The Owl Killers

hunting the wren

a day when the church gives alms to the poor. the wren, king of the birds and the underworld, is hunted and killed to despatch winter and allow spring to return.

tHE OWL MASTER SLIPPED OUT OF OUR COTTAGE. I held my breath and crouched as small as I could behind the bushes. His big feathered head turned this way and that, like he was watching what everyone did even through the walls, then he slipped between the cottages. I crept forward to see where he’d gone, but he’d vanished.

As soon as he’d gone, Lettice beckoned to me from the door of our cottage. She was always in our cottage now. I wished she’d go away and leave me and William alone. I dragged my feet over to her as slowly as I dared.

“You’re as filthy as a beggar’s ear, child. What ever would your mam say? This infernal mud.” She spat on the corner of her apron and scrubbed at my cheek with it. “Now you listen. Owl Master said those outlanders have come back to the village to hand out food. But you’re not to take anything from them. You hear?”

“But I want something to eat,” I wailed. “I’m so hungry.”

“Hungry or not, that food is witched. How else would they have so much food when there’s not a bite left in the village?”

“It’s not witched. I’ve had-”

“Had what?” Lettice demanded. “I hope you’ve not been near those women, my lass, or your father is going to give you such a thrashing when he gets back from the salterns.”

“I haven’t, honest, I haven’t.” But I felt my cheeks burning. “I just meant that I saw some villagers taking food from them yesterday and they didn’t die or turn into toads or anything.”

Lettice snorted. “You can be witched and not know it. I knew a poor woman who was overlooked by old Gwenith’s daughter. She started to have terrible nightmares of monstrous birds that pecked away at her. In agony she was, poor soul. She wasted away and died afore the year was out. Now those outlanders are harbouring that old Gwenith’s granddaughter. She’s the cause of this flood and those women are helping her. There was no trouble in Ulewic until they arrived, and we’ve had nothing but ill fortune since. Am I right?” She crossed herself. “So you mind what I say and stay away from those women.”

“You’re not my mam. I want my mam!” I shouted.

Lettice shook her head sadly. “Wanting won’t bring her back, my dear.”

I FOLLOWED THE GREY WOMEN out of the village and back along the track. They didn’t see me, ’cause I darted behind the bushes and they were too busy talking.

The village looked like a bog. Green water weed clung high up on every wall. Great pools filled the hollows in the fields. The water had mostly gone from the roads except for big puddles, but everything inside the cottages and outside was covered in thick squelchy mud, so deep it came right up to my calves.

Beatrice was pressing the corner of her cloak over her nose. “That stink! I can even taste it. I suppose we should be thankful the wind’s blowing it away from the beguinage.”

“Be thankful you’re not living in it,” Pega said.

“Why don’t they at least burn the corpses of the drowned animals?” Beatrice grumbled. “That dead cat lying in the road was so bloated its guts had burst open. I retched from one end of the street to the other from the stench of it.”

Pega laughed. “A newborn babe pukes less than you do, Beatrice. You’ve the stomach of a princess. Eaten too good all your life, that’s your trouble. Villagers have enough to do digging the middens out of their homes and scratching around for a bit of dry straw and bracken to lie down on of a night without bothering about what’s lying in the street. Besides, I reckon there’s fever taking hold in the village. That bairn curled up in the doorway, he was ailing and no mistake.”

Several of the women nodded. “I saw a few like that. One had a nosebleed.”

“And I saw two little girls, vomiting and scouring.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious, just the runs,” Beatrice told them. “Those children will scavenge anything. Most likely they’ve been eating some putrid scraps they’ve found. I’ve seen no sign of D’Acaster’s men in the village. Hasn’t his steward sent anyone to help?”

“From what I hear, Phillip’s got every man out hunting meat for the Manor.” Pega spat into the ditch. “He’d watch a bairn drown in a puddle at his feet sooner than bend down and pull it out, even one of his own bastards.”

She stopped and turned, peering in my direction even though I was sure she couldn’t see me. Then she grinned. “Come out, little mouse. There’s no one from the village to see you now. You hungry?”

I looked carefully up and down the road, before I crept out. Pega held out a big piece of cold mutton in her giant hand.

I reached out, then drew back. What if it was witched and I died from the birds pecking at me? But I was so hungry and the mutton smelt so good. I snatched the meat from her hand and tore at with my teeth. I didn’t care if I died; I had to eat it.

The women all smiled, all except the tall fierce one. She’d hurt her arm. Two flat pieces of wood were tied tightly to it. She looked down, frowning. “Tell me, child, why are many of the villagers refusing to take food from us? They must be hungry like you.”

“’Cause Owl Masters say it’s… witched,” I whispered. “Lettice has made a witch jar. She pissed into it and stuffed it full of pins and thorns. Then she put it under the hearth. She says when the fire gets hot, it’ll scald your bowels and stab you till you confess.” I glanced up, suddenly afeared. “You’re not burning now, are you?”

The women in grey laughed and shook their heads.

But the fierce one looked crosser than ever. “Did no one teach you such practises are wicked, child? If you are afraid of anything, you should pray and God will… He must surely hear the prayers of a child.”

She looked sad and worried. Maybe someone she loved got lost in the storm, like my mam. I wanted to give her a hug to make her feel better, but I was too scared of her.