Longbow Girl Page 23

  ‘It’s the longbow girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing with her? Why have you brought her here?’ He looked from the men to Merry in disbelief.

  ‘She’s the one who stole Zephyr!’ snapped Scarface. ‘She’s a common thief. Lock her up with the other thief. The false lord who stole the ring. They’re both for the hangman,’ he declared. ‘But the earl and countess want to have words with her first.’

  Merry’s world spun. She could see the man called Aeron resisting the command, clearly knowing what was waiting for her, wanting in vain to protect her from it. Scarface took just one step towards him and Aeron quickly made up his mind.

  He clamped his scarred hand around Merry’s arm, gripping her like he would an unruly horse. Scarface gave Merry a lingering look.

  ‘I’m sure we shall meet again very soon,’ he said, with the soft, hissing sibilance of a snake.

  Merry held her head high, eyed the man till he turned and strode back up the stairs. Never show fear. She knew that lesson from her ponies. But inside she quivered with terror.

  Merry would not submit to her fate. But for now, she didn’t resist, knew she had to pick her time to fight. She allowed herself to be steered along but she looked around, trying to bank down her terror so she could think. She noted every detail: the short hunting bow and the quiver of arrows in an unlocked cell, the axe and the pile of wood in another cell. Weapons, opportunities. The jailer led her past the empty cells. Where was her ancestor, Longbowman Owen? And where was the false lord, the thief destined for the hangman?

  The jailer paused before the end cell and extracted a bunch of keys from his tunic.

  Merry’s heart stopped. Behind the bars, staring at her with complete amazement, was James de Courcy.

  Merry gave a violent start. James opened his mouth to speak, then quickly closed it again. The jailer, working a key in the lock, didn’t notice either reaction.

  ‘Stand back!’ he ordered James, looking up. James took a few steps backwards, eyeing Merry in silence.

  ‘Friend for you!’ said the man.

  He gestured to Merry to go in with a gentle shove on the back.

  Merry feared for a moment that he had felt her backpack, but he made no comment, just locked the cell door and pocketed the keys.

  Merry and James stood frozen, listening to the man’s departing footsteps. When the last echoes of his steps had died, they remained staring at each other, unsure what to say or do until with a strangled cry Merry rushed at James and then they were holding each other, gripping each other as emotions whirled through them.

  Finally they drew apart. Merry looked at her feet, then forced herself to look up into James’s eyes.

  ‘You followed me.’

  He nodded. ‘I knew you were up to something. Something dangerous. I’d never seen you scared, Merry, but you were terrified. I sensed you didn’t want my help ’cause you didn’t want me mixed up in it.’

  ‘That worked well, didn’t it?’

  James laughed. ‘You should have known me better. I wasn’t going to turn away and leave you to it.’

  ‘So I led you here. To the past.’

  ‘Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.’ James’s face turned sombre. ‘I wondered if I would ever see you again. I didn’t think it would be here … in our dungeons.’

  Merry looked back hard into his eyes. ‘They said you were a thief.’

  He nodded. ‘My signet ring, my mother’s gift to me, turned out to have been stolen from this earl,’ he said, giving her a questioning look.

  ‘It was me,’ she admitted.

  ‘But how on earth did my mother get hold of it?’

  ‘I planted it in the burial mound. Parks found it and sold it to some dealer, who sold it to your mother.’

  ‘Professor Parks? A thief?’

  ‘He’s a lot more than that. I’ll get to him later,’ said Merry.

  James rubbed his head as if it was all too much to process. ‘But the ring, why did you plant it?’

  ‘I wanted him to authenticate it, then we’d sell it. We needed the money, and I wanted to get rid of it. I thought it was unlucky.’ She gave him a pained look. ‘I had no idea quite how unlucky. It’s why you’re here. It’s all my doing.’

  James shook his head. ‘You didn’t hold a gun to my head, Merry. I came of my own free will.’

  ‘But you had no idea what you were getting into. Maybe I should have told you everything after all.’

  ‘You should. You can start now.’

  Merry nodded. ‘I will. No secrets this time. And you can tell me everything that’s happened to you. Come on, let’s sit down, wrap ourselves in that blanket.’ She shivered. ‘It’s freezing in here.’

  They sat on the narrow bench, huddling together for warmth, and began to tell each other everything.

  She told him about how Parks had also travelled back, following her through the river, about how he’d attacked Mair, Seren’s ancestor, who’d given her shelter. About how she’d chased and caught and shot him.

  ‘Well done! You know what … I never trusted that man. There was always something about him, under the surface,’ declared James, outraged.

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s not under the surface any more. It’s right out there. I only hope Mair can get some of the villagers to hunt him down.’

  ‘Then what?’

  Merry thought of the knowledge of a healer, the healing and the killing plants.

  ‘Then they’ll deal with him.’ She raked her hands over her face, gazed at James with a kind of bleak despair. ‘God, what a mess!’ She jumped up, gazed down at him. ‘You turned sixteen two days ago! You were meant to sign with Manchester United!’ She turned away. ‘What have I done?’

  James got up, grabbed her arm, pulled her back to face him. His eyes blazed at her. ‘You did what you came back to do, Merry! You saved your ancestors. The jailer rushed back and told me all about it.’

  Merry nodded and her face brightened for a moment. ‘I did that at least.’

  ‘What’s with the glass eye?’ asked James.

  ‘Disguise,’ said Merry, voice laced with regret. ‘Not that it seems to have worked. The countess recognized me as a horse thief.’

  She told him about nearly being caught, wrestling with the countess, fleeing on the Arab stallion.

  She reached out, touched his face just below the vicious cut that disfigured his cheek. ‘What’s with the cut?’

  ‘The earl. He’s fond of ornate rings,’ said James, eyes darkening.

  Merry studied him. She could see in him the same new ruthlessness that ran through her, the same wiping away of the remnants of childhood and innocence and belief that things would always turn out all right.

  ‘You’ve got a new wound too. Still bleeding,’ added James.

  Merry frowned, touched her fingers to her cheek. The blood was still flowing, but more slowly now. ‘Bow broke.’ She felt a whirl of dizziness as her concussion made itself felt again. ‘They will hang us as thieves, don’t think they won’t because we’re young. That makes no difference,’ she said, face hard. ‘What we need to do is figure out a way to escape.’

  She got up, went to the bars, gripped them and tried to peer down the line of cells.

  ‘Is my ancestor down here? Longbowman Owen?’

  Before James could speak, another voice answered from the other end of the dungeons.

  ‘Yes, I am, longbow girl.’

  ‘And who are you, apart from being my family’s saviour?’ The voice continued.

  Merry gave a quick, sharp laugh. ‘That is a long story, Longbowman.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then longbow girl. Time is all we have in here.’

  Merry didn’t answer. How could she start? How much could she tell him?

  ‘You can start by telling me exactly who you are,’ said Owen, as if reading her thoughts. ‘And exactly what you mean by saving the ancestors.’ His voice hardened. ‘And you, fake Lord James, can tell me what y
ou mean by our dungeons.’

  Merry and James just stared at each other. They hadn’t realized their voices would carry so perfectly.

  ‘Come on. I’m growing old here,’ said the man with a mix of humour and impatience. ‘Let’s give you an easy question, then. How old are you, longbow girl?’

  ‘Fifteen,’ replied Merry.

  ‘Ha! Well, you aren’t my long-lost sister then!’ declared Owen. ‘She’s twenty-three.’

  Merry fell silent again.

  ‘All right, let’s get to how a fifteen-year-old girl is the best longbowman,’ he paused, ‘longbow girl, in the county.’

  ‘I’ve practised since I was five,’ answered Merry simply.

  ‘Why? Are there no men in your family? No sons?’

  Gawain, she thought. Would she ever see him again? A piercing, strangling emotion clenched her stomach.

  ‘It fell to me,’ she said. ‘My father was, is, the longbowman. There wasn’t a baby boy to take over, not until last year. So I was trained. He trained me.’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Longbowman Owen.

  Merry sucked in a breath. ‘His name,’ she said, ‘is Caradoc Owen.’

  ‘Another Owen! Where’s he from? I’ve not heard of him.’

  James and Merry stared at each other. James’s look was clear and honest and Merry saw the way forward in his eyes. No more lies. No more evasions.

  ‘He’s from Nanteos Farm,’ she said slowly. ‘The Nanteos Farm that lies in the shadow of the Black Castle.’

  There was a silence, then Owen spoke. ‘Well now, longbow girl. You know that’s impossible, don’t you?’

  ‘No more impossible than a longbow girl winning the tourney.’

  There was a quick laugh. ‘You got me there. So. Explain the next impossible.’

  ‘Time,’ said Merry simply. ‘James and I, we’re not from your time. I am related to you. That’s what we meant by saving the ancestors. You and Rhiannon and Angharad and Gawain are my ancestors. I am your blood.’ Her voice came out lower than usual, rich with emotion. ‘I am your descendent. James is the descendent of the earl and countess holding us all prisoner. These are his dungeons, but nearly five hundred years from now. We’re from the future and we’ve come back to your time.’

  The air seemed to quiver with unasked questions. Pacing, caged footsteps were the only sounds. Finally there was a curse of amazement.

  ‘My mind cannot comprehend it. But it makes sense,’ Owen declared. ‘That’s how you knew about the longbow girl coming, Lord James.’ His voice was full of wonder. ‘That’s how you knew what was going to happen! You’re not an oracle!’

  James laughed. ‘No, I’m not. There’s a book, a lost tale of the Mabinogion, that tells of an angel warrior with hair of gold, coming to save the land of families old …’

  ‘A book,’ marvelled Owen. ‘Telling you a tale that hadn’t happened in my time …’

  ‘Telling my fate nearly a thousand years before I was even born,’ said Merry.

  ‘Merry came back to save you,’ concluded James.

  They couldn’t see the far cell where Owen stood, clutching the bars. He was a longbowman, a warrior, but he could not hold back his tears. He gazed at the dungeon walls, seeing in his head his family, safe in their home.

  Merry and James stood next to each other, looking in his direction, smiling despite everything.

  ‘My debt to you can never be paid,’ the man said at last.

  ‘It’s paid,’ said Merry. ‘I’m alive. At least for the moment.’

  ‘Well, it would seem that you are. Merry Owen and Lord James de Courcy.’ He enunciated their names slowly, as if amazed to say them in the same breath. ‘The closest of friends, by the sound of it …’

  ‘We are,’ said James. ‘And I trust I’m not your sworn enemy?’

  Merry turned to James, raised her eyebrow.

  There was the sound of rueful laughter. ‘Ah, yes, I did vow to destroy the next de Courcy I clapped eyes on … I suppose that’s one vow I’ll have to break.’

  Merry reached out in the damp cell, took James’s hand. The look in his eyes was full of so many things that could not be said. Not here. Not now. There was another silence, punctuated by the slow, percussive drip of water dropping from the ceiling, pooling on the rock floor.

  ‘So tell me,’ said Longbowman Owen finally. ‘How in the name of heaven did you travel back in time? And how are you planning to get home again?’

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. No one spoke. Merry and James moved apart and waited.

  Two men appeared. The jailer unlocked the cell door. Then, with a sweep of velvets and lace, a reek of lavender and a glower of outraged self-importance, the Earl and the Countess de Courcy stepped forward.

  The countess stalked up to Merry and examined her closely.

  ‘I was right!’ she exclaimed, eyes narrowing in fury. ‘It is you!’

  ‘The longbow girl,’ observed the earl, frowning.

  ‘Longbow girl and thief!’ cried the countess. ‘This is the one-eyed pirate who stole Zephyr!’

  ‘But she has two eyes,’ said the earl, stepping closer.

  ‘Let’s see!’ shouted the countess. ‘Brioc, Cranog, hold her arms.’

  Merry knew what was coming. The two men approached her. She struggled but they were stronger and they held her with both hands, fingers digging into her arms.

  ‘Let her go!’ shouted James.

  Scarface took one hand off Merry and tried to backhand James in the face. James blocked the blow with his forearm. The man-at-arms let go of Merry and turned, pulling a dagger from his waistband.

  ‘Like to defend your little friend?’ he asked, with a snarl.

  James stood his ground, rage flooding him. But he knew that Brioc wouldn’t hesitate to use the dagger, would probably enjoy it, so he kept his fists by his side and managed to say nothing.

  Merry stopped struggling. She did not want to provoke Scarface in any way, but the urge to ram her hands out and send the countess flying from her cell was almost overwhelming. Pick your battles, said the voice in her head. Her breath came harsh and ragged and she fought to control herself as the countess reached out her finger and poked her in the eye. The glass eye. To get better leverage, the countess grabbed her head with one hand and probed and poked with the fingers of her other hand and seconds later Merry’s false eye popped from its socket and bounced on to the rock floor. It rolled to a corner under the bench.

  ‘Ha!’ shrieked the countess, releasing Merry. ‘A fake eye! It’s her all right. The one-eyed horse thief!’ She turned to her husband, triumphant. ‘I thought she looked familiar!’ She looked at her own hands in distaste. They were smeared with Merry’s blood.

  ‘Urgh! Disgusting. We’ve seen enough. She’s guilty and will hang!’ she declared, before striding from the cell.

  The earl followed her, speaking to the jailer on his way out.

  ‘Keep her locked up. No food or drink for either of them.’ He turned back to Merry and James. ‘I’ll have a little talk with you both in a day or two. That’s if you can still talk by then …’ he added, with a meaningful glance at Brioc.

  The man-at-arms gave a quick, grim smile. The countess nodded in approval.

  ‘Have word sent to the hangman,’ the earl said to Aeron. ‘He can come and dispatch two little birds with his one noose.’ He paused. ‘Maybe even three …’

  ‘I’m sorry, longbow girl,’ called out Longbowman Owen when they were alone again.

  Merry nodded. She could hardly speak. She was trembling with rage, shock and a deep feeling of violation. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say.

  ‘They’ll pay for that,’ said her ancestor. ‘One way or another.’ His words drifted through the dungeons like a dark promise.

  Merry paced around the cell. Back and forth like a caged animal. James watched. Understood too well. He said nothing, just stood in the darkness out of her way.

  Finally Merry stopped pacing and gripped the ba
rs, looking out. Then she turned back to James.

  ‘You OK?’ James asked. He’d never seen her without her eye patch but he looked at her now, unflinchingly. Merry let him look. There was nothing to hide any more.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she answered. ‘I honestly don’t know how I managed to control myself when that woman was gouging at me.’ She blew out a long breath and rubbed her arms as if to clean something dirty off them.

  ‘What about you? Looked like you had a hard time reining yourself in too.’

  James nodded, his face grim. ‘I could see where it would end up. We couldn’t fight them. We were outnumbered. They had rapiers and daggers. We had our bare hands.’

  Merry shook her head. ‘That’s not quite true.’

  She pulled up her tunic, took her knife from the leg strap, held it up so that the faint light glittered on the cold metal.

  James raised his eyebrows. ‘Not bad.’

  He reached inside his doublet and pulled out his sharp little stone. He clenched it in his palm so that the sharp end protruded like a knuckleduster.

  ‘Handy,’ said Merry.

  She pulled off her shawl and backpack, took out her catapult and stones.

  ‘Useful,’ said James.

  ‘Best present you ever gave me,’ replied Merry. She stashed the catapult inside the skins she wore under the archer’s woollen leggings. The stones she zipped into the tiny pocket at the back of the waistband.

  She put her backpack and shawl back on, making sure the pack was concealed.

  ‘They will hang us, but God knows what Scarface is planning on doing to us in the meantime. We’ve got to escape and soon,’ said Merry, grimly.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ replied James.

  Merry listened carefully.

  ‘I like it,’ she said at last. ‘But it’s risky and we’ll only have one chance. We’ve got to get it right.’

  Side by side in their cell, Merry and James waited. No one came. They were left alone. They could not tell Longbowman Owen of their plan in case Aeron was near, in case anyone overheard.

  Despite their nerves, their fear, they were dozing when hours later, they finally heard footsteps. They jumped up, stamping to bring some circulation back to their feet.