The Crowfield Curse (25 page)

Quickly and silently, all the animals and fays slipped back to the woods, leaving only their tracks in the snow to show they had ever been there at all.

William and Shadlok faced each other silently for several moments; then Shadlok leaned down and lifted Jacobus's body onto his shoulders. He set off up the slope, back to the track and the horses. William followed and stopped for a moment when he reached the trees. A light wind sent snow dancing and whirling through the Hollow. Huge soft flakes settled on the ground around the empty grave. William was not sure if it was his imagination, but the atmosphere in the clearing seemed to have changed. It did not feel so hostile. The air felt lighter and fresher, as if the snow-laden wind had blown away the ancient presence lurking there. Pulling his jacket more tightly around his body, William turned and hurried after Shadlok.

C
HAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

 

 

W
hen William reached the trackway, Shadlok was waiting for him. He had slung Master Bone's body over the back of his horse, and stood holding the reins of all three horses. Snowflakes dusted Master Bone's cloak.

“Are we still going to Weforde?” William asked.

“No. We will take Bone's body back to the abbey,” Shadlok replied, handing him Matilda's reins. “I am sure the monks will not begrudge him burial.”

They walked along without talking for a while. William could see Shadlok's face in the dusk and something in the set of the fay's jaw told him he would be wise to keep silent, but there were things he needed to ask.

“How did you know the angel could overturn the Dark King's curse?”

Shadlok glared at him. “Do you
ever
stop talking?”

“I helped you tonight. You owe me an explanation.”

The fay sighed heavily. “There are tales amongst the fay of creatures who pass freely amongst the stars, who were already ancient when this world was new. They have the dust of creation on their feet.” He turned to look at William. “They have many names.
Angel
is but one of them. They have the power over life and death itself, so it is said. They are the only creatures other than the Creator who could undo the Dark King's curse of eternal life on Jacobus Bone. For many centuries Bone and I searched for them in vain. We finally came across a book in an abbey in France eighty-two winters ago, with pictures of the death of just such a creature, but we knew it could not die. We set out to find its grave and our journey brought us to Crowfield Abbey. The rest of the story you know.”

William shivered. What if Shadlok and Master Bone had not discovered the book in the French abbey? Would the angel have lain in the earth until Judgment Day? There were so many questions and no answers, just mysteries wrapped inside puzzles, like the layers of an onion, one inside another.

“What about Brother Snail?” William asked at last.

“The monk is unharmed,” Shadlok said.

“So he'll wake up now?”

Shadlok's eyes narrowed. “You doubt me?”

William shrugged.

The fay stared ahead, his eyes as cold as the snow whirling past his face.

William was uncomfortably aware that he had managed to insult Shadlok. They continued on their way in silence.

There was one last thing William still wanted to know. It had been troubling him since their visit to Dame Alys's house. “What was the thing in the bird-mask that I saw yesterday?” he asked.

Shadlok glanced at him. “I believe it was one of the old gods of this land.”

“A god?” William said in surprise. “But there's only one, isn't there?”

“There is only one Creator,” Shadlok said, nodding, “but there are many others who have been worshipped as gods, and the thing you saw in the hut is one of them. It inhabited a sacred grove of trees that was cared for by the woman's ancestors. It seems she has not turned her back on the old ways, as so many others have.”

“But what
is
it? Is it a fay, or a demon?” William persisted. “A ghost, perhaps?”

There was an odd glitter in Shadlok's eyes as he turned to look at William. “It is an angel.”

William stared at Shadlok. “An
angel
? It can't be.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was evil,” William said.

“Like fays and humans, there are dark and light angels. I believe the angel you saw in the woman's house is a creature of the darkness. The angel we freed from its grave was sent here to hunt it down.”

“That was why Dame Alys never told anyone about the angel,” William said, suddenly understanding. “She must have known it wasn't really dead and she didn't want anyone to find it, because it would come after
her
angel.”

Shadlok nodded. “Exactly, and she could not allow that to happen. A word of warning: The woman and the angel she serves are drawn to those whose hearts are good, people like you. Turning
you
from the Creator would matter more to them than you could ever imagine. Stay away from Dame Alys from now on.”

William bowed his head. He just hoped
she
would stay away from
him
.

Shadlok touched William's arm and pointed toward a stand of birch trees a little way ahead. The thin white trunks were pale stripes against the dark woods. William couldn't see anything to explain the fay's sudden wariness.

“What?” William said, frowning. “There's nothing there.”

“Look again,” Shadlok said softly. He drew his sword and handed the reins of the two horses to William. “Stay behind me.”

Peering through the snow, William thought he glimpsed something green move between the trees. Shadlok walked slowly along the track, sword at the ready, until he reached the birches, and then he stopped. William heard him say something, but the wind carried the words away.

The horses started to pull at their reins. Matilda whinnied and jerked her head back. The other two danced nervously, eyes rolling and nostrils flaring as fear infected them. William turned his back on Shadlok as he struggled to control the horses.

“Steady!” he said, trying to stroke Matilda's neck, but she was beyond listening to him.

William looked over his shoulder. All he could see of Shadlok was his white hair. In front of him was a blur of green. Was it the Dark King? he wondered anxiously. Had he come to kill Shadlok?

William felt powerless. He couldn't help Shad-lok, and unless he let go of the horses' reins and made a run for it, he couldn't help himself, either.

“Hush, Tildy,” he said, desperately trying to calm the horse. The other two tugged at their reins and he had to wrap the thin leather strips around his wrists to stop them slipping out of his grip. He kept a wary eye on the pawing hooves.

Something touched William's shoulder and he turned, half expecting to find a sword blade pointing at his throat. To his surprise, he saw Shadlok standing in front of him, his face tense, his eyes narrowed to icy slits.

“Give me the reins,” the fay said.

William did as he was told. He looked at the stand of birch trees. The patch of green had gone. “Was that the king?” he asked anxiously.

Shadlok nodded. He whispered something to the three nervous horses, stroking their muzzles and patting their necks. William was astonished to see their ears prick forward as they listened to him. They grew calmer, and Matilda nuzzled his shoulder gently.

“He came to tell me that I will be allowed to live for now, and to warn you that he will not forget your part in what happened today.”

William felt sick. How was that fair? “But I didn't have a choice in the matter.”

“That means nothing to him,” Shadlok said scornfully. “The king is cunning and his memory is long, human. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you at all times. He will come for you when you least expect it.”

William gave Matilda's reins a tug and put his head down against the driving snow. Sick dread churned in his stomach. Was Shadlok right? Would the Dark King really come after him, simply because he'd been forced to help dig up the angel? William urged Matilda on. He wouldn't be happy until he was safely inside the abbey walls.

C
HAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

 

 

T
he snow stopped shortly before dawn. The walls of the abbey were stark and gray against the dazzling brilliance of the garden and sheep pasture as William trudged through the snowdrifts to the infirmary. His breath clouded around his head. A bell rang out, calling the monks to the church for prime. Later that morning, after mass and the daily chapter meeting, Master Bone was to be buried.

William let himself into the infirmary and closed the door behind him quickly, so as not to let the cold air into the room. Not that it would have made a great deal of difference. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside.

Brother Odo was huddled on his stool in front of the altar at the far end of the infirmary, wrapped in a thick woollen cloak. He had his back to the rest of the chamber. He did not turn around or appear to be aware that William was there.

The old monk had placed wooden screens on either side of Brother Snail's bed to block drafts and hold in the warmth from the brazier. Apple-wood smoke scented the air and drifted up to the rafters.

William stood beside Snail's bed. The monk was lying curled over on his side, with one hand under his chin, snoring softly. There was a faint flush of color in his cheeks. William looked down at him for a few moments, and then reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

“Brother Snail?” he said.

The monk's eyelids fluttered and opened. The blue eyes gazed vaguely around and settled on William.

“Will, how good to see you, lad.” His voice was weak but his smile was wide.

William grinned back, hugely relieved.

There was a scrabbling in the straw beneath the bed and the hob appeared. He climbed up to sit beside the monk. His fur was sleek and as glossy as a chestnut. It seemed the hob had passed the time grooming himself. His tail curled over Brother Snail's shoulder.

“The snail brother started to wake at dusk yesterday. I gave him some water.” The hob patted Snail's cheek with a small, leathery paw. “He is much better now.”

William sat on the edge of the bed, his chest swelling with happiness to see his friend none the worse for Shadlok's spell.

“Brother Walter tells me Master Bone is dead,” Snail whispered. “What happened, Will?”

William told the monk and the hob everything that had happened in the Hollow. They listened in silence.

“You found the angel,” Brother Snail said, a look of elation in his eyes, “and it is
alive.
Will, that is wonderful! A miracle.”

William nodded, smiling at the monk's obvious delight.

“How I envy you, seeing such a thing. And its wings? What did they look like?” There was an almost childlike excitement in Brother Snail's voice.

“They reached from its shoulders to its feet, and were as white as swans' wings,” William said.