Page 10 of Flanders’ Folly (The Curse of Clan Ross #7)

10

WOLFY THE GUILELESS

* * *

F landers, Robert, and Mael strode with purpose for a long while and still hadn't lost the interest of the gatekeepers, so Flanders grabbed his fellows by the sleeves and guided them around the corner of the Smithy's enclosure. Over the clanging of hammer and anvil, Robert shouted, "What do ye suggest?"

"We were told to watch over the bairns," Flanders said. "I suggest we do just that."

"Bairns? Why?"

He grinned. "What do bairns do better than their parents?"

Both men shrugged.

"They tell the truth. They tell the truth."

* * *

Flanders had been a regular guest at Gallabrae for many years, and a favored one at that, until James and the king got the best of Stephan, then left Todlaw in Flanders’ hands. He’d been around enough to know the lay of the place, and little had changed in the past eight years. Thus, the longhouse that was reserved for the wrangling of children was just where he expected it to be.

At Todlaw, it was referred to as the child garden, but the corresponding space Stephan provided for his smallest and newest citizens was hardly cheery enough to be called the same. In the low structure, with light coming only from the ends, there was no learning or singing or playing games—the children were all working. Small tasks for small fingers, but nothing playful or enlightening.

A dozen or so children sat in lines along the dirt floor, their small fingers working nimbly at stripping bark from willow branches—wattle that was used for any number of things. Others sat at rough tables, sorting through piles of dried herbs, separating stems from leaves. The smallest ones, whose heads would barely reach above Flanders’ knees, toddled back and forth with tiny scoops to water a line of clay pots where seedlings were planted.

The woman overseeing them—a thin, sharp-faced creature with wild hair and ragged clothes—eyed the three men with suspicion when they entered. "What business have ye here?"

Flanders kept his shoulders hunched to disguise his height and his hood on in case the woman might recognize him.

Mael took the lead. "Laird Stephan sent us to check on the bairns while the search continues."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Did he, now? And why would he do that?"

Robert spoke kindly. “The witch is still at liberty. The laird fears she might try to steal a child."

The woman's hand flew to her throat. "Odin preserve us!"

"Indeed," Robert added. “So, we're to keep watch until the witch is found. Ye can go about yer business, mistress. We’ll not disturb ye."

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll fetch more water for the seedlings, then." She hurried out, leaving them alone with the children, leaving the door ajar.

Flanders moved among the older workers. Most kept their heads down, but a few brave ones glanced up, curiosity overcoming caution. He knelt beside a girl of seven or eight summers who was stripping bark with particular care. She was far too young to have seen his face before.

"What's yer name, lass?" he asked softly.

The girl glanced at the door before answering. "Moira."

"A fine name. Tell me, Moira, do ye ken where they keep the women who tried to help the witch?"

The girl's eyes widened. "In the pit," she whispered. "My mam's there too."

"The pit?"

She nodded solemnly, her eyes filling with tears. Her small fingers continued to work as if she were afraid to stop. "She only said there was no proof the first one was a witch."

Flanders’ blood boiled and his guts hardened with anger, but he kept his voice gentle. "How many women are in the pit?"

"Ten," said a boy from across the circle. "My mam and sister too."

Robert joined them, crouching low. "And Gerts?”

Moira nodded.

“Don’t tell the woman, or anyone else, but we’ve come to help get them out.”

The children exchanged hopeful glances.

“And we’d like to help the dead woman’s sister as well. But we can’t find her.”

A silent communication passed between their little faces. After a nod from the others, Moira spoke again, so quietly they had to lean in to hear. "She's not in the forest."

"Oh?" Flanders raised an eyebrow. "And how would ye know that?"

She bit her lips shut.

A smaller boy with a mop of dark curls whispered, "Because she's in the muds.”

The girl jumped to her feet. "Wolfy! Ye’re not supposed to tell!"

"The muds?" Flanders didn’t understand.

Mael headed for the door. “Mud and sod dugouts, shelters built along the inside of the palisades. It would help if we knew which one.”

Moira sighed, resigned now. “Wolfy's."

"How do we find it?"

"Last on the left. Please don’t tell her we said.”

Flanders gave the lassie his most charming wink. “Ye’ve done nothing but help her, I swear it.”

Robert lingered, waiting for all the children's attention. “Now, if ye want to help yer mams, do a better job of keepin’ our secret, aye?”

Little heads nodded all around the room. The ones too young to understand thought it was a game and nodded as well. When the woman returned, Robert helped her move her heavy bucket inside and they took their leave, promising to watch from outside to make sure the witch wouldn’t get to her precious charges.

* * *

They stepped outside and Robert closed the door. “What are the chances they’ll all forget our visit, our conversation, and our faces?”

“Not likely.” Flanders shrugged. “We’ll have to move fast is all.”

Mael nodded to the west, where a row of muds sat up against the wood poles of the palisades. Half below ground, the walls of the small shelters needed only half the material of a cottage and didn’t take up much room, though it would take some engineering to keep the rain out. Perhaps the walkway above was enough.

Last on the left, Moira said.

Flanders took a step, but Robert pulled him back. “Now that we ken where the women are, what will we do? Damn me, if the sun isn’t about to come out. In full daylight, we will need a plan.”

Flanders smirked. “I already have a plan to get Gerts and the others out of the pit.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Kill Stephan. In the chaos that follows, ye free the rest.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Aye, nice plan. Just not terribly diplomatic. And difficult to accomplish if we’re thrown in the pit as well.”

“Ye can dress the witch’s sister in my clothes,” Mael suggested. “They’ve let us in the gates. No reason not to let the three of us out again.”

Flanders looked at the spy with new respect. “Ye would do that? Stay behind? Ye’d likely be killed if any suspect ye.”

He shrugged. “Mayhap I can slip out the gates when the hunters return—dressed as a woman.”

Robert shook his head firmly. “They’re hunting a woman, remember? No female will pass those gates without showing her face.”

Mael nodded, but he didn’t give up. “As a man then. After dark. I’ll slip out somehow. I’ll see ye at Todlaw on the morrow.”

Flanders shook his head. “Won’t work. If the three of us get out, that leaves those in the pit. The two of ye take Bella out, in breeches, and once ye’re away, I’ll remove the Rat.”

“And fight yer way out? Through hundreds? On yer own?” Robert’s look said clearly what he thought of that idea. “There is another way. We must find it.”

“Fine. But let’s find Bella first.”

Flanders struck out for the muds and left the other two to come along or not. But if someone else found the woman while they sat havering about it, he’d never forgive himself. At least he would accomplish something.

As he drew near the dwelling on the end, he saw that the walkway above did cover the front of the dugout, but depending on the bent of the rain, it wouldn’t keep the place dry in all instances. Case in point, the steps leading down into it were covered in straw and wet mud, and he had to pick his way carefully else land on his arse.

Luckily, there were no guards nearby, so none stopped him.

The structure was much more impressive on close inspection. The wattle and daub walls were two layers thick and well hardened. He knew because he knocked his knuckles on one of them to warn the witch she was about to receive company. His friends joined him and the three of them stepped inside the dark maw.

He considered, too late, that someone might attack from within. But it mattered not at all, since the place was empty.

A single room. Two raised pallets. No one hiding beneath. There was a wee table and an alcove for a fire with a small mud chimney that ran up the wall. Belongings were kept to a pair of boxes. And a wool blanket was pulled to the side of the entrance in place of a door. A bucket and scoop sat beside it, perhaps for bailing out the rain. Nothing more. Nowhere to hide.

“She’s gone,” Mael whispered.

“Maybe not.” Robert turned for the doorway. “Tell me, what are the chances wee Moira kens her right from her left?”