Free Shadowland by C M Gray Page B

continued
cutting at the hair sprouting out at the sides.
    Witney had offered the security they needed and now,
after three days, they were rested and well fed. Bell had stitched the tear that the wolf had
made in Usher’s trousers, and offered a replacement for his tunic. They were
now comfortable enough with the Dale family that Bell had insisted on them bathing and having
haircuts. The bathing had been cold but fun as the boys splashed about in the
river, rubbing off the worst of the dirt that covered them with handfuls of
fine sand. The haircut was the last of her demands.
    ‘Keep it washed and short and you’ll attract fewer
lice,’ she had advised them, and they felt obliged to comply. It was too dark
in the longhouse to cut hair, so they had all trooped outside where there was
plenty of light. As the stool was placed ready and the knives sharpened, the
people of the village realised there was entertainment to be had, and a large
group began to gather, eager to witness the spectacle, and of course to offer
advice and comments.
    ‘ Owwww !’ Cal
tried to pull away again but Bell
placed a firm grip on his shoulder to restrain him. He turned around and glared
at her and then across at Usher as he sat grinning close-by. ‘It isn’t even a
sharp knife,’ he moaned. ‘ Owww , that hurts,Bell!’
    ‘Spirits, boy, you complain worse than anyone I’ve
ever met. Hold still and it will be over… all the… quicker… there!’ She pulled
the bowl away from Cal’s
head and stood back to regard her handiwork. ‘A good straight line all round,
and now your hair won’t bother your eyes none… next!’ Cal leapt from the stool and smiled as a
slightly less cheerful Usher shuffled forward.
    ‘That knife will be all the blunter now,’ muttered Cal, with a grin. ‘It’s
going to hurt worse than a sore tooth!’ Usher sat on the stool and watched
nervously as Bell
drew nearer with the bowl, then brightened at the sound of voices approaching.
    ‘Well, it looks like that old rascal Meryn Link has
finally found his way out of the forest,’ said Bell, peering between the huts. Usher leapt
up, knocking the bowl to the floor, and followed by an angry shout from Bell, dashed towards the
old archer who had just appeared accompanied by Eden Dale.
    ‘Meryn! You made it out of the forest. What
happened? Did you get the Picts? Are they chasing you? Are you… ’
    ‘Slow down, boy, give yourself a chance to draw
breath and me the chance to greet my friends.’ Meryn ruffled Usher’s untidy mop
of hair, unaware it had just been granted a temporary reprieve from Bell’s bowl and knife.
‘Ah, and there she is, one of my dearest friends, Goodwife Bell. Why, Bell, you look younger
than ever. One day you shall have to tell us what spirit you keep trapped in
your pocket that grants you… ’
    ‘Oh, be still with that chatter, you old fool,’
chided Bell.
‘Bring yourself inside and we’ll try and put some meat on those sorry bones…
and you,’ she wagged a finger at Usher, ‘don’t you think you’ve missed out on a
haircut. We’ll be getting round to you soon enough.’ They all trailed inside
the longhouse with Cal
shaking his head at the luck of Usher’s escape.
    Inside, as the boys pushed past the door-skin, a
large group of villagers were already settling themselves about the central
fire, eager to hear Meryn’s news. Bell
passed Meryn a hunk of rough bread and set a bowl of barley porridge in front
of him. The porridge had been cooking for some time and was thick and steaming.
Everyone in the room heard Meryn’s stomach growling as he cupped the bowl in
his hands, closed his eyes, and savoured the heavy aroma appreciatively. There
was a respectful silence as the old archer dipped in his bread and used it to
scoop some of the mixture into his mouth. Then he smiled his thanks at Bell who merely nodded and
took her place next to her husband.
    ‘Well, I led them Picts a merry dance,’ began Meryn,
after a few