Willow Witch

by Patty Jansen

  Last thing she heard was Nellie’s voice, saying something about, Do you call that bread?

  The bread the bandits had given their prisoners at midday was heavy, grainy and almost black. Johanna had seen the type before on her trip to Lurezia, where her father’s colleagues had shared this type of bread with wine and rich cheeses. On its own, and stale, it had proven a little less easy to swallow.

  Now Nellie was asking about beds, speaking loudly and slowly.

  Johanna cringed. She had better get the water before Nellie got into too much trouble. She had never expected a demure maid like Nellie to become so doggedly stubborn about their treatment. It was almost frightening.

  A carpet of leaves covered the hillside. They were wet and slippery and once Johanna almost lost her footing. This brought forth another burst of laughter from the young man who was walking down another set of horses, without packs or saddles. He splashed through the stream and led his charges up the other bank and into the glade on the far side, where four horses were already grazing.

  Upstream from the place where the horses had crossed, the water collected in a clear pond. Small ripples indicated where water creatures swam underneath. The ground was so soft here that her clogs sank in the mud.

  Johanna reached as far as she could and splashed the bucket in, but it was too shallow and all she got was a small amount of water and a lot of mud and leaves. Well, stuff that. The glare from the grassy glade across the creek made it hard to see how deep the water was.

  Johanna stared at the horses, wishing that she could join them and lie in the grass. No, she wanted to escape from these bandits and that horrible Ludo with his groping hands. Her legs itched to run, but there was no point. She couldn’t leave Nellie with that creep. They’d kill Loesie, or Roald, or maybe both. Why had these men kidnapped such an odd group anyway?

  Because some of us look like we have money? Roald’s fine hands, for example. And Nellie’s lace bonnet.

  But if the bandits were really interested in money, they would have killed the four of them and taken off with the Lady Sara.

  Even if she tried to run off alone, she wouldn’t get far with all the bandits watching her and the horse boy bringing another two horses to the glade. They knew this forest; she did not. They trusted the forest; she heard voices in the whispering of the wind.

  “Water!” Sigvald yelled.

  “Yeah, I’m not your slave,” she muttered under her breath.

  A bit further, a tree branch had fallen across the creek. Maybe she could reach a deeper spot from there. The creek banks were steeper here, so the fallen tree trunk was harder to reach.

  But in one spot on the slope stood a small sapling.

  Johanna carefully climbed back up the mossy bank and let herself slide down feet first until she caught the sapling. Then she used the trunk of the sapling to lower herself—

  As soon as her hand touched the trunk, the forest changed into a scene of chaos and darkness. Men on horses, rearing and screaming. A couple of peasants huddled together. An older man, and a grey-haired grandmother. Children crying in their mother’s skirts.

  Men with burning sticks.

  Slashing swords. A burning house.

  The next morning. Blue-grey light of dawn. Trails of smoke over the grass.

  So much blood in the creek.

  The cloying scent of it enveloped her, and made her feel sick.

  With difficulty, Johanna yanked her hand away from the trunk of the sapling. The golden light of the afternoon returned.

  Her heart thudded.

  These horrible things had happened in this place not so long ago. She peered at the far end of the glade, in the shade of the trees, and now noticed what she hadn’t seen before: the glade was not a natural field at all. The creek looped back around the glade. In the shelter of the trees stood the remains of a house. Next to it, a water mill, its magnificent wheel ruined and useless.

  The bandits chose to camp here, in a scene of murder and plunder?

  If they considered this a safe place for the night, they would have to know who killed the farmer and his family. Maybe they were even the ones who had done it.

  And then: why had she seen these things? This was a beech sapling, not a willow tree.

  ‎

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  HER LEGS SHAKING, Johanna filled the bucket. She clambered up the steep incline back to the hilltop, avoiding the touch of any more trees. Loud voices and laughter rang through the forest, and the screams of a woman.

  No, please. Nellie.

  Johanna hurried as much as she could without spilling the water. At the top of the hill the bandits had a fire going. One of the men came to take the bucket off Johanna, but she ignored him.

  That sleazy Ludo had grabbed Nellie from behind. She wormed herself away from his free hand that was trying to find a way under her dress.

  Johanna didn’t think. She swung the bucket so that the water flew out over both Nellie and Ludo. It wasn’t a very good throw and most of the water missed, hitting a couple of packs and someone’s sleeping mat.

  Ludo looked up at her, water dripping from his hair. His large and hairy hand covered Nellie’s mouth. Nellie’s eyes were so wide that the whites showed on all sides.

  “Let her go,” Johanna said in as harsh a voice as she could make it.

  Ludo laughed and squeezed Nellie’s side. He said something about enjoying sweet fruit.

  Nellie gave a squeak. A couple of the men guffawed.

  “Let her go,” came a clear male voice.

  Johanna turned around. It was Roald who had spoken. He stood with his back straight and his thumbs in the simple belt that went around the rough knitted farmer’s vest that he wore. The orange light from the setting sun cast his face in strong relief. That and his unshaven chin made him look older and more stern than normal. She had told him to behave like a prince a number of times. She imagined that throughout his life, a lot of other people had told him the same. Somewhere, those words must have stuck, because even in farm clothing, he looked so much like his father it was eerie.

  He’s the king now. We must have a crowning ceremony when we get to a safe place. She thought of the staff and crown which she had hidden in the broom cupboard.

  Roald said, “Let her go, brute. These are my women.”

  Oh, by the heavens.

  “That be so?” Ludo said “Two women for one man, huh?” He continued with a remark of sexual nature that Johanna didn’t need to understand word for word to get the gist of it.

  The other bandits laughed and jeered at Roald. He took no notice of them, but took Nellie’s arm and pulled.

  “Watch what I do to your women.” Ludo’s hand found the buttons at the front of Nellie’s dress and started to undo them, revealing Nellie’s white underdress like a peeled fruit.

  Nellie wriggled and kicked.

  “Let her go!” Roald took Ludo’s arm with both hands and tried to yank him off Nellie, but he was so much smaller and skinnier than the bandit that Ludo dragged both Nellie and Roald around as if neither weighed anything, while Roald struggled to maintain his footing and Nellie desperately tried to do her buttons back up.

  Several of the younger bandits were laughing so hard that the tears ran over their cheeks.

  Not Sylvan. He still leaned against a tree trunk, his legs crossed at the ankles. The intense look in his brown eyes made Johanna shiver.

  A magician?

  The two bears lay on the ground next to him, leaning their shaggy heads on their paws. Nothing moved about them except their eyes.

  Sigvald wasn’t laughing either. He stood on the far side of the fire, watching the struggle with his arms crossed t
ightly over his chest.

  Just as Roald had gotten his feet under him, one of the younger bandits tripped him up from behind.

  Then Sylvan pushed himself off the tree trunk. In one fluid motion, he jumped to his feet, rising well over both Ludo and Roald’s heads. He wore very dark clothing, and although he was not broad like some of the others, his height made him imposing. The scar on his face even more so.

  Ludo stopped dragging Nellie around.

  Sylvan brushed Roald aside as if he was a fly. He grabbed the front of Ludo’s jerkin, ignoring the presence of Nellie between them.

  Everyone fell quiet.

  “You are so much interested in selling them, right?” His speech sounded a lot more sophisticated than that of the others.

  Ludo retreated ever so slightly.

  “Who do you think will pay for damaged goods?”

  Ludo made a protest about just having some fun.

  Sylvan retorted with a harsh remark in dialect that sounded like it meant, “Stop behaving like a child.”

  Ludo growled, “Oh, fuck off.” And added something about bashing his face in and being a soft boy.

  “I dare you to try.” Sylvan let go of Ludo’s jerkin. He yanked Nellie out of Ludo’s grip. She squeaked, but he roughly pushed her aside, as if clearing the scene for a fight. Nellie tripped with the force of his push, and fell into the leaf litter.

  Johanna rushed to help her up.

  “Oh, Mistress Johanna!” Nellie cried. Her face was white, with the imprint of Ludo’s hand still over her mouth. She closed Nellie in her arms. Nellie trembled.

  Poor Nellie.

  Father had appointed Nellie soon after her mother had died, to be a companion to Johanna as a girl. Nellie had been fourteen when she joined the household, and was in many ways, more than Johanna’s governess. Nellie might be silly and annoying at times, but she was the closest thing Johanna had to a sister.

  Sylvan and Ludo circled one another, under the bandits’ cheering.

  Over Nellie’s shoulder, Johanna scanned the forest for an avenue of escape. She’d planned to use a fight as a time to escape, but now that it happened, it was not a good time to try anything. Most of the horses were now in the glade, and would probably be hard to catch and even harder to ride without reins, and she wasn’t that confident that she could put them on quickly. The packs had all been taken down from the horses and there would be no time to sort out what they needed. If they ran now, they could only do so without supplies, and who knew how far the nearest town was?

  The two bears had risen and stood behind Sylvan. One of the animals emitted a low growl.

  Ludo charged. Sylvan simply stepped out of his way. Ludo swung his fist, but Sylvan ducked. He brought his fist up from underneath. The hand connected with Ludo’s jaw with a clearly audible thud. Ludo cried out, and stopped Sylvan punching again by holding him in a strong hug.

  They two men pushed against each other. Sylvan tried to free himself but, not being strong enough, only succeeded in pushing the pair of them around in a resemblance of some strange dance.

  The other bandits gathered, laughing and shouting. Finally, Sylvan managed to free himself from Ludo’s grip. Ludo tried a few punches, but Sylvan was too quick and easily avoided them. Ludo charged and caught Sylvan around the middle. The two toppled onto the leaf-covered ground. At that moment, one of the bears jumped on top of Ludo’s back. It grabbed hold of Ludo’s jerkin and pulled, ripping a hole in the leather. Then it grabbed Ludo’s hair and pulled his head back. Ludo’s eyes went wide, showing whites on all sides.

  Nellie gave a squeal. “Oh, it’s going to kill him!”

  But then Sylvan whistled, and the animal let go of Ludo’s hair.

  Ludo rubbed the back of his head, covered in bear slobber. He pushed himself up to his knees while glaring at Sylvan and breathing heavily.

  Then he started laughing. Sylvan laughed, too, albeit a bit more stiffly, and all the bandits joined in, clapping each other on the shoulders. The two bears dropped back in their sleeping position into the leaf litter.

  Johanna joined Roald, Nellie and Loesie at the base of a large tree a little away from the fire.

  Nellie whispered to her, “Thank you helping me. I was so afraid that they were going to harm me.”

  “Shh, Nellie, it’s all right. Of course we would help you.”

  “But they’re so big and we’re all so small. I’m scared. That man is such a piece of filth.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve sat on the horse with him all day.”

  “Oh, Mistress Johanna, you shouldn’t have to go through that. You’re married.”

  “Not like he cares about that. Listen, we don’t need to be big, we need to be smart. The first chance we get, we’re going to escape and get back to the Lady Sara.” But deep inside she was scared, too. Next time, the outcome of a confrontation like this might not be as good. If Ludo got it in his mind that he wanted to do indecent things to either her, Nellie or Loesie, there would be nothing to stop him.

  Nellie asked, “Do you think you could still find your way back to the river?”

  “I think so.” But in reality? She thought she knew the direction the river would be if it were a straight line. But rivers were rarely straight lines, and they had been riding through this forest for hours. All trees looked the same. If they escaped, how could they get back? With dogs and horses, the bandits would capture them again soon.

  She shrugged but avoided Nellie’s eyes. To flee successfully, there had to be a place to flee to.

  The bandits got serious about producing something to eat. One of the younger bandits had caught two rabbits which Johanna had seen dangling at the back of his saddle earlier in the day. Another man brought a larger animal, with a shorthaired brown coat, a long neck and long graceful legs. Sigvald sent two young men off to skin the animals.

  “It’s a deer,” Roald said.

  Johanna had heard of deer, but had never seen any. “Do they all have horns like that?”

  “They’re called antlers. This one is a young male. Older males have bigger antlers.”

  Sylvan gave him a suspicious sideways glance as if he wanted to say What do you know about it?

  “They’re good eating,” Roald continued.

  “Who says you get any?” Sylvan’s voice was harsh and strongly accented. Each time he met her eyes, Johanna felt a chill going through her.

  Slowly, he rose and strolled to the spot where they sat.

  Magic was in everything he did: from the way he sniffed the air to the way he whistled at the bears and the way they obeyed him without the need for chains and cages. It was in the way he argued with the others and the way he rode off on his big horse. Danger swirled about him like a cloak.

  He faced the prisoners and sank into a crouch, resting his elbows on his bent knees, studying each of them in turn.

  Nellie cowered under his gaze. He simply laughed at her in a way that said I’m not even interested enough in you to do you any harm.

  Roald stared back at him, and Sylvan held his gaze for such a long time that Johanna felt chilled. There were rumours of people who could read minds, but those rumours were all lies, weren’t they?

  Sylvan shifted his gaze to her. His brown eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Interesting.”

  What he found interesting he neglected to mention.

  Then he turned to Loesie. He bent closer, looking her in the eyes. “You’re magic-touched, eh?”

  She kept staring as if he had said nothing.

  He pushed her shoulder.

  Loesie flew up, making a low hissing sound. Her eyes had gone white again. Johanna shivered with the chill of magi
c that went through her.

  Sylvan laughed. “You’re a little cat, eh?” Didn’t he feel it?

  “Leave her alone,” Roald said.

  “She belongs to you, too? Your women? What do you think you are?”

  “I’m—”

  “Shhh,” Johanna said, before Roald could give away anything.

  Sylvan looked from Roald to her and back again, but said nothing.

  He poked Loesie again, and she tried to scratch him, but he yanked his hand back quickly.

  She growled.

  Another bandit got up. “Let me try.” He poked her. He wasn’t quite so quick in retreating and received a nasty scratch to his arm.

  Sylvan laughed. “Now your blood’s poisoned and you become a witch, too.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “What? Yer kidding, right?”

  The other bandits burst into laughter.

  Sigvald didn’t laugh. He stood on the other side of the fire and watched, unemotional, with his arms crossed over his chest. The firelight glinted on his bald head.

  His eyes met Johanna’s. They were cold, calculating. She feared that he knew exactly who she and Roald were. If he came regularly to the towns on the Rede River, he might know the Lady Sara or the Brouwer Company flag. He would certainly recognise the marks of the Saarlander royal family, and if not . . . the bandits only needed to search their prisoners, and they would find the ring on the chain around Johanna’s neck, and they would find the Carmine crest on Roald’s underclothes.

  Roald said, “I was only going to protect you from that man. You don’t want me to say anything?”

  “Don’t say anything if it isn’t necessary.”

  “I was only trying to answer the brute’s questions.”

  “They are not our friends. We don’t answer questions.”

  “But Mother says it’s polite to—”

  “We don’t need to be polite. They took us against our will.”

  Johanna didn’t know if Roald understood, or even remembered how they’d been captured, but at least he shut up. Fancy not understanding the concept of being a prisoner.