Read Online Child of the May by Theresa Tomlinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Theresa Tomlinson
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an oil – a precious oil that we used in the lands of Outremer. It came from far away to the east, beyond Jerusalem, but we cannot get it here.”
“Does it cure?” asked Marian, interested as ever in healing skills.
Veronica shook her head. “No, but it seemed to help. If he’ll come, I shall take the child back with me to the sisters. We will do all we can for him.”
Alan looked worried. “Will you come too?” he begged Tom.
“Of course,” Tom nodded.
Magda was relieved, though she wished Tom didn’t have to go off with them. Alan seemed to watch him like a faithful puppy dog. Marian agreed to the arrangement, for the Forestwife had misery and sickness enough to deal with in the secret clearing in Barnsdale Woods.
Magda stood with Marian by the turning stone, waving them off. “I hope Veronica is right,” she said. “I hope we are all safe from contagion!”
“Veronica is always right,” Marian told her sharply.
Magda looked surprised at such sharpness. “What are you angry about?” she asked. “We are saved from leprosy and I thought you’d be happy, now that he’s back.” She nodded towards the hut where she supposed Robert still slept.
“He?” Marian said. “Have you not noticed? He’s taken that horse and gone.”
“So soon? Where?”
Marian shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? I have no time to worry over him. There’s herbs to brew for a woman with dropsy and a lad with a poisoned wound to clean. You should do your shooting practice. Who knows what may come next! Don’t let your visit to Nottingham make you grow slack!”
“Is my father . . .?”
“Aye, don’t fret. Your father cuts yew staves round by the shelter.”
Magda went gladly to help John with the task he’d set for himself.
“Just what I need,” said John. “A fine strapping lad to help me!”
She smiled at his teasing for, beneath his jokes, she knew that he was proud of her strength and skill with a knife.
“Marian insists on shooting practice,” Magda complained.
“She’s right,” John told her. “Shooting practice could save your life, honey. Come help me with these staves, then I’ll fetch my own bow and go along with you.”
“Why does Robert make Marian so miserable?” Magda asked. “I swear I would not take up with a man like him. He blows hot and cold all the time.”
John put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and sighed. “It is not just Marian on whom he blows hot and cold. The man is that way and he cannot change himself. I think the bitterness of this world hangs very heavy on him. When we are out in the woods and wastes he will often slip into a foul mood and never speak to us for days. Then he’ll go off alone and believe me, we are glad to see the back of him.”
“Where does he go?”
John shook his head. “Derbyshire, Loxley, Sheaf Valley . . . who knows? Sometimes he comes back smelling of salt, with a sack full of seaweed for Marian.”
“I wondered how she kept her supplies so well stocked. But how does he find you again?”
John laughed. “We leave our secret signs: knots in branches, pebbles on the ground. He tracks us through the woods and catches up with us when it suits him. He’ll suddenly turn up, wild with plans for some reckless scheme and full of love for us.”
“He’s such an awkward man!” said Magda. “How can you be his friend?”
“When he is happy, he is the best fellow in the world,” said John. “There is nothing he will not attempt, nothing he will not dare. I love him like a brother.”
Magda sighed for she could not understand, but she worked on with her father until the sun was high in the sky. After they’d eaten they took their bows and enjoyed a shooting match that Magda won, though she suspected that John let her.
When they wandered back to the hut, they found Marian scraping fresh-cut herbs from a wooden bowl on to the hearthstone to dry, her knife rattling fast and angry.
“No sign of him, I suppose?”
John
“Does it cure?” asked Marian, interested as ever in healing skills.
Veronica shook her head. “No, but it seemed to help. If he’ll come, I shall take the child back with me to the sisters. We will do all we can for him.”
Alan looked worried. “Will you come too?” he begged Tom.
“Of course,” Tom nodded.
Magda was relieved, though she wished Tom didn’t have to go off with them. Alan seemed to watch him like a faithful puppy dog. Marian agreed to the arrangement, for the Forestwife had misery and sickness enough to deal with in the secret clearing in Barnsdale Woods.
Magda stood with Marian by the turning stone, waving them off. “I hope Veronica is right,” she said. “I hope we are all safe from contagion!”
“Veronica is always right,” Marian told her sharply.
Magda looked surprised at such sharpness. “What are you angry about?” she asked. “We are saved from leprosy and I thought you’d be happy, now that he’s back.” She nodded towards the hut where she supposed Robert still slept.
“He?” Marian said. “Have you not noticed? He’s taken that horse and gone.”
“So soon? Where?”
Marian shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? I have no time to worry over him. There’s herbs to brew for a woman with dropsy and a lad with a poisoned wound to clean. You should do your shooting practice. Who knows what may come next! Don’t let your visit to Nottingham make you grow slack!”
“Is my father . . .?”
“Aye, don’t fret. Your father cuts yew staves round by the shelter.”
Magda went gladly to help John with the task he’d set for himself.
“Just what I need,” said John. “A fine strapping lad to help me!”
She smiled at his teasing for, beneath his jokes, she knew that he was proud of her strength and skill with a knife.
“Marian insists on shooting practice,” Magda complained.
“She’s right,” John told her. “Shooting practice could save your life, honey. Come help me with these staves, then I’ll fetch my own bow and go along with you.”
“Why does Robert make Marian so miserable?” Magda asked. “I swear I would not take up with a man like him. He blows hot and cold all the time.”
John put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and sighed. “It is not just Marian on whom he blows hot and cold. The man is that way and he cannot change himself. I think the bitterness of this world hangs very heavy on him. When we are out in the woods and wastes he will often slip into a foul mood and never speak to us for days. Then he’ll go off alone and believe me, we are glad to see the back of him.”
“Where does he go?”
John shook his head. “Derbyshire, Loxley, Sheaf Valley . . . who knows? Sometimes he comes back smelling of salt, with a sack full of seaweed for Marian.”
“I wondered how she kept her supplies so well stocked. But how does he find you again?”
John laughed. “We leave our secret signs: knots in branches, pebbles on the ground. He tracks us through the woods and catches up with us when it suits him. He’ll suddenly turn up, wild with plans for some reckless scheme and full of love for us.”
“He’s such an awkward man!” said Magda. “How can you be his friend?”
“When he is happy, he is the best fellow in the world,” said John. “There is nothing he will not attempt, nothing he will not dare. I love him like a brother.”
Magda sighed for she could not understand, but she worked on with her father until the sun was high in the sky. After they’d eaten they took their bows and enjoyed a shooting match that Magda won, though she suspected that John let her.
When they wandered back to the hut, they found Marian scraping fresh-cut herbs from a wooden bowl on to the hearthstone to dry, her knife rattling fast and angry.
“No sign of him, I suppose?”
John
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