World Without End Page 0,520

with a message. Madge Webber was on the battlements and wanted to talk to Merthin and Davey.

"Do you think she'll buy my madder?" Davey said as they walked across the inner bridge.

Merthin had no idea. "I hope so," he said.

They stood side by side in front of the closed gate and looked up. Madge leaned over the wall and shouted down: "Where did this stuff come from?"

"I grew it," Davey said.

"And who are you?"

"Davey from Wigleigh, son of Wulfric."

"Oh - Gwenda's boy?"

"Yes, the younger one."

"Well, I've tested your dye."

"It works, doesn't it?" Davey said eagerly.

"It's very weak. Did you grind the roots whole?"

"Yes - what else would I have done?"

"You're supposed to remove the hulls before grinding."

"I didn't know that." Davey was crestfallen. "Is the powder no good?"

"As I said, it's weak. I can't pay the price of pure dye."

Davey looked so dismayed that Merthin's heart went out to him.

Madge said: "How much have you got?"

"Nine more four-gallon sacks like the one you have," Davey said despondently.

"I'll give you half the usual price - three shillings and sixpence a gallon. That's fourteen shillings a sack, so exactly seven pounds for ten sacks."

Davey's face was a picture of delight. Merthin wished Caris were with him just to share it. "Seven pounds!" Davey repeated.

Thinking he was disappointed, Madge said: "I can't do better than that - the dye just isn't strong enough."

But seven pounds was a fortune to Davey. It was several years' wages for a labourer, even at today's rates. He looked at Merthin. "I'm rich!" he said.

Merthin laughed and said: "Don't spend it all at once."

The next day was Sunday. Merthin went to the morning service at the island's own little church of St Elizabeth of Hungary, patron saint of healers. Then he went home and got a stout oak spade from his gardener's hut. With the spade over his shoulder, he walked across the outer bridge, through the suburbs and into his past.

He tried hard to remember the route he had taken through the forest thirty-four years ago with Caris, Ralph and Gwenda. It seemed impossible. There were no pathways other than deer runs. Saplings had become mature trees, and mighty oaks had been felled by the king's woodcutters. Nevertheless, to his surprise there were still recognizable landmarks: a spring gurgling up out of the ground where he remembered the ten-year-old Caris kneeling to drink; a huge rock that she said looked as if it must have fallen from heaven; a steep-sided little valley with a boggy bottom where she had got mud in her boots.

As he walked, his recollection of that day of childhood became more vivid. He remembered how the dog, Hop, had followed them, and Gwenda had followed her dog. He felt again the pleasure of having Caris understand his joke. His face reddened at the recollection of how incompetent he had been, in front of Caris, with the bow he had made - and how easily his younger brother had mastered the weapon.

Most of all, he remembered Caris as a girl. They had been pre-adolescent, but nevertheless he had been bewitched by her quick wits, her daring, and the effortless way she had assumed command of the little group. It was not love, but it was a kind of fascination that was not unlike love.

Remembrance distracted him from pathfinding, and he lost his bearings. He began to feel as if he was in completely unfamiliar territory - then, suddenly, he emerged into a clearing and knew he was in the right place. The bushes were more extensive; the trunk of the oak tree was even broader; and the clearing in between was gay with a scatter of summer flowers, as it had not been on that November day in 1327. But he was in no doubt: it was like a face he had not seen for years, changed but unmistakable.

A shorter and skinnier Merthin had crawled under that bush to hide from the big man crashing through the undergrowth. He remembered how the exhausted, panting Thomas had stood with his back to that oak tree and drawn his sword and dagger.

He saw in his imagination the events of that day played out again. Two men in yellow-and-green livery had caught up with Thomas and asked him for a letter. Thomas had distracted the men by telling them they were being observed by someone hiding in a bush. Merthin had felt sure he and