“I don’t know, mayhap another day. I do what she tells me to do, naught more, naught less, else she’ll turn me into a lizard. Ye’re hungry, are ye, young’un? The witch said she left water fer ye, her special water, and I was to bring ye food today.”
How many days had she passed in limbo? Merry knew that if her mother walked into her tower, she’d have killed her in that moment.
“Where do you come from?”
“From the woodcutter’s cottage, not far from here. The witch came to me and offered me two ha’pennies to take care of ye. I knew I didn’t have a choice since I didn’t want to die a lizard. Then a beautiful young knight came to my cottage and asked me where the witch was. I told him, aye, and why not? He gave me two whole silver pennies, so beautiful they were, they shined like God’s face in the sunlight when the sun finally showed itself.”
Garron. “Did you tell him to come here?”
“Aye, he was searching for ye. Later he and his men rode back past my cottage. I suppose he didn’t find ye.”
Thank St. Ebert’s valiant heart her mother hadn’t killed Garron. Had her mother seen him? Spoken to him? She thought she probably had. But she’d wager she’d magicked him, or drugged him just as she’d drugged her daughter. But he was all right, thank the good Lord and all his bearded apostles.
How had he gotten away from her?
“What will I do with my silver?”
Merry eyed the old woman. “Do not worry, I will take all the silver you have and use it well. We’re leaving now. You’re taking me back to your cottage, and then you will tell me how to get back to London.”
“Think ye the witch will demand back the silver she already gave me? Think ye she will turn me into a lizard?”
“It’s likely, so I’ll let you keep your coins and you can return them to her when she comes.”
“What will it matter? I will be dead by nightfall, she will kill me.”
Merry said, “You said she would turn you into a lizard. Well, I believe you would make a fine lizard. Just think how very fast you will climb trees. How long have you been tending me?”
“Two days now. I wake ye up, bathe ye, feed ye, give ye some drink from this bottle of water yer mother left fer ye, and help ye relieve yerself. Then ye drift off again, like a sweet little lamb.”
Merry took the basket from the old woman and led her unresisting out the wooden front door.
She looked back at the stark, ugly tower that sat in the middle of an enclosure. Was Garron still in London? Did he believe her dead, and returned to Wareham? She didn’t know what to do. But at least she knew how to begin.
“Let us go,” she told the old woman. “Quickly.”
They walked through the woods, as fast as she could prod the old woman along. Merry wished the old woman was a lizard, they’d certainly move faster. When finally they reached the small clearing where the woodcutter’s hut sat, Merry stopped and looked carefully around. “How do I get out of this forest?”
The old woman pointed. Merry opened the basket and looked inside. There were slices of partridge, a thick loaf of brown bread, and a flask. She smiled at the old woman. “There is a lot of food here. What would you like to have?”
The old woman immediately picked up the brown bread. When Merry pointed to the meat, she shook her head.
“Would you like what is in the flask?”
“Nay, young’un. Ye’re thirsty, ye drink it. And the meat, it’ll fill up yer belly.”
Merry grabbed the meat, set the basket on the ground, and began running toward the woods. She called out over her shoulder, “Enjoy your dreams.”
She’d no sooner reached the trees when she heard a loud whooshing sound. She dove behind a thick, ancient maple tree.
46
WAREHAM CASTLE
It trained only one day on their journey back to Wareham, a light, warm rain that even Robert Burnell didn’t mind. He merely wound his long woolen scarf around his head and tied it beneath his chin. All thoughts, all conversation, Robert Burnell’s included, was about Arthur’s silver coins. Garron actually saw Burnell rubbing his hands together, doubtless contemplating the king’s pleasure when he returned to place pouches of silver coins in the king’s eager hands. The king had sent twenty of his most trusted soldiers with Burnell to guard his share. Damn you, Arthur.
It seemed to Garron that he was the only one who cared where the silver coins had come from.
He looked over at Merry, who was humming a tune he’d heard at court. She wore no covering over her head. Her glorious hair shone beneath the afternoon sun, long and loose, not a single small braid hidden here or there. The queen’s ladies must have told her the thick plaits were for a child, not a grown lady who was shortly to marry. He wanted to tell her they were wrong, that he really liked the fat plaits and the small hidden braids, and the smell of her hair. He pulled Damocles close to her mare. “You’re thoughtful. Are you making a list of all that you wish to do with Arthur’s silver?”