The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [155]
In a way, his sense of the tree was accurate. For it is a fact that the roots of a tree mirror the spreading crown of its branches. As the branches spread out, so do the roots in proportion. If the tree’s branches die back, the roots do too. As above, so below. In this respect the system of the tree as a whole rather resembles, at top and bottom, the magnetic field of a bar magnet, or indeed of the Earth itself. And who knows what force fields, as yet unmeasured by man, may surround the physical manifestation of a tree?
After a little time, therefore, somewhat strengthened, Albion emerged from the oak to face the dangers of the coming days.
Jane Furzey was happy because she was with Nick Pride who was tall and handsome, and going to marry her when she said yes. She was going to say yes, but not until she had made him wait; that was what every girl did if she could.
‘Make him wait a year, Jane,’ her mother had told her. ‘If he loves you truly, he’ll want you all the more.’
She wasn’t going to give herself to him until they married either. She was going to get married in style. And in this exciting state they went about together often.
It had been kind of Clement Albion to allow her to come with the men this morning. There were just three men including Nick, and herself, bumping along in the little cart, while Albion rode his horse beside them. She was proud that Albion should have selected Nick for such special duties. She dangled her sturdy legs over the back of the cart. She had taken off her sandals. The sun was warm on her legs; the cool, salty air on her bare toes was delicious.
This expedition was rather an adventure and she looked about her with interest. They had already passed Lymington; she had never been down here before.
Jane was sixteen, Nick Pride eighteen. He lived in the village of Minstead, a couple of miles north of Lyndhurst, she in the hamlet of Brook, a mile and a half north of that. Their parents who, like most parents, were wise in these matters, thought they were perfect for each other; and so they were.
During the centuries the Prides had settled in many parts of the Forest, but the Furzeys had mostly stayed down in the south. Except for Jane’s family. For some reason – no one could remember when – the descendants of Adam Furzey had moved up to the Minstead area. ‘The Furzeys up at Minstead don’t get along with the other Furzeys,’ the Forest people would remark. And although in that region, where all the smallholding families intermarried, such differences usually got ironed out, it remained true that the Minstead Furzeys were a bit unusual. During the Wars of the Roses one of them had become a priest; and in the reign of old King Harry another had gone to Southampton. ‘He became a merchant,’ Nick’s father had told him. ‘Did very well, they say.’ The other Furzeys might mutter that the Minstead family thought too much of themselves, but this was no problem for the Prides, who thought well of themselves too. Nick Pride’s father and Jane’s father had always got along well and on the day, ten years ago, when Jane’s father had moved up to Brook, Nick’s father had remarked: ‘I reckon your Jane and my boy Nick would make a nice pair.’ And Jane’s father had agreed and told his wife, who knew it anyway. So there it was.
There was nothing very remarkable about Jane. She had a broad brow, brown hair parted in the middle, deep-blue eyes; she was short, with wide, well-shaped hips. Men were drawn to her. She cooked and baked and sewed; she looked after her little brothers and sisters; she had a dog called Jack who liked to chase squirrels; and there was nothing about the family’s smallholding she didn’t know.
She could also read, which was unusual. No one else in the family could, nor in any of the families like hers in Minstead or Brook. Had her father lived in a city like London as a small merchant or craftsman at this date, he would probably have been able to read. But in the country there was still little need. A rich yeoman with a big farm of his