Finally, there was nothing left but to try to sleep. Closing her eyes, putting out a light hand to touch Meggie, deep in her infant dreams close by, Joanna said a swift but heartfelt prayer to the protecting powers and drifted off.
14
In the world beyond the great forest, one of Utta’s companions was already dead. Frieda, who had fallen in love with a man who was not of her faith and who had betrayed both her and her friends, lay violated on the foul floor of a prison cell, her skull crushed.
Two more of them had been rescued from their cell. Driven to this desperate act, their saviour had carried out an act of violence against the man who guarded them, believing their lives to be in grave danger. He was right. The secular authorities would have been content to have the punishment administered and then turn the men loose; did not the relevant statute forbid any man to receive them in his house? The view was that the troublemakers would either return to wherever it was they came from or else perish. Whichever happened, they would no longer be a problem.
But the secular authorities had not reckoned on the Church. Or rather, to be exact, one member of the Church, who, believing in his fanaticism that a heretic ceased to be a danger only when he — or she — was dead, had a more permanent and more certain solution in mind. He wanted them dead, every one of them that could be rounded up.
Even as Joanna and Utta were waking up on the morning following their first night in the yew tree refuge, the hunt was beginning.
Daylight brought to Joanna another long spell of hard physical work. She went back to the hut for supplies and brought back to the yew tree all the dried food she had. For as long as they remained up there in the refuge, they were going to have to put up with a very monotonous diet; she could not risk lighting a cooking fire and so there would be no fresh food. She also filled all the containers that she could find with stream water and lugged them to the refuge. When she had made her last trip to the hut — for her medicinal herbs, since she still had Utta’s wounds to care for — she fastened the door with a special piece of string that Mag had given her, using Mag’s most powerful knot.
She replaced the foliage screen and stood for a moment, breathing quietly and evenly, until she felt the strength rise up into her body from the ground beneath her feet. She closed her eyes the better to visualise the deity, then said a deeply heartfelt prayer that her hut — her precious home — should remain safely hidden away.
Then, without a backward glance, she walked away.
Utta perceived what she was trying to do and came to help. Weak though she was from loss of blood and infection, still she worked with all the little strength she had, lowering ropes, helping to pull up loads and always, even when not actually engaged in a task, nodding, smiling, encouraging Joanna in her efforts. She was, Joanna was quickly realising, a good woman.
She was also excellent with Meggie. One of Joanna’s main problems in her solitary life was only having one pair of hands; whenever Meggie needed something, Joanna either had to drop what she was doing and attend to her or else endure the child’s protests until she did so. Now, when a loudly crying baby was the last thing they wanted in their secret refuge, the problem was poised to escalate into a major difficulty.
Until, the first time it happened, Utta stepped in. With a swift look at Joanna as if to ask for permission, she picked the child up from her furry nest. Cradling her against her breast, she began softly crooning to her, stroking the small back with a smooth, gentle rhythm that Meggie instantly seemed to appreciate. She has the touch! Joanna thought, watching from two branches down the tree as her daughter relaxed into Utta’s arms. Her heart full of relief, she sent up a swift thank you to the Goddess for sending her someone so very useful.
When the two women sat down to eat at noon, Joanna was exhausted. She had stripped to her undergown and, as she downed a very welcome draught of water, she realised something.
The weather had improved.
It was nowhere near so cold, and the Sun now really had some heat in it. The hardest task — of keeping the three of them warm enough — had just been made a great deal easier.
Again, Joanna sent up her thanks. Whoever was up there in the Heavens keeping an eye on them, they certainly seemed to be on Joanna and Utta’s side.
They heard the hunt early in the morning of the next day.
At first they thought that it could have been horsemen after deer or boar; such parties came into the forest from time to time, as Joanna well knew since she had sometimes had to hide from them. Usually they were rich, well-mounted men who had the King’s permission to hunt in his forests.
Joanna, hurriedly pulling up the rope ladder and securing it, found herself a vantage point; there was a small hole in one of the planks, in a place where the platform sat above thinner branches and empty air instead of right over the thick trunk. Quickly she checked on Utta and Meggie; Utta was crouched down against the trunk, wide-eyed with fear, and Meggie was asleep in her nest. Then, lying flat on the floor, Joanna put her eye to the hole and stared down.
The yew tree stood in the midst of undergrowth, but some faint animal tracks led here and there around it. A little further off, one of those small tracks met a larger one, which in turn led to a wider ride that gave on to a clearing. By angling her head, Joanna could make out the end of the ride and the very edge of the clearing.
She could see the men now. There were five of them, well dressed and well mounted. As she watched, three of them dismounted and gave the reins of their horses to the other two. She heard the faint murmur of conversation, then the three men on foot walked towards where the ride branched off from the clearing.
It became clear then that the men were no hunting party. There was a rustling in the undergrowth and then a large boar, presumably disturbed by the men and the horses, suddenly broke cover almost under their feet and raced away across the clearing and into the bracken on the far side.
The men just stood there. Someone made a comment, and somebody else laughed briefly.
Then the men on foot set off along the track.
Joanna did not move. She lay frozen in position, her eye fixed to the men walking so stealthily towards her. She did not dare lift her head to see how Utta was doing; she took the total silence from behind her as a good sign. If only Meggie did not choose this moment to decide she was hungry. .
As the men came steadily closer she could occasionally make out what they were saying. They seemed to be talking about some escaped prisoners; one of them said something about a dead gaoler. Then — and she started with terror — one of them looked straight up into the branches of the yew tree.
She stared down at him. He was a good-looking man; she could not help but notice it, although she berated herself for the irreverence when this very man might be on the point of making a move that would lead to her death. If he spotted the refuge, if he managed to scale the yew’s trunk and came up to investigate. .
He said, in a blessedly ordinary voice, ‘Great old tree, that one, eh, Robert? It’s stood there a thousand years, they say. It must have seen the Romans as they marched along these tracks.’
One of the others answered him, making some laughing comment about a legion needing a wider road than this insubstantial path. The third man had come to stand right under the tree.
Suddenly the first man cried out, making Joanna jump out of her skin. ‘Stop that!’ he roared. ‘Have some respect, damn you, and shed your water somewhere else!’