Wakelin and Molly stood upon the packhorse bridge. Away from interfering elders, Wakelin's countenance mirrored his inner happiness. With pride he embraced his love and placed a kiss upon her cheek. Taking him by the hand, Molly led him away. The last tantalizing glimpse the children had of them was when they disappeared into the derelict granary.

*Let's creep up on them,' Dawkin suggested. *See what they're doing.'

*That wouldn't be right.'

He sped off.

Picking up her basket, Eppie trotted reluctantly across the bridge after him.

Through a gap, where the wattle and daub had crumbled, they spotted the lovers.

*Why won't you shave off your stubble?' Molly asked.

*A wench-faced fellow don't look like a man. Ya wun't want to marry a wench would ya?'

Eppie tripped away. *This is tiresome.'

*Wait on, Ep. It might get exciting.'

Huffing with irritation, she returned and resumed her squatting position.

*I'll be glad when we're wed,' Molly said, *then I'll never have to work at the manor house no more. I'm that a-feared of his lordship. He shouted at me summat rotten after I broke his duck platypussy. I were ownee dusting the thing when its beak dropped off in me hand it were that old. He threatened Ben, one of Alf's garden lads, with hanging after he caught him wolfing strawberries, so for sure he'll have Tom string me up if he catches me cob-nobbling any more of his beasties.'

Du Quesne had made Tom and Jonas fix a scaffold in one of their barns.

*Tom would never do no hanging,' Wakelin reassured her. *Henry says that ramshackle gibbet is only there to worry the labourers into behaving so we don't go poaching or demanding higher wages.'

*It's lucky his lordship's staying overnight in Malstowe next Saturday. I've got the night off. I'll be able to see you.'

*Nay, I'm off to the baiting.'

*Surely you can miss it this once?

Wakelin toyed with the trinket around her neck. *I wouldn't have been able to fetch you this off Harvey if I hadn't won me shilling.'

*I know, but I'd rather see you. Besides, badger baiting's cruel.' She encircled her arms about his waist. *Say you'll give it up, for me?'

*Stop wittering on, you're as bad as my old ma. You should be pleased I'm not at The Duck right now. At any rate I'm going this Saturday. Tom and me bagged some good un's. Most of *em was ripped to tatters in last week's baiting, but a couple of the females he's locked in the barn look spirited.'

Eppie spoke in a hushed voice, *Wakelin can be so pitiless at times. I've a good mind to ...' A determined glint came into her eyes, and she set down her basket. *Right, that's it.'

*What's it?' Dawkin asked, intrigued.

Without hesitating to explain, she charged off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

A MEMORY REKINDLED.

Bill Hix and other farm labourers, their heads bent together in conspiratorial confabulation, were so engrossed in their earnest plotting in the parlour of The Fat Duck that they failed to notice a golden-topped head and a shaggy brown poll appearing as Eppie and Dawkin, prising back a rotting window frame, sneaked a look in.

Eppie's quick eyes picked out Gillow and Henry cosily ensconced in the inglenook with Samuel.

*Looks like this estate manager has some kind of skin disease,' Samuel said. *Not so much as a please and thank you about him. Shepherd, he says, don't ya know nowt about black liver and how to cure it? I told him that only that morning Edmund and I had mixed a pudding of tar and oil to salve the flock. Scratching *emsens raw they've been. Glad to hear it, he says. From now on, though, every dead sheep will come out of your pocket, he says. How can I afford to pay for dead sheep out of my wages?'

*What I want to know is why his lordship had to bring Maygott in in the first place,' Gillow said.

*Du Quesne's latest venture is buying up failing businesses, so he has less time to organise the farm,' Henry answered. *The estate manager soon made himself at home. His lordship gave him the choice of rooms in the manor house for his personal use. He chose the former nursery. He reckoned it has a pleasant view, especially now those yew stumps have been dug up and the garden redesigned. His lordship had Talia's things taken out. He ordered Alf to burn them before he returned from Malstowe.'

*How could he!' Eppie whispered in shocked disbelief. *All of Talia's beautiful dresses! And Spellbound! He was alive, sort of. And oh, the baby-house!'

With a resounding clonk Edmund's ball smacked into the skittles sending the lot spinning.

Jacob was joyous at his son's success, *Quart o' ale for each of the winners, Tom!'

Edmund held coins aloft. *And a round for the losing team.'

*It's all right for the likes of you flinging your money about so freely,' Bill grumbled. *You don't give a thought to me having to scrape together every farthing. I've three children to feed and on what?'

Tom's pewter tray of tankards rose and fell as he wove between the regulars. *Hush it, Bill. The only thing we want brewing around here is ale, not trouble.'

Jonas stood behind the counter, wiping tankards. *You can't hold it against Edmund how he spends his lot. Besides, him squandering his pay on ale is good business for me.'

Bill was not pacified. *Now I've lost the missus what've I got to look forward to in life? At dinner last night all I got stuck before me was a woody half-stewed turnip what Wilbert found lying around.'

Jonas made a guttural, *Hmm.' Yesterday he had caught Wilbert sneaking about the inn yard, pilfering root vegetables.

*And things is sure to get worse now Maygott's watching over us,' warned Percy, Bill's friend. *He's threatened to fetch wandering labourers in if we don't put our backs into it.'

*His lordship sucks our blood drier than horseleeches,' Bill said. *There's no security in being paid casual. Measly parish hand-outs don't help. Winter's not far off. We need shoes for our bairns and summat warm to put on their backs. Let's show du Quesne we mean business. I say we force him to pay fair wages. Tonight we'll slit the throats of every one of his precious sheep. That'll make him listen.'

Samuel leapt from his seat, horrified. *You'll do nowt o' the sort, ya scoundrel! Them sheep's me own kith an' kin!'

*You can rest easy,' Bill scoffed. *Milk and grain's sold to you cheap on account of you being shepherd. You even get yer *tatie patch rent free.'

*That's as much as you know. *Them gains have been fetched away by Maygott. Says he's saving pennies.'

*An' ya can bet *em pennies ain't coming our way,' Paxton Winwood said. *Du Quesne's draining land and seeding cornfields like there's no tomorrow. All he cares about is raking in a fat profit for himself.'

*Winwood's right,' Bill said. *We have to make du Quesne realise how badly off we are. I stick by what I say; using violence is the only way to force him to heed us.'

Gillow eyed Bill critically. *Didn't you listen to the parson's sermon this morning?'

*Did I heck. I can't understand half the words he spouts.'

*He was speaking about revenge and evil acts being the vermin of our community. Killing and rampaging will serve no purpose other than ill. When you believe something is wrong you must fight to achieve your aims. Not with bludgeons and pickaxes, but with peaceful, passionate protest. That alone will secure your objective.'

Henry surveyed the solemn faces. *Gillow's right. You've listened to me before. I want you to listen now. Like you, I'm finding things tough bringing in a low wage. I'm thrown back worse than when I started. If it's fair wages we're after, we need straight talking, and a harmonious solution, then I can speak at the next court-leet. Let's toss a few ideas together. Come to some agreement about how best to get what we want.' Heading towards the window, he grabbed a chair and motioned the labourers to gather around.

Ducking, Eppie and Dawkin scurried to the back of the inn.

Compared to the picturesque facade of the inn, in summer festooned with baskets of flowers, the yard was a shambles. In the middle of a fenced area, pigs rooted, their trotters sinking into mud around a feeding trough. Horses wandered freely between a bale of hay and a pail of water pumped from the well. Their feathers matted and miry, ducks dabbled in a shallow puddle from which arose the stench of stale from inn-goers horses.

With a sense of disappointment the children, upon searching for the badgers, found the nearest shed was simply a store for barrels and horse tackle. Behind an open horse shelter was a barn. Raised upon a brick plinth to keep out damp, the walls were constructed of wattle and daub. Where this had crumbled, slats of timber were nailed haphazardly. Dawkin leapt to the door bolt, trying to knock it back, without success. Though Eppie was taller than him even she could not reach it. So engaged were they in their quest that they failed to notice Bill, resenting Henry's interference, step into the yard.

Eppie squinted through a hole in the timbers. *I can see them!'

*And what do you think you're up to?'

Eppie span around. It was with immense relief that she gazed upon Samuel's white-bearded face. Bill glared disdainfully at the children as he led his nag away.

*You know Jonas don't hold with young un's skulking around his yard, One-Quart.'

Eppie did not want to lie, nor did she care to admit that they were attempting to break into the innkeeper's property. Biting her lower lip, she stared at her shoes, now muddied and covered in so much straw that it looked as though she was wearing a pair of bird's nests.

*What about you lad? You ain't encouraging One-Quart to go stealing, is ya?'

*No, sir!'

*I know. You're thinking of letting *em badgers go ain't ya?' Samuel said shrewdly.

*It's awful what the dogs do to them!' Eppie cried.

*Ain't it thieving? Like when your brother stole his lordship's firewood.'

*It can't be the same, Grumps.' Dawkin was aware of the beauty and sadness in Eppie's face as she reasoned, *Badgers shouldn't be stuck in filthy cages. They live in the earth. I love all the creatures in the woods. Folk like Tom and Wakelin only find pleasure in tormenting them. Wakelin told me that sometimes the men break the badgers' jaws or limbs to give the dogs an advantage. You're not going to tell Jonas what we were up to, are you?'

*As if I would. I feel the same way you do about the wild things. I heard Dawkin say you can't shift the bolt. Let me give it a go.'

Eppie's face flickered with relief.

Try as he might, he could not budge it. *This ain't seen grease in a while.'

Eppie was determined that her plan should not fail. *You've got to do it, Grumps.'

With a clang, the bolt shot back. *Ho! I've done it.'

Planks of wood, logs, ropes and a wooden platform filled most of the open-beamed barn. In the furthest corner were cages.

The children scurried inside. In a hushed voice, Eppie told Samuel, *Dawkin and I will set them free. You run off home before anyone catches you.'

Samuel chuckled at his role in the plot. *I feel young all over again.' The inn door banged. *I'd better go,' he said nervously. Hastily, he closed the barn door and lodged it with a half-brick so that the children could easily escape.

*Gillow's gone off,' Jonas shouted across the yard to Samuel. *I forgot to ask him to bring his accordion tonight. Let him know, will you? After tackling misery-mouthed Bill I fancy an evening of fiery hand clapping.' A barrel rumbled down a ramp. Samuel rode away on Fleecy. All fell silent.

The children's eyes adjusted to the dimness. The closer they slunk towards the badgers, the stronger grew the sickening, charnel smell of death. Shoving a finger through a mesh, Dawkin prodded the stiff body of a badger, detecting no stir of life.

Eppie was roused to pity at seeing the dead creature. *Look at the ghastly teeth marks around its legs.'

In the adjacent cage slept two adult badgers, beside their paws, as sustenance, a maggoty jackdaw.

*I know it sounds daft, but I've never seen a badger before,' Dawkin said. *They're bigger than I imagined. I wonder why this dead one is sandy-coloured. I thought they were meant to be black and grey?'

*Not if their parents were sandy. It's passed on.'

A grunt from a sleeping badger drew Eppie's thoughts back to their quest. *We must hurry.'

Throwing open the cage, Dawkin poked the animals to rouse them.

*They bite. How are they to know we're friends?'

*Sorry, Ep, I forgot, but look they're not getting out.'

Drawing in her stomach muscles, she attempted to tip the cage, grimacing as the mesh bit into the skin of her palms. *I can't shift this; the badgers are so heavy.'

There was a slight movement in the cage with the dead badger.

*There's a little one!' Dawkin cried.

Eppie's amazement was tinged with despair at the sight of the injured cub. *It can't be more than a few weeks old.'

Oblivious to the open cage door, the animals threw their hefty bodies about. The foul reek of the badgers' fur, damp from being unable to maintain their daily hygiene rose to Eppie's nostrils *No!' she cried, seeing them attempting to dig their way out, claws scratching the base of the cage. *Get out!'

With a sense of horror, the children realised that the low rays of the sun were filtering into the barn. Because the floor and timbered walls of the barn were uneven, the heavy door was swinging wide of its own accord.

A man was picking his way across the yard, heading towards the barn.

*It's Tom!' Eppie whispered, hastily relocking the cage.

With not a moment to lose, Dawkin scrambled onto the platform and lifted the round handle of a flat door. They dropped into the hollow dug out of the chilly ground for cold storage of root crops. Beneath them the heap of vegetables felt hard and bumpy. Eppie's fingers alighted upon a coil of rope. It formed a running noose. Reeling with dizziness at the shock, she glanced upwards to ascertain the truth of her conjecture. Chinks of light seeped around the flap above them. They were inside the scaffold.

*Hix?' Are you sneaking around again?' Tom called suspiciously. He prowled, searching behind sacks.

Eppie's nerves tingled. Although shrouded in darkness she closed her eyes, praying this action would make her invisible.

The badgers, having detected the scent of their sadistic persecutor, attempted to escape from the pen. Tom kicked a cage. *You could've waited *til Saturday's baiting to die.' Mindful of his purpose in entering the barn, he heaved a log upon his shoulder and headed back to the inglenook. The rusty bolt shot through. The children cringed, realising they were trapped.

Throwing back the trapdoor, they clambered out.

Dawkin went to comfort the terrified cub, stroking it, careful not to touch its injured leg. Nuzzling, sucking his finger, it made a sorrowful wicker sound. *I know how you feel, little *un. Look at its front leg, how badly hurt it is. The poor thing wouldn't stand a chance if we threw it down a sett.' Despite the gloom, his eyes shone. *Ep, d'ya think we could take this one home with us? It needs a splint.'

She readily agreed. *We could keep it in the cart shed and feed it goat milk. After it's better we could release it.'