Chapter 5

Robert Hunter kicked his heels in the castle courtyard with considerable frustration. Not an hour ago, at dawn that morning, the skilled bowmaster had watched his former charges – now a small company of semi-trained archers, march away outside of the castle gates, and now wished rather strongly that he might have stayed with them, perhaps as their sergeant. In truth, this band was not likely marching off towards any glory and even their lance officer, a very minor knight of the Earl FitzHenry was only taking them as far as Aylesford in Kent, where they would replace a garrison of veteran soldiers destined for service in Normandy. No chances for either gold or glory there, the disappointed hunter had to admit!

Robert had performed his assigned training task well that winter and throughout much of the early spring, giving the green raw peasant recruits a proper basic instruction and further training a solid core of the most apt students into young leaders that could continue the company's education and training further at their new posting. With their absence now, the hunter felt something of a pang of loss.

"Don't let sentiment cloud your judgment Squire Robert," the rough measured voice of his friend, the Earl's master of huntsmen, Lefan grumbled. "There be no glory to be had where that lot is going, but knowing our king there'll be blood and steel and clouds of arrow shafts enough for your liking in the years to come, of that I have no doubts! Sometimes you think too much Robert, and I be offering you the cure for that! It's time in any case for our daily exchange of arms ... sword and dagger together today I think. That will get your blood flowing and more than take your thoughts off of the glories of Mars, at least for a few hours. Now, be on your guard!"

The wily veteran huntsman was quite true to his word and in but a swift exchange of blows the former poacher's mind was very much concentrated upon the duel of their dance of steel blades. Lefan apGriffyth was in truth a skilled blademaster and the cagey Welshman was more than Robert's match with either a long sword or a shorter Welsh stabbing dagger. Together he could wield them in beautiful but deadly concert with a skill that none of the soldiers at Larkford Castle could hope to match. In four months of daily sparring with blunted weapon and well-padded leather jerkins Robert had learned (painfully) much indeed but he still was by no means the soldier's equal. Today however, he let his anger and frustration flow out of him and in a rare feat managed to even score a few direct hits upon his better, while taking relatively fewer hits in return than was usual.

"Well done good Robert!" The Welshman crowed with delight, before quite overpowering the still junior swordsman with a carefully choreographed routine of blade strokes that were quite new and unfamiliar to the young hunter. The master having re-demonstrated his superiority of skill then assisted the bruised young man back to his feet and embraced him.

"Now you're showing some spark and that brought out the best from you! You work hard training with a blade it is true, but yet something always seems to hold you back and slows your hand and makes your strokes hesitate. Today you were angry and you at last gave me your best! For this alone I'm glad ... I'd worried that I'd be sending your off to the dangers of London unready. You're a master of the bow, better than any of us here, but the shadowy warrens of a city are no place to fight with an arrow against an assassins dagger or sword. True, your blade skills are quite adequate now and still improving, and while you're still no equal to a trained knight or skilled duelist, I'd admit that you're now better than most that you're likely to face at night in a dark street. Mostly hacks, butchers with a blade, but now I'll know that when the blood is in heat that you'll be a match for them and I'll not fear for you! Now, let us away to break our fast and let us down a few tankards in farewell, for I think that now you'll be off to other duties for your own lord."

Indeed. Robert had received a message from Sir Hugo but two weeks ago reminding him to report to him at the royal household in Westminster, near London once his final charge to the Earl had been completed. With the local company of new archers now nominally trained and in the hands of their new lance commander, this last duty had been fully discharged. He'd report his imminent departure to the old Earl as a courtesy, but no further tasks here awaited him.

"Aye good Lefan, we and your scouts shall raise and drain a few tankards or flagons for I shall miss the good winter ale here as much as the company. Needs must, before I go – or before we've enjoyed too much joy, that I should report first to the Earl and take my final farewell of him, and then, duties complete, I shall be your sworn cup-companion for the remainder of this day and evening, departing on the morrow with a heavy heart and undoubted an even heavier and ale-splitten head!"

Taking his leave of the Earl's household proved to be a small and most incidental matter. While the holder of the castle and lord over all Essex was a fair and reasonable master, his gratitude for services rendered was not considered to be generous by his underlings. As a parting reward for the completion of his service training the local levy of archers, the lord did impart a small sack of good silver, perhaps a crown or five shillings worth. Handy certainly, but not quite the reward that the former poacher had anticipated.

"While I appreciate your generosity of your coin My Lord, I would beg to remind you yet one last time of the offer you made to me at the New Years, confirmed by you again last month, concerned the steading near Braxtun."

This particular reward had been dangled like a carrot before the hunter nearly from the moment that he'd solved the matter of the villainous Lady d'Arcy. While all of those good lands had given back to the king upon her death, this much more minor holding had originally been the nominal property of Reginald, the former chief huntsman to the earl who was now disgraced and in exile. The stead was not said to be much, and quite abandoned as its former owner had made no use of it, but Robert wanted his due. Even a small-holding like this would be a start and would provide him in theory with something of a future home, if needed.

The subtle reminder that the Earl had again promised this small bit of hand to the former poacher once again last month was also a mental prompting that the hunter had on little notice tracked down and captured alive for justice a known outlaw and wolfshead who was causing some bit of trouble near the town of Braxtun. While enroute there, Robert had taken the time to examine this promised vacant property nearly at the juncture of the Blackwater and Easter rivers. The house itself was in much disrepair, being uninhabited since the days of King Henry in likelihood, but there was a small watermill and the land and wood nearby seemed good, with the town itself but a short walk away.

The Earl was not entirely pleased about being reminded about his promise, but as the hunter stood boldly before him unwilling to leave until his oath had been fulfilled, the frugal lord at length shrugged his shoulders and sent for his clerk to inscribe the charter to formally grant the property. Indeed, the Earl had no particular reason other than thrift as to why this rather trivial holding was still vacant. He'd been dangling this minor bauble before several other minor knights (including his new head huntsman Lefan) and now it appeared that he must finally indeed fulfill his thrice given oath and at last bestow it.

Certain that for the time being anyway he had rather exhausted his welcome, Robert made his final farewell bow, and fresh charter in hand the young landowner departed from the earl's chamber, now free to take some lengthy refreshment with Lefan, Elston and the other scouts that he'd become fast friends with.

It was indeed with a rather heavy head that the hunter took his leave from Larkford castle the next morning. As he was on official king's business now, Robert easily arranged for the loan of one of the scout horses from his friend Lefan. When he arrived at the king's household in Westminster the animal would either be returned by a courier or young squire or else if needed, the replacement price in silver sent to the Earl. Either would be satisfactory as currently the Essex scouts had several spare mounts.

The most direct route to London and then Westminster should have involved taking the old Roman road, now a royal highway, directly to Witham and then Chelmsford before crossing the Thames, an easy ride of less than a day, but the hunter had a final quarry that he wished to locate to find. Accordingly, after immediately crossing the bridge across from the castle at Chipping Hill, he then took the muddy river road down the swollen spring rain filled waters of the Blackwater so that he could pay another visit to the rude hut of Orabilia and Maud once again. Like his two previous visits, this one was for quite naught as well, but with this visit Robert had some sense of final closure.

The hunter's time had not been his own for much of the winter and early spring and so he'd only be able to made quick visits here so that he could speak again with the old wise women whose words were mostly riddles. This time he was certain that no further visits here would bear fruit. The hut was quite empty and stripped of most of its comforts and belongings. The rafters were bare of the many dried plants that had been hung there and even the few stone jars that had been used to store berries and other harvest stores were dry and empty.

Thinking that the elderly woman and her lovely young granddaughter had both moved elsewhere, it was only by accident that as he strode back to his waiting horse that he caught a glimpse of bright red just off to his right, upon a small knoll further above the hut and the riverbank. Thinking at first that this was the bright scarlet mane of hair of Maud, he scampered quickly up the slight rise of the hillside and made forth with his greetings, but he was shortly disappointed ... but not entirely surprised by what he discovered there.

Surrounded on its sides by a planted trio of small rose bushes a small grave could easily be discerned. The ground here was still mostly bare dirt with the grass yet no covering this gentle wound to the earth. Undoubted, as per her prediction, this was the grave of the elderly wise-woman. The rose bushes here were quite newly planted as well, perhaps no more than a few weeks or a month ago and just now starting their spring buds. The hunter had observed more mature plants with budding flowers back up the trail near the village and to fulfill at least part of the old woman's final prediction to him he gathered a bundle of the most flowering stems that he could locate, and true to her words the stem barbs did cut freely into his hands as he lay this grave offering to her, providing her with a flowery blanket for her rest.

Robert took a last hard look around the hut but could discern no final trace of the young granddaughter's passage. Whether she had taken the northwest or southeastern paths of the trail could not be guessed since the heavy spring rains of the last few weeks had well obliterated any traces along this scarcely used path. Up near Orabilia's grave where the grass was quite thick, the astute woodsman noted some trampled grass and several heavy shoeprints from a large iron-shod hoof. The mark of a heavy warhorse, Robert decided, with new good quality horseshoes that showed little discernable wear and the discernable prints were all apparently quite identical from the same maker.

The thought of shod hoof prints present at this gravesite disturbed the hunter for some inexplicable reason with an unease that even the warm spring sun and breeze couldn't entirely dismiss. After carefully clearing away the surrounding grass around the best of the hoof prints, he took out some clean parchment and charcoal and with a careful hand he pressed down firmly around the wet mud of the print so that its outline could be clearly discerned upon the parchment. Then the sharp-eyed hunter carefully noted the exact dimensions and shape of the horseshoe, the location of its nail holes and the shape of the iron nailhead itself. While these designs meant nothing particularly to the hunter, a skilled blacksmith or farrier could undoubtedly tell him more. Every blacksmith has their own technique and style and perhaps if the hunter was extremely fortunate the identity of this craftsman could be discovered, and perhaps the rider who attended this funeral as well. Few but knights would possess such a heavy warhorse or even such high quality horseshoes.

Perhaps some of the goodwifes of Sangford, the nearby town where this trail ended to the southeast might know of Maud's passage, and of where she might have gone. Mounting up once more, Robert noted that the once clear skies now promised more rain would be falling soon and soon the curious hunter gave up any final hopes of finding lingering traces of either Maud's gentle passage or the deeper marks of the unknown knightly rider.

Stopping to take an early lunch at the inn at Sangford, Robert found the tapster and most of the other town residents quite eager to please and indulge his questioning. The former poacher was both well-armed with a warbelt and a good sword at his side, handsomely dressed and well muscled and nourished, appearing to be clerk or some gentleman in the Earl's service. A man of authority and some martial prowess whom no one would seek to displease. The innkeeper's wife herself turned out to have good former knowledge of the late wise-woman who lived along the river but claimed with considerable sincerity to know little other than Orabilia had given mention during a business visit to the town in late December to assist with a birthing that this would be her last visit as her health was quite ill. Off-hand it had also been mentioned that her granddaughter would be staying with some distant family 'up north', but no specifics had been offered.

Other village women when questioned told much if not exact the same story and no one could offer anything other than the vaguest hint about Maud's whereabouts now. 'Up north' wouldn't assist Robert in locating her at all ... assuming that he strongly desired to do so. In fact, the hunter really wasn't at all sure why he was in fact so interested and concerned about the young lady's safety. He'd only met her once and they'd hardly spoken, but it was evident that this young creature most sorely interested him in manner that the more overt machinations of the earl's daughter Clare had not shown. While the two had irregularly engaged in sexual congress, in considerable privacy over the winter and early spring, little if any love-bond appeared to connect them.