The Crowfield Demon Page 21

  The Old Red Man slipped and stumbled along the track. His large feet soon became heavy with mud, and he stopped every now and then to try and clean some of it off. Shadlok watched him with growing impatience until finally he snapped.

  “If you stop one more time, I will pick you up and carry you,” he said.

  The hob looked alarmed. “I cannot help it. The mud . . . my feet . . .”

  “Then stay on the grass,” Shadlok said evenly.

  The Old Red Man tried his best to keep to the grassy edge of the track, but branches tangled in his long fur and his feet kept slipping on the wet grass. He murmured and muttered to himself, and every so often gave a small, pained yelp as another tuft of fur was ripped out by a bramble whip. William found a sturdy stick and handed it to him.

  “Keep the branches back with that,” he said. The Old Red Man took it with a grateful nod, and after that, he managed to pick up a little speed.

  The hob kept to the main track, much to William’s surprise. He had thought Dame Alys would have taken Brother Walter deep into the forest, to some hidden place of her own, but the Old Red Man trudged doggedly onward along the edge of the track, swinging his stick at brambles and branches in his way.

  “We’re heading toward the abbey,” William said uneasily, glancing at Shadlok.

  “So it would seem,” the fay said. Something in his voice told William he was not happy about this.

  They continued their journey in tense and watchful silence. Around them, the forest was eerily quiet. It seemed that all the woodland creatures, fay and animal alike, were staying hidden.

  The Old Red Man slowed down when they reached the rag-hung bush near the Whistling Hollow. The fur along his spine bristled, and he held the stick tightly in his paws. His eyes were white-rimmed with fear as he stared into the undergrowth. “This is an evil place,” he whispered.

  “You’ll be safe as long as you keep to the trackway,” William said. “Keep going.”

  The hob hunched his shoulders and scurried away. William and Shadlok had to run to keep up with him. When they reached the turning to Crowfield, the Old Red Man stopped again.

  “Old Woman is there,” he said, pointing toward the abbey.

  “Why has she brought the hob here?” William asked suspiciously. The demon was no longer trapped in the side chapel, so why would the old woman come to the abbey?

  The Old Red Man’s hairy face crumpled miserably, and he shook his head. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I cannot tell you that.”

  “Because you do not know? Or because you do not want to?” Shadlok asked.

  The creature covered his face with his paws and hunched forward as if he was in pain. “Old Woman told me not to speak of it.”

  Shadlok made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Then we will just have to find her and ask her for ourselves.”

  Shadlok led the way down the slope toward the causeway. The Old Red Man followed, with William close behind him in case he took it into his head to bolt. William looked across the tops of the abbey buildings, toward the huge hole in the church roof. Beyond the orchard, he glimpsed the wreckage of Brother Snail’s workshop. An air of desolation hung over everything. For the first time ever, he couldn’t hear the cawing of the crows in Two Penny Copse. Even the sheep were silent today. He could see them in the distance, crowding close together beneath the trees in the copse.

  “Ent none of the monks left there,” someone called from the trackway behind them. William turned quickly and saw Edgar the carpenter and two freemen from Yagleah at the top of the slope. In an instant, the Old Red Man vanished from sight. “They’re all at Beth’lem,” Edgar said, stopping to lean on the long stick he was carrying. His two companions also carried hefty sticks. “Though they might be regrettin’ that now.”

  “Why?” Shadlok asked with a quick frown.

  “There’s been trouble in Yagleah, and a mite o’ bother in Beth’lem, too,” Edgar said. “Hal Brunleggin’s house and barn burned down in the night, and the small barn and brewhouse up at Beth’lem caught fire. And if that weren’t enough, Mag the bee-woman’s house in Yagleah, and all her beehives, were caught up by a gret wild wind and blown away.” Edgar shook his head. His cheeks above his stubbly jaw were gray with tiredness and worry. The two men beside him didn’t look much better. “There’s summat bad on the loose, and no mistake. We’re on our way to see Sir Robert at Weforde. We’re hopin’ he might be able t’do summat to help us, though I ent sure anyone can help us against whatever’s back there.” He jerked his head in the direction of his village.

  William and Shadlok glanced at each other in dismay. This was the worst possible news.

  “There were fires in Weforde last night, too,” William said. “Most of the manor and many of the village houses were destroyed. And Sir Robert has been taken ill.”

  Edgar stared at him, appalled. “What happened? Did he get burned?”

  “No, he’s just . . . sick,” William said. No doubt Edgar would hear the rumors flying around Weforde soon enough.

  “Well, that ent good.” Edgar shook his head and looked at his two friends. The news from Weforde had clearly shaken them.

  “My sister’s married to a Weforde man, Thomas Caudyle. Don’t s’pose you know if his were one of the houses that got burned?” one of the Yagleah men asked anxiously.

  William shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “I’d best get over there and find out for meself,” the man said with a worried glance at his companions.

  Edgar nodded to Shadlok and William, and the three Yagleah men set off along the track.

  The Old Red Man reappeared as soon as the men were out of sight.

  “It is as we feared. Nowhere is safe from the demon now,” Shadlok said grimly. He turned to stare at the gatehouse. The wicket gate was open. It seemed Dame Alys was already here.

  Shadlok set off along the causeway, splashing through the floodwater and onto the bridge. William and the Old Red Man caught up with him in the passageway beneath the gatehouse. He held up a hand, warning them to keep quiet.

  The yard was deserted. The buildings were silent and dark.

  “The woman is waiting for us,” Shadlok said softly. “I can feel her dark heart.” He looked down at the Old Red Man. “That is why she left you behind, isn’t it? To lead us here to her.”

  “She meant for us to follow her?” William asked in surprise. The Old Red Man was huddled against the wall of the passageway as if he was trying to melt into the stones. Reluctantly, he nodded.

  “You led us into a trap,” William said angrily. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you.” But the truth was, trap or no trap, they had no choice but to be here, not as long as Dame Alys was holding the hob prisoner.

  “You search the barns,” Shadlok said. “I will look in the garden and graveyard. But do nothing rash if you find her. Do not get close enough to let her take your blood again.”

  William snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Shadlok slipped away around the corner of the gatehouse.

  “You are coming with me,” William said grimly, glancing down at the Old Red Man. He wanted to keep the creature close, so he could keep an eye on him.

  The creature pattered across the cobbles to William’s side. The wind ruffled his fur, and he briskly rubbed his skinny arms to warm them. William was taken aback by the look of wretchedness on his face, but he hardened his heart: The Old Red Man had betrayed Brother Walter, who was supposed to be his friend, and to William, that was unforgivable.

  William searched the two barns, the woodshed, and the stables. There was no sign of Dame Alys or the hob. They reached the pasture behind the open-fronted shed, but that was empty, too. Perhaps Shadlok had found her, he thought hopefully.

  “There!” the Old Red Man said suddenly, pointing to the West Door of the church. It stood ajar, and in front of it stood Fionn, the white crow. The bird watched them with its head to one side, then with a flap of its
wings, it hopped inside the building.

  William ran across the yard. Behind him, he heard the Old Red Man scurrying through puddles, the long claws on his toes clacking against the cobbles. He took the steps two at a time and followed the crow into the church. He saw Fionn lift into the air and glide along the nave. The bird landed on a large chunk of fallen masonry and gave a long, triumphant caw.

  William walked slowly along the nave until he reached the crossing. The Old Red Man was close behind him. The church was silent, and there was an oddly heavy feel to the air. He wished with all his heart that Shadlok was here with him.

  Fionn watched them beadily, but made no move to fly away. There was no sign of Dame Alys, but he knew she was here somewhere. His shaking fingers brushed against the holey stone, still tucked safely inside his tunic. What would he see if he looked through it now? He hesitated for a couple of moments, then pulled it free and raised it to his eye.

  The gray clouds above the church roof faded away, and William found himself looking up at a moonlit sky through bare branches. Moving the stone, he saw that he was standing inside a ring of oak trees. An ancient oak, its massive trunk hollowed out with age and its branches twisted like witches’ fingers, grew in the middle of the grove. There were streaks of blood down its gnarled bark, and the ground underfoot was soft and oozing with something dark and sticky. William stared at the tree in revulsion. This surely had to be the Hunter’s Oak, he thought, which meant this was the demon’s sacred place, the seat of its power. Things hung from the branches, just indistinct shapes in the moonlight. William walked forward slowly, then recoiled in horror when he realized that the tree was covered with corpses of animals and birds. Some were fresh, but others were just scarecrow scraps of fur and feathers. And then he saw a human head, hanging by its hair from a branch high up in the tree. Sickened, William forced himself to keep looking. There was something at the top of the tree. He could make out a huge creature silhouetted against the night sky. Moonlight gleamed on its spread wings as it lunged forward and swooped down toward him. William gasped and staggered backward, jerking the holey stone away from his eye and gripping it tightly against his chest. In an instant, the vision of the grove and the demon disappeared.

  William glanced around. This was where the demon’s grove of trees had once stood. The abbey church had taken the place of the trees, but the ground beneath the building was still sacred to Raum. He could feel an unnatural chill striking up through his body and knew that the demon’s power still beat like a huge heart in the earth below the abbey walls.

  There was a movement over by the side chapel, and Dame Alys walked out of the shadows, dragging the sack behind her. The coarse fabric was patched with old bloodstains, and William’s stomach turned in disgust.

  “So, you have a holey stone,” she said coldly. “And what did it show you?”

  “I saw the Hunter’s Oak,” William said, tucking the stone back inside his clothing. “It’s no wonder the monks cut the tree down.”

  She pointed to the gaping hole where the tower had been. “But they are paying for it now. And this is just the beginning.”

  William glanced down at the sack, which had begun to jiggle around at the sound of his voice. “Let the hob go,” he said. To his surprise, his voice was steady and didn’t betray the apprehension he felt. A glance around the church showed nothing out of the ordinary. No telltale glimpse of crimson that would have warned him the demon was here.

  Dame Alys’s odd-colored eyes gleamed with satisfaction and her small mouth twitched into a wrinkled smile. “You care what happens to him. That’s good. You’ll do as I tell you, then.” She turned to the Old Red Man and pointed to the sack. “You can let him out now, Heremon. But don’t untie him just yet.”

  William looked from the woman to her hob in astonishment. “You know his name?”

  “Of course I do,” she said with a hint of impatience. “Don’t I, Heremon, eh?” She prodded the hob with her stick.

  The creature’s gaze slid away from her and he shuffled over to the sack. He squatted beside it and fiddled with the knotted rope tying the neck. “Yes, you do,” he muttered, a lifetime of resentment quivering in his voice.

  “I should thank you,” Dame Alys said, looking back at William. “You and your friends have finally released Belinus from the sorcery holding him prisoner in that bowl. Generations of my family have tried and failed to do just that.”

  William scowled at her. “That wasn’t what we were trying to do.”

  The woman’s expression hardened. “I know, but even so, Belinus is free, and he will now resume his rightful place as lord of this land, of the forest and the villages.”

  “It’s not a god,” William said angrily, “it’s a demon. And its name is Raum. It will destroy everyone and everything in its path. It has already burned down part of the manor and several houses in Weforde — your village. People died there last night.”

  “A god must punish those who sin against him.”

  “I don’t think the villagers who died had sinned against anyone,” William said.

  “Their deaths were unfortunate.”

  William thought he heard a note of doubt in her voice.

  “And what about me?” he asked. “I’m not a sinner either. Do I deserve to die?”

  This time, the regret in the woman’s eyes was unmistakable. “Belinus has chosen you, boy. It is not for me to question him. I merely serve him.”

  Heremon finally managed to untie the sack, and the hob struggled out. He was tied hand and foot and a grubby bit of linen had been stuffed into his mouth to gag him. His eyes blazed with fury, and the fur around his neck bristled. He saw William and began to wriggle across the floor toward him. William knelt to untie his ropes, but Dame Alys brought her stick down sharply across his knuckles.

  “Leave him!”

  William stood up, rubbing his sore hands. “There was no need for that,” he said angrily.

  “I’ll let him go when I am good and ready,” the woman said. She tensed suddenly and glanced around the church. The crow cawed and flapped its wings. It had grown colder in the last few minutes and a chilly breeze chased through the ruined building. Dame Alys jabbed at William with the stick. “Kneel down,” she said urgently. “Down! Now!”

  William didn’t move. His heart was racing. If he was going to rescue the hob and make his escape, he had to do it now. He looked at Heremon. “Are you going to let her do this?” he asked, nodding toward the trussed-up hob. “I thought he was your friend.”

  Heremon’s body was hunched with misery. “Old Woman will not harm him,” he whispered. “Only you.”

  “That’s enough!” Dame Alys snapped, swinging her stick at Heremon. It missed him by a whisker. “Keep silent, you wretched creature!”

  Heremon closed his eyes, as if that would make everything go away.

  “And you” — Dame Alys reached out with her stick and prodded William in the ribs — “leave Heremon alone. He’s none of your concern. I’m losing patience with you, boy. This is Belinus’s time; kneel down or I promise you, I will kill your hob. Do it now, boy.”

  William stared defiantly at her. Dame Alys’s lips drew back in an angry grimace. She lifted her stick and held it with both hands above the hob. Another moment and she would bring it down on his head. The hob banged his heels on the ground and grunted furiously. “Don’t!” William said sharply. He quickly fell to his knees beside the hob, keeping a wary eye on the stick.

  Dame Alys took several deep, harsh breaths that shook through her body. She leaned the stick against a pile of stones and then raised her skinny arms skyward. She began to speak in a language William didn’t recognize, intoning the words in a low voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced down at the hob and silently mouthed, “Roll out of the way.”

  The hob managed a nod. William turned his attention back to Dame Alys. Her voice rose as she chanted words that pulsed with power. The breeze strengthened an
d yowled through the gaps in the wall and roof, whipping William’s hair across his face. Shadows flitted between the nave pillars. William struggled not to look at them. He needed to keep his nerve if he was to escape before the woman succeeded in summoning the demon. He clenched his fists and braced himself.

  Dame Alys raised her face to the sky beyond the shattered roof. “Great Belinus! I have brought the boy to you! Return to your sacred grove and accept this offering!”

  We have to get away from here now! William thought desperately. He saw his chance and lunged toward Dame Alys. She shrieked in fright as he brought her crashing to the floor. In the same moment, the dark shapes in the nave dispersed and the breeze dropped.

  “Heremon! Heremon!” Dame Alys screeched furiously as she struggled to push William away. “Help me!”

  William bundled the woman tightly in her cloak and held her down. Fionn swooped toward him, claws extended. Just in time, William ducked and the bird wheeled around to try again. Heremon watched what was happening, but he made no move to help his mistress.

  “Untie the hob,” William called to him.

  The crow landed on William’s back and began to stab viciously at him with its beak. William managed to batter the bird away with his arm, and it flapped into the air with a hoarse cry.

  With a wary glance at Dame Alys, Heremon crouched down beside the hob and began to pick at the knotted ropes.

  “Get away from him! Do as I tell you, you worthless wretch!” the woman shrieked. Her thin body wriggled and bucked beneath William as she fought to push him away. She was surprisingly strong, and it was an effort to stop her from getting free. William was at a loss to know what to do with her now. He had broken whatever spell her words were weaving, but the demon could still appear at any moment, and then they would all be lost. Fionn circled overhead, darting down in a fury of white feathers to attack him at every opportunity. Between the woman and the crow, he had his hands full and couldn’t hope to escape from the church.