A Heart in the Hills, page 20
“I suppose that's better than them choosing the wrong person.”
“I'm just happy Rufus isn't going to be in charge anymore. I don't think I could stand working for him after what happened.”
They spent another few minutes tallying up two more log piles before Elizabeth said: “You should remind everyone how good you are at your job.”
“I try my best to every time they have me look at their horses.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “They take that for granted now. I don't think they appreciate how much of a help you've been since you arrived.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I think you should start working on the building site full-time. People will start to miss you if you stop doing your rounds with the horses. They'll start talking about making you stable master again.”
Isaac thought about her suggestion over the next few days while his strained neck healed. He wasn't going to stop working for Roger, but he could dedicate the rest of his time to working on the building site if he wanted. It would mean spending more time with Elizabeth, which was infinitely more appealing than avoiding Rufus, Rona, and Giselle when he was out and about. Soon his mind was made up. He stopped making his regular visits to the local horse owners and pitched in on the building site instead.
When Elizabeth didn't need his help organising the labourers, he dug, cut wood, and hauled carts. After a week people began coming to the house asking why he hadn't been by to see their horses lately. Some were perplexed, others saddened, but his decision had the desired effect. Kinedwyn's horse owners began talking at Hartwin's about how much they missed his help. Some even assumed he was spending most of his time on the building site because he'd been promised the position of stable master already.
That summer Isaac only agreed to check on people's horses if they were in obvious discomfort, for he wasn't willing to let the animals suffer just to prove a point. All of his routine farrier work was left to others. Within a few weeks, the situation began unfolding exactly as Elizabeth had predicted. The longer the village council went without deciding on a new stable master, the louder the calls came for Isaac to get the job. Giselle and Rufus argued constantly against his appointment, but Father Thomas's complaints fell silent, and eventually he joined the others in accepting that Isaac was the man the villagers wanted.
Barring some unexpected crisis, it looked like the stable would be his by the end of the year.
Fresh optimism spurred him on as building work continued. He took care of Roger's horses in the mornings and toiled on the building site through the long afternoons until sundown. People took note of his hard-working attitude, and support for him continued to grow. In the evenings he stayed up late with Elizabeth, talking about the day's work, planning for tomorrow, and helping her read the notes Nathan and Luther had written on pieces of bark.
Though he never stopped to consciously realise it, that summer was one of the most fulfilling of Isaac's life. Even Rufus couldn't spoil it for him. His attempts at badmouthing seemed pettier than ever, and as folk on the building site got to know Isaac many of them came to the conclusion that the fight in the forest must have been Rufus's fault.
Rona eventually broke her silence and began talking to him again. Their conversations at Roger's house lacked the air of playful energy they'd had before, but they were never discourteous or uncomfortable. Perhaps the pair of them would be good friends again one day.
By the end of summer, the stable's foundations had been set and a skeletal frame stood where the main house would be. Some of the villagers were concerned that they wouldn't have time to finish before winter, but Nathan Carpenter assured them that the project was on schedule. Almost every main post, beam, and board had been cut. It was just a matter of giving some of the timber a little longer to dry and then assembling it all.
Elsewhere in the kingdom, the war between Marquess Larmond and King Fendrel dragged on with seemingly little change. The tales John Merchant brought back from Rambirch suggested that no decisive victories had been won that year. With each passing day it grew increasingly likely that winter would arrive before a victor emerged, which meant the war would drag on into next year. Roger was occasionally called away to visit the courts of various lords, but he never had to join the king's army again.
Progress on the stable quickened through autumn until the house was mostly finished and work on the stalls began. The stalls would connect to the house and span one side of the paddock with a hayloft overhead. The house itself had been designed like a barn with large double doors at the front and an upper floor at the back that allowed access to the hayloft. It would be bright and breezy in the summer with the doors open, while a layer of wattle and daub and a thick thatched roof would keep the house insulated during winter.
Isaac began daydreaming about what it would be like to live here, sleeping under this roof and tending his animals during the day. When one of the hunting dogs next had puppies he would take one or two to raise for himself. He'd have a whole menagerie to look after. It might be a little lonely living apart from Elizabeth and Sam, but the animals would keep him company. Perhaps there would be others, too. The stable house was big enough to raise a family in.
Whenever his fantasies reached that point they suddenly became tinged with worry over the future. A family meant a lifetime of commitment. Horses and dogs could always come with him if he packed up and left, but a family would be different. The news of the prolonged war meant he was probably safe for the rest of the year, but what about afterwards? When would Larmond finally hold him to his oath, and to what end?
He tried not to think about it too much. That day would come when it came, perhaps in a year, perhaps never. He'd slowly made peace with the fact that he would probably never see his family again if things went well for him. It was a bitter truth to swallow. He could never have imagined that he'd end up here when he ran away from his wedding almost four years ago. He'd always assumed he would roam the kingdom for a while, meeting new people and having new adventures, before returning home at some nebulous point in the future.
That had been a very youthful, very foolish assumption. True freedom meant cutting ties with his family forever. If he ever returned it would have to be as a wealthy and influential man; a man Duke Francis could no longer compel to obedience. If his debt to Larmond forced him home early, he would be a slave to his family's whims again. He would try and establish himself as a respected member of Kinedwyn's community in the meantime, with money in his pocket and Sir Roger as his ally. One step closer to freedom.
That autumn, when the last of the year's harvest had been gathered and the first breath of winter frosted the air, the villagers of Kinedwyn celebrated Winnowing Night. Every place had its own feasts and traditions during the harvest season, but this one was unique to the hilltop community. The villagers gathered in the church for hymns and then went out into the marketplace, where by candlelight they shared butter-fried pastries shaped to resemble sheaves of grain. Cecil Baker made most of the treats and sold them for a penny each, but several other families cooked their own in differing styles. The topic of whose pastries were the best that year always filled the marketplace with good-humoured gossip on Winnowing Night.
There was a second tradition, however, that Father Thomas and most of the other leading citizens did not partake in. Had it not been so popular, Isaac suspected the priest would have denounced it as heathen. It was one of those curious practices that seemed to have been with the people of Kinedwyn for as long as anyone could remember. That year, Isaac and Elizabeth decided to see what it was all about.
After the hymns had been sung and a few pastry sheaves eaten, a group of villagers began filing out of the marketplace with candles in their hands. Old Elspeth and Matthew Forester led the way with torches, guiding the procession north past the clergy house and into the dark woods beyond. Elizabeth and Isaac followed at the rear, not knowing what was about to happen. Many of the younger villagers were with them despite having been told to stay away by their parents. A nervous atmosphere of excitement hung in the air. People told frightening stories about forest spirits in hushed voices, laughing nervously and squeaking in surprise whenever an animal rustled through the undergrowth nearby.
“Kaylein wouldn't like this,” Elizabeth said in a low voice.
“I'm sure God would protect her from the ghosts,” Isaac replied.
“Sam wouldn't like it either. He believes in God and ghosts.”
“What about you? Have you ever seen a spirit?”
“I don't think so, but Elspeth says there's something out here in the woods. Something that's neither God nor man.”
Isaac saw that they were falling behind, so he hurried ahead, leaving Elizabeth momentarily alone. “Don't linger, Liz, or the forest will get you!”
“Don't leave me behind!” Elizabeth sounded just like the others now, the laughter in her voice tinged with fear. Isaac kept on running for a few paces, then allowed her to catch up and put his arm around her.
“Alright, we'll get eaten by the spirits together.”
Elizabeth shoved him with her shoulder. “You don't believe in anything you can't see, do you?”
Isaac shrugged. “I wouldn't say I don't believe in it, I just don't think there's much point in worrying about something you've only heard about in stories.”
“That's the kind of thing Elspeth would say. Where do you think she's taking us?”
They soon found out when the lights at the front of the group stopped and the procession spread out in a semicircle. When Isaac saw the ring of old stones in front of him and the glitter of dark water, he realised they were on the bank of the pond the villagers said was haunted. He felt a shiver run down his spine despite himself, and he and Elizabeth clung to each other a little tighter. Matthew Forester touched his torch to a pile of tinder that had been set up beneath a bonfire of green logs in the middle of the circle. Soon thick white smoke was pluming up from the moist wood into the moonlit sky.
Led by Elspeth, the villagers set down their candles at their feet and began to chant. The words they spoke were in no language Isaac recognised, but their sounds were simple enough that even the children could pick them up and join in.
“I think this is the tongue of the druids,” Elizabeth whispered.
It was little wonder Father Thomas didn't approve of this tradition. In most places in the kingdom, Matthew and Elspeth would have been brought before an ecclesiastical court for conducting an occult ceremony like this. But as Isaac listened to the villagers chanting, some clapping their hands and stomping their feet to keep warm, he was drawn into the atmosphere of shared celebration. The church wasn't right about everything. This was an exciting moment, and he wanted to be part of it. Letting go of Elizabeth, he took up the chant and began clapping his hands. A minute later, Elizabeth joined him. Elspeth grinned at them from her place at the centre of the circle, slapping her thigh with one hand as she made a shuffling jig with her walking stick. It looked like the old woman had saved up all her energy for this one night of the year.
Once the bottom half of the bonfire was blazing, Elspeth poked her stick into the pile and dislodged a steaming log from the top. “Who's first for the fire?” she called out.
A few nervous-looking youths stepped forward. Matthew Forester picked up the log in a piece of leather and tossed it to one of them. A whoop of excitement went up from the young man's friends. He caught the smouldering log and immediately let go of it, wincing in pain, but he still tried to keep it from falling by batting at it with his arms. He managed to keep it aloft for a few moments longer, balancing it on his wrists and forearms before it toppled out of his grasp and hit the ground with a smoky thump.
“Each heartbeat the log stays in your arms will be a day of good fortune through the winter,” Elspeth called, “a day the forest keeps you safe from the devils of cold and sickness.”
Several more people tried their hand at holding the log until it started to grow cool, whereupon Elspeth knocked another one out of the fire and they started again. Isaac wanted to have a go.
“Don't–you'll burn your hands and you won't be able to work,” Elizabeth scolded, her reproach muffled behind a giggle.
“I don't think they're that hot. If they were they'd be on fire.”
Elizabeth shook her head and carried on clapping and chanting with the others. There was a soft, melodic rhythm to the strange words that felt good in the throat and warm on the ear. It was easy to see why the druids of old had thought rituals like this warded off winter demons.
When Matilda Baker dropped the log next to Isaac, he snatched it up and tried to hold on for as long as he could. It was almost scalding. The wood hadn't caught fire, but the green, water-rich timber had absorbed a lot of heat. His fingers began to sting within moments. He tossed the log in the air and tried to bounce it from palm to palm the way he'd seen the others doing, struggling not to drop it while he kept the heat away from his exposed skin. He managed a respectable few seconds before it tumbled out of his grasp amidst a cheer of approval from the others.
“Good luck for master Isaac and his stable, I think!” Elspeth called.
Angela, one of the women who worked at Elspeth's house, picked up the log next and began tossing it deftly in the air. She could make it spin around on its length before catching it again, throwing up patterned whorls of smoke from the smouldering ends. People cheered even harder when Elspeth tossed her a second hot branch, and like a jester performing at a feast she began juggling both at once. It made for such a spectacle that Isaac soon forgot about his stinging hands.
After half a dozen chants of the song–and probably enough good fortune to see Angela through to next winter–she finally dropped one of the logs. She curtseyed to the crowd amidst a round of applause.
“And that's why that bitch stays pretty as an angel,” Elspeth cackled.
Isaac was enjoying this a lot more than the hymns. He didn't really believe that tossing a hot log around would give people good luck, but it was fun to pretend. The energy of the night swept him along with it, and soon he was cheering and groaning with the others in response to each catch and drop of the log. The celebration lasted about an hour, though to Isaac it felt like it passed in the blink of an eye. Once there were no good logs left to toss, the group drew close to the fire to warm themselves and relight their candles. Matthew Forester took a pail of water from the pond and doused the flames, sending up one last gush of steam into the sky.
When the procession made their way back to the village, the eerie forest seemed to be at peace with itself. Calm and warmth had replaced the unearthly atmosphere from earlier.
“I think the forest spirits might have danced around that fire with us after all,” Elizabeth said.
The next day, the village council announced that Isaac would be their new stable master.
Chapter 14
Kaylein wished the warm weather would last forever. She'd grown very fond of watching the builders work while she made notes on her new wax tablet. The old one had been gifted to Elizabeth when she got a replacement with two panels of wax in opposite wooden frames that hinged together like a book. Each night she copied down her best ideas in ink before leaving the tablet by the fire so the wax would melt and grow smooth again by morning. She wasn't supposed to have money to purchase such things–Father Thomas handled all the parish finances–but people sometimes gave her a penny or two when she offered them advice or provided treatment for their ailments. For a long time, she'd wrestled with the idea of keeping money for herself. It seemed like she was breaking all her vows these days, poverty included. But if she gave the money to Thomas he would only waste it on selfish indulgences, so she kept her coins stashed in a purse within her mattress. At least this way she knew they would be put to responsible ends.
It was an unexpectedly hot late autumn day, probably one of the last good days of the year, and she was determined to make the most of it. She tried to focus on her notes, but the golden afternoon sunlight made shining patterns of the insects drifting through the air, stealing away her attention. Every time she looked up she would see Sam passing armfuls of thatch up to Isaac and Nathan on the roof of the stable stalls. Being near Sam filled her with such warmth these days. He was the reason she'd started coming to the building site instead in the afternoons. The pair of them rarely found time to meet privately, but when they did they kissed, held hands, and touched one another intimately.
Sometimes it terrified Kaylein to think of what might happen if anyone found out. She imagined fury from Father Thomas, scorn from the villagers, and a crushing feeling of shame that would force her to give up her nun's robes forever. The villagers wouldn't understand the sinless purity of their love. She didn't know how to explain that her intimate moments with Sam did not shake her faith in God, but only made it stronger. God had made a world in which such feelings could blossom, and through His kindness, Kaylein and Sam had found one another. Understanding romantic love made her feel closer to Him than ever. It was not a temptation, it was a blessing.
The words she penned these days came with passion and fervour. Never before had the ideas flowed so freely from her mind to the page. Her notes had become so numerous she'd almost run out of the parchments she'd salvaged from the old documents room. Every penny she was given now went towards purchasing new sheets that would soon form the first pages of her book. She was on the cusp of beginning her life's great work.
She tilted her face toward the heavens and spoke a soft prayer, thanking God for this blessed time. She didn't know how long it would last, but she'd resolved to make the most of it. For the first time since the death of her family, she found herself able to think back on them without fear and heartache. The aching chasm left by their loss had been refilled with faith, hard work, and the intimacy she felt with Sam. Elizabeth still didn't understand their relationship, but she'd never seen the side of her brother Kaylein saw.
