Once the soldiers and the bridge were no longer in sight, Wistan stopped and suggested they leave the main road to follow a narrow path rising up into the woods.
“I’ve always had an instinct for my way through a forest,” he said. “And I feel sure this path will allow us to cut a large corner. Besides, we’ll be much safer away from a road such as this, well travelled by soldiers and bandits.”
For a while after that, it was the warrior who led the party, beating back brambles and bushes with a stick he had found. Edwin, holding the mare by her muzzle, often whispering to her, followed closely behind, so that by the time Axl and Beatrice came in their wake, the path had been made much easier. Even so, the short cut—if short cut it was—became increasingly arduous: the trees deepened around them, tangled roots and thistles obliging them to attend to each step. As was the custom, they conversed little as they went, but at one point, when Axl and Beatrice had fallen some way behind, Beatrice called back: “Are you still there, Axl?”
“Still here, princess.” Indeed, Axl was just a few paces behind. “Don’t worry, these woods aren’t known for special dangers, and a good way from the Great Plain.”
“I was just thinking, Axl. Our warrior’s not a bad player at that. His disguise might have had me fooled, and never letting up with it, even with that brute tugging his hair.”
“He performed it well, right enough.”
“I was thinking, Axl. It’ll be a long time we’re away from our own village. Don’t you think it a wonder they let us go when there’s still a lot of planting to do, and fences and gates to be mended? Do you suppose they’ll be complaining of our absence when we’re needed?”
“They’ll be missing us, no doubt, princess. But we’re not away long, and the pastor understands our wishing to see our own son.”
“I hope that’s right, Axl. I wouldn’t want them saying we’re gone just when they have most need of us.”
“There’ll always be some to say so, but the better of them will understand our need, and would want the same in our place.”
For a while they continued without talking. Then Beatrice said again: “Are you still there, Axl?”
“Still here, princess.”
“It wasn’t right of them. To take away our candle.”
“Who cares about that now, princess? And the summer coming.”
“I was remembering about it, Axl. And I was thinking maybe it’s because of our lack of a candle I first took this pain I now have.”
“What’s that you’re saying, princess? How can that be?”
“I’m thinking it was maybe the darkness did it.”
“Go carefully through that blackthorn there. It’s not a spot to take a fall.”
“I’ll be careful, Axl, and you do the same.”
“How can it be the darkness gave you the pain, princess?”
“Do you remember, Axl, there was talk last winter of a sprite seen near our village? We never saw it ourselves, but they said it was one fond of the dark. In all those hours we had of darkness, I’m thinking it might sometimes have been with us without our knowing, in our very chamber, and brought me this trouble.”
“We would have known had it been with us, princess, dark or not. Even in thick blackness, we would have heard it move or give a sigh.”
“Now I think of it, Axl, I think there were times last winter I woke in the night, you fast asleep beside me, and I was sure it was a strange noise in the room roused me.”
“Likely a mouse or some creature, princess.”
“It wasn’t that kind of sound, and it was more than once I thought I heard it. And now I’m thinking of it, it was around the same time the pain first came.”
“Well, if it was the sprite, what of it, princess? Your pain’s nothing more than a tiny trouble, the work of a creature more playful than evil, the same way some wicked child once left that rat’s head in Mistress Enid’s weaving basket just to see her run about in fright.”
“You’re right what you say there, Axl. More playful than evil. I suppose you’re right. Even so, husband …” She fell silent while she negotiated her way between two ancient trunks pressing against each other. Then she said: “Even so, when we go back, I want a candle for our nights. I don’t want that sprite or any other bringing us something worse.”
“We’ll see to it, don’t worry, princess. We’ll talk to the pastor as soon as we return. But the monks at the monastery will give you wise advice about your pain, and there’ll be no lasting mischief done.”
“I know it, Axl. It’s not a thing to worry me greatly.”
It was hard to say if Wistan had been right about his path cutting off a corner, but in any case, shortly after midday, they emerged out of the woods back onto the main road. Here it was wheel-rutted and boggy in parts, but now they could walk more freely, and in time the path grew drier and more level. With a pleasant sun falling through the overhanging branches, they travelled in good spirits.
Then Wistan brought them to a halt again and indicated the ground before them. “There’s a solitary rider not far before us,” he said. And they did not go much further before they saw ahead of them a clearing to the side of their road, and fresh tracks turning into it. Exchanging glances, they stepped forwards cautiously.
As the clearing came more into view, they saw it was of a fair size: perhaps once, in more prosperous times, someone had hoped to build a house here with a surrounding orchard. The path leading off from the main road, though overgrown, had been dug with care, ending in a large circular area, open to the sky except for one huge spreading oak at its centre. From where they now stood, they could see a figure seated in the shadows of the tree, his back against the trunk. He was for the moment in profile to them, and appeared to be in armour: two metal legs stuck out stiffly onto the grass in a childlike way. The face itself was obscured by foliage sprouting from the bark, though they could see he wore no helmet. A saddled horse was grazing contentedly nearby.
“Declare who you are!” the man called out from under the tree. “All bandits and thieves I’ll rise to meet sword in hand!”
“Answer him, Master Axl,” Wistan whispered. “Let’s discover what he’s about.”
“We’re simple wayfarers, sir,” Axl called back. “We wish only to go by in peace.”
“How many are you? And is that a horse I hear?”
“A limping one, sir. Otherwise we are four. My wife and I being elderly Britons, and with us a beardless boy and a half-wit mute lately given us by their Saxon kin.”
“Then come over to me, friends! I have bread here to share, and you must long for rest, as I do for your company.”
“Shall we go to him, Axl?” Beatrice asked.
“I say we do,” Wistan said, before Axl could respond. “He’s no danger to us and sounds a man of decent years. All the same, let’s perform our drama as before. I’ll once more affect a slack jaw and foolish eyes.”
“But this man is armoured and armed, sir,” Beatrice said. “Are you certain your own weapon is ready enough, packed on a horse amidst blankets and honey pots?”
“It’s well my sword’s hidden from suspicious eyes, mistress. And I’ll find it soon enough when I need it. Young Edwin will hold the rein and see the mare doesn’t stray too far from me.”
“Come forth, friends!” the stranger shouted, not adjusting his rigid posture. “No harm will come to you! I’m a knight and a Briton too. Armed, it’s true, but come closer and you’ll see I’m just a whiskery old fool. This sword and armour I carry only out of duty to my king, the great and beloved Arthur, now many years in heaven, and it’s almost as long surely since I drew in anger. My old battlehorse, Horace, you see him there. He’s had to suffer the burden of all this metal. Look at him, his legs bowed, back sunk. Oh, I know how much he suffers each time I mount. But he has a great heart, my Horace, and I know he’d have it no other way. We’ll travel like this, in full armour, in the name of our great king, and will do so till neither of us can take another step. Come friends, don’t fear me!”
They turned into the clearing, and as they approached the oak, Axl saw that indeed, the knight was no threatening figure. He appeared to be very tall, but beneath his armour Axl supposed him thin, if wiry. His armour was frayed and rusted, though no doubt he had done all he could to preserve it. His tunic, once white, showed repeated mending. The face protruding from the armour was kindly and creased; above it, several long strands of snowy hair fluttered from an otherwise bald head. He might have been a sorry sight, fixed to the ground, legs splayed before him, except that the sun falling through the branches above was now dappling him in patterns of light and shade that made him look almost like one enthroned.
“Poor Horace missed his breakfast this morning, for we were on rocky ground when we awoke. Then I was so keen to press on all morning, and I admit it, in an ill temper. I wouldn’t let him stop. His steps grew slower, but I know his tricks well enough by now, and would have none of it. I know you’re not weary! I told him, and gave him a little spur. These tricks he plays on me, friends, I won’t stand for them! But slower and slower he goes, and soft-hearted fool I am, even knowing full well he’s laughing to himself, I relent and say, very well, Horace, stop and feed yourself. So here you find me, taken for a fool again. Come, join me, friends.” He reached forward, his armour complaining, and removed a loaf from a sack in the grass before him. “This is fresh baked, given to me passing a mill not an hour ago. Come, friends, sit beside me and share it.”
Axl held Beatrice’s arm as she lowered herself down onto the gnarled roots of the oak, then he sat down himself between his wife and the old knight. He felt immediately grateful for the mossy bark behind him, the songbirds jostling above, and when the bread was passed, it was soft and fresh. Beatrice leant her head against his shoulder, and her chest rose and fell for a while before she too began to eat with relish.