Daughter of the Forest

by Juliet Marillier

  “She’ll manage well enough.” Richard’s tone was dismissive. “May I proceed with my statement?”

  “I am far from satisfied. But go on by all means. Let us waste no time.”

  It sounded damning, the way he set it all out. Even to me it sounded convincing. I thought it was a death sentence. Richard gave a fine performance, striding about the center of the hall between the packed benches, using the full range of his mellifluous voice from whisper to shout of outrage, telling the tale of how his nephew had brought a girl home from Erin with the best of intentions, how the moment folk saw her they knew she was up to no good, how she had wheedled and cajoled her way into the household and then turned against her husband as everyone would expect of a wild woman from the bogs of Erin. He told of the way I would listen to the talk after supper, the news of landholdings and trade and campaigns, and store it all up for future use. He described how he had caught me once, out on the hills by myself with no excuse. Why else would I run away from the house in secret, if not to meet one of my own kind and pass on information?

  “This is conjecture,” said Father Dominic calmly, making a note on his parchment. “Where is the evidence of fact?”

  “I’m coming to that.” Richard’s voice was sharp. I thought he suppressed his annoyance with an effort of will, for he must convince the folk of the moot as well as the holy father, if his judgment were to be accepted. Then he launched into the tale of the midsummer picnic, and how I had given myself away. He reached the climax of his story.

  “I saw the girl, Jenny, go down the path by the river. A little later, thinking it might not be safe for her alone, I followed. There was one man ahead of me, my nephew’s young companion Benedict, son of William of Greystones. The young man has been fostered in this house. We both saw her; and we both saw the fellow she held fast in her arms. There was no question about what they had been doing. Ahem!” He cleared his throat, glancing at his sister in a show of reticence.

  “What do you mean?” demanded Father Dominic. “Make yourself clear, for this is a most serious charge.”

  “Well, they—er—to speak plainly, the fellow had very few clothes on, and the girl was—um—wrapping herself around him in a very—intimate—fashion.”

  “You wish to add adultery to the charges?” Father Dominic dipped and wrote. “And then?” he said.

  “We challenged the Irishman, and he fled into the woods. The girl was apprehended. One of the men with me said he had heard them talking, earlier, but had not known who they were. They were speaking of men and arms and fortifications. Of the defenses of Harrowfield.”

  “We will hear this man in due course. What of this Benedict you spoke of? Is he here to give his story?”

  “He has no more to add,” said Richard quickly. “His tale tallies with mine. My men scoured the forest and did not find the Irishman. He escaped with valuable information. Information this girl passed to him.”

  “Let us hear Benedict of Greystones,” said Father Dominic, ignoring him. I heard the men who guarded the door calling out for Ben under this rather grand name. Calling again. Calling a third time, after a pause. Father Dominic’s scribe got up and went to consult with the guards. Time passed, and there was a buzz of speculative chatter in the hall. I rubbed a hand across my eyes. I felt so strange, as if the room were dipping and swaying around me. The lamps were moving about like fireflies, and Richard of Northwoods had four eyes. I could remember feeling like this once before, on the day I was carried down the river by the current and nearly drowned. The day I met Red.

  “He’s not here, Father,” said the young cleric. “They’re looking now. Can’t be found, that’s what they’re saying.” Richard let his breath out audibly. Father Dominic pursed his lips.

  “Very well. I will hear from the others who were present that night. Do they corroborate this story?”

  He was thorough. Surprisingly thorough, when you considered that he had only been invited to lend respectability to a hearing whose conclusion Richard himself had decided before it even began. We listened to three of Richard’s men telling how they found me in a compromising position, and how they sought my companion all night without success. There was still no sign of Ben. I thought perhaps, for Red’s sake, he will not speak against me, will not seek to speed my death. But he will not defend me either. He was quick to believe me guilty, as quick as the rest of them.

  We heard another man tell how he had overheard me passing secrets to the foreign spy, information I could only have learned from my husband. It concerned weapons and outposts and the movement of men. There was no point in shaking my head, or trying to refute what was a complete fabrication. They would not understand me; few could. Besides, I sensed these proceedings could have but one conclusion.

  One by one, people came in and said things and went out again. Father Dominic made notes in black ink, dipping and writing, dipping and writing. He had little deep-set eyes under dark forceful brows. Someone said they had seen me at night, dancing naked around a little fire. Someone said I had forbidden plants in my garden, herbs that no respectable person would allow anywhere near their kitchen; that I had tried to poison Mistress Margery, and it was a miracle her baby had survived. Who knew what the child would grow up to be, when the hands that brought it into this world were those of a sorceress? Someone said that, when I sewed up Lord Hugh’s leg, I left a little spell inside that worked its way slowly but surely up to the heart. A spell that bound him to my will for as long as I lived. It hurt to hear that. There were other accusations. They let me get up, once, and gave me a cup of water. I saw Lady Anne at the back of the room, white-faced and silent. A guard escorted my accusers in and out. It went on for a long time. I began to feel stranger and stranger, as if my head no longer belonged to my body. Then, for a while, it went black.

  When I came to, I was lying on the floor and the hall was almost empty. Lady Anne stood nearby, and Megan was wiping my brow with a wet cloth. I tried to sit up.

  “Slowly,” cautioned Lady Anne. I grasped Megan’s arm, and found it was possible, just, to get to a sitting position.

  “Whew!” said Megan. “My lady, you don’t think…?”

  “There’s a little time.” It seemed Lady Anne understood the half-spoken question. “They must drink and eat, and they’ll want to confer. The folk must be fed. Molly has set out a good spread for them in the kitchens. We can at least manage hot water, and a comb, and a clean gown, I think.” Megan scuttled off and the two men guarding the door made no attempt to stop her.

  “You’d better drink this.” Lady Anne’s tone was severe as she placed a cup of water in my hands. But I could not hold it I was shaking so badly, and she had to place it against my lips.

  “You’ll be given an opportunity to defend yourself this afternoon,” she said bluntly. “Not all these accusations are true. Many are based solely on fear and superstition. You know what will happen, if you remain silent.”

  I gave a nod. What was the point? I was found guilty, and my penalty chosen, before ever I set foot in that room. None of it mattered. All that mattered was staying alive long enough to finish the last shirt.

  Lady Anne frowned. “I cannot forgive what you have done,” she said. “If they determine you guilty, there is no doubt you will be put to death. I must accept their decision and defer to their wisdom. At the same time, I cannot allow a prisoner so ill fed, so dirty and unkempt in my household. A certain standard must be kept, or we are indeed no better than your own people. I was advised the arrangements for you were adequate. My informant clearly set somewhat different standards from my own.”

  At that moment there was a small commotion at the door and a familiar figure burst in, ignoring the guards, her soft features a picture of angry distress. “Jenny! Oh, look at you! Oh, my Lady, how—”

  “Hush, woman.” Lady Anne grasped Margery’s arm firmly, halting her flight across the room. “See, here is Megan with some things for us. Take Jenny into the anteroom there, and help he
r change that gown. It’s fit only for the midden. Don’t try to talk to her. You should not even be here. These are formal proceedings. You must be gone before Father Dominic returns.”

  Between them, Megan and Margery changed my gown, and washed my face, and sponged the worst of the filth from my body. There were small creatures crawling in my hair.

  “Oh, Jenny,” Margery whispered to me, while Lady Anne stood nearby and pretended not to hear. She slipped the dirty clothes over my head, with never a twitch of the nose to be seen. “Oh, look at you. You’re as thin as a specter. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “Shameful,” muttered Megan, dipping a sponge into the bucket and dabbing it over my hands and arms. The water turned brown with blood and grime. “Disgraceful.”

  It was not my crimes she was talking about.

  “I should have—I would have—” whispered Margery, trying to pull the comb through my hair, as Megan washed my legs and feet. “But I miss John so much…I thought only of myself, and Johnny. If I had not been so selfish, maybe I could have—” she stopped short, and her hand came out gently to touch the ring that hung on its cord around my neck. A smile curved her mouth as she saw the circlet of oak leaves and acorns and the little owl. Lady Anne was watching.

  “He will come for you,” whispered Margery. “How could he not?”

  Megan slipped the clean gown over my head. I could have wept, for it was the blue one, which my friend had made for me with such love. Someone had done a passable job of cleaning it, but the skirt still showed a tide mark, where the sea had written its name. I did not want to burn in this dress.

  “Quickly,” said Lady Anne. “Tidy away those things, and no gossiping, mind.” It came to me suddenly that this might be the last time I saw my friend. Margery had the same thought in her eyes, and her arms came out to embrace me, but Lady Anne stepped between us.

  “Don’t make this more difficult,” she said, and her own voice was a little shaky. “The girl is a prisoner; her fate is in the balance. She is no longer of this household. You have done what is required. Now go.”

  So they left, but Margery looked back and touched the tips of her fingers to her lips, and then waved her hand toward me, and Megan had tears on her cheeks.

  The hearing resumed. Neither of my interrogators made comment on my changed appearance, though Lord Richard raised his brows and Father Dominic gave a sort of grunt, deep in the throat. Outside, the day was growing darker. Had we been here so long?

  “Now,” said the cleric, leaning forward and fixing me with his little eyes, “we have heard all the evidence against you, and it seems quite damning, if not altogether conclusive. The purpose of this hearing is to determine if your guilt is proven, and to set an appropriate penalty. All of your offenses come under secular jurisdiction, and as Lord Richard bears authority here on such matters, the final decision rests with him. However, I was invited here to assist him in making his decision, in view of the serious nature of the charges, and the close family links between accuser and accused. There is no need to fear justice, girl. You now have the opportunity to defend yourself. Take your time. I understand you cannot use your voice. But there may be some way you can let us know what you wish to say. Let us know if there is anything you do not follow.”

  I stared back at him. His eyebrows met in the middle, and his eyes were cushioned in fat. Nonetheless, they possessed a keen intelligence. My hands remained passive on my lap. The hall was silent.

  “Are you sure you are correct in telling me this girl has a good understanding of our tongue?” He looked at Richard, and then at Lady Anne, still seated at the back of the hall.

  “Yes, Father.” Lady Anne had masked her expression in a way that was painfully familiar to me. “Not only can she understand, but if she wishes, she is able to express herself with gestures in a rudimentary way.”

  “I’m finding that very hard to believe,” said Father Dominic, shaking his head. “Why would she choose not to communicate, why now? Does the girl want to die?”

  Richard gave a deprecating laugh. “Perhaps you have not met many of these people, Father. I know the folk of Erin well. Such defiance is bred in them, and nurtured carefully from birth. Their spies are trained to hold silence till death and beyond. This girl’s refusal to talk is just another mark of her guilt.”

  Father Dominic glanced at him with dislike written plain on his pasty features. Through my exhaustion and fear, I felt surprise. This man saw Richard of Northwoods for just what he was. The last thing I had expected was a semblance of a fair trial.

  “There are many learned men on that shore,” said Father Dominic, “some, indeed, of my own brethren, skilled in debate and in lore. I would not be so hasty to judge. Besides, this is only a girl. She is young and malleable; should she be prepared to speak in her own defense, to recant and abjure her previous ways, the sentence could be commuted.”

  Richard said nothing.

  I was aware of more people coming into the room, by the door. I did not look behind me. Outside, rain began to fall, dripping steadily past the windows. The day grew even darker.

  “Young woman,” said Father Dominic, “we find ourselves in difficulty here. I’m told you know our tongue. Look at me, child. Nod if you understand me.”

  I managed a tiny hint of a nod. I must not be trapped into answering the wrong questions. I must not tell any of my story. But I was very tired, too tired to think clearly. The rain began to pour down, drumming on the roof tops. I wondered if Red were outdoors somewhere, and if he had a dry place to sleep. I wondered if there were any chance, any chance at all, that I could weave a whole sleeve in one night, and sew it to the last shirt by morning.

  “That’s good. Now answer me. Are you indeed guilty of these charges?”

  I found I could not make myself respond. What was the point. Why agree, or disagree, if Richard was to determine my guilt anyway?

  “You will not reply? Not even with a nod or shake of the head? You know this must be taken as an admission of guilt.”

  I looked at him in silence. His pale brow wore a frown, and his eyes were troubled.

  “What could she say,” asked Richard, “against such charges? It is clear the girl is both adulteress and informant. She has proved on this household like some creature of evil that sucks the lifeblood of its victims. She has abused the trust of my sister and my nephew in the vilest way. She—”

  “Is the last witness still not to be found?” asked Father Dominic mildly enough. “This Benedict, the man you spoke of. I would hear his tale, before the final judgment is made.”

  “He’s gone, sir.” The men at the door shuffled their feet awkwardly. “We sent out, and all hunted for him, but the stable lads tell me now he’s gone away. Been gone some days, they’re saying now. Gone home to visit his family, that’s what they think.”

  I saw Richard’s eyes narrow at this news, and he called one of his men to him. After a hasty whispered exchange, the man left the room, rather quickly.

  “Indeed.” Father Dominic drew a line across the page of notes. He turned to Richard, and his tone was very cool. “This was an important witness. He should have been heard. Did you make no attempt to keep him here? Must you rely on your stableboys for accurate information?”

  “I was unaware that he was gone, Father.” And that was true, I could see it in Richard’s face, where there was an ill-concealed anger.

  “Well, it is clear this is one witness that will not be heard. Are there no further statements to be made?” asked Father Dominic, looking about the assembled folk.

  “I would—I would ask a question, by your leave.” Lady Anne seemed unusually hesitant. Heads turned as she stood up at the back of the hall.

  “Very well, put your question.” The priest sounded weary. It had been a long day. A very long day.

  “If Jen—if the girl is guilty, I know the penalty is death. But—but what if she were with child? That is possible, even probable. This child would be the heir to Harrowfi
eld; my son’s son. I would not wish—”

  I felt myself flush scarlet with shame and humiliation. But at the same time, somewhere deep inside me, I knew just how she felt: Such a child would be mine, half a son of Erin; in her estimation that would make him wild, fanatical, and a sworn enemy of all she held dear. But the child would also be Red’s; a son whose father, and whose father’s fathers, had nurtured the very life of the valley. I could have told her there was no child. But I sat there like a stone and willed my face to calm. I did not forget I was the daughter of the forest, not for an instant. And something I had heard once, long ago, slipped into my mind and out again before I had time to grasp it. Something I had been reminded of recently…one who is neither of Britain nor of Erin, but at the same time both…what tale did that come from? My mind was hazy, I could not remember.

  “Look at me, girl.” Father Dominic was standing now, his gimlet eyes fixed on my face. “Are you with child? Your husband’s child?”

  Richard guffawed. “This is rich! You expect an honest answer to that? The brat could be any man’s. This girl’s no better than a cheap whore to be had in the marketplace. Why, she even tried it with me, but a day or two since. Thought she could buy her freedom by spreading her legs. The little slut has no shame.”

  “Enough.” At Father Dominic’s tone, Richard shut his mouth like a trap. “Good folk of the moot, this stage of the hearing is concluded. Lord Richard and I will take time now to consider our judgment. We will call you together again after supper, and at that time our verdict will be conveyed to you. If there is to be a punishment, the nature of it will be made known in the morning.” The people began to shuffle out, stiff from long sitting. Father Dominic turned back to Richard. “You’d better lock the girl up again for now. Make sure she’s given something to eat; you risk losing her before any punishment can be carried out. We should perhaps retire to a more private chamber for further discussion on these matters.”