The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [104]
‘Brother Adam!’
Thank the Lord he still had his wits about him. Tom Furzey’s voice expressed such total astonishment, such confusion: whatever it meant, it was not him they had expected. His legs were let go. Another sign that they felt at a disadvantage. He struggled and sat up. He must bluff. ‘Furzey? I know your voice. What’s the meaning of this? Why aren’t you at St Leonards?’
‘But … What are you doing here, Brother Adam?’
‘Never mind that. Why are you here and why have you attacked me?’
There was a pause. ‘Thought you might be someone else,’ Furzey’s voice replied sullenly.
‘He isn’t worth two pounds anyway.’ A woman’s voice, but not Mary’s.
And then, of course, he realized. ‘I see. You thought Luke might come this way.’
‘My sister reckons she seen him.’
‘Ah.’ Thank God. He knew what to say now. ‘Well, Furzey,’ he said slowly, ‘you should not have left the grange without permission, but that is why I am here too. I had an idea he might be coming here and if so he’ll be taken.’
‘Then we won’t get our two pounds but you will, I suppose,’ said Tom.
‘You forget, I have no use for two pounds. Monks have no worldly goods.’
‘You mean we can catch him?’
‘I suppose so,’ Adam said drily.
‘Oh.’ Furzey audibly brightened. ‘Maybe we can all watch for him then.’
What could he do? Adam gazed towards the barn. What if Mary, wondering what had become of him, were to come out looking for him? Worse still, call his name? Could he tell them he was going to inspect the barn and try to warn her? He decided that was too risky. They’d think his presence might alert Mary to the fact that they were watching for her brother.
Worse yet, what if Tom went in and Mary, seeing him, mistook him for her lover and called out the wrong name?
Fortunately, he soon realized, Tom was far more eager to catch Luke than to encounter his wife. But there was still the possibility that poor Luke would come to visit his sister at dawn. He wondered if there were some way he could head him off, but could not see how, in the dark.
So they waited. There was no sound from the barn, nor did Luke appear. When light came, they agreed to give up. Might he come and watch again? Furzey asked him.
‘I suppose so,’ Brother Adam replied. Then he rode away.
He had much to do.
The sun was well up when he reached the site where he had encountered the charcoal burner near Burley. It did not take him long to find Puckle, who had evidently seen him coming.
There were two great charcoal cones he was tending now. The burning process of one was almost completed, by the look of it; the other had just started. Puckle was alone. There was no sign of Luke.
Brother Adam did not waste time. ‘I’ve a message for Luke.’
‘For who?’
‘I know. You haven’t seen him. Just give him a message.’ He told Puckle briefly about Tom’s vigil. ‘He’d better not go there. Now.’ He took a deep breath – he’d thought about trying to give her the message himself but decided the risk was too great – ‘I need to ask a favour of you. Please tell Mary the house is being watched. You can tell her I told you. She’ll understand.’
And how much, he wondered, would Puckle understand? Might he wonder why he was doing Mary and Luke a favour or might he guess the whole truth? Staring at that oaken face it was impossible to know. He looked Puckle in the eye. ‘Silence buys silence, I hope.’
Puckle just looked at him, then gazed down at his fire. Only as the monk rode away did he mutter: ‘Always has done in the Forest.’
Dear God, thought Adam, as he went back towards the abbey lands, I’m even in league, criminally, with Puckle now. Yet, as he listened to the morning birdsong, he found only a strange sense of exhilaration at his fall from grace.
He would have been most surprised, once he was out of sight, to see what happened to the second charcoal fire. A small door opened in its turf side from which, not at all burned or even heated, Luke emerged.
The hiding place Puckle had contrived was the neatest thing imaginable. The top half of the huge cone was