Free Child of the May by Theresa Tomlinson

said, “but some scraps of meat and our good spring water can sometimes work wonders.”

14
The Return

    Joanna would not leave Fetcher’s side; she brought him water and fed him scraps of meat by hand. It was slow work, but the big rough dog did not die in the night as they’d feared. On the third day he looked much better and though he still could not get to his feet, he whimpered and licked Joanna’s hand.
    “Take the little lass out for a walk,” Eleanor told Magda. “She’s sat by that beast too long.”
    “Yes,” said Marian. “Take her and go to visit the sisters. Ask if they’ve heard aught of Robert’s gang.”
    It took a bit of persuading, but once the two girls were out in the sunshine, striding through the bluebells, Joanna began to look happier.
    “Won’t be long now,” said Magda. “Then you can take him home.”
    “I’m not sure I can find the way again,” Joanna said. “Maybe I can stay here with you?”
    “But what of your parents?” asked Magda. “Are they kind to you?”
    “Mother shouts and Father sends me out in the cold for firewood,” said Joanna.
    “Huh!” cried Magda. “That’s what Marian does to me! Will they be worried?”
    The girl looked thoughtful. “Aye, they will. Mother will cry and Father will be looking and looking for me.”
    “Then I think you should go back,” said Magda. “My father will take you. He’ll take you as soon as he comes back.”
    Sister Rosamund welcomed them to the convent kitchen and brought them bread and small ale. She shook her head and looked worried when they asked for news of Robert. “Veronica should never have gone,” she said. “She’s getting too old to go rushing around the countryside with a great gang of outcast fellows.”
    “I suppose you think you should have gone instead,” said Magda cheekily.
    Sister Rosamund laughed and nodded her head.
    As they left, Magda noticed a small hut set a little apart from the main convent building, new-thatched and panelled, surrounded by bluebells.
    “What have you made there?” Magda asked.
    Sister Rosamund sighed. “Alan,” she said. “The poor leper lad. We’ve set him up there amongst the bluebells to cheer him, but he waits like a little lost dog for Tom’s return.”
    Joanna shuddered at the mention of the disease.
    Magda sighed. “Come on,” she said. “I suppose we’d better go and see him.” She grabbed Joanna’s arm and walked over to the hut.
    Alan was staring into the distance, his thin arms folded still and statue like in his lap. At last he looked up at his visitors and suddenly recognition showed in his face.
    “I thought you were a lad,” he said to Magda.
    “Aye,” said Magda. “I can fight you!”
    Alan stroked his chin. All bruising had gone. “Yes, you can,” he agreed. “’S’pose I’ll never be a squire now.”
    Magda sat down in front of the hut. “No,” she said. “But if it’s possible to get this special oil, Tom will find it for you.”
    The two girls walked back through the woods, both quiet and deep in thought, but as they neared the Forestwife’s clearing something made Magda uneasy. She stopped and grabbed Joanna’s hand.
    “What is it?” she whispered.
    Magda shook her head. “Too still, too quiet,” she said. “No birds, no squirrels, and look at the path.”
    Though the earth was dry there were footprints and scuff marks on it as though an army had passed that way.
    Joanna picked up a piece of brown blood-soaked rag.
    “Was that from your Fetcher?” Magda asked.
    Joanna shook her head, then they heard the sound of men’s voices and the clink of weapons.
    “Careful,” Magda warned. “Get off the path!”
    The two girls crept away from the open space and hid for a moment in the undergrowth. Nobody came along the path, but they could clearly hear the sounds of voices.
    “They’re in the clearing,” said Magda. She put her finger to her lips.
    Joanna followed her along a deep and secret path that brought them