Page 26 of The Darkland

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Robert’s mother wasa round woman who gave the children as much food as they could carry. Munching on a wedge of tart white cheese, Mara followed the group from the kitchen yard and through a small tunnel carved into the outer wall. Emerging into the knee-high grass of the surrounding fields, the five of them tramped down a small hill and into a grove of gnarled oak.

It was cool and pleasant among the trees. Mara finished the cheese and crunched into a small green apple as Robert graciously brushed off a rock for her to sit. Smiling, she accepted.

The lanky youth plopped to the dirt at her feet, smacking loudly on pumpkin seeds. “Now,” he said, licking his fingers. “You have got to send word to your da. He must come and take your sister away from Anchorsholme before she can marry the Devilboy.”

“Devilboy?” Mara repeated. “You mean Lord Edmund?”

Robert nodded, his unkempt blond hair waving like grass in a breeze. “He is evil.”

Mara stopped mid-chew. “How do you know this?”

Robert picked more seeds. “Because I have lived here all my life, lady. If your sister stays, she’ll end up dead like all the rest. Mayhap you will, too.”

Mara could hardly swallow. She tossed the apple aside and spit out the contents of her mouth, her bright blue eyes wide on the boy. “Dead? For Heaven’s sake, Robert, what are you talking about?”

Robert’s younger brother retrieved Mara’s half-eaten apple, brushed it off, and finished it. Robert ignored the boy, finishing his seeds. “Did not anyone tell you about The Darkland?”

Mara nodded hesitantly. “Well, yes… Sir Corwin told me that is what Lord Edmund’s Irish subjects call it.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Not really,” she sat forward on the rock, her expression intensely curious. “Why do they call it The Darkland, Robert?”

Robert finished his seeds and met Mara’s demanding gaze. “Because women die here. Any young woman who comes to this place never leaves.”

Chills of foreboding raced up Mara’s spine. “How do they die?”

“No one knows,” Robert shook his head. “One minute they are here, the next they are gone. No one ever sees them again. Nine in all, in fact.”

Mara did not reply for a moment, digesting his story. “And you believe my sister and I to be in danger?”

Robert’s expression tensed. “All young women are in danger.”

“But Sir Kirk will protect us.”

“He cannot. He is always gone when the women vanish.”

Mara swallowed, her sense of dread growing. “Is he somehow involved with these… disappearances?”

Robert shook his head and Mara sighed with instant relief. “Sir Kirk is a just man. But he always seems to be away when the women vanish.” The youth gestured at her new surcoat. “I saw that dress on a lady in early winter, a lady come to serve Lady Johanne from Ireland. The dead ladies are always from Ireland, you see, vassals of Lord Edmund. Lady Jessamyn wore that same dress the night before she vanished.”

Mara looked at the garment, horrified. “How do you know it is the same dress?”

The lad shrugged. “Sometimes I help serve the soldiers. She was sitting with Lady Johanne in that dress, eating her last meal. I remember noticing the dress because Gilly liked the silver thread around the sleeve.”

Mara was pale as she looked at the young girl seated on her left, no more than twelve years of age. The girl smiled weakly, her cheeks flushing, and Mara returned her focus to Robert in dismay.

“You are sure, Robert?”

“Positive.”

“But you said the women disappeared. How do you know for sure that they were killed? Mayhap they simply left and no one saw them depart.”

Robert shook his head, slowly. “They are dead, lady. Lord Edmund told everyone that the women returned home, but my mam once helped bury the possessions of one of the ladies.”

“By whose order?”