Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [16]
The man was in his older days: that’s to say, of some fifty years, grizzled, and slight. From his garb I saw he was a peasant. He wore a dirty, belted, brown wool tunic that reached his knees, ragged sleeves that almost touched his wrists, plus a back-pointed hood. Leather straps bound his leggings of cloth. He must have been running, for he was all of a sweat, panting deeply. From the way he stood, uncertain as to his footing, with constant fretful glances around, a flexing of his hand upon his staff, he appeared apprehensive. Though his eyes were mostly on Aude, he kept darting brief, worried glances at Bear and me.
Aude, barely looking up, finally said, “Goodman Piers, what brings you here?”
“Old dame,” the man said with a hesitant, rocking motion that might have been a bow of courtesy but could just as well have been agitation, “Goodman William bade me come. His wife is heavy with child. Ready to burst. Being in great pain she’s called for you to come without delay.” He stole another glance at Bear, who was seated against one of the boulders. As for Troth, he seemed to take pains not to look at her. She pulled her hair across her mouth, hiding her disfigurement.
Only then did I realize it was something she had stopped doing for Bear and me.
“How fares the woman?” said Aude.
“Good dame, her labor is full of agony,” the man cried. “She’s frightened her babe is not set well.”
Staring into the fire, Aude said, “Nerthus wants life. Aude will help.” It was what she had said to me, when she first tended Bear.
The man wiped his mouth and the back of his neck with his hand. His eyes shifted nervously. Looking round at Bear yet again, this time, he nodded. “Our Lord’s peace to you, stranger,” he murmured.
Bear said, “May all the grace of Our Blessed Lady be with your village woman.”
“Aye, aye, exactly so,” the man said with a vigorous nod. “May Jesus grant it.” He seemed eased by Bear’s Christian blessing. Then he added, “There were some men who passed through the village. They were looking for a large, red-bearded man. Perhaps you were the one.”
Startled, I looked round to Bear.
“Who were they?” he asked.
“I know not.”
Then Bear asked, “What came of them?”
“Since we knew nothing of you, they went away.”
Aude reached out to Troth. The girl scurried over and with her help, the crone got to her feet. “The belt,” she said, “the herbs.”
Once ready, Aude said, “Come,” to the girl and put one hand on her shoulder. The two moved toward the entryway.
“Old mother,” Bear cried out. “God’s blessings on you.” Aude halted. She turned, and twisted round with her birdlike look to consider Bear and me with her one good eye. “Be blessed,” she muttered.
An unhappy-looking Troth made a sign, which I understood to mean “Good-bye.”
As soon as Aude and Troth went from the bower I turned to Bear. “Bear, you heard. Men are looking for you. We need to leave now.”
Bear grunted. “God knows we have our enemies. But, Crispin, the man said they went off.”
“The sooner we go, the safer.”
He laughed. “The best time for elders to advise youth is when youth presumes to advise their elders.”
“But I’m right!” I cried, now angry.
“Crispin, since those men had no way of knowing we were here, it’s unlikely they’ll come back. We’re safest here. Anyway, by Saint Aldegon, I’m not strong enough to go. My fever lingers.”
“You’ve not said so.”
He shrugged. “A man’s weakness is his best kept secret.”
“Weakness is not your usual way of living.”
“Crispin, I was close to having this living!”
“Has that so changed you?”
“Should it not?”
Feeling frustration and anger, I glared at him, then went to the entryway of the bower, and looked where Troth and Aude had gone. Then the thought came to me: if I’m ever truly to be free, I must act for myself. I turned back to Bear. “I’m going with them,” I announced.
“Why?” he asked.
“I want to learn if anyone in the village is aware of us. We need to know how safe we are.”
“You’ll only draw attention.”
“Bear, the man said only you were