by Kate Forsyth
Martin stopped and drank some more, then looked round the little circle of rapt faces. He was indeed a master storyteller.
‘Jaspar, who was the Rìgh then, he had married for love, like all young men, and like all young men, he found love can be a cruel joke.’ His grey eyes came to rest on Lewen’s face. ‘His pretty wife Maya had her own plans, and one cold winter’s day the whole world found out what they were. Jaspar had given her a legion o’ soldiers for her own, and she dressed them in red, like she wore herself, and smiled at them and young men came flocking to serve her. That cold winter day her soldiers struck at every witches’ tower in the land, and threw them down, and Maya declared the witches were traitors and should be killed, every one o’ them.’
He looked back at Nina. ‘Ye are too young to remember, but I, I remember it well. My family worked at the tower and so I was there, a lad o’ only five. I remember the screaming, and the black smoke everywhere, and the way the soldiers went through every room and hall, killing every witch they found, and any who dared to defy them. Most were put to the sword, or were crushed under the falling masonry as the soldiers used their machines to drag down the walls. Some they dragged to the garth, and tied upon a great pile o’ firewood and burnt them to death, feeding the flames with the books from the library. I hid down the well, and so they dinna find me. My parents both died, though neither were witches. So, ye see, it is no’ a day I’d forget easily.’
Nina nodded, her mouth twisting.
‘When at last I crept out, I dinna ken where to go or what to do. At last I went to the laird. Where else would I go? They gave me a job scrubbing pots in the kitchen. I was grateful. At least I was warm there, and had food. It was there that I heard what had happened. For the Tower o’ Ravens was very strong, ye ken. No pretty red soldiers should’ve been able to throw it down, no’ with those high walls and lookout towers and all those witches with their far-seeing and clear-seeing skills inside. And then there was Fettercairn Castle itself, built to guard the road. How had the soldiers got through? I myself did no’ much care, being too young and full o’ misery to wonder, but the servants at the castle wondered very much, and I listened as they talked, like young boys do.’
He rested his gaze now on Roden’s mop of bright, curly hair, nestled in against his mother’s side as he sat on the floor at her feet. Then he looked back at Lewen and suddenly his gaze seemed very clear and intent.
‘The laird’s younger brother was then staying in the castle, and I heard many mutters against him. He had been an apprentice once, just like ye, my lad. A witch’s apprentice at the Tower o’ Ravens, but he had been disgraced somehow. Cheating at exams, I think, though it was so long ago, I canna be sure. Happen it was trouble over a lass. There’s always trouble over lasses. Anyways, he’d left the tower and gone to the capital, and by all accounts he was very sore at the witches who had been his teachers and fellow students and swore revenge on them. When he came back, he wore a long red robe and said he was in the Banrìgh’s pay now.’
‘A Seeker?’ Nina breathed. ‘Laird Malvern was once a Seeker?’
The old man flashed her a glance. ‘We called them witch-sniffers, for they sniffed out magic, but I’ve heard them called Seekers too.’
Nina nodded, her dark eyes burning bright. ‘So he was a Seeker! Och, that explains a lot.’
‘The red soldiers were his friends,’ the old man continued. ‘He had brought them to visit Fettercairn, and they had gradually filled up every spare room, till the laird was very impatient and told his brother they must go. But they did no’ go, they attacked the Tower o’ Ravens instead, and though I dinna ken whether it be true or no’, it was said Malvern, who’s laird now, showed the redcloaks the secret way to the tower, so they could come in darkness and stealth, and attack from within.’
Nina and Lewen exchanged quick glances.
‘Later, after the laird and his son died, Malvern put aside his red robes and became laird himself. For a while all went well, for he was a favourite o’ the Banrìgh. But once the Banrìgh was thrown down, well, he retreated inside his castle and I hear he hardly ever comes out now. That was when things in Fetterness went from bad to evil, I heard, though I had left by then, hoping to leave evil things behind me.’
‘How did the laird and his son die?’ Nina asked persuasively, and Lewen topped up the old man’s cup.
He drank deeply, then sighed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
‘Another sad tale, that one. Would ye no’ rather I told ye the tale o’ Bessie and the runaway pig?’
Nina shook her head. ‘Nay, please, we really do want to ken.’
He held out his cup again. ‘To tell a sad tale like that I need to wet my whistle again,’ he said. ‘It’s a tale to make ye weep.’
Lewen obligingly filled up his cup, and put the empty decanter down. Martin was quiet for a moment, staring into the flames. Nina was about to prompt him again when he stirred and began again to speak.
‘Your wee laddie there has a look o’ the laird’s young son about him. It’s the ruddy hair and black eyes, ye dinna see that very often. He was born about ten years after the fall o’ the Tower o’ Ravens. The laird had taken a young girl for his wife, a pretty wee thing, half his age. They loved that laddie, and spoilt him half to death. Now, at the time Maya the Blessed ruled the whole country with an iron hand concealed in a velvet glove. But no’ everyone loved her, and rebels worked to bring the witches back. I must admit I loved to hear the tales o’ those rebels, and often used to dream o’ running away and joining them. The rebels were led by a man they called the Cripple, for he had a hunch to his shoulder and a twist to his spine, and could scarce walk a step. The things that Cripple did! He must’ve had magic o’ his own, for they never managed to catch him, even when he rescued a cartload o’ witches from right under the Banrìgh’s nose.’
Nina and Lewen exchanged a smiling glance. They knew better than most the many stories about the days when Lachlan the Winged had hidden himself in the guise of a hunchback, working to overthrow Maya the Ensorcellor and bring back the Coven of Witches. It had been Nina’s grandmother Enit who had masterminded many of those daring rescues and many a witch or a faery had, like Lachlan, been hidden in the jongleurs’ caravan as they roamed around Eileanan. Lewen’s mother Lilanthe had herself travelled that way, the jongleurs keeping her safe from Maya’s Seekers, who would have burnt her to death if they had found her.
‘Now the witch-sniffer Malvern hated witches and rebels, and he hunted them down far and wide. Every village skeelie and cunning man on this side o’ the river was burnt alive, and anyone who had auld books, or who swore by Eà, or even protested that the witch-hunts were too brutal. And he seemed to have an uncanny way o’ kenning what ye thought, so none o’ us dared ever look him in the eye, or mutter under our breath. He had us under his fist, from Barbreck-by-the-Bridge down to Tullimuir and right round to Rhyssmadill itself. It was a sad day for us all when Laird Falkner let his brother come home to stay.
‘One day he had his soldiers bring in a lass who was accused o’ witch-talent. Her mother had been burnt as a witch and her grandfather too, but she had been taken in by neighbours and brought up as one o’ their own. Her name was Oonagh and she hated the witch-sniffers for what they had done to her family. She saw one in the marketplace one day and had some kind o’ fit, and thunder and lightning came out o’ nowhere, and hail. She was sick as a dog after, and they arrested her and took her to the castle for questioning, which we all kent meant torture. They were dark days at Fettercairn.’ He sighed and shook his head.
‘Somehow the Cripple found out about this poor lass and that very afternoon they came to the castle, some hidden inside the dung-cart, some disguised as labourers or farmers bringing produce. There were only a dozen or so o’ them but somehow they managed to lock up the castle garrison and rescue the girl. They could no’ get out again, though, for Laird Malvern sniffed them out and attacked them with his own men. There was vicious f
ighting, all through the castle. Me and some o’ the other pot-boys helped the rebels, for we hated the witch-sniffer and his cruel ways. We took the Red Guards by surprise, and locked them in one o’ the halls, and then the Cripple caught the sniffer and held him hostage.
‘It must’ve been about then that Laird Falkner took his lady and son, who was about five, I think, and hid them for safety. But then he was captured too and taken to the great hall, where the Cripple accused the witch-sniffer o’ murder and torture and treason and all sorts o’ other things, and held a trial. Truly it was amazing. The rebels had won the castle with only a handful o’ men! We all kent we were in the presence o’ greatness, even the fat auld cook felt it. Those rebels, though they were all filthy and stunk to high heaven, they were brave and bold and laughed as they fought, and they made no move to hurt us or molest any o’ the maids, or even steal the laird’s gold. The Cripple himself was only a few years aulder then me, and I must admit I admired him, for doing what I could only dream o’ doing.’
Lewen was enraptured. He wondered if his father had been one of those men. Niall the Bear had turned rebel as a young man, and had worked with Lachlan the Winged to rescue witches and undermine Maya for many years before they at last succeeded in overthrowing her and regaining the throne. Swiftly he did the arithmetic in his head. If the Tower of Ravens had been thrown down by the Red Guards forty-odd years ago, and the rebels had attacked the castle fifteen years later, then it was highly likely his father would have been fighting with Lachlan, for he had not yet been twenty when he had joined the rebels.
Martin had paused only long enough to drain his cup. His eyes were unfocused now, and his words slurred, but his voice still had power to cast a spell. ‘The laird was furious and called the rebels cowards and cheats and traitors, but the Cripple only mocked him, and told him that he was the coward and traitor, to kidnap and torture a young lass near to death. The laird had no’ kent about the witch-lass, he tried his best to turn a blind eye to the things Malvern did, and he was horrified, ye could see it on his face. Laird Falkner shouted that it was no’ true, it was all lies, and attacked him with his sword. The Cripple was clumsy on his feet, being a hunchback, and no’ the best fighter, but the laird was mad and blind with rage. They fought and the Cripple killed him, though I dinna think he meant to.
‘It was all confusion after that, and the battle broke out again, for the laird’s bodyguard went mad and attacked the rebels with naught but his bare hands. Somehow, in all the fighting, the laird’s brother slipped away, I do no’ ken how though I was there, watching it all with my own eyes. We found his red robe in the library.
‘It was only then that we discovered the lady and her son were missing. The boy’s nurse set up a great screech and the castle was searched from top to bottom, but no sign o’ them was found. We all thought they must’ve escaped with the witch-sniffer. Half o’ us joined the rebels, and the others were allowed to leave, which they did right gladly, for everyone had expected the rebels would kill anyone who disagreed with them. But they dinna. There was a great feast instead, and singing and dancing, and the Cripple opened up the laird’s treasury and gave it all to the poor folk. It was like a mad dream. A week or so later, the witch-sniffer returned with a big army to take the castle back, but the rebels saw them coming and went in the night, for after all, there was only a dozen or so o’ them, and thousands o’ the Red Guards.
‘I went with them, so I wasna there when they discovered the lady and the young boy had no’ fled with Malvern but had been hidden in a secret room by the laird. More than a week they were locked in that room, in the dead o’ winter, with no food or water. By the time Malvern opened up the secret panel, it was too late. The boy was dead and his mother was quite mad. They say Malvern was stricken with grief and guilt, and indeed he quit the Banrìgh’s service after that, and stopped his witch-hunts. I never went back to Fetterness, but I’ve heard the shadow o’ those dark days still stretches across the whole valley and that the ghost o’ the wee lad haunts the castle, crying aloud from the cold.’
There was a short silence, then Roden lifted his sleepy head and said, ‘It’s true, there is a ghost o’ a little boy there, I saw him. He has the bonniest rocking horse. There are lots o’ boys there, and all o’ them cry ’cause they want to go home.’
‘Is that so, laddie?’ Martin said slowly. ‘Obh obh, it’s an evil place, Fettercairn. I’m glad I got away from there.’
‘So are we,’ Nina answered, cuddling Roden close. ‘I canna tell ye how much.’
Rhiannon lay in the darkness, slowly rubbing her cloth-muffled chain back and forth against the timber post of the bunk-bed. She had to control her desperate impatience, for if she jerked the chain too hard it rattled, and she did not want to alert anyone to her wakefulness. She had only these quiet hours of the night to wear away the wood till it was weak enough to snap, setting her free. If anyone discovered what she was doing, her chance would be lost.
A muted sound outside made her pause and turn her head. Then she felt the caravan shift as someone put their weight on the steps. Rhiannon found it hard to breathe. With all her muscles tense, she listened as someone very gingerly turned the door handle first one way, then another. There was a pause, and then she heard the furtive sound of someone fumbling with the lock. Rhiannon tested the chain between her hands. It was not long enough to wrap around a throat and garrotte someone, but perhaps, if she pinned them to the bed with it, she could hold them down long enough to choke them. She raised herself onto one elbow, holding the chain rigid so it would not rattle, then managed to get up onto her knees, pressing herself back against the wall.
The tiny sounds from the doorway continued, then she heard a click as the lock sprang free. The door swung open, and someone slipped inside and closed the door behind them. Rhiannon listened as they took a step or two towards her, her heart hammering so loud she thought they must hear it. A dark, faceless shape loomed over her, and she tensed, ready to strike.
‘Rhiannon?’ a deep voice whispered.
She launched herself at him, burying her head into his shoulder, jerking her wrists painfully as she tried instinctively to throw her arms about his neck. ‘Lewen!’ she gasped, and then, as his arms closed about her, felt the painful swelling in her chest burst as tears gushed from her eyes.
‘Hush, hush, my dearling, my sweet, they must no’ hear,’ he whispered, stroking her hair. She buried her head deeper into his shoulder, trying to control her shuddering sobs. Murmuring endearments, he pressed her back so he could lie beside her on the bed, his arm cradling her close. He felt something hard between them, and realised, with a little jerk of his pulse, that she wore the amulet he had carved for her hanging between her breasts. Eagerly he sought her mouth, cradling her head in both his hands, desperate to tell her how sorry he was for betraying her.
She tore her mouth away. ‘Ye told them! Ye helped them hunt me down!’
‘I’m so sorry, my dearling, I’m so sorry, I dinna mean for this to happen, I dinna want this.’ He kissed her wet face and she recoiled away from him.
‘Ye told.’
‘It just happened, I dinna mean to.’
‘What do ye mean, it just happened?’
Lewen buried his face in her hair. ‘I’m so sorry, Rhiannon. Really, I dinna mean for them to hunt ye down or cage ye up like this. I just …’ Words failed him. He could not explain. After a moment he said again lamely, ‘It just happened.’
She was silent for a moment, then he felt her lay her head down on his chest again. ‘Like me and the soldier,’ she whispered. ‘I never meant him harm. It just happened. I wish it never had.’
They lay in silence for a while.
‘Will they hang me?’ she whispered.
‘I willna let them,’ Lewen burst out, the desperation in his voice telling her more than he meant to. She shivered and clung to him.
‘I have to escape,’ she told him. She heard him sigh and shift his weight. ‘I canna st
and it in here,’ she went on wildly. ‘I feel like I canna breathe! The air presses down on me and chokes me. I canna stand it! I canna! Help me get out o’ here!’
‘But how?’ he said at last. ‘I only managed to get in here to see ye by putting a sleeping spell on Rafferty, but I am no’ strong yet in such Skills, there’s no way I could ensorcel Nina or Iven, I daren’t even try. And even if ye managed to get away from the camp without anyone seeing ye, Nina has only to call out to the birds for help and she’d find ye in minutes.’
‘I want my horse,’ Rhiannon said passionately. ‘If I had Blackthorn, I could escape!’
Lewen hesitated, then said, ‘Blackthorn is near, she follows the caravans. But oh, Rhiannon!’
She pushed herself away from him, her chain rattling. ‘Blackthorn follows?’
‘Aye, she follows, but Rhiannon, I do no’ think …’
‘Lewen, unchain me! Please!’
‘I canna,’ he said unhappily.
‘Why no’? Are ye afraid?’ Her voice was thin with contempt.
‘Aye, o’ course I’m afraid,’ he answered crossly. ‘I risk being charged with treason just by being here with ye, do ye no’ ken that! But I canna unchain ye just because I’m scared, Rhiannon. I havena got the key, and these chains are too thick for me to break, no matter how much I want to. And Iven is asleep just outside, and he’ll wake at the slightest noise. So please, stop rattling those chains and hissing at me! I’ve been thinking and thinking what’s the best thing for us to do, and I canna think that running away is it. Sssh! Please, just listen. Rhiannon, if I managed to free ye now, what would ye do?’