Behind us the field narrowed towards a wooden gate, surrounded on both sides by thick blackberry bushes. Birds sang and the sun shone bright amidst a new, blue sky, an innocent backdrop to the malevolent drama in which we were embroiled. Behind the gate the high street, dry, dusty, and silent.
I walked up the slope and peered over the gate. ‘Elks did say we might live freely.’
Dowling squeezed past and stepped onto the road, facing west. ‘I say we talk to Elks.’
‘Did you not hear Mary Hancock?’ I protested. ‘He will lock us in the cage. I say we go everywhere except Elks’ house. Speak to others in the village and ask if they have seen Josselin.’
‘Harry.’ Dowling said my name like he spoke to a small child. ‘The village is plagued and you would wander the streets knocking on doors? There is no better method I can think of by which to find the Pest.’
‘We must avoid Elks at all costs,’ I replied, angered.
‘Yet he is the first we shall meet if we follow your plan.’ Dowling spoke so sweet I felt like punching him on the nose.
‘Then what is your idea?’ I answered, angry.
Dowling sighed. ‘If Josselin is in Shyam, then likely Elks is the only one who knows it,’ he argued. ‘Josselin is a hero in these parts. If they thought he resided here, they would react same as Mary Hancock. Elks knows that. So if Josselin came to Shyam seeking sanctuary, and Elks saw him first, then …’ He shrugged.
‘If Elks killed Josselin he is unlikely to confess it to us,’ I retorted.
‘He may not confess it, but it would be interesting to see his response.’
I scratched my head, uncertain what to do. ‘About as interesting as renewing acquaintance with Withypoll.’
‘We will go to Elks’ house, at least,’ Dowling insisted. ‘If he is there, we can turn back. If not, at least we might find some sign that Josselin’s been this way.’
Had we not found Josselin’s book upon the road this puzzle would seem simpler. ‘We don’t know where to find Elks’ house.’
‘We will find it,’ Dowling declared, striding off down the middle of the street.
I hurried after him, casting glances at the shadowy buildings looming out of the thinning mists. No one moved or made a sound. Were the occupants of all these houses dead?
At my insistence we left the road once we neared the church, following the graveyard wall round and into the trees. The forest closed in upon us once more. Trees reached over gravestones, protecting them from the worst of the summer heat. Long tendrils of ivy crept silently up and over the wall, entangling whole stones in their stifling embrace. There appeared no clear path for us to follow. Dowling burrowed through the undergrowth, rattling trees and destroying bushes. If there was anyone even close to the church they could not help but notice our presence.
At last we emerged upon the other side of the village, scratched and dishevelled, in a small clearing not ten paces from the road. Another path led off to the left.
I recalled the words of the landlady who spat upon my shoes. ‘Past Elks’ house is a thicket. His house stands halfway between the church and William Braine’s house,’ I remembered. ‘Braine’s house cannot be far if Town Head is just over the bridge. So Elks’ house must be close, and we must be close to the thicket.’
‘I reckon we’re in the thicket,’ said Dowling. ‘So we take the path to the left and watch for cottages.’
‘It leads down to the Delf,’ I realised. ‘Out of the village. They will arrest us if we are caught.’
‘You prefer the road?’
‘No,’ I snapped. ‘I was just saying.’
‘Stop!’ Dowling held up a hand. He lifted his nose to the air and narrowed his eyes, listening to the wind in the trees.
I heard nothing, nor smelt anything.
‘Someone is following us,’ he said at last. ‘He hangs back behind, watching.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I hear him shuffling.’
I strained my own ears but could hear nothing specific. ‘A bird or an animal.’
Dowling shook his head.
‘Who, then?’ I wondered, nervous. ‘It can’t be Elks; he would have arrested us as soon as we set foot on that path.’
Dowling stared thoughtfully towards the road. ‘I doubt he will show himself.’
To return the way we came would be pointless. To step out on the road so close to the church would attract the attention of all. ‘We carry on,’ I decided.
Dowling headed left, sweeping aside loose branches clawing at his clothes. I followed, bracing myself against surprise attack.
The path fell off steeply and I almost tripped as we clambered down a bank, tearing the skin of my face against a stray thorn, but then it flattened and broadened out onto the forest floor. The tangled bushes disappeared, replaced by a wide expanse of trees, the ground between them covered only with leaves and low scrub.
‘Come on,’ Dowling beckoned, pointing to a fallen trunk. ‘We’ll lie behind it and see who comes.’
I hurried after him and lay against the grassy floor. I watched from between a cleft in the dead wood at one end of the log, Dowling watched from the other.
‘This must be where Josselin brought Elks’ dog,’ I whispered.
‘If that is indeed what happened,’ Dowling replied, gruff. ‘We have only the word of a foul-tempered landlady.’
A large spider stepped onto my sleeve and crept carefully across my wrist.
‘There,’ Dowling whispered. ‘Someone has reached the edge of the bushes.’
I saw nothing. Perhaps the bushes trembled a bit.
‘He’s not sure,’ Dowling said.
His eyes were at least twenty years older than mine, so how could he see what I couldn’t? Maybe he was going mad. I eyed him sideways, saw him squinting intently.
‘It can’t be anyone local,’ I said. ‘They wouldn’t dare descend into the Delf.’
‘It’s a man,’ Dowling murmured. ‘Dressed a bit like you.’
Then I saw him, a lean fellow with cropped scalp, wearing a linen shirt and close-fitting breeches above brown, leather riding boots. A simple costume well cut. A sword hung from his belt, gleaming dull in the low light beneath the forest canopy. He stepped out onto the leafy floor like a mouse venturing from beneath a cupboard, then scanned the scene afore him before hurrying down the track.
‘Who the devil is it?’ Dowling muttered. ‘Some trick of Arlington’s?’
‘Most likely,’ I replied. ‘Send two spies in to do a job, then another spy to spy on the spies.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Dowling. ‘Yet he treads less fearfully than we do. Why does he not worry about Elks?’
‘Because he works for Elks.’
‘Then why does he not rally reinforcements to catch us before we make an escape through the Delf?’ He shook his head. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘We should follow him and find out,’ I suggested, heart pounding.
‘He will hear you coming a hundred yards away,’ said Dowling, which remark left me speechless, coming from such a great elephant.
We lay there upon the forest floor for another hour or more, waiting to see if he would return, which he did not.
By the time I stood, I was soaked to the skin with morning dew. Dowling staggered to his feet like an old man, and we crept down the same path where walked the stranger. The village lay off to our right, hidden behind a thick row of more linden trees. Another fifty yards on the path led downwards again, into the depths of the green dell.
I turned back. ‘We have come too far. The house must be closer to the street than we hoped.’
Dowling took a few steps off the track. ‘It cannot be too far, else Josselin would not have thought to bring the dog here. There must be a cottage just inside the row of trees with easy passage out into the forest. We just need to look closer.’ He led us up to the treeline and we backtracked towards the church.
Not more than twenty strides back we found the passage, branches from either side grown into each other to form a tight tunnel. The entrance was overgrown and the pathway covered in long grass. The cottage sat tucked inside the trees, perched upon a shallow rise. All was quiet.