by Gail Merritt
‘I like him,’ she confided as my bird turned for another pass. This time I lunged wildly and was alarmed to find myself being hoisted by the shoulders.
‘Get thee in the jesses, little one!’ the auk rasped. He held me in his strong feet and by some deft trick had laid the jesses over my shoulders. He never wavered in direction or speed as I wriggled my hands in for one then the other loop. The soft leather took the weight of my body, and I felt the heaviness in my ribcage as my arms seemed to stretch above me. ‘Going this-a-way! Make thyself comfy but not too much wriggle, thank ye!’ Without waiting, the auk rose steeply to follow his companion, banking to the left, over the marshes. Icy wind hit me like an iron sheet, and I closed my eyes, gasping for breath, wondering what madness had made me agree to such folly. We would surely fall or, if not, then we would arrive in Brak as frozen blocks of flesh.
I kept my eyes tightly shut against the blast until the auk squawked, ‘Look! Water!’ The bird sounded almost joyful and I risked a glance below me. Far, far below my feet, I could see delicate strips of white that appeared and disappeared, several ranks of uneven rows, moving in the same direction. It was the surf, on the coast near Ransom. I could not see the village but ahead I detected the shape of Sandor, his body dangling awkwardly from the legs of the leading auk and far below, stretching ahead of us was the curve of Rush Bay.
We left the indistinct shape of Ransom behind, and I saw the dark masses of Lanti and Tron Islands to our right, but there was no sign of Gwythin’s island. Later, ahead of us, the sleeping villages and the town of Sarnmouth sent thin spirals of smoke into the night. Down there the wind had dropped but our speed created a constant rush of air in my face. My arms were already aching, and I had no idea how long we had been flying. The mouth of the Sarn River was far to the north. yet we could already see it. The sky was clearing and from time to time I saw the huddled shapes of beasts, probably cattle in the fields beside the ocean. At Sarnmouth, we turned north-west, following the river, first over pastures and meadows, then rising to the wild country where the old king and my father liked to hunt deer. A herd scattered as the auks flew lower, bringing us some relief from the intense cold. The birch forests stretched to the north where the thriving town of Malister would soon be waking, but the auks turned westward, over the rugged escarpment of Lundow’s Bluff. I know this land well, In the growing light I could pick out Anardis, our neighbouring town. The Lord of the Gathering who governed there had a passion for music and held a festival every harvest time. He awarded prizes for singing and harping and it was the only journey that I ever made with my father. Anardis was left behind and, as dawn rose, limp and honey-coloured, the familiar hillsides shrouded in elder bushes sped below my feet and I was almost too overcome with emotion to hear my auk asking where we would like to be set down.
Remembering Gwythin’s warning about the danger to the auks, I suggested that they put is down among the elders, if they could find a clearing. At that time of the day, there would be no one about and they would be safe to leave again. The auk appreciated my consideration and was eager to offer his services again, but I silently promised my aching arms that it would be my only flight.
Landing was just as hazardous as our take-off. We had to wriggle free of the jesses and then leap to the ground as the birds flew as low as they could. A few words of advice about rolling into a ball was all I was given before I was dropped, and the great birds were already diminishing dots in the dawn sky.
‘I don’t think I will ever be warm again!’ Sandor grumbled as he rubbed the blood back into his legs.
‘There’s always a fire in Channa’s kitchen. This way!’ I might have said more but I was finding it hard to stop my teeth chattering. We half-stumbled, half-ran down through the elders and the meadows, through the town to the market place and the Meed Castle. It was not a homecoming that I was relishing.
13. - Farewell
The market place was deserted. Even the token guards who used to loiter in the shade of the castle gate were missing and no one challenged us when we ran up the stone steps to the Lord’s family rooms or down the corridor to my father’s apartments. His rooms were at the end of this long corridor. It seemed to stretch for miles when I was a small child and had to visit him. Those excursions into his territory were always to receive a reprimand for something I had done. It was always a reprimand, my father never punished, he didn’t have to, his displeasure was enough. It seemed that misery would always await me at the end of that walk. I felt Sandor’s hand gripping mine.
My father was a large man and filled his stout oak bed. He was propped up on pillows, his eyes closed. In the gentle light, his rugged features, pallid colour and grey beard turned him into his own tomb effigy. My throat tightened. Talithia was sitting at the window and she rose when she saw us. We embraced and I introduced Sandor before sending him off to find Channa. I hoped she would not assume he was a vagrant in his heavy travelling clothes.
‘How did you get here? We sent word to Vellin and they said you were in Dereculd.’ My stepmother took my arm and guided me to the seat by the window.
‘I was in the marshes near Dereculd, but I had some unusual help to get me here.’ I looked back at father, sleeping serenely. ‘What is the news?’
‘Not good!’ She looked tired but still beautiful and fragile. I could understand why my father loved her dearly. ‘There’s a fatal poison in his wound. You can smell it in the air.’ It was true, the sickly sweetness hung like a fog. ‘I sent for your cousin, Tregrin, your father’s heir. He should be here soon.’
Tregrin was the son of my father’s sister. According to Magran custom, because he had no son, my father’s property fell to his nearest male relative. I had never really known my cousin and as far as I knew he had never been in contact with my father. It was hard not to dwell on the injustice of my home becoming the property of a stranger, who had the power to evict us all. I had a home in Vellin but what would happen to Talithia and my stepsister, dear little Geldia, if my cousin sent them packing?
‘The doctors tell me that he is very close to death,’ Talithia was saying and I cursed myself for thinking of anyone or anything but my father. My next reaction was to question the doctor’s diagnosis. I had never had much faith in doctors with their blood-letting and incantations. I prefer to seek the help of the village wise-women whose skills are with herbs and natural remedies. I bit my tongue. My stepmother’s face filled with pain. She did not need a doctor to tell her that her dearest love was dying. ‘I was very young when I met your father and he frightened me sometimes but now I can’t imagine living without him. If it were not for Geldia I would not be able to bear this.’
We left the bedroom and walked in the garden together. As a child I saw it as a maze of brambles and overgrown shrubs bordering Channa’s vegetable patch, a wilderness that could become anything that my infant fancy determined. It was clear and well-tended now by Talithia’s gardeners, but the ghost of that lonely child still ran barefoot through the dappled light and we eyed each other with vague recognition.
‘He called out to you in his delirium. He said another name, but I did not recognise it. I think perhaps it was your mother.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘I feel numb, Megwin. I don’t know what to say or do.’
‘Then say and do nothing.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘We will sit in the sun and be peaceful.’ I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the day creep into my bones. The flight with the auks had been bitterly cold and I had not slept, so it was perhaps not surprising that I felt my body crying out for sleep. I rested my head on the seat but Talithia took it and curled me into her lap. I fell asleep feeling her stroking my hair, knowing that it was a comfort for both of us. She woke me later and guided me into the kitchen where Channa was waiting to scold me for not seeing her sooner.
I had been given a room close to Talithia and Sandor had been consigned to my old room. I found him there looking out of the window watching Channa’s geese. ‘It must have been hard
to leave this place,’ he said, turning to face me.
‘This room?’ I bounced on the bed. ‘It’s a kennel!’
‘Not the room!’ He waved his arms about. ‘The people, Brak, this wonderful crumbly castle. It’s special. There’s so much history in these walls, living history dating right back to beyond Queen Katherine. All I could remember of Brak was being pelted by tomatoes, but it must have been different for you.’ He turned back to the window. ‘Ever since I arrived I’ve been made to feel at home here. There’s a warmth in everything.’ He glanced over his shoulder at me and then back out at the marketplace. ‘Or is it that it reminds me of you?’ He did not move, and I felt that same confusion that I had troubled me beside the Listi, on the night of the Horse Fair. I dared not breathe in case my movement prompted him to speak further or do anything that we both might regret. I wanted time to be suspended, to go on feeling the strange tension and at the same time I wanted it to end, for us to be far away, riding through the surf or tucking into Mari’s ‘throw-together’.
‘And what’s it doing in this room, alone with a young man?’ Channa burst in, threatening us both with her wooden spoon, then folding her arms. I don’t think I have ever been more grateful to see her. ‘Mantle or no Mantle, it needs to think about its virtue!’
‘Mistress Channa!’ Sandor moved a step towards her. ‘The Lady Megwin is above such reproaches. I am her friend and travelling companion. I protect her. Would you have her travel alone?’
Channa blinked at him, her face twitching with indecision. Then she pointed her spoon at him. ‘Don’t you go spinning me your gypsy flannel! The Lady Megwin was vomiting over my shoulder before you cut your first tooth! I know how much protection she needs, and I know what else she needs, her being a young girl and all, with her head turned by princes and kings. I saw the way that boy king from Dereculd looked at her, so don’t you go trying your gypsy charm on me! Get down to my kitchen and eat!’ She turned to me. ‘And you had better go to your father’s rooms, your cousin has just arrived.’
Cousin Tregrin was not exactly how I remembered him, nor what I had expected. His father, my uncle by marriage, was a Lord of the Gathering and I recalled visiting his Meed castle at Nordinay during my wanderings with my predecessor. Tregrin had been away at the time, so we never met but I had fond memories of his father and my aunt.
In his youth, the Lord of Nordinay had reveled in every sort of prank and, like my father, had accompanied the future king on many an escapade, but after he married my aunt, he settled to his new role in life with a joviality that infected all his people. Nordinay is in the Southern Meeds and blessed with all nature’s gifts. Throughout the rolling valley grapes are grown and wine flows freely. Food is plentiful on every table and doubly so on my uncle’s.
Tregrin’s maypole figure and squinting eyes told me immediately that this was a different creature. Despite his pinched features he greeted me warmly enough, but his eyes resembled those of a snared rabbit. I was uncertain if this was due to meeting me or the thought of the responsibility that was about to fall on his shoulders. As we both listened to the doctor droning out another incantation at my father’s bedside, I noticed the ink stains on Tregrin’s fingers and the slight stoop of his back.
‘Silence, fool!’ You accomplish nothing. Leave me!’ My father opened one eye. Even from a single eye his glare sent the physician scuttling from the room. Talithia helped my father to sit up and fussed about his pillows. ‘You’re a good girl, Tali, always were.’ He patted her on the cheek and then growled, ‘Now don’t go weeping again, that’s not how I want to remember you.’ He drew her face closer and kissed her. The tenderness of the moment between them tore at my chest and I took a deep breath. He saw me.
‘My Megwin!’ His embrace for me was more restrained but I was accustomed to that. His eyes told me that he was truly pleased to see me. ‘They said you were down in Dereculd. I’m glad you came.’ The words came like staccato blows as he took air. He paused for a moment , closing his eyes to summon his strength. ‘Has that nephew of mine arrived yet?’ he asked with his eyes still closed.
‘I’m here, my Lord.’ Tregrin shuffled nervously closer, mindful of the fierce treatment of the doctor.
‘Look after my girls. That’s all I ask. And take care of Brak. It’s a good place full of good people.’ He raised himself closer to Tregrin’s ear. ‘If you don’t I will come back and haunt you!’ Tregrin blanched and my father roared with laughter, but his mirth brought on a bout of coughing. After it had subsided, he beckoned to Tregrin. ‘My wife will prove a good adviser. The people love her, and she knows them. Now leave me in peace. I have to prepare for a last journey.’ He closed his eyes once more and we all started to move away. The one eye opened again. ‘Not you, Megwin. We need to speak.’
They left me alone with him and for a time he lay there with his eyes shut. I was concerned that he might have died but the slight rise of his chest and the soft whistle of his breath calmed my fears. He was still an impressive man in spite of the scent of decaying flesh and his ashen colour, a man the old king had called his bastion, his conscience and his dearest friend at the banquet before I left for Vellin. Birds were singing outside and from my hunger I knew it was well into the afternoon but within the tapestry walls of his chamber time slipped by at a different pace.
‘Where’s your hand?’ He slowly opened his eyes and took my offered hand. ‘Just like hers, cool, small, smooth as kidskin. You have her eyes, not the colour but the shape.’ He had never spoken of my mother before and I wondered if he would tell me more about her. ‘Broke my heart when she went. Couldn’t bear to look at you, tiny mite as you were. Too painful!’
‘You did what you could,’ I offered, lamely.
‘Channa and Ruthen, they brought you up. Good man, Ruthen. Channa’s a shrew but she means well. Might have got to know you better when you were grown. Then she came and took you away.’ I knew he was speaking of Silver Mantle, but I was shocked by the bitterness and venom in his voice.
‘I went to Vellin, to the Talarin. I have special powers. Now I serve King Ardin just as you served his father.’ I was tempted to touch his cheek but lost my courage before I reached his skin.
‘Lost both of you, damn Mantles.’ His anger made him cough again.
‘My mother died in childbirth. That had nothing to do with the Talarin.’ Even on his deathbed, we were at odds and arguing. ‘I went to join the Mantles because of my power. It was my destiny. Besides you had Talithia.’
‘Good girl, Tali is. Should have married her kind in the first place. I was warned, but your mother dazzled me, and I thought, I hoped, we could make a good life. They warned me about marrying into the power, but I thought she could love me more than all that.’ This last outburst exhausted him, and he dropped back against the pillow, screwing his eyes shut. ‘Not coming out right. Not enough time. Wanted to tell you.’
‘Rest Father. We can talk again later.’
He was quiet again and the old fear gripped me. Had he gone already? I bent towards him. He was still breathing, and a hint of a smile played on his lips. After a few moments, his eyes opened again. ‘No need to say more. It’s time. Call Tali for me.’
I rushed to the door and yelled out her name and then went back to the bed and grasped his hand anxiously. It amused him but he said nothing. When Talithia came, my stepmother almost fell across the room to be beside him. I stepped away as he began to speak her name softly and then sank back. She began to cry, and I felt his spirit leaving. He spoke to me in my mind, he loved me and was proud of me. Then he fell silent, calling out, ‘Megan!’ once before his life was gone.
He had requested a small funeral. It was his right, as a Lord of the Gathering to expect the King and his Court to mark his passing but, mindful of his wishes, Talithia insisted that the funeral be just for the family and the people of Brak. It rained but they came anyway, from every corner of the Meed, in carts, on donkeys and on foot to farewell their Lord. I had never f
elt prouder of him or more miserable that he had left before I could see his true worth. I wanted so much to tell him that I loved him.
My aunt and uncle came, together with many of the Lords of the Gathering. Despite Tali’s plea, they came, they said, to honour a beloved friend. Yet, for me, it was the throngs of ordinary people who lined the road from the Meed castle to the crypt that would live on in my memory, those and the uninvited guest who stood at my shoulder in the family vault. Her hand touched my shoulder.
‘Don’t turn around. No one can see me,’ Gwythin whispered in my mind. ‘He was a good man.’
‘You knew my father?’
‘I knew him well, a long time ago.’
‘I worry about Talithia and the baby.’
‘There is no need for anxiety. Your cousin Tregrin will be a good Lord and he will care for them.’
‘I’m not sure he can look after himself.’ Tregrin had appeared at the funeral in crumpled clothes with his customary ink stains. His hair was uncombed and his face unshaven. He looked as if he had been up all night.
‘Don’t allow his appearance to influence you. Spend time getting to know him and I think you will feel differently about him. Perhaps Talithia can help him with his appearance. You will help him with other aspects of his life.’
I could not resist turning to see her. While she might have been invisible to all the other mourners, to me she was an ethereal wraith with tears in her eyes.
‘Are you crying for my father?’
‘Of course. He was a good man and I shall miss him.’ I felt her turn my body away from her, back towards the tomb where my father was being interred. She did not wish for me to see her grief.