by Patty Jansen
What was it hearing? A wild animal? One of the bears? People?
Johanna held her breath and listened, but could make out nothing unusual over the sparse sounds of the forest. A bird chirped in a tree, not a kind she recognised.
Between the trees she noticed the outlines of a hill. Maybe if she climbed up there she would be able to see more.
She untied the horse, but no matter how she pulled the reins, the silly horse wouldn’t move.
“Well then, have it your way.” She retied the reins. The hill was not very far anyway. The horse could wait and mope here.
Johanna traversed the dense stand of pine trees, pushing low branches aside. The pine forest stopped suddenly and made way for beech trees.
Johanna climbed up the hill. It was bigger than the ancient burial mounds that they had seen yesterday. Much taller, too. As with the beech forest they had traversed, the ground cover consisted only of dead leaves. About halfway up the steep hillside, Johanna slipped in the moist leaves. She groped in the dirt to stop her slide down the hill, and her hands met a piece of wood buried sideways in the hillside. As if it was a step.
This hill had not been made by nature. Another burial mound?
When she got to the top, she found a slab of stone about a pace wide and two paces long set in the ground at the highest point of the hilltop. Slabs of stone came from quarries in Burovia or Westfalia. Johanna had seen places where stone came to the surface naturally, but that was further south in Lurezia. Not here. All building stone had to be carried downriver on barges like the Lady Sara.
That left the question: why was there a slab of stone in the middle of the forest?
She knelt and brushed away a cover of leaves.
Carved in the stone was a symbol that she didn’t recognise. Two circles surrounded a head of an animal with large, hollow eyes. The mouth bore several pointed teeth. The head had a pair of cat-like ears, but the bottom jaw was missing from the image, either because the stone was age-worn or it had never been there. The carving looked like a skull.
Johanna reached out and her fingers touched the stone at the same time the little warning voice inside her said, Stone magic!
A deep chill went through her.
The grey dawn became night again. People screamed, primitive, beastly screams that were nothing like war cries. It was too dark to see, but even just the sounds made her sick. Gurgling death cries, screams of pain.
Johanna yanked her hand away from the stone, her heart thudding.
What sort of sorcery was this? She had no stone magic. Or had someone placed another trap of fear in this area?
She looked around her, but all she saw was trees and greenery, the greenness of the pine forest and the elegant trunks of the beech trees. Again, no sign of anyone having passed here recently. She slid down the hill, where she placed her hand on a beech trunk, but it only showed her tranquil forest. Apparently the pools of churned mud a bit further down were popular with a group of wild pigs. They had a whole bunch of striped piglets.
What sort of evil place had this been long ago?
She circled the hill. On the far side she noticed the narrow passage that led into the hill. It was not a hill, but a cool room or ice cellar of some sort. Or a treasure chamber.
Johanna glanced into the tunnel. Its walls were made from red bricks on either side, the brickwork arched at the ceiling. At the end of this passage, perhaps a few paces deep, was a door. It was a dark, featureless thing with a simple door handle and two latches, one at the top and one at the bottom.
A waft of chill air came from the passage. It was humid, but cold and laced with a tang of decay.
Johanna shivered. She had seen ice cellars in Burovia. She didn’t like their rank wetness and the fact that one was here meant that a house or settlement couldn’t be too far away.
That would be the duke’s house and she wanted nothing to do with this duke.
She had better go back to the horse and get out of here. Find the river and then turn upstream. Beg the Baron to come with her. She had to find Roald.
Johanna started walking around the hill back to the stand of pine trees where she had left the stubborn horse, but at that moment, the barking of a dog echoed through the forest. And the gallop of a horse.
The bandits. She had to hide, quickly.
The beech trees surrounding the cellar offered no hiding places at all. There was only one hiding place short of running back to the pine forest.
In that dreadful tunnel.
Johanna pressed herself against the door at the back of the tunnel. The air here was cold and humid, and chilled her deep inside. The scent of cold wetness made her gag.
Through the tunnel entrance, she saw the bottom half of a horse pass close by. The animal’s coat was brown, not black. She didn’t recognise the boots of the rider.
The duke’s men. If she didn’t find a better hiding place, they would find her.
Johanna tested the door at her back. To her surprise, it opened.
A foul, cold waft came out. Urgh. She held her nose, inching further into the darkness. Outside, the sound of galloping hooves faded. Someone shouted, but it sounded far off and she couldn’t hear the words.
While she listened, her eyes became better used to the darkness.
Blocks of ice were piled in huge stone basins that stood around the walls. Each basin had drainage holes in the bottom, from which melted water seeped into the earth, hence the smell.
Just an ice cellar. Winters weren’t that cold in Saardam most years, and people in the city didn’t have the luxury of cellars. They built cool rooms with thick walls. Having ice in summer was a luxury that was limited to years when winter was cold enough.
She tried to calm herself. There was nothing to worry about.
But the duke’s men would find the horse and see that it was tied up. They would come and look for its rider
She had to find a better hiding spot. Johanna looked around. It was cold in here and the ground around those basins was wet. Some chunks of ice were really big and others had odd shapes like . . .
Hands?
Feet?
White-skinned, waxy. Open staring eyes. Wet hair, hollow cheeks. Naked breasts and buttocks.
Chapter 8
* * *
JOHANNA STAGGERED back towards the cellar’s door.
Now that she knew what she was looking at, she counted at least half a dozen people kept frozen amongst large blocks of ice, some slowly leaking water on the stone floor. Now she really understood where the bad smell came from. Those were just the bodies she could see. It was too dark in the cellar to count the basins and who knew how many bodies were stacked up in each basin?
She heard the farmer girl Lenie’s voice People who go into the forest don’t come back.
Her head reeled.
Slowly, she backed out of the cellar into the tunnel. In between being stuck with dead people in here and live people outside, she took her chances with the live ones.
She closed the door firmly behind her and pressed herself in the little alcove in which the door was set. The cold air that seeped through the stone still carried the cloying scent of rankness. Her muscles shivered uncontrollably and she couldn’t stop her teeth chattering.
It had become fully light outside. The mist had become thin enough for pink-tinged sunlight to skirt the tops of the trees.
The forest was full of sounds of horses’ hooves and shouting men.
They would have discovered the horse by now. She should have let it loose. Johanna listened, but heard no screams from Nellie or anyone.
Maybe if she stood here very quietly, they would not find her. Surely, the person who
kept dead bodies on ice would not want other people to know about this. The bandits wouldn’t know that this cellar was here.
It was silly coming out here, because she would be safer inside, but she wasn’t going to—
Someone came from around the back of the hill and looked in the tunnel. A guard in unfamiliar green and grey livery. He looked neat, with short-cropped hair and a short beard.
For a moment he froze, surprised. He and Johanna looked at each other. Before Johanna could run, he jumped forward and grabbed her by the arm.
Something clicked in Johanna’s mind. In a time that seemed ages ago and a world away, she had heard a male voice tell her, You hold their other arm and then twist. You have to do it quickly so you take them by surprise. Johanna grabbed the soldier’s wrist and twisted the arm that held her. To her surprise, her arm came free.
She ran. First down the hill, to gain speed.
The man’s footsteps thudded behind her. He was so close, he would reach her in a moment. She expected the hand on her shoulder any moment. She swerved sideways through a field of bracken. He hadn’t expected that. Sticks pulled at her dress. There was movement in the corner of her vision but she didn’t see what or who it was. She ran.
Footsteps again thudded behind her, more than one person this time.
Someone whistled hard.
Johanna came into a clearing and there she faced two snarling bears. She screamed and turned around, but the soldier was close behind her.
One of the bears jumped. Johanna let herself fall in the leaf litter. She covered her head with her arms and ducked. Any moment now and its teeth would grab her by the throat or rip her head from her body. Someone shouted.
Silence.
Johanna waited.
Somewhere close by several people breathed hard. A bear snorted its hot breath into her neck.
“Get up,” a harsh male voice said.
It was Sylvan, his face hard with anger. Behind him stood the duke’s soldier. The two bears had been the ones that belonged to the bandits.
Johanna clambered to her feet, looking from one to the other. Her heart thudded like crazy against her ribs. Why was the duke’s soldier with the bandits?
Sigvald came from behind and tied her arms behind her back. Sylvan watched with his brooding, angry expression. He held his arms folded over his chest.
Sigvald gave him an order, but Sylvan didn’t move, and continued to glare instead.
Sigvald finished tying Johanna up. The rope drew tight around her wrists. He pushed her to the soldier, and said something that sounded like, “Take her to the others.”
The soldier grabbed Johanna around the upper arm in a bruising grip. His fingers dug deep into the soft skin under her arms.
She protested. “Hey, ow! I can walk myself, you know?”
While the man continued dragging Johanna away, Sigvald stepped towards Sylvan, his hands planted at his waist.
He said something about orders.
“Fuck orders,” Sylvan said. “We take all of them.”
Johanna’s captor stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“Who is the boss here?” Sigvald said.
Sylvan stuck his nose in the air. “No one who doesn’t deserve to be.”
“Say that again if you dare.”
“I will. If you go back on your agreement, the men will distrust you and abandon you.”
“And they’ll trust you with your filthy magic?”
“Honest deeds go rewarded, always. Foul deeds breed distrust. I know that you’ve had no trouble—”
Sigvald swung his fist at him, but that was followed by a deep growl and a crack of branches. Both bears had jumped forward and faced Sigvald, poised to attack.
He retreated, his face red.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten this. I will not forget this, until I get the chance to put my sword through your arrogant heart.”
“Dare try it.”
There was a tense silence, and then Sigvald whirled around and stomped off to his horse.
The soldier pulled Johanna with him to a place where a group of people and horses had gathered.
Seated on the pine needle-covered ground, their hands tied like Johanna’s, were Nellie and Roald. The soldier shoved Johanna down with them. Johanna’s first thought was one of relief. The second thought . . .
“Where is Loesie?”
Nellie glanced to the side. Her left cheek showed a red mark in the shape of a man’s hand. There was a bead of blood in the corner of her mouth.
Over the back of a horse hung a bundle in black clothing, which Johanna recognised as Loesie’s dress. Her hair, dirty and knotted, hung down the horse’s flank. Her hands dangled free, the fingernails broken and bloodied. Her heart jumped.
“Is she . . .”
“They gave her a good knock on the head, but she moves.”
“She spooked the horses,” Roald said. “That’s why the thugs woke up.”
Johanna nodded. The question remained whether Loesie did it on purpose or under the order of a master.
A couple of bandits joined the group leading the packhorses.
Their regular riding companions lifted Johanna, Roald and Nellie to their mounts. Roald managed to sit up straight even though his hands were tied, but Nellie slumped. Her cheek was growing purple.
The column set in motion, at a slow pace. Sigvald went in the lead.
Sylvan rode to the right-hand side, making his own path in the forest. The duke’s man followed him, and the two bears and the hounds loped behind them. Occasionally he glared at the main party. Sigvald would spit in his direction and then Sylvan would increase the pace until all the main party saw was his horse’s backside.
They now rode on clear paths, and the horses could go two or three abreast.
When Ludo’s horse and Nellie’s bandit’s came next to each other, Johanna raised her hand to her face to indicate Nellie’s swollen cheek.
“Does it still hurt?”
Nellie nodded. A tear ran over her cheek.
“Where did they catch you?”
“Not far from the house. The stupid horse turned back to the village. The creep over there magicked the horse and it ran back to the others.”
Next Johanna turned around to Roald, who was behind Nellie. His face looked pale and drawn. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“How far did you get?”
He didn’t reply.
Johanna remembered that first night when they had fished him out of the water and he hadn’t spoken. He’d started banging his head into the wall.
“Please,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”
Roald continued to stare.
Nellie said, “He tried to protect me, but there were too many of them. That soldier man hit him real hard and then he screamed and he fell down. The bandits kicked dirt over him and laughed. He was frightened.”
As frightened as he had been that first day when he went out in the hall and had to give a speech. Emotions didn’t penetrate Roald’s thoughts often, but she suspected that when they did, they made a profound difference.
Nellie’s bandit kicked his horse into a trot so that it went to the lead of the column and out of earshot of Johanna.
Johanna met Roald’s eyes. The look in his face disturbed her. “Hey, it will be all right. We’re all still alive.”
He said nothing. It was not all right.
She worried about what he had seen and what the bandits had done to Lenie, her brothers and her father. Hopefully, they hadn’t blamed the family for their prisoners’ escape.
* * *
So they rode on for
the best part of the morning. Johanna had thought that the ice cellar had to be close to a house, and that the wide forest lanes with straight rows of trees on both sides indicated the same, but she had clearly been wrong, or this was a very large estate. Whatever the soldier was doing with the group, and when he had turned up, was a mystery to her, but he rode with Sylvan, constantly talking and joking. Whenever Ludo’s horse came close enough for Johanna to hear their conversation, they discussed things that she wouldn’t consider bandits’ business: trade, a musical performance.
Sigvald glared at the pair of them.
He rode at the head of the main group, Sylvan at the other. Occasionally, the bears crossed the distance between the groups, but always ran back when Sylvan whistled.
The group startled a couple of deer, which jumped away with great elegant bounds. The hounds went after them, but they soon came back, panting, with their tongues hanging out of their mouths.
Some time after midday, the forest lane with its straight rows of trees opened out into a huge sun-drenched garden.
At the far end sunlight glistened off a lake with a large blocky house built from red clay bricks in the middle, on a small tongue of land. Green-painted shutters covered the windows, each with a stylised flower with alternating red and white petals in the middle. The garden was mostly ornamental, with neat hedges and flowerbeds in straight lines. There were roses and lavender bushes and other flowering plants which Johanna didn’t recognise. The vegetable garden had been banished out of sight of the house, behind the stables. Johanna spotted bean stakes and cabbage.
The bandits dismounted at the edge of the garden. Sylvan and the soldier rejoined the group.
“We take them from here,” Sylvan said.
Sigvald crossed his arms over his chest. He said something about payment that was not enough.
“You agreed to our terms. From the moment we captured them, you tried to talk me into doing what you wanted.”
Sigvald said something about being stupid.
“I have my reasons. I can’t help that you are incapable of following simple instructions. If it had been left up to you, they would have escaped.”
