The Shadow Roads

Sixteen

Jamm was not healing. His cough had grown worse, and he laboredterribly to breathe. The heat of his fever could be felt at a distance, andhis face was an unnatural orange-crimson.

He’s going to die. That’s what Carl thought. Thelittle thief was going to cough himself to death or simply drown in the fluidsgurgling and bubbling in his fouled lungs.

Carl watched helplessly as Jamm endured another spasm ofcoughing, bent double on the hard ground. They had found a spring concealed ina grove of willows that stood like an island in fields of ripening oats. It wasnot a good place to hide during the daylight hours, for if anyone approached,there was nowhere for them to go but into the wheatfield, but Jamm could not goa step farther. Carl tried to keep watch all around, but it was difficult, forthe fields were small and bordered by thick hedgerows and trees. It would notbe difficult for a company of armed men to approach, unseen until it was toolate.

They were hungry, too. No amount of springwater would fillthe void in Carl’s stomach. He found himself eyeing the green oats andwondering if he could eat them and if they would provide sustenance. Carl’sstomach growled loudly.

The day, Carl noted for the first time, was very fine. Justpast high summer, warm but with a breeze from the west. If not for thehedgerows, they would have been surrounded by an undulating sea of soft green.A few errant clouds sailed slowly across the blue, casting small islands ofshade on the lands below.

Carl heard someone talking, then the squeak of an axle, thehollow thumping of hooves. Jamm stopped coughing then and perked up,listening.

“Someone comes!” he said, and tried to suppress a cough.

Carl bent to try to lift his guide but the little man wasbent by another spasm of coughing.

“Go!” Jamm managed, gasping. “Leave me.”

Carl looked over his shoulder. He could still hear the soundof someone approaching-a voice … muttering.

“I’ll help you up, Jamm. We’ll lie in the grainfield untilthey’re gone. Come.”

But Jamm succumbed to his coughing-almost retching, the attackwas so violent. Before Carl could decide what to do, a man appeared, coming upa path through the willows. He was leading a small horse that drew behind it abattered old cart. Seeing Carl, he raised a hand and waved, then took off hisstraw hat and wiped his forehead with a shirtsleeve. Carl waved tentativelyback. He glanced down at his red-faced companion, who was surely not fit to bemoved.

The stranger bore a load of rough-sawn oak in short lengths.A box of tools perched on top, mallet handles and spokeshaves protruding. Theman brought the horse to a stop and stood staring from Jamm to Carl.

“Help me get him into the back of the cart,” the man said. “Mywife is a healer.”

Jamm didn’t protest as he was loaded aboard, but Carlthought he felt light as a child, as though his flesh were melting away. Theman filled a wooden bucket and let his horse drink, then led them down from thewillow grove. He seemed to take a circuitous route, and paused once behind ashielding hedge while some farm laborers passed in the distance.

“’Tis a terrible sickness your friend has,” the man said,shaking his head.

“Yes,” Carl agreed.

“Has he had it long?”

“Just over a day.”

The man took off his hat and wiped his brow again, his facecreased and troubled. Carl guessed he was a man coming to the end of his fifthdecade, his hair thinning, manner quiet and thoughtful. His skin was stained byhours in the sun, and his hands were large-knuckled and calloused, his forearmsthick. He was a tradesman, clearly. A woodworker of some kind.

Carl had the feeling that the man was not quiet just becausehe was in the company of strangers, but that he spoke little to others-despitethe muttering Carl had heard. Complaining, it had sounded like. The complaintsof an aggrieved man. Even so their benefactor did not offer his name, nor didhe ask Carl’s or any other question that Carl would have expected under suchcircumstances.

It was nearly evening when they arrived at the man’s home.His wife came out the door to greet him-she was delicate and sad-eyed, frailwith disappointment. Her fair hair was graying-ashes and snow-and her handswere thin-boned and worn from work.

“Man’s sick,” the stranger pronounced, and his wife hurriedaround to the back of the cart.

She took one look at Jamm, and said, “Bear him in, Thon. We’llput him in the back room. No-in the attic over the woodshed.”

Carl and Thon carried Jamm up a narrow stair to a whitewashedroom beneath the eaves. His limp form was laid on a bed, where he was instantlyseized by another fit of coughing,

The woman put a hand to Jamm’s forehead, then lightlytouched the dark bruises and cuts on his face. Gently she peeled his shirt awayfrom his sweating torso to reveal more bruises.

“Who beat him like this?” she said softly.

Carl looked warily from man to woman. They would turn themover to the Renne in an instant once it was learned who they were-or worse, toVast.

“Soldiers,” Carl said. “Drunken soldiers.”

The woman turned to her husband. “I will need cold waterfrom the well and cloths. We must bring his fever down. Boil waterwillow barkin my small pan.”

The man went off, his boots almost silent on the stairs.

“Open the window, would you?” she said. “A breeze will help.Poor man. His ribs are cracked or broken, and bile has collected in his lungs.”

Thon returned with a bucket of well water and cloths. Thewoman soaked a cloth and gently bathed all of Jamm’s wounds and bruises. Onecloth she folded neatly and laid across his forehead, a single large towel wassoaked and laid over his torso. The window opposite was opened, and a breezeswirled softly through the room.

“We don’t know how to thank you,” Carl said, as the husbandretreated down the stairs again. “We were just traveling across the Isle whenthe soldiers found us.”

“We know who you are,” the woman said, gently washing Jamm’sneck. She didn’t look up as she said this, but perched on the bed’s edge, herface serious and sad. “You needn’t fear anything from us. We won’t give youaway to the Renne or their cursed allies.”

But she did not say his name, nor offer her own.

Carl lowered himself stiffly into a straight-backed chair.The rush seat felt like the softest down cushion.

“Go downstairs,” the woman said. “My husband will get yousome supper and warm water to wash in. You needn’t fear for your friend. He issafe. We have common cause, you and I. We will keep you from harm if we can.”

Carl was not sure what purpose would be served by sitting atJamm’s bedside, so he dragged himself up and went down the steep stair, leaningheavily against the wall. He was so drained by their ordeal that he could havelain down on the stairs and gone to sleep. These people might plan to turn themin for the reward, but at that moment he did not care. Let him just have somefood and rest.

Thon knelt before the hearth, stirring a small pot. A largeiron kettle hung from a hook over the flames, the scent of herbs and lambpermeating the air. The room, though not unpleasant, was modest. A hearth, atable and chairs, some once-elegant furniture, now covered in cheap fabrics. Abureau, a bookcase, half-full, a footstool. A sideboard held a set of very finedishes, though they were chipped and faded. Newly made candles hung by theirwicks from a beam, and the sun made swimming squares of light as it filteredthrough thick, nearly opaque glass.

Thon stopped his stirring and ladled stew into a bowl forCarl. He took a seat at the table. The spoon he was given was silver andmonogrammed with the letter L. Eating in silence, he continued to regard theroom. Two portraits hung on the end wall; one of a corpulent nobleman, theother of the same man and his family-wife and seven children. Carl glanced atthe man stirring a pot over the hearth. There was indeed some resemblance inthe high brow, the dissatisfied mouth.

Thon’s wife came lightly down the stairs and favored Carlwith a wan smile, then went to the hearth, straining the waterwillow bark intoa cup. She disappeared up the stairs again.

Thon wiped his hands on a square of cotton and crossedtoward the door.

“Must see to the horse,” he said, and was gone. Carl heardthe hollow clatter of wood being piled, then the squeak of the axle. In a fewmoments Thon returned. He washed his hands and face in warm water, then ladledhimself some stew. He placed a half loaf of bread on a board on the table,along with a much-sharpened knife. With fresh butter it was a great treat.

Thon’s wife descended the stair again, washed her hands, andjoined them at the table, where dutiful Thon brought her food and cutlery.

“He’s sleeping, now,” she said. “He needs that more thanfood.

It is a wonder he’s alive-a beating like that! He won’t befit to travel for a few days, but then we’ll arrange to get you back to theeastern shore, into the protection of Lord Menwyn or the Prince of Innes.” Shebobbed her head toward Lord Carl. “We are not alone, here,” she went on. “Thereare others of us who suffered under the Renne.” She let her gaze come to reston her silent husband. “Our families were stripped of their property andpositions when the Renne invaded. And we’re reduced to this …” She waved ahand at the room around her. “We thought all our hopes had been answered whenLord Menwyn Wills and the Prince of Innes crossed the canal-but we were betrayed.Some traitor had alerted the Renne and they came with an army to drive LordMenwyn away! How I hope that spy is found and his head-”

A silent rebuke from her husband stopped her. “Excuse my outburst,but both our families have suffered greatly these many years. We have a rightto our bitterness.”

“We haven’t done so badly,” Thon said mildly, as he buttereda piece of bread. “Many lives are worse than ours. We’ve not been blessed withchildren. That is my only regret.”

“If you aspire to nothing, you will achieve nothing,” thewoman snapped.

Thon did not look at her. “Want little, and you shall haveall you need,” he answered softly.

His wife glowered at him, then returned to her meal, perhapsunwilling to pursue this argument before a guest. But Carl sensed it was an oldfeud. He glanced at the paintings on the wall. It occurred to him that thedissatisfied nobleman in the painting was her forbear, not Thon’s.

Under the ministrations of Lady Languile, as she preferredto be called, Jamm recovered quickly. Carl was frightened the entire time hewas there and kept cautioning husband and wife to say nothing to anyone-noteven to their confederates who were also loyal to the Wills. There was nothinghe feared more than word getting back to the Prince of Innes that Carl A’dennewas alive on the Isle of Battle. How would Lady Languile feel to know that thecursed traitor of the invasion was sleeping beneath her eaves, and she washiding him from the very man who would take his life-the Duke of Vast.

From outside they could hear the sharp sound of Thon’sspoke-shave as he fashioned a wheel. The man worked tirelessly and withoutcomplaint. Carl was beginning to think he felt some joy in his occupation.

“What will we do when I am well enough to travel?” Jammwhispered. Carl had pulled the straight-backed chair close to Jamm’s bed. Awarm breeze hissed in the leaves outside, and sunlight dappled the floor andwall.

“I don’t know,” Carl answered quietly. “We’ll have to slipaway and hope that nothing comes of it. After all, who are they going to go to?The Renne? They are supporters of the Wills. I worry a little about theirconfederates-whomever they might be.”

“Let us hope that they will simply be mystified when theyfind us gone. The trouble will be getting away from Lady Languile. She is neverfar afield, it seems.”

“True. We might have to go out by night, though how we willget down that rickety old stairway, I don’t know.”

“We’ll go out the window,” Jamm said. “Leave it to me. In afew days. I’m almost well enough to travel. We owe these people that. I’m sureI would’ve perished without-”

The sounds of a horse cut off Jamm’s speech. Carl jumped upand, standing well back from the window, looked out. Through the leaves hecould see a wagon driven by two men entering the quadrangle made up of Thon’shouse and outbuildings.

“Who is it?”

“Two men in a wagon. Local people I would guess.”

Thon put down his tools and strode out to greet thevisitors, shaking hands with each in turn.

Carl went closer to the window, hoping to hear what wassaid. The whispering of the wind in the leaves made it hard to distinguish themen’s words.

“They’ve been hereabout, Thon,” one of the men said, “lookinginto people’s houses, offering a reward. A considerable reward. Someone’ll getwind of them here and turn them in, sure.”

“I don’t let them outside the house by day, Hain.”

“Someone’ll see them in a window, then. Or the Duke’s menwill come upon you unexpected and find them in your house. Then it will be youand them going headless.”

“I’ll take any risk to rid this island of the Renne.”

“You’re a brave man, Thon. None of us doubt that. But still,they’re at risk here, and so are you. We can move them, one stage at a time. It’sall arranged. Day after tomorrow we’ll have them in a boat on the river andupstream to the eastern shore. That’s safest for you and them, and you know it.”

“I’ll have to ask the missus if he’s well enough to travel.”

“Tell her he won’t have to take a step. It’s all arranged.If you give us some hay to cover them with, they’ll be safe as houses. Here,give me a hand to unload this oak. It’s got a few knots you’ll have to cutaround, but the grain is tight as any you’ll see.”

Carl looked over at Jamm. “Shall we go out the back windowand run for it?”

Jamm shook his head. “I’m not well enough to travel on foot-notyet.” Despair appeared in his eyes. “You could, though.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You’re a fool, Carl A’denne … a loyal fool.”

When Thon came for them, Jamm could not descend the stairunaided. His fever was gone, and the rasping in his lungs greatly diminished,but he was not well.

“He’s not ready for this journey,” Thon’s wife argued. “Heneeds more time to recover.”

“We can’t afford to keep him here any longer. Hain’s right. ’Tisonly a matter of time until they’re found here.”

Against the healer’s protests Jamm was lifted onto a bed ofhay in the back of the cart. Carl took his place beside him, and the two ofthem were covered in hay, the dried grasses rustling and settling over them. Agolden light filtered down through the hay, and Carl could almost make out Jammthrough the crumpled stems. The cart set off, jouncing down the lane to theroad, the hay moving and swishing around them as it settled. The sun beat downon the covering of hay and soon had Carl sweating, the heat almost unbearable.When they passed beneath the shade of a long row of trees Carl heaved a sigh.

The two men who bore them on sat talking of the small doingsof the Isle, hardly touching on the recent attempted invasion by the Prince ofInnes. They discussed the personalities of horses and children as though theywere of equal interest. The progress of various crops were examined, varietiesof apples debated, and the beauty of various young women carefully weighed.

“People coming. Be still,” one of the men said.

A greeting was heard and a conversation engaged in. Unfortunatelythey had drawn up in a patch of sun, and Carl’s head began to ache from theheat. The conversation, about nothing in particular, went on at horrificlength, or so it seemed. Carl was almost at the point of sitting up anddemanding they at least be moved to the shade if they must talk the afternoonaway.

But finally the axle started to squeak again, and the slow,sure trod of the horses’ hooves began along the dusty road.

“May I speak?” Carl whispered.

“All clear now,” the driver said.

“We are baking back here.”

“There’s an inn not far off. We’ll stop there for a jar ofale and get you something to drink, as well.”

“Can you leave us in the shade?” Carl asked.

“Aye. That we can.”

The inn seemed infinitely far off, but then Carl fell asleepand lost track of the time. He awakened as the cart rolled to a stop, and Jammpoked him in the ribs.

“Shh,” the little man cautioned.

There were voices around them now, conversation and laughter.A stableboy brought water for the horse and was instructed to leave horse andcart in the shade, which thankfully he did. Carl lay so still he became stiffand sore from lack of movement: couldn’t have the hay pile writhing around.

The inn seemed uncommonly busy, but then Carl rememberedhearing the men say that people who’d fled at the first signs of war werereturning now that the invading army had been driven back. People were rushingback to protect their property and see to crops and gardens.

After what seemed like hours, familiar voices approached,and the two men climbed up onto the box.

“Walk on,” the driver ordered, and gave the reins a shake.

The cart trundled out of the yard and onto the road again. Ahill presented itself, and Carl could hear the horse straining and heaving toreach the top. Once there the cart stopped.

“I think you can safely sit up now,” the driver said.

Carl pushed himself up, brushing the hay away from his hairand pulling all that stuck from sweat to his face. He blew hay dust out of hisnose and rubbed his eyes. The driver and his companion, two slow-moving men intheir fifties, smiled at their state.

One handed Carl a jar of ale. “Here, this will help alittle, I’d guess.”

Hills on the Isle of Battle were not large, but Carl guessedthis might be the highest point on the island. The fields and woods spread outall around, their irregular shapes making a crazy, random pattern. That a landof such apparent peace and rustic beauty had become a place of fear for himstuck Carl as entirely wrong. He almost drained the jar of ale in one go, thenleaned back against the plank that made up the cart’s side. The sun was blockedby ancient elms, their lofty boughs reaching up into the air.

“Two hours more,” the driver said. “Then you can rest a fewhours. Without a moon we can’t move so easily by night, for a lantern mightattract the attention of the companies of men-at-arms and other soldiers whoare still about on the island. Hey up! Here comes someone over the crest.” Thedriver sent the horse on. Carl and Jamm slid back down beneath their quilt ofhay, the cool breeze a pleasant memory.

Greetings were exchanged with the other party, distancesquestioned, weather dissected, the steepness of the hill cursed. A jest wastold, everyone laughed, and they set off again. The road down snaked back andforth across the face of the hill, descending in a gradual but steady slope.Most of the way was shaded by a small wood, for which Tam was grateful.

“Men-at-arms,” the driver hissed.

A moment later the familiar sounds of a company of riderspermeated the hay: the creak of leather, the snorting of horses. Carl tried tolie still, not even to breathe. The cart rumbled off the road onto soft grassand came to a halt.

“You’ve not seen two young men hereabout, have you?Strangers. One a nobleman’s son, the other a thief.”

“We’ve not, Captain,” the driver answered, “but I hope wedo. The missus thinks we could find some use for the reward.”

Some of the riders chuckled.

“Anything in the back other than hay?”

“Just hay, Captain.”

“And where are you taking it?”

“Up to Toll’s Hill. Traded some oak for two piglets due froma fall litter. This bit of hay is a down payment like-a show of good faith.”

“Well if it’s just hay …” the rider said.

“Aye! Careful with that sword!”

A blade hissed down through the hay not three inches infront of Carl’s face. The point dug into the boards on the cart’s floor. Therider drew his sword out, and Carl closed his eyes wondering if it would strikehim next.

“Worried for your hay, are you old man?”

“You just … frightened me, that’s all.”

“I’ll do more than frighten you if you start telling me whatI can do and not do.”

“I apologize, Captain-most humbly.”

“Be on your way then.”

The cart rolled on. Carl could hear the riders set off, thenthe sounds of their passing were lost in the rumble and squeak of the cart’sprogress.

“Are you both unharmed?” the driver asked after a while.

“Cut the space between us,” Carl said.

“We can be thankful for that. Men of that cursed Duke ofVast,” the driver spat out.

If they’d only known that cursed Duke of Vast was secretlyin league with the Prince of Innes and their precious Menwyn Wills. It wasclear none of them had ever met Menwyn-or perhaps it wouldn’t matter. Hischaracter was of no consequence-it was the promise that he stood for thatcounted. The unspoken promise.

A few hours later the cart came to a stop.

“You can come out now,” the driver said.

With some difficulty Carl raised himself up, brushing awaythe hay. They were in a barn, large doors open to the fading day. Pools ofshadow gathered beneath the trees outside. Carl thought he might plunge intoone and hang there suspended, like a swimmer-let the coolness wash into him.

He climbed stiffly down from the cart and helped Jamm do thesame. His muscles almost cried out as he stretched them, then walked back andforth the width of the barn. The smell of cattle and pigs assailed hisnostrils, and the milking cows chewed hay, staring unconcernedly at him, fliesbuzzing about their glistening noses.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night in the loft,” thedriver said. “I’ll bring supper out to you later.” He opened the top of awooden barrel. “There’s clean water in here from the well.” He looked in. “Thoughnot as much as there should be-that lazy son of mine! Drink what you want. Takea bucket and wash off the hay dust.” He looked around at his barn as though he’dnot bothered to do so in many a year. “It’s not much of an inn, but you’ll besafe here this night, I think.”

“It is more than we should expect,” Carl said. “You’ve takengreat risk bringing us here, and that shall not be forgotten. I think LordMenwyn himself might hear of it one day.”

The man glanced at his cousin, the two of them suppressingsmiles of satisfaction. “Well, we’ve done only a small part. You’ve a distanceto go yet.”

Jamm had collapsed onto a milking stool and leaned backagainst the rough planks of a stall.

“Jamm! You don’t look well at all.”

“All that heat … Not good for my fever.”

Carl went to the water barrel and filled the wooden dipperthat hung there. He gave Carl a drink and poured the rest of the cool waterover the small man’s head. Twice more he did the same, and Jamm began to revivea little. He even tried to smile.

“Supper!” the driver said, and he disappeared toward thehouse while his cousin took a fork and emptied the cart of its hay, then ledthe horse away.

“Well, we’ve come this far,” Tam said, “wherever ‘here’ is.”

“Toll’s Hill, or so our driver told the riders.”

“If he wasn’t lying. They were very careful not to speakeach other’s names-harder to do over the course of a day than one might think.”

“Did you notice they never spoke our names either? Wouldn’tit be a jest if they’d mistaken us for someone else!” Wrinkles appeared at thecorners of the thief’s eyes.

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that. Certainly the descriptionthe captain offered fit us well: a nobleman’s son and a thief.”

Jamm nodded and looked away sadly, and Carl immediately feltbadly. Jamm had been a loyal guide, risking everything to get Carl across thecanal … and into the hands of the Duke of Vast.

“Jamm-I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a thief,” Carl said.

Jamm absentmindedly put a finger in a hole in his breeches. “Iam a thief,” he said softly. “I’ve been one all my life. ‘Once a thief,’ theysay, and it’s true. Once you’ve been branded a thief no other life is open toyou.” He glanced up at Carl. “We’d best get some sleep. It might be a long daytomorrow.”

Before they could fall asleep, a meal was carried out tothem, as well as blankets for their beds. The hayloft made a soft mattress, andthey fell asleep to the cooing of pigeons that lived in the barn’s upperreaches. A bit of starlight found its way through windows and the gaps betweenthe ancient boards, offering dull illumination to the geometry of thebarn-beams and posts, braces and rafters. A bit of rain fell during the night,spattering down on the roof. A lonely sound, Carl thought.

Sometime late in the night Carl was jarred from a harshdream by desperate fluttering and wings beating against wood.

“What is it?” Carl mumbled.

“An owl,” Jamm whispered. “Got into the barn through somehole. He’s feasting on pigeons.”

Carl slept poorly after that and woke to a skiff of downyfeathers upon the hay. A few whirled up in a small breeze and went spinningdown from the loft through thin shafts of sunlight that leaked between theboards. He sat up and found their gray blankets spattered with down andcrimson.

“Is it time?” Jamm mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Time for what?” Carl asked.

“To meet the executioner,” Jamm whispered, then his eyessprang open, and he saw Carl, and he began to weep.