The Robin And The Kestrel

CHAPTER EIGHT

Robin woke to the sounds of birdsong and the soft whistling of a human. She knew by the absence of a warm body next to her that she was alone in the bed; but since the whistling was nearby, she was not alone in the wagon. After a moment, the sound of creaking and tapping told her what was going on.

Kestrel was caching the silver coins in little hiding places all over the wagon. All Gypsy wagons had a few hidden caches for valuables, but none had so many as this one; while it was being built he'd been with the wagonwrights every day, planning hiding places everywhere it was possible to cache even a single tiny copper- piece. Robin knew where some of the caches were, but she hadn't a clue where he hid most of the money they had.

I think he does it so I can't spend it or give it all away, she thought with amusement. Probably not a bad idea; sometimes I get a little too generous, I suppose. And I know I get a little too spendthrift when I know we have the money.

Those days when he had not had even regular meals made him more cautious about money and lean times than even old Erdric, so she could hardly blame him. It was just something she was going to have to learn to live with.

She stretched, enjoying the rare luxury of having the bed to herself for a moment, and opened her eyes to stare up at the intricate carving on the underside of the cupboard over the bed. A nice touch, that. It was a sinuous form called 'The Endless Knot' that was supposed to aid in concentration and relaxation if you followed it with your eyes long enough.

The encounter with the Ghost had given her more than she had hoped. They had the monetary reward, completely unexpected_and they had the safe-route across these hills for their people and theirs alone. Provided, of course, that none of their people managed to have themselves sent here from Carthell Abbey.

Therein lay the puzzle that kept her lying abed. Carthell Abbey? Now what in the name of all that is holy could Carthell Abbey have to do with a murderous Ghost? The Church had never dealt with ghosts at all, except to exorcise them; at least not that she had ever heard.

Well, the obvious answer was a simple one. The Church officials knew that the Ghost had been bound up on the Hill, and they used him, rather callously, as their convenient executioner. The Church was supposed to remand criminals to the civil authorities for trial and punishment, but everyone knew that a criminal Priest was dealt with within the Church itself. And in using the Ghost as their executioner, the Church kept its hands officially clean of blood. Cynical, yes, but the Church was full of cynics.

An obvious answer, except for a few problems. The first was that the minions of the Church should have been under spiritual obligation to exorcise the Ghost once they learned he was here_not use him! Especially since he had managed to kill one perfectly innocent Priest already, at least according to Annie Cook.

Well, maybe they did try to exorcise him and that was how the Priest was killed. Maybe they figured since they couldn't be rid of him, they might as well use him. The Church employs other executioners, after all_this would just be one rather strange executioner.

Maybe. But if the Church was using this spirit, they were definitely under moral obligation to warn travelers about his existence! Yet there were no warning signs, and nothing telling a traveler that this was a dangerous road. There was no guard on the way up Skull Hill. What few warnings there were, at least on the Westhaven side, were haphazard at best. If the people of Westhaven had been charged with warning travelers, they were doing a damn poor job of it.

That brought everything back to the same question. Why would the Church have anything to do with a spirit like the Ghost? They should do any number of things that they had not; and should not be doing any number of things that they were.

She rolled over and poked her nose through the curtains on the wagon-side of the bed. Jonny was fitting a small pile of silver coins_the last, from the look of things_into the hem of the curtain above the sink. That was one of the caches she already knew about, and as he caught the sound of the bed creaking, he turned and grinned at her.

'All hidden?' she asked. He nodded.

'Its ab-bout noon,' he told her. 'If w-we move out n-now, w-we should b-be at the Abbey b-by sunset.'

She nodded, and swung her legs down over the side of the bed, pushing the bed-curtains back to either side. 'And you think we should go there. You think that we might find something out about this vendetta the Church seems to have with us?' she asked, as her bare feet hit the wooden floor with a dull thump.

He handed her a wooden comb, and cut bread and cheese while she washed her face and dealt with the tangle of her hair. 'Th-the Gh-ghost made a p-point of m-mentioning it,' he said, thoughtfully. 'L-like he c-couldn't t- talk about s-something, b-but w-was trying t-to g-give us a c-clue.'

'Hmm.' She accepted bread-and-cheese with a nod of thanks. 'There is something very strange going on here,' she observed. 'Do you remember, when I was describing how Nightingale went off towards Kingsford and I said we were looking towards Gradford, he said that we were likelier to find the source of our troubles than she was?'

''M-more l-likely to b-bear fruit,' he said,' Kestrel agreed. 'I d-don't know whether he m-meant the Abbey or