pond and worked over to the cattail patch. It took her several moments to recognize the low ground cover that grew with abandon in the dark moist soil on the south side of the pond. She was nearly walking on it when it came to her. Ground nut vines grew everywhere. She looked around in amazement at the spread of vines that extended from the west side of the pond, across much of the small hillside, and down into the moist swale to the s
outh. She was fairly certain she’d find the corduroy road in that direction and the stand of willows where they’d harvested the bark just the previous morning. She felt like so much had happened in a very short time. She looked around, half expecting to see the raven perched in a tree nearby.
Cattails forgotten for the moment, she used the heel of her staff to dig a small hole in the damp soil and exposed a fibrous root with a string of hard tubers no bigger than the first joint in her thumb. “First year and fresh,” she muttered. She was able to pull the root up through the soft soil for several feet and found maybe two dozen of the small, round tubers. She straightened and surveyed the ground once more. She thought there were probably enough ground nuts in this one patch to feed the village for several days should it come to that. The only difficulty in harvesting them in winter would be getting down to them through snow and frozen ground. If things went badly over the winter this patch could be a life saver come spring. Without conscious thought she murmured a reverent, “Thank you, Mother,” and stripped a few ground nuts from the root with practiced fingers, dropping them into her sack.
She turned her attention to the cattails once more, but with all the empty baskets in the storage room in the barn, she saw no reason to cut reeds and weave more. Casting her eye along the upper slope of the pond where the mid-morning sun painted the landscape in the lush green and gold of the last days of summer, she picked out several apple trees growing on the far verge. She picked her way through the drifts of ground nut vines to find a small copse of the wild apples growing in a tangle, their roots nicely watered by the pond. Some of the early summer fruit already rotted on the ground and the sweet fruit drew hornets and bees from miles around. She reached up, plucked one of the small red apples from a low hanging branch, and polished the smooth skin on the sleeve of her jersey. Unlike orchard grown varieties, the wild apple was small, barely two inches in diameter and graced with a red and gold skin that gleamed in the morning sun. Tanyth bit into it, taking a small nibble out of one side. It was hard, but her teeth worried a chunk off and the firm, juicy flesh exploded in her mouth. Not quite sweet, not exactly tart, the small fruit tasted slightly of both and crunched delightfully. She plucked several of them from that same branch, adding them to her gleaner’s bag before heading south along the swale, heading for the path back to the village and feeling more at home with every step she took. The woods surrounding the hamlet appeared to hold a bounty waiting for harvest. She realized that some care would be required to keep from destroying the forest’s ability to replenish itself each season, but she’d only seen one small slice of the woods. If this random section of forest was any indication, the surrounding hillsides must hold a king’s ransom in wild foods.
She followed the swale to the quarry path and soon found herself swinging along the track toward the village, her bag not full as she might have expected but her mind raced with the possibilities that the surrounding landscape held. As she came around the last turn on the track, the small collection of huts was buzzing. Children and some of the women stood behind the huts and peeped around the corners at whatever was happening on the road side. Tanyth’s belly turned to ice. She increased her pace to walk up behind the nearest hut where she found Megan with a small boy in hand.
“Megan?” Tanyth spoke softly, but the younger woman’s attention was focused forward and she jumped.
“Oh, Mother, mum, you scared me.” The younger woman flattened her back against the wall of the hut, pressing a hand to her chest.
“What’s happening out there, Megan?”
“Riders, mum. They came from the Pike looking for water for their horses.”
Tanyth leaned out to get a look at the entry track. Four men at arms stood in the track holding their mounts by the reins. Her eyes narrowed. “Not King’s Own then?” She looked at Megan.
Megan shook her head. “Not as they’ve said.”
“How long have they been here?”
Megan peeped around the corner again, staying low so she wouldn’t block Tanyth’s view. “About an hour, mum.”
Amber stood in front of her hut and spoke to one of the riders–a thick set man dressed almost foppishly with plumed hat, lace cravat, and a red satin lining in his riding coat. Riley and Frank circulated with buckets of water, giving each horse a small drink before pulling the bucket away and going on to the next. The horses appeared to be well trained and obedient to the careful watering.
While the one man talked to Amber and her attention was focused on him, Tanyth didn’t like the way the other three measured the hamlet with their eyes. One of them looked in her direction and she thought she could see his lips moving as he counted the buildings. She knew from experience that they couldn’t see the barn from where they stood so the hamlet looked like nothing more than a half dozen huts in somewhat better condition than hovels, but still nothing to attract attention.
Tanyth knew that for some men, treasure was not measured as gold or silver. The attention that the leader pad to Amber made Tanyth uncomfortable.
“Has somebody sent to the quarry?” She asked Megan. “They should know about this.”
“Yes, Sadie went up the trail about half an hour ago. They should be back any second now.”
Tanyth glanced at the sun and calculated. She must have just missed Sadie on the path and the men should be on their way back down to the village even now. She leaned out to look once more. The horses seemed to be all watered but the men made no move to ride on.
“Take the children and head for the quarry. You should meet the men coming down. Where are the other women?”
“Charlotte and Becky should be in the barn. Beth is over there behind the hut.” Megan pointed at a dark haired woman hiding behind the next hut.
The woman waved, her movements hidden from the road by intervening houses.
“Take Beth with you to help with the kids. Get as many of them as you can gather quickly but go now.” Her voice was a low mutter against the late morning breeze and Megan motioned the other woman to follow them up to the trail toward the quarry. Tanyth watched the men at the front of the village as the women and children scampered up the trail. The men must have spotted them between the huts because Tanyth saw one of the riders turn his head in that direction and say something to his companion who also looked. Frank, with his bucket empty, stepped deliberately into the man’s line of sight.
By then the conversation that Amber was having with the leader should have been breaking off. The man continued to stand there talking to her, tying up her attention and smiling in a way that he might have thought to be charming, but which Tanyth found to be somewhat less flattering than an open leer. With a glance behind her to make sure the small party was out of sight, she settled her hat and with a jaunty spring in her step, walked around the corner of the hut and directly toward Amber and the man talking to her.
At the sudden movement, two of the men-at-arms dropped hands to hilts but didn’t draw when they saw it was just an old woman with a floppy hat. She marched over to Amber and stepped up beside her, claiming the man’s attention with her eyes and interrupting whatever he was saying. Amber half turned and gave her a grateful glance.
Tanyth spoke clearly. “Good day, traveler.”
His manner was brusque, as if not used to being interrupted, but offered a grudging nod. “Good day, mum.” His eyes took in her gleaner’s bag and the hat before turning back to Amber. “Many thanks for the water for our horses.” He looked behind him to see that all of them had been watered before turning to leer at Amber again, “And for the most enjoyable conversation.”
“You’re welcome to the water, sir. Good luck in your travels.” Amber was obviously hoping to dismiss the man by not giving him any more conversational ground.
He turned and vaulted to his saddle, smoothly taking rein and edging his horse around with his legs. He didn’t seem terribly happy at being interrupted, but he signaled his men who followed him into the saddle. With a nod and wave to Amber,
he led his small band back out onto the Pike and they rode off to the south.
As the sound of the horses’ hooves faded into the distance, a half dozen men looking grimy and winded boiled around the huts from the direction of the quarry with Sadie pelting along behind. They all skidded to a halt when they saw no danger. Frank crossed to the leader of the quarry team and Amber reached over to take Tanyth’s arm, leaning heavily on it but remaining upright. She turned her terrified eyes to the older woman.
Tanyth spoke quietly. “Let’s go inside, Amber. Make some tea. You did fine, but the others are watching.”
The younger woman took a short deep breath while her eyes flicked to the small knot of men standing with Frank.
“Of course.” She turned and slipped into the hut, Tanyth on her heels, while Frank explained to the quarry workers what had transpired.
Inside Amber collapsed on a cushion while Tanyth filled the tea kettle and placed it on the fire to heat.
“My knees were shaking so bad, I didn’t think I could stand up.” Amber’s voice was soft and quavery.
“Mine, too.” Tanyth took off her hat and smiled at Amber.
Amber took a deep breath and blew it out, before scrubbing her face with her hands. “At least they’re gone now.”
Tanyth looked at her with a frown. “They’ll be back.”
Amber froze, looking sharply at Tanyth. “You sound sure.”
The older woman nodded. “While the leader was keeping you busy, the other three were taking stock–counting the huts and taking note that you’re protected by an old man and a boy too young to draw a bow.”
“What can they want? They saw we have nothing worth taking.”
Tanyth shook her head. “They saw women, apparently alone and poorly protected. What do you think they want?”
Amber blinked in astonishment. “That’s preposterous.”
Tanyth arched an eyebrow. “Where’s William and when will Thomas be back?”
Amber blanched. “William is out cutting wood like always. Thomas usually comes home at sunset.”
Ravenwood (Tanyth Fairport Adventures) Page 9
