Scarlet Moon (Once Upon a Time) (4 page)

Ruth had almost forgotten about the man she had seen earlier, but her grandmother’s words reminded her. “I saw a man on my way here today. He was lying naked in the path. He woke up and ran away before I could get a look at his face.”

“Are you all right?” Giselle asked, voice filled with alarm.

“Yes, only puzzled.”

“Some mysteries we should not seek the answers to,” Giselle said ominously.

“What does that mean?”

Giselle smiled, but Ruth could tell it was forced. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re all right. And don’t go chasing young men into the woods. There’s only trouble to be found there.”

“Grandmother, are you warning me about men?” Ruth asked, embarrassed and vaguely amused at the same time.

“I should be; most of them are ill-intentioned toward young women. That’s not what I meant, though. I meant don’t go chasing after strangers. They can be dangerous, especially ones running around in the forest like animals.”

“I won’t,” Ruth said, trying to keep her voice light.

There was a knock at the door and Giselle rose to answer it. She held it wide as a young man and woman entered with their heads bowed reverently.

“Mary, James,” Ruth said, nodding to them both.

They murmured greetings in return. Mary and James were the only ones besides Ruth who visited Giselle. They came to learn from her, and she had taught them much about medicine and nature. Ruth was the only one who knew they were studying with her grandmother. The villagers might not
begrudge a girl calling on her grandmother, but they would be quick to condemn two people calling on an accused witch.

“I should go,” Ruth said softly.

“No, stay and we shall explore the mysteries of nature together,” Giselle urged.

Ruth hesitated for a moment. It was Sunday, so there was no work to be done. Normally she would have spent the day with her father, but he and Peter were doubtless catching up. There was nothing she could do at home, and the truth was, she didn’t want to go back quite yet.

“Thank you,” she said.

Giselle smiled.

For the rest of the afternoon they studied some of the deadlier plants, Giselle warning them how to spot the poisonous ones and how to make some of them safe. Ruth should have been fascinated, but her mind was elsewhere, on a lonely field outside of Jerusalem.

The tears coursed down her cheeks, and she let them. This was the only place such tears were welcome. In the village she had to be strong, both in the shop and at home. Her father did not welcome tears, believing them to be a sign of weakness. Weakness was a privilege that Ruth had given up the day Stephen left for the crusades. Her father was a kind man, but he kept his emotions hidden.

When she was younger he had been a little warmer, but the departure of her brother had been
hard on him. Though he only reluctantly accepted her help at the shop, he did treat her as more of a man than he wished she was.

He wishes I would act more like a young woman. Yet, where the work is concerned he treats me like a man. I guess it is the only way he can reconcile the thought of a woman working at a man’s job. Things might have been so different. How would my life have played out if I had never gone to work at the shop, if I had never learned to fight, if Stephen had never left?

Stephen. Over and over in her mind she imagined her brother dying, run through with a sword on a bloody field, his body falling slowly to the ground. In her mind she saw his eyes as he died, the love and hope fading slowly from them until there was nothing left.

“Monkshood needs to be avoided at all costs,” Giselle said.

Ruth snapped back to attention and watched as her grandmother displayed a plant with deep green leaves and clusters of dark blue flowers.

“This one brings only death, swift and ugly. The tiniest amount of it can cause numbness, and a little more can cause death. It is popularly used as a poison. It grows in moist soil. I haven’t been able to find a single positive use for it yet.”

James turned noticeably paler. “What do you experiment on?” he asked, his voice quavering a little.

Ruth bit her lip to keep from howling with
laughter. She knew all too well what the answer was going to be.

“I will tell you when you are ready to know,” Giselle answered.

James’s eyes widened in alarm and Mary gave a little gasp. Ruth hid her smile behind her hand.

At least Grandmother can still make me laugh
, she thought. The truth was, Ruth herself didn’t know what Giselle experimented on. For a while she had suspected it was animals, but her grandmother cared too much for the woodland creatures to risk harming them.

Then Ruth had thought her grandmother experimented on herself, but that seemed too dangerous and ill-conceived to be true. At last she had come to terms with the fact that she likely would never know.
I would tease her and say she experiments on the townspeople, but given their hatred of her, and her banishment, she would likely find it painful rather than humorous.

“Well, I believe that will be all for today,” Giselle said at last. Her voice sounded strong and clear, almost cheerful, but Ruth could see the pain and exhaustion in her eyes. In one day she had found one grandson and lost another.

Ruth rose and went to her grandmother, throwing her arms around her. The action startled Mary and James, who were unused to seeing such open displays of affection.

“I’ll be all right,” Giselle whispered against her ear.

Ruth nodded, sniffing slightly as she pulled away. Giselle reached out a hand and caught one of her tears. “Do you need to stay here tonight?” she asked, eyes loving and concerned.

“No, I should go home. Father needs me more than ever.”

“Then go, and be safe.”

Mary and James rose from their seats on the floor and said their good-byes. Together, the three of them left the cabin. Outside the cabin they parted ways. As Ruth faced the path she would take back through the woods, she shivered.

It was near dusk when the three left the cabin in the woods. Two went their own way, by a path known only to them, and they were safe. The third walked the same path she always walked, and the trees were afraid for her. It was not safe in the woods—a predator lurked just out of her sight.

The trees whispered, the trees moaned, but still she ignored them. At last a wind whipped up, and as it passed through their limbs the trees began to shriek. She looked up, her face white with fear.

Yes, hurry home, child. Your father is waiting and the wolf is close behind.
She broke into a trot and they whistled, encouraging her.
Faster, he is close at hand.
One of them sacrificed a branch, letting it fall scant feet from her. She screamed and began to run.
Satisfied, the trees began to whisper again amongst themselves.

Ruth was drenched in sweat when she burst out of the forest. She panted as she slowed slightly, her eyes fixed on the village. Heart pounding, she forced her tired legs to keep moving.

Why am I so afraid?
she wondered. ’
Twas only a falling branch.
No matter what she told herself, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been something more than that.
There are times when I hear something—a whisper, a voice—like the trees are trying to tell me something.
She shuddered as she slowed at last to a walk.
The first time I heard it was the day the wolf attacked.

She stopped just short of her home, not yet ready to go in and see her father and Peter. She stood, still winded, trying to banish the fear from her mind, but it was hopeless.

It doesn’t matter what else I’m feeling, the fear is always there. If I’m happy, there is still the fear. If I’m angry, there is still the fear.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe more slowly.
And if I’m sad, the fear is overpowering. No matter how strong I am, how much I can lift, or how well I can fight, I’m still afraid.

She turned and glanced over her shoulder with a shudder. The trees looked like ghosts as the evening fog rolled in. They swayed and shook, though she felt no breeze. what
the woods were, at least for her. For a moment she thought she saw something slipping between the trees, a gray phantom.
It’s just one more of my ghosts,
she thought.
To me, there will always be a wolf in these woods.
She turned away and forced herself to take the last few steps home.

R
uth mopped the sweat from her brow and marveled at how much hotter the forge seemed than usual. The air in the shop felt superheated and she was having a hard time catching her breath.
Today a skirt would have been helpful, at least cooler than trousers
, she thought.

“I’m heading over to the parson’s place,” her father grumbled.

She glanced up with a smile.

“I thought having my own shop, a place where I could work and people could come to me, meant that I wouldn’t have to go out so often.”

“What needs to be done?” she asked.

“One of the large candlesticks is bent and wax is dripping onto the altar, apparently.”

“I could go if you like,” Ruth offered.

“No,” he said, not even stopping to think about it. “You stay here. Simon should be by to pick up those blades a little later. Make sure he pays.”

“I will,” she promised.

Ruth watched him leave with a trace of envy. Her father hated leaving the shop to perform his
job elsewhere, but she could use a change. He would never let her go, though. He was already concerned enough about her image. Having her out working in the public eye would just make it worse.

She turned back to what she was doing. Now that Peter was home, he might begin to help out as soon as he felt stronger.

After working for nearly an hour, she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see a tall, burly man enter the shop.

“Good afternoon, Simon,” she said.

Simon, a tanner by trade, grunted in reply, “Your father here?” he demanded.

“No, but your new blades are ready,” she said, nodding toward one of the worktables.

He crossed and picked one up, examining its edge by running it lightly along his thumb. Even from a couple of feet away she could see the thin line of blood that appeared with the blades passing. It gave her a good feeling to see the sharpness of her blades and to know that her work had paid off.

“They’ll skin a deer twice as fast as your old ones,” she asserted, moving toward him.

He tucked the two blades into the back of his belt before sucking the blood from his skin. “I’ll take them because I need them, but I won’t pay for such shoddy work.”

“Shoddy work!” she exclaimed, cut to the quick. “I assure you both my father and I worked on them,
and they are the finest blades in these parts.”

“I figure a woman would think so,” he grunted, giving her a withering glance. “Tell your father that when he can make better blades I’ll pay for them,” he said, starting toward the door.

“You’ll pay for these now,” Ruth told him, moving between him and the door.

“Out of my way, girl, before you get hurt.”

She balled her hands into fists at her side and braced herself. She might be afraid of wolves and woods, but common men didn’t frighten her. “I know you, Simon, and I won’t be the one getting hurt.”

“Run home to your father, girl. Maybe if you ask nice he can find a husband for you, if there is a man out there willing to bed you.”

“You swine!” she shrieked. She lunged forward and hit him, hearing a crunch as her fist connected with his nose.

He staggered back with an oath, his hands flying to his face. Then with a roar he lunged toward her. She sidestepped and boxed his ear as he lumbered past. He turned, one of the skinning knives in his hand, and was about to come at her again when a man strode into the building and stepped between them.

“Good sir, you will pay this lady what she
is
due and leave this place.” The stranger was tall and very well dressed.

“And who might you be?” Simon asked with a bloodstained sneer.

“William, Earl of Lauton.”

Simon turned pale and took three quick steps backward. “I’m sorry, milord,” he muttered, dropping his eyes.