The Robin And The Kestrel

windfall fruit underneath them, and without leaves it was impossible to make any accurate guess as to what they were growing here. While he took care of the horses, Gwyna bustled about the wagon, preparing dinner, heating water for washing, setting up a picture-perfect campsite...

Too perfect, he realized after a moment. This was not like the Gypsy Robin he knew! And he grinned again as he saw what she was up to. She was acting in every way like a proper little wife, a well-trained trader's wife who was a good Church-going woman and a lady who knew her proper place. There was nothing to show that they were Gypsies and Free Bards, and not ordinary, middle-class traders. And if the Free Bards were in disfavor with the Church, the traveling traders were not.

So, they would look like traders; industrious, God-worshiping traders, eh? He silently congratulated Gwyna on her cleverness, and did his best to emulate her, right down to shoving their instruments into hiding when he returned to the wagon. Just in case whoever showed up next from the Abbey happened to look inside the wagon.

There would be someone; Gwyna had made certain of that, not only by her words, but by the busy clatter she made with her pots and pans.

But they were left in peace to wash up and eat that hot dinner she had prepared so carefully, and he began to wonder if this Abbey was inhabited by nobody but a single, mad old man. But just as full darkness fell, the expected visitor arrived.

They didn't even notice him, he moved so quietly, with hardly even a swish of his robe against the grass. There were no twigs beneath the branches of these trees to betray him by snapping unexpectedly underfoot; the ground had been swept as clean as the floor in a house. In fact, when the man cleared his throat to announce his presence, he succeeded in startling both of them.

They looked up, to see him standing just within the light of their fire, a thin, diffident man with a pleasant expression and shy eyes. 'Oh!' the Brother said, immediately apologetic, and hurrying forward into the light of their fire. 'I'm so sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you! I thought you knew I was there! Please, forgive me!'

Kestrel had been sitting beside the fire; he stood immediately, and went to meet the Brother, holding out his hand, which the man took in a firm and friendly clasp. 'N-no offense. J-just d-didn't notice you. M-my n-name is J-J- Jonny B-Brede, good s-sir,' he said, concentrating on speaking slowly and rhythmically as Harperus had instructed him. 'M-my w-wife G-Gwyna and I are t-traders.'

'And not vagabonds and mountebanks, I know,' the Brother said, pulling back the cowl of his gray robe so that they could better see his ascetic, but friendly face and his apologetic smile. 'I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive Brother Pierce; he is old, often ill, and altogether very unhappy. Life has not treated him well. Most of the Brothers here are not like him.'

Kestrel returned his smile. 'Well, I c-c-can s-see th-that you aren't, at any r-rate... B-Brother... ?'

'Oh! Ah! Brother Reymond, Trader Brede,' the Brother replied, his smile widening when Jonny did not meet his friendly overture with a rejection. 'I am the Abbey Librarian, and I wanted to apologize for the fact that we simply have no room for you and your wife. That is why Brother Pierce has been instructed to tell travelers we can take no one in. Every cell is occupied, we have no guest rooms, and since our order has taken a vow to use no beast of burden, we have not even a stable you might shelter in. I also wished to be certain that you were warned about the dangers hereabouts.'

'Dangers?' Jonny looked around, nonplused. This certainly didn't look like a very dangerous area_

But on the other hand, this Abbey was a small island in the middle of the wilderness. They had been lucky so far; there was no telling what wandered under the branches of these trees once darkness fell.

'I fear so _' Brother Reymond had the grace to look guilty. 'Of course, to experienced travelers like you and your wife, these things are likely to be no more than an inconvenience.'

'Why don't you tell us what they are, first, before we decide,' Gwyna said dryly from her place beside the fire. 'Perhaps we ought to move on, after all.'

'Oh no!' the Brother said, paling. 'No, you don't want to do that! There's a Beguiler about, perhaps more than one! What if it found you on the road?'

Jonny shrugged; that was not a threat he took seriously, since they had a wagon to sleep in. Beguilers couldn't get into a closed wagon. Then I s-suppose we'd d-drown,' he replied lightly.

Beguilers were creatures that hypnotized their victims, then lured them into swamps to fall into deep water. Once their victims were safely dead, they feasted on the remains. They cast their 'spell' with a combination of sound and light; if you saw them but did not hear them, you were safe enough, and if you heard but did not see them, it was possible to remain in control of yourself. Most often they caught unwary travelers who mistook the light for the lantern of a house or wagon, and were then lulled by the Beguiler's humming to their death. It was not too difficult to evade them, if you knew they were around.

'Oh, don't say that!' Brother Reymond seemed genuinely distressed. 'Why, only last week_one of the farm boys hereabouts_not strong in his mind, but still _'

Jonny shook his head apologetically. 'I b-beg your p-pardon, B-Brother,' he said as quickly as he could. 'I d-