The Crowfield Demon (30 page)

William looked from the woman to her hob in astonishment. “You know his name?”

“Of course I do,” she said with a hint of impatience. “Don't I, Heremon, eh?” She prodded the hob with her stick.

The creature's gaze slid away from her and he shuffled over to the sack. He squatted beside it and fiddled with the knotted rope tying the neck. “Yes, you do,” he muttered, a lifetime of resentment quivering in his voice.

“I should thank you,” Dame Alys said, looking back at William. “You and your friends have finally released Belinus from the sorcery holding him prisoner in that bowl. Generations of my family have tried and failed to do just that.”

William scowled at her. “That wasn't what we were trying to do.”

The woman's expression hardened. “I know, but even so, Belinus is free, and he will now resume his rightful place as lord of this land, of the forest and the villages.”

“It's not a god,” William said angrily, “it's a demon. And its name is Raum. It will destroy everyone and everything in its path. It has already burned down part of the manor and several houses in Weforde —
your
village. People died there last night.”

“A god must punish those who sin against him.”

“I don't think the villagers who died had sinned against anyone,” William said.

“Their deaths were unfortunate.”

William thought he heard a note of doubt in her voice.

“And what about me?” he asked. “I'm not a sinner either. Do I deserve to die?”

This time, the regret in the woman's eyes was unmistakable. “Belinus has chosen you, boy. It is not for me to question him. I merely serve him.”

Heremon finally managed to untie the sack, and the hob struggled out. He was tied hand and foot and a grubby bit of linen had been stuffed into his mouth to gag him. His eyes blazed with fury, and the fur around his neck bristled. He saw William and began to wriggle across the floor toward him. William knelt to untie his ropes, but Dame Alys brought her stick down sharply across his knuckles.

“Leave him!”

William stood up, rubbing his sore hands. “There was no need for that,” he said angrily.

“I'll let him go when I am good and ready,” the woman said. She tensed suddenly and glanced around the church. The crow cawed and flapped its wings. It had grown colder in the last few minutes and a chilly breeze chased through the ruined building. Dame Alys jabbed at William with the stick. “Kneel down,” she said urgently. “Down! Now!”

William didn't move. His heart was racing. If he was going to rescue the hob and make his escape, he had to do it
now
. He looked at Heremon. “Are you going to let her do this?” he asked, nodding toward the trussed-up hob. “I thought he was your friend.”

Heremon's body was hunched with misery. “Old Woman will not harm
him
,” he whispered. “Only you.”

“That's enough!” Dame Alys snapped, swinging her stick at Heremon. It missed him by a whisker. “Keep silent, you wretched creature!”

Heremon closed his eyes, as if that would make everything go away.

“And you” — Dame Alys reached out with her stick and prodded William in the ribs — “leave Heremon alone. He's none of your concern. I'm losing patience with you, boy. This is Belinus's time; kneel down or I promise you, I will kill your hob. Do it
now
, boy.”

William stared defiantly at her. Dame Alys's lips drew back in an angry grimace. She lifted her stick and held it with both hands above the hob. Another moment and she would bring it down on his head. The hob banged his heels on the ground and grunted furiously. “Don't!” William said sharply. He quickly fell to his knees beside the hob, keeping a wary eye on the stick.

Dame Alys took several deep, harsh breaths that shook through her body. She leaned the stick against a pile of stones and then raised her skinny arms skyward. She began to speak in a language William didn't recognize, intoning the words in a low voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced down at the hob and silently mouthed, “Roll out of the way.”

The hob managed a nod. William turned his attention back to Dame Alys. Her voice rose as she chanted words that pulsed with power. The breeze strengthened and yowled through the gaps in the wall and roof, whipping William's hair across his face. Shadows flitted between the nave pillars. William struggled not to look at them. He needed to keep his nerve if he was to escape before the woman succeeded in summoning the demon. He clenched his fists and braced himself.

Dame Alys raised her face to the sky beyond the shattered roof. “Great Belinus! I have brought the boy to you! Return to your sacred grove and accept this offering!”

We have to get away from here now
! William thought desperately. He saw his chance and lunged toward Dame Alys. She shrieked in fright as he brought her crashing to the floor. In the same moment, the dark shapes in the nave dispersed and the breeze dropped.

“Heremon!
Heremon!
” Dame Alys screeched furiously as she struggled to push William away. “Help me!”

William bundled the woman tightly in her cloak and held her down. Fionn swooped toward him, claws extended. Just in time, William ducked and the bird wheeled around to try again. Heremon watched what was happening, but he made no move to help his mistress.

“Untie the hob,” William called to him.

The crow landed on William's back and began to stab viciously at him with its beak. William managed to batter the bird away with his arm, and it flapped into the air with a hoarse cry.

With a wary glance at Dame Alys, Heremon crouched down beside the hob and began to pick at the knotted ropes.

“Get away from him! Do as I tell you, you worthless wretch!” the woman shrieked. Her thin body wriggled and bucked beneath William as she fought to push him away. She was surprisingly strong, and it was an effort to stop her from getting free. William was at a loss to know what to do with her now. He had broken whatever spell her words were weaving, but the demon could still appear at any moment, and then they would all be lost. Fionn circled overhead, darting down in a fury of white feathers to attack him at every opportunity. Between the woman and the crow, he had his hands full and couldn't hope to escape from the church.

“Move out of the way.”

William looked up and was mightily relieved to see Shadlok. The fay pointed toward Fionn. The bird screeched with pain and tumbled away through the gap in the chancel wall. Shadlok quickly took the linen rag out of the hob's mouth and knelt by Dame Alys to gag her. His expression was grim and he looked down at the woman with deep loathing. She struggled and howled and tried to bite his fingers, but Shadlok was too strong for her and her curses were quickly muffled. He grabbed the rope that had been used to tie the sack and wrapped it around her. With a few murmured words from the fay, the rope tightened and wove itself into knots. Dame Alys could barely move. Hatred twisted her face as she stared up at him.

William helped Heremon to unravel the last loops of rope from around the hob's legs.

The hob spat bits of linen thread from his mouth. “I think she used the cloth to wipe her
nose
with.
Very
bad woman, to do that to a hob,” he said in disgust.

William helped him to his feet. The hob's fur bristled with indignation and his eyes were bright with anger as he scowled down at the trussed-up woman.

“Someone should put
her
in a sack and drag
her
through the forest, and see how
she
likes it!”

“We should leave this place,” Shadlok said. “We do not want to be here when the demon appears, as it undoubtedly will, sooner or later.”'

“What do we do with her?” William asked, nodding to Dame Alys.

“I will carry her up to the track through the forest.” Shadlok smiled thinly at the woman. “The rope will loosen in a day or so. But if you come after the boy again, I
will
kill you.”

Dame Alys stopped struggling, and William saw the fear in her eyes. She knew Shadlok meant what he said.

“What about her hob?” William asked. He felt sorry for the creature. Heremon might have done the woman's bidding, but he hadn't done it willingly.

“She used his name to make him do what she told him to,” Brother Walter said quickly. He patted his friend's bony shoulder in sympathy. “He had no choice in the matter.”

Shadlok walked over to Heremon. He looked down at the trembling hob for a moment. “Is that true? You did not act with free will?”

Heremon nodded miserably, then shook his head. “Old Woman had power over me. I could not fight it.”

Shadlok crouched down in front of him. “Then we will give you a new name and break the power of your old one. This time, keep it secret.”

Hope burned in Heremon's eyes. “You can do that?” he asked uncertainly.

Shadlok leaned forward and whispered something in the hob's ear. A shudder went through the creature's body and he closed his eyes tightly. Shadlok touched Heremon's head and then stood up. “You have your freedom, hob.”

Heremon opened his eyes slowly. Tears spilled down his wrinkled face and dripped onto his fur. He sniffled loudly and wiped his nose with a shaking paw. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you,
thank you
. I will not forget this.”

“What will you do now?” William asked.

“I am going home to the forest,” Heremon said, his voice full of longing. He walked over to Dame Alys and stared down at her in silence. Years of resentment and unhappiness darkened his eyes. Without a word, he crossed to the gap in the wall and slipped like a shadow back into the wild world where he belonged.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY-THREE

“P
erhaps we should make sure all the animals are safe before we leave for Bethlehem,” William suggested. “We can feed and water them, and save Brother Stephen a journey.”

Shadlok nodded. “Very well, but be quick.” He leaned down and lifted the old woman onto his shoulder. She didn't struggle. She probably knew she would be wasting her time. “I will wait for you on the track.”

They left the church by the West Door. None of them said so, but there was a reluctance to take the shorter route through the cloister and kitchen. There was a peculiar stillness over the abbey, a feeling that they were being watched, which made William deeply uneasy. Shadlok took his leave of William and the hob outside the small barn and carried the old woman toward the gatehouse.

“The hens first,” William said to the hob. “Brother Stephen keeps their food in the small barn.”

The hob stayed close to William as they fetched the food and carried it in a pail to the henhouse. He seemed none the worse for his rough treatment at Dame Alys's hands, but he was unusually subdued. The late afternoon shadows gathered in corners, and the feeling of being watched grew steadily. William glanced around nervously and he caught fleeting movements on the edge of his vision, but each time he turned to look, there was nothing there.

The hens were huddled together at the far end of their hut when William went in to feed them. They crooned nervously and flapped their wings in agitation at the sight of him, sending feathers and straw up in a dusty cloud that made William sneeze. He bolted the door securely behind him when he left the hut. It wasn't right to keep the hens locked up like this, but with nobody at the abbey to keep an eye on them if they were allowed out, they would probably be taken by a fox. They were safer where they were.

William let himself into Mary Magdalene's pen. The hob climbed up to sit on a fence post. The old pig was sitting against the back wall of her shelter, grunting softly, her eyes white-rimmed and frightened.

“It's all right, it's only us,” William said soothingly.

“The pig does not want to be left alone,” the hob said. “She thinks the demon will come back and hurt her.”

William crouched down beside Mary Magdalene. He rubbed her ears and spoke softly to her, but she was too agitated to be comforted by his company.
The animals can sense danger
, William thought. He could feel it, too, that warning itch between his shoulder blades. He stood up and gazed around at the empty yard and buildings. He could almost taste the evil in the air. “Stay with her. If there's any . . . trouble, open the pen and set her free.” He saw that her trough was empty and licked clean. “In the meantime, I'll see if I can find some food for her.”

The hob nodded and climbed down from the fence. William heard him murmuring to Mary Magdalene, whispering words of reassurance. The pig grunted in reply.

William fetched more water from the well and went to tend to the goats. They were restless and ran from him when he opened the gate of their pen. Usually they were friendly animals who liked to have their heads scratched, but not today. He herded them out of the pen and took them to the orchard to forage on the new growth of grass beneath the trees. They kept as close to William as they could, jostling him and each other.