The Robin And The Kestrel

us h-how t-to g-get rid of th-the Gh-ghost.'

'Are you planning on breaking into the Abbey?' she asked softly.

He gave her a sideways look. 'G-got a b-better idea?'

'Not at the moment.' They drove on in silence for a while longer, the horses' weary hoofbeats clopping dully along the dusty road. 'The worst that can happen is we can pretend to be looking for holy books. That we've been overcome with a terrible case of religion.''

His sudden bark of laughter released the tension in both of them.

'Tomorrow night,' she replied. 'Not tomorrow during the day. We're both tired, and so are the horses. We can sleep as much as we need to, get rested, and get into the Abbey tomorrow night.' She tilted her head toward him, coaxingly. 'Hmm?'

For answer, he turned the horses off the road as soon as they reached the camping spot that the weavers had offered; just beyond a small bridge over a stream. The mares were more than glad to stop, and so was Robin.

'N-not afraid of t-treekies?' he teased, as she jumped down to unharness them and get them hobbled for the night.

'Not treekies, nor Beguilers, nor varks,' she replied, her hands full of leather straps. 'But I am afraid of your food, and it's your turn to fix dinner.'

'S-so it is.' He laughed, and went around to open up the back of the wagon. Presently she smelled lamp oil and bacon. By the time she finished with the horses and came around to the door, he'd warmed the wagon completely, and had hot tea, with sausages wrapped in bacon slices waiting for her.

And something else as well; which left her too weary to ask him anything more about his new plan before she drifted off to sleep.

Jonny had moved the wagon to a point just outside Church lands, and hidden it in a thicket off the road. They were still within easy walking distance of the Abbey_and more importantly, from here they could hear the bells as they rang for the various Holy Services of the day.

'It isn't m-much of a p-plan,' Jonny told her the next day, as they waited, rested arid fed, for the sun to sink. 'B-but I used t-to b-break into Ch-Church b-buildings all the t-time when I w-was on my own. Only p-places they g- guard are th-the T-Treasury and th-the k-kitchen. I w-was l-looking f-for s-safe p-places to s-sleep. N-nobody g- guards the L-Library.'

Robin took up the mass of her hair to braid it so that she could bind it around her head, out of the way. She gave him a puzzled look. 'The treasury I understand,' she replied, 'but why the kitchen?'

'B-Brothers are always h-hungry,' he told her. 'N-novices are always s- starving.'

They were both wearing dark breeches, close-fitting sweaters, and soft boots; all clothing they had gotten for Gradford, so all of it a drab charcoal gray. Gray was better than black for hiding in shadows, as Jonny well knew.

They waited after the sun set until the bell for Sixte, the last of the day's Holy Services rang; then they waited another hour or so for the Abbey to settle.

Just before they left, Jonny impulsively picked up the silk-wrapped pendant; he had the feeling it might be useful, although he wasn't certain how.

He recalled noting certain trees beside the Abbey, easy to climb, with boughs overhanging the wall; they were just as easy for the two of them to climb as he had thought. The Abbey itself was dark, with not even the single lantern at the gate alight. That was both inhospitable and unusual; but he reflected, as he inched along the bough he had chosen, that he already knew that Carthell Abbey was both. With luck, they could come and go and never leave a sign that they had been here.

They took their time; no point in hurrying and possibly giving themselves away with an unusual sound, or worse still, a fall. Kestrel straddled the bough he had chosen, lying on his stomach, and pulling himself along with both hands, while both legs remained wrapped around it. If he lost his grip, he would still be held by his legs. Gwyna was behind him; he hoped she had chosen a similarly safe way to cross. Excitement warmed him; now they were filially doing something. It felt good, after all this time of simply sitting back and watching things happen.

The bulwark of the wall lay below him_then behind him. If this had been summer, this would have been a bad place to come in, for the soft ground would have betrayed him by holding his footprints. But the ground was rock- hard, and any tracks he left in the frost would be gone with the first morning light.