Mercerian Tales Page 10

  “I don’t mind,” she responded. “I know it sounds strange, but I’ve learned lots about them. It’ll make it easier in the future if I have to deal with them.”

  She polished off her cider and stood, straightening her belt while she fished for her coin purse.

  “There’s no need for that,” Arlo objected, “you’re a King's Ranger.”

  “Nonsense,” she insisted, pulling out some coins. “I’ve got the coin, what else am I to do with it other than spend it!”

  * * *

  The rhythmic swaying of her horse had a soporific effect on Hayley Chambers as she thought of how to spend her winnings. She imagined herself at a luxurious inn, with a hot bath and a fancy meal. Perhaps she’d dazzle a young lord and be swept off her feet. She knew this to be unlikely, for the nobles in this part of the country were either far too young, or obnoxious. She wondered if perhaps there were only those two stages of noble life. It must be nice to live a life of luxury and not have to work for a living.

  The road up ahead entered some woods, and she watched for low hanging branches. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d hit her head for not paying attention, and she knew it likely would not be the last. She must stop her daydreaming and return to the task at hand.

  The road meandered for some time, likely it followed an old path, clear of trees and roots. She heard a noise up ahead and slowed her pace, lest there be bandits in the area. As she rounded the corner, she saw a man hanging from a tree. There was a woman and two children trying to cut him down, but it was obvious the man was dead, for he was not moving. The rope around his neck was fashioned into a hangman’s noose, and she knew immediately that this must be the work of the ranger Osferth, for who else but a King's Ranger would carry out such summary justice.

  At the sound of her approach, the woman turned and let out a shout of alarm. Into the woods the children scuttled, their mother just behind them.

  Hayley rode up to the body to examine it. She pressed the flesh of the hand, and it turned white, the blood not returning. She concluded the man had been killed quite recently for there was no sign yet of the hardening of the body that occurred after death. A torn piece of parchment was attached to the man's chest by a nail, and Hayley removed it to read the word ‘poacher’ written on it in rough letters. So, she thought, Osferth managed to find himself a criminal to vent his frustrations on.

  Thoroughly disgusted by the act, Hayley resolved to cut the man down from the tree. She hauled a rope from the back of her saddle and lashed it to the poor victim, then looped it over the branch, tying the ends to her saddle. From her present position, she was just high enough to stand on her horse and start cutting the noose he hung from. As the strands parted, her own rope took up the weight, then, with a final sawing motion, the old rope broke, and she lowered the body to the ground.

  She saw the woman, watching from the edge of the woods and called out to her, “Come out, I mean you no harm.”

  “It’s against the law to cut down a poacher,” she called back.

  “I’m a King's Ranger, it’s all right. Did you see the man that did this?”

  “Yes, a man with red hair,” the woman cried out.

  “I’ve cut him down so you can bury him,” Hayley offered. “The man you described is on the way north. He won’t be back here for many a week. Your husband needs a proper burial. Do you need help?”

  “No,” the woman responded from the safety of the wood. “I’ll see to it.

  “How will you survive without your husband?” asked the ranger.

  “I’ll make do, never you mind.” The woman emerged from the tree line, and Hayley observed her attire. She must be living rough, for her clothes were bedraggled and her hair a tangled mess.

  It only took Hayley a moment to make up her mind. “Very well,” she said, “I’ll leave you to it.” As the woman drew closer, Hayley tossed the pouch to her, “You might as well have this. I’d only waste it anyway.”

  The woman caught the purse and looked at it in surprise, asking “Who are you?”

  “Ranger Hayley Chambers,” she replied. “Now I must be off. Good luck to you!” She turned her horse and resumed her journey north. Ah well, she thought, the widow has more need of the coin than I.

  * * *

  A few days later she was topping the hill overlooking Tewsbury, its chimney’s smoking as the commoners prepared their evening meals. Every major city in the kingdom housed a tavern called the King's Arms. Owned by the crown, the alehouses had been built to accommodate the King's Rangers when needed, and also doubled as a drop point for messages. Hayley knew there weren’t many rangers left these days. Rumours were that the king was less than happy with the constant drain on the royal purse.

  Being familiar with the town, she made her way directly to the tavern, leaving her mount at the stables. Inside, she saw the old, familiar face of Langston at the bar.

  “Hayley,” the old man greeted her, “back so soon? I’d have thought you’d be in the capital by now.”

  “Changed my mind,” she replied. “There’s too much politics in Wincaster. I’m a simple country girl.”

  Langston poured her an ale, setting it down on the counter in front of her. “Here,” he said, “wet your whistle.” He watched her as she took a pull of the strong drink, “Well, what d’ya think?”

  “Hmmm,” she replied, “it’s nice. You’ve added something to it; it’s very tasty.”

  The bartender beamed, “Honey. Makes it smoother. Took me weeks to find the right balance.”

  “Well,” she mused, “this is definitely something to keep on the menu.” She took another sip, letting the smooth liquid coat her throat. She had never realized how thirsty one could get travelling the roads. “Any news?” she asked.

  Langston turned to the wall behind him, grabbing a small wooden box. “Let me see,” he said, opening it. He withdrew a parchment, unrolling it on the counter in front of her. “There seems to be a problem out Mattingly way,” he said, rotating the paper for her to see.

  Hayley looked down at the note; its precise hand easy to read. “Appears something's attacking the livestock,” she said.

  “Looks like a job for a ranger,” commented the barkeep. “Think you’re up to it?”

  “I suppose I better be,” she replied, “unless you know of another ranger in the area?”

  “’Fraid not,” the man replied. “I saw Wilson, but he’s on his way out to Kingsford, left three days ago.”

  “I didn’t see him on the road,” remarked Hayley.

  “I don’t suppose you would have. He’s heading west, on the Bodden road, then south through Redridge.”

  “Problems in Kingsford?”

  “No,” replied Langston, “but he’s got family in the city, probably wants to see them.”

  “Did a ranger named Osferth travel through? He was half a day ahead of me.”

  “I ‘aven’t seen him if he did. The place has been dead quiet. Why d’you ask?”

  “He hanged a poacher on the road, a few days back. I just wanted to hear his side of the story.”

  “Well,” continued Langston, “poaching has been on the rise the last few years. Strange that.”

  “Not so strange, my friend,” offered Hayley. “It wasn’t that long ago that all the free land was claimed by the crown. In my grandfather's day, there was no poaching, only hunting. Now, only the nobles hunt freely.”

  “And the rangers,” reminded the barkeep.

  “True,” she replied. “My own father was hanged for poaching. Too bad he wasn’t a ranger. Which reminds me, I’ve a small deer that I wandered across on the way into town. I don’t suppose you might be able to make use of it?”

  Langston smiled, displaying his rotting teeth, “Oh, I think I can find a home for it in my fireplace, don’t you worry. I’ll have someone go fetch it, shall I?”

  “I’d be obliged,” she said.

  “Will you be heading straight out?” he asked.

  “N
o, I’ll spend the night and head out in the morning. Can’t let you have all that venison to yourself, now can I?”

  * * *

  Three days later, Hayley rode into Mattingly. It was a small village, astride the upper reaches of the Alde River. In times past the king had placed a garrison here to guard the ford, but these days, this part of the frontier was generally quiet, and the king had withdrawn the garrison back to Tewsbury. The village was little more than a small group of buildings clustered around the Green Unicorn, the local tavern. It was here that Hayley decided to visit first, for surely it was the hub of the village.

  She tied her horse to a tree outside and made her way into the structure, to be greeted by a sudden increase in the noise level. The place was busy and the din of voices almost overwhelming. She pushed her way through the crowd to the bar to see an old man with a wispy grey beard and sideburns pouring ale for the local smith, judging by the look of his hands.

  “What can I get you, miss?” the man asked.

  “A mug of ale, if you please,” she said, tossing some coins onto the bar. “Is it always so busy here?”

  The barkeep poured the ale and deposited it in front of her before answering, “Not usually, but the town has gathered to talk about the attacks.”

  “I heard something about those,” she commented. “Can you tell me more?”

  “There’s been some cattle killed and stolen,” he said as if that was all the explanation that was necessary.

  “Killed and stolen? How do you know it was killed if it was stolen?”

  “Don’t be a smartass,” the man chided. “Some cows were killed, and others were carted off.”

  “So there’s thieves or bandits in the area?”

  “No, an animal of some sort. I’ve heard that it’s got big claws and tore a cow to bits. What’s it to you?”

  “Actually,” she admitted, “I’ve been sent here to investigate. I’m a King's Ranger.”

  The man stared at her in disbelief, “You’re a King's Ranger? Don’t make me laugh!” Despite his words to the contrary, he started laughing, a deep belly full of chuckles that seemed contagious to Hayley, for she was soon joining in.

  He finally stopped, wiping a tear from his eye with his apron. “That’s a good one,” he said. “You had me going for a moment.”

  She pulled the ranger’s medallion from her neck. Each King's Ranger had one with the royal crest of the order on one side, and the ranger's number on the reverse. If two rangers should meet, the lower number was always considered the senior. She held the medallion up before the barkeep, “See? I actually am a ranger!”

  The look of shock on the man’s face was priceless, and Hayley smiled, batting her eyelashes at him.

  “Saxnor’s balls, I’ve never heard of a woman being a ranger before.”

  “You should get around more,” she offered. “There’s more of us than you might think.” She was casting her eyes about the crowd as she talked, “Who’s in charge around here?”

  The barkeep pointed across the room, “See that man over there? The one with the bald head and the moustache? His name’s Simon Agramont. He’s the one you want to talk to.”

  “Is he the mayor?” she asked.

  “Mayor? No, we’re not big enough for one of those. He’s the reeve. He manages the village on behalf of the Earl of Tewsbury.”

  “Thank you,” she said, downing her ale in one large pull. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and then began making her way through the crowd once more. As she got closer to her target, she heard him talking to his companion, a man who looked like a farmer of sorts.

  “I tell you, Andrew, the earl has sent for a ranger. Once he gets here, he can track the beast down. We’re not going to send a bunch of farmers into the woods on a wild goose chase. It could be dangerous.”

  The man he was talking to was obviously not happy with the delay and turned away in disgust, heading for the bar.

  Hayley took the opportunity to introduce herself. “Reeve Agramont?” she asked.

  He turned at the mention of his name, “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Actually, I think there’s something I can help you with,” she said. “I’m Hayley Chambers. I’ve been sent by the King's Rangers to investigate this problem of yours.”

  “It’s about time you got here,” the man sneered. “We asked for a ranger weeks ago.”

  “Sorry, but the rangers have been stretched to the limit of late,” answered Hayley. “What can you tell me about the attacks?”

  “They’ve been going on since the winter thaw. Something's been killing the cattle.”

  “Can you show me where?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied. He was about to move towards the door and then stopped suddenly. “Are you sure you’re up to this? You look a little young.”

  “Trust me,” she said, “I’ve been tracking all my life. My father said I was tracking before I was walking.”

  The reeve didn’t seem impressed by her bravado, despite Hayley’s best smile.

  “Follow me,” the man said glumly, leading her toward the exit. “The latest attack was last night, to the south of town. The farm is only a short distance away.”

  “Wolves?” she asked.

  “No,” he denied, “definitely not. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

  * * *

  It took some time to arrive at the pasture. Hayley looked up at the sky; daylight wouldn’t last much longer. She dismounted and followed Simon to where the carcass was. It lay there in a pool of blood, with large claw marks raked across the creature's belly.

  “Interesting,” she commented.

  “Can you tell what did it?” Simon asked.

  “Certainly not a wolf,” she agreed.

  The man snorted in disgust, “I knew that. Did you come here only to tell me what I already know?”

  Hayley ignored the man's belligerence, “The claw marks are large, not those of a wild cat or even bear.” She bent down to examine the carcass in more detail. "There’s another wound up here by the neck.”

  Simon looked surprised at her discovery. “Can you tell what killed it?” he asked.

  “Something big. It appears to have snapped the cow’s neck. It would take some strength to do that.” She stood up, casting her eyes about the field, “Have the remains been moved at all?”

  “No, of course not, who’d want to move this?” he said, gesturing with his hands.

  Hayley again ignored the man's behaviour and started wandering about, her eyes scanning the ground for details.

  “Find any tracks?” the man asked.

  “A few, but they just disappear. It looks like something big attacked the cows. How many cattle were here?”

  “Farmer Hayes said there were twelve.”

  She scanned the field. “One's been taken,” she remarked.

  “Yes,” agreed Simon, “a calf. Surely you can track it?”

  “No,” she answered. “Though I can tell where it was killed.”

  The villager began to get agitated. “Are you telling me,” he said, “that you can’t even track a cow? I thought you were a King's Ranger?”

  Hayley rose from where she was examining the tracks, “I can assure you; I AM a King's Ranger. I’ll investigate this problem of yours, I promise you. In the meantime, let me see to this uninterrupted. You’d best head back to the village, and I’ll continue to look around, but it’ll take some time. If I find anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  The reeve left without comment, beginning the walk back into the village, grumbling as he did so.

  Hayley was baffled. She saw the pool of blood on the ground where the calf had been killed, but couldn’t for the life of her figure out what had happened. She walked around the stain on the grass, looking for any signs of tracks. She finally came across a single print. Bending closer, she observed a strange depression. It appeared to be a three-toed print, with deeper cuts at the end, most likely t
alons. She wondered if this was some type of giant eagle or falcon, but the mark was far too large for any such creature.

  She stood, surveying the surrounding terrain. If something had carried off the carcass, it would be impossible to track. How would she proceed? She stared back at the ground; surely if this much blood was spilled, the body must have been dripping. Perhaps she could find a trail?

  It would be a monumentally difficult task, but she had to act quickly, for soon it would be dark, and the trail would be impossible to locate. She crawled around the scene of the slaughter, examining the ground in minute detail, looking for any signs of a trail. Sure enough, just as the sun was starting to set, she found what she was looking for; a small spattering of blood a fair distance from the killing. She marked it with a stick and then rose to look back at the scene of the attack. Letting her eyes follow the line from larger blood pool, to her present location, she turned, extending her gaze in the same direction, eastward. Of course, the creature might have circled the area, but she thought that unlikely. Chances were, with a heavy load, the attacker would want to get away as quickly as possible to devour their prey.

  She looked to the trees in the distance, the setting sun casting its last light across the sky, illuminating the treetops with a golden glow just before it sank beyond the horizon. In that briefest of moments, she saw a single pine tree, its top broken near the tip. Was this a clue? Knowing it would be too dark to proceed, she lined up two sticks by pushing them into the ground, forming a line pointing at the broken tree. Now, when morning came, she would be able to head toward the mysterious tree in the distance.

  As a ranger, she was used to sleeping outdoors, and so she lit a fire and rolled out her blanket, settling in for the night. The morning sun rose to find her packed and ready to begin her trek. It took some time to reach the broken tree and then came the difficult task of climbing it. Many scrapes and cuts later, she was precariously perched near the top branch, the treetop swaying unsteadily as her weight shifted. Examining the break in more detail, she realized the snapped off top held no clues, and she was disheartened that her efforts had proven futile. Admitting defeat, she began climbing back down, when something caught her eye. Wedged in among the pine needles was a feather. She reached out to carefully grasp it, tucking the large brown plume securely into her tunic before continuing her descent. Perhaps now she could uncover what this creature was.