The Winter Witch

by Paula Brackston

  “Aye,” he says. “So she is. My wife.”

  Dai lies back down, chuckling to himself. “Well,” he mutters, “there’s a thing. A man in love with his own wife, and her in love with him. Duw, Duw. Who’d have thought it? Who’d have thought?”

  The next morning is damp again with the promise of yet more rain. Cai feels better after the few words he shared with Dai. He must pull himself together and be the husband Morgana needs him to be, as well as head drover.

  “Right you are, porthmon.” Dai is his usual hearty self, despite the greyness of the day. “Let’s take a look at these beasts of yours, shall we?”

  Cai nods, looking over his shoulder for Morgana. She was up early checking the mares’ feet, so he has hardly glimpsed her. Edwyn has been fully engaged in preparing the forge with Dai and assembling nails and tools. He has not, Cai is certain, had the opportunity to be alone with Morgana again. If he ever had, he reminds himself. He is certain now that nothing happened, save for what his own tired imagination dreamed up. He tells Dai, “We’ll put the cattle in the small meadow. Bring the ponies in here to check first.” Morgana arrives leading Prince. She gives him a spontaneous smile, and he is touched that the sight of him can, however fleetingly, lighten her grief.

  He smiles back. “Fetch the others into the yard,” he says.

  Morgana opens the broad wooden gate. Prince whinnies to his mares and the herd trots meekly through, milling about the narrow cobbled yard. There is barely space for all of them. One side is bordered by a high stone wall. The far end comprises a lower wall and the gate out to the lane. The far length is the front of the barn, its heavy doors shut. The meadow end, aside from the gate, is formed by a short run of pigsties. Morgana shuts the gate behind the last yearling, looping the rope over the top to secure it. At once Meredith moves the cattle into the meadow, Bracken nipping at their heels to urge them into the small space, and soon they are pushing and jostling, annoyed at having been ushered into an inadequate area. He cusses them, telling them to behave and wait their turn.

  “They don’t like being cramped in like this,” he tells Cai.

  “They’ll have to put up with it for now. The ponies won’t take long,” he says.

  “I’m just saying”—Meredith shakes his head—“they’ll not settle in here.”

  “Just watch them, m’n. They’ll stay where they’re put.” Cai does not need anyone finding fault or making problems where there are none.

  Dai wastes no time but begins the backbreaking work of bending low to inspect the ponies’ hooves. Edwyn’s skills are not required yet, so he steps aside, leaning against the wall in an effort not to have his feet trodden on by the wandering little horses. Morgana holds Prince so that Dai may fit new front shoes. From the meadow comes lowing and snorting. Meredith is right, the cattle resent being so confined. They have grown accustomed to moving off each morning and dislike the change in their routine. Added to which, the ponies have cropped the meadow, so that there is no grazing left to distract them. Twice already Meredith has had to take a bullwhip to some of the more boisterous bullocks to stop them stirring up trouble in the herd. For all his efforts, they will not be quietened. Cai wends his way between the ponies toward the enclosure. If the cattle are not calmed the rising tempers among them could easily spark panic, and the fence on the far side, leading to the river field, is flimsy in places.

  “Meredith!” he calls. “Don’t let them get the better of you. Keep them still.”

  Rather than find a sharp retort the cowman keeps his attention on the stock, for he, too, is aware that they are becoming worryingly agitated. One young bull, in particular, is behaving in a way that is alarming the others, pawing at the ground, shaking his head, emitting low bellows. Some of the smaller beasts try to run from him, seeking safety. Finding none they push against the others, shoving them against the wall and the fence. Cai knows something must be done before they lose control of them completely. He puts a hand on the wooden gate and springs over it.

  “Let them back into the other field!” he shouts to Meredith. But there is such a noise and commotion his words are lost. “Meredith! The gate back to the other field, m’n. Open it now!” He signals frantically at the stockman who at last understands, but his path is blocked by the pressing youngsters who will not move for him. Cai fights through the melee. The cattle bump and jostle him with increasing force. At one point he stumbles, righting himself only by clutching hold of an elderly cow who tolerates his using her to regain his footing. To fall beneath the herd when they are so disturbed would be dangerous indeed. He presses on. The cattle have become a moving mass of sweaty hair, lean muscle, and sharp horns. Being in their midst requires nerves of iron.

  “Ho! Duw, steady now,” Cai tells them, but he knows they are not listening. The far gate must be opened quickly, so that the pressure in the enclosure can be released through it into the empty field beyond. The herd are looking for a way out and will take the first opening they find; one of their own making if necessary. It is as Cai is twisting and shoving his way through the animals that he glances back toward the yard. Morgana is still holding Prince, who, sensing the drama close by, is refusing to stand. Dai has straightened up and pushes his cap back on his head, regarding the maddened herd with a deep frown. Edwyn is nowhere to be seen. One more thing snags Cai’s notice. The gate into the yard is untied. One push from the cattle and they will pour through into the bottleneck of the yard, into the ponies, crushing anyone in their way. Cai opens his mouth to shout, to scream at Morgana, to warn her. As he does so a frightened bullock barrels into him, knocking the wind out of him, and with it his voice. Gasping, he waves his hat in the air, signaling to any who might see. Somewhere in the silence of that instant Cai glimpses what it must be like to be Morgana. What it might be to have no utterance with which to communicate, neither to man nor beast. He is taken back, in a flash, to that terrible moment on the mountain when the lightning robbed him of his herd. Now he is powerless again, and calamity is unfolding before him. He grabs hold of the nearest set of horns and hangs on, knowing that to be knocked to the ground now could prove fatal.

  “Morgana!” he gasps.

  As if everything has slowed to the speed of a nightmare, two bullocks lean into the yard gate and bump it open against the nervous ponies on the other side. Morgana now sees what is happening. So does Dai. He screams at her to open the gate onto the lane. She lets go of Prince and runs to do so, but the latch is broken and the gate has been tied with frayed rope. She darts over to Dai’s tools for his paring knife. In the few seconds that stretch to an eternity it is clear to Cai, as it must be to Dai, that Morgana will not have time to get back to the gate and cut the rope before the stampede of terrified ponies and unstoppable cattle is upon her. The beasts will trample their way out, over fallen ponies, over the gate, and over Morgana. Cai watches helplessly as Dai turns to face the cattle, feet firmly planted, fists raised, and lets out a roar that is as loud and as terrifying as anything Cai has ever heard. As anything the cattle have ever heard. The ponies swerve around Dai. The cattle hesitate. The alarm the front ones feel at the sight and sound of this giant madman halts them in their tracks for just a few seconds before the momentum of the stampede, the weight of the bulk of the herd, pushes them on once more. In those few seconds, Morgana has cut the rope, and the path to freedom is open. She springs through, throwing herself behind the far side of the wall. The cattle reach Dai.

  Back in the small meadow the rest of the herd thunder after the front-runners. Cai finds himself barged to the side, a horn piercing his arm, goring it from shoulder to elbow as it passes. He screams, but does not fall. He watches in horror as Dai is lifted off his feet, his arms still raised, fists beating the air, roaring as the beasts carry him on with them. For an instant he is borne aloft on a thundering mass of blackness, his cap still fixed to the back of his head. But even his immense bulk is no match for the irresistible force of the herd.

  “Dai! Dai!” Cai screams,
pain making his words rasp in his throat, shaking his head in despair at the sight of his friend being carried away by the frenzied horned beasts.

  And at once, Dai is gone, disappeared beneath the charging cattle, vanished into the darkness of the bellowing stampede, swallowed up by their terrible crushing weight.

  14.

  I pick myself up, my mouth full of dirt, my body bruised from the sudden impact as I threw myself to the ground to escape the galloping cattle. I knew the ponies would not tread on me; that they would swerve or jump to avoid setting a single hoof upon me. But cattle are different. They do not possess such athletic abilities, and would simply plow forward, running over a person as if he or she were nothing more than a mound of earth or pile of stones to be scrambled over. Spitting grit I squint through the still swirling dust the stampede has left in its wake. Slowly shapes come into focus. Cai, clutching his arm, blood seeping out between his fingers, running across the empty yard. Cerys hurrying through the gate, her hands clasped to her face, the twins close behind her. Edwyn standing staring at the ground. There is something odd about him, as if he has a shadow standing next to him. I rub dust from my eyes and look again and am shocked to see that Isolda stands beside him. No, not beside, almost overlapping somehow, as if her insubstantial form is shifting through him. As she moves away she pauses to whisper in his ear and I see his face clearly stricken, though he does not appear to be aware of her presence. What hand has she had to play in all this?

  Now I see Dai, inert, lying heavily on the hard cobbles, horribly still. I limp over to them, my left ankle complaining as I put weight on it. It is terrible to see such a strong man, a man so full of vigor and life, reduced to a crumpled, bloodied wreck. His legs are at awkward, unnatural angles to his body, clearly broken and useless. His arms are bloodied and do not move. His face is a mess of gore, his nose smashed, teeth missing, his jaw misshapen. Even so badly broken he manages to stir, opening his mercifully undamaged eyes. He tries to turn his head, searching for his loved ones.

  “My boys?” he gasps. “Where are my boys?”

  Cerys is on her knees beside him. She touches his cheek tenderly. “They are here. Right here, see?”

  The twins fall to the ground beside their father, their faces already wet with tears, looking suddenly so very young, nearer children than grown men. Dai struggles to lift his head.

  “Shh now,” says Cai, “don’t trouble yourself to move, m’n. Save your strength.”

  “For what?” Dai wants to know. There is a silence filled with regret and sadness, filled with the knowledge that there will be no more time for Dai, that he will have need of his great strength no longer. “Bechgyn,” says he, his voice strained and weak, “look after your mam, see? Iuean, you must be man of the house now. Work the forge. Iowydd, support your brother … you are good lads … good lads…” His words fade and his eyes glaze. From Cerys there is a small cry, such as a bird might make when startled, nothing more. Then all is quiet, and Dai lies dead.

  We stare at his body in disbelief. How can such a force, such a presence, be snuffed out in an instant, rendered nothing more than memory and a body soon to be laid waste by corruption? Must life ever prove so fragile that even the strongest among us cannot withstand a fateful collection of circumstances? At last the silence is broken by the pitiful whimpering of Bracken, who has come to stand beside me.

  Cai puts his hand on Cerys’s shoulder. “Come away, cariad,” says he. “We will take him into the house.”

  She stands on unsteady feet, her boys supporting her, as now they must do in all things.

  Edwyn’s voice strikes a harsh note in the shocked stillness of the moment.

  “It was Morgana,” says he. “It was Morgana left the gate untied. ’Tis her fault the cattle got through. This is her doing!”

  Now we are doubly stunned. I shake my head vehemently. This is untrue. I tied the gate, I know I did. I look desperately from Cai to Cerys and back again, still shaking my head, imploring them to see the truth. But already I feel the others regarding me with loathing. Meredith steps forward, his face grim.

  “No good can ever come of letting a woman work the herd. Everyone knows that,” says he. “I’ve said as much before, and I stand by my words.”

  “You are speaking nonsense!” Cai insists. “Both of you. And you, Meredith, you are old enough to know better than to spout superstitious rubbish.”

  But Edwyn won’t easily be silenced. “That gate wouldn’t have come open if it had been tied, that’s the fact of it. And ’twas Morgana who shut it last, bringing the ponies into the yard.”

  “Be quiet,” says Cai.

  “You don’t want to see the truth. You’re just protecting her…”

  “Cauwch eich ceg, I tell you!” He regains his temper and lowers his voice. “Now is not the time for recriminations. We must do right by Dai.” He stoops down and slips his hands beneath his friend’s broad shoulders. Only now do I see how badly he himself is injured. His shirt is torn to reveal a deep wound, still pouring blood. He mutters a curse as the pain of it stops him from lifting Dai’s body. I whip my scarf from around my neck and bind the wound for him as best I can. Briefly he lays his hand over mine. “Thank you, cariad,” says he before quickly returning his attention to the sad task of moving Dai. “Help me,” he instructs the others. “We will put him to lie in the farmhouse.”

  Meredith, Watson, and Edwyn help him carry Dai inside. The twins make as if to follow, but they are still holding their mother and she pauses, looking directly at me. And in that look I see such heartbreak. Heartbreak that seems to say, ‘How could you? Your carelessness has made orphans of my children.’ But she does not voice her thoughts. Instead silent tears begin to run down her cheeks, dripping unchecked onto the dusty cobbles. I shake my head, my eyes expressing my sorrow, but she turns and makes her trembling progress to the house.

  I stand where I am. Everything has changed. In a few dreadful moments a husband, father, friend has been snatched away. And Edwyn would have me blamed. How dare he! Is his pride so great that he would have the world hate me because I spurned him? Cai defended me, but his reaction was instinctive, I think. Does he believe me? How can I offer another explanation for the untied gate when I have none? Then it comes to me. Edwyn. Edwyn must have untied the gate himself, deliberately. How quickly desire can turn to hate! That he should risk his friend in order to get at me. But I remind myself his will is no longer his own.

  When Cai emerges through the front door he finds me where he left me. The other men trooping out behind him. He gestures to Meredith.

  “Fetch back the cattle,” says he. “Watson, you go with him. And you, Edwyn. Morgana and I will recover the ponies.”

  No one argues at this. The men set off, Meredith on his horse, the others on foot. Cai fetches Angel and pulls me up to sit behind him. The animal jibs and even bucks in protest at having me on his back again, but Cai pays him no heed, ignoring his antics. We take off at such speed I am forced to cling to Cai to prevent myself falling off. I can tell his arm is troubling him, but he will barely acknowledge the wound, so intent is he on what we must do. I sense anger and grief in the way he kicks at the thoroughbred’s sides and urges him on down the lane at a canter. Bracken runs behind us but struggles to keep up. We find the ponies a short mile away, grazing the lush verges, their angst forgotten. Spotting Prince, his halter still in place and rope trailing, I slip down from Angel, glad to be away from Isolda’s pet. Cai catches my hand, the pain in his arm making him wince.

  “Morgana,” says he, “you did tie the gate, didn’t you?”

  I nod emphatically.

  “You are sure of it? It is very important you be certain.”

  I nod again, fighting back tears, and I see that he believes me. He hesitates, and I know there is something else.

  “Yesterday, I saw you come back from bathing in the river. I saw Edwyn, too. You were both wet. I…” he stutters, struggling to meet my eye. “I doubted you, Morgana.
I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. I couldn’t understand…” He shakes his head. Suddenly, as if a new thought has struck him hard, he looks at me squarely. “What happened at the river? Did he find you there? You were alone. Morgana, did Edwyn … did he try to, to force himself on you?”

  I close my eyes, in part to hold back yet more maddening tears, in part not to see the look of fury and hurt on his face. When I open them again I see that he has his answer.

  “By Christ, I’ll swing for the bastard if he so much as laid a hand on you!”

  I shake my head, taking his hand in mine and holding it to my heart. My eyes, my gesture, tell him no, he did not touch me. He tried, but he did not succeed. The rage and tension sigh out of Cai, leaving only grief and weariness.

  Later, when the herds are safely recovered and accounted for, we all gather once again in front of the farmhouse. Cai has made the necessary arrangements. Dai’s body, now in a simple coffin, is loaded onto his own wagon. The piebald cob rolls his walleye as the casket is slid into place as if sensing all is not well, as if searching for his master. Iuean and Iowydd help their mother up onto the seat in front, one of them taking up the reins, the other keeping a protective arm around their beloved parent. Already they seem changed, childhood lost to them now, their future uncertain. They are to take Dai home on the stagecoach, which they will pick up at the nearest stop some five miles hence. There a man has been engaged, at Cai’s expense, to drive the wagon back to Tregaron for them.

  Cai holds the cob’s bridle, looking up at Cerys.

  “I will see you right, you know that,” he tells her. “You will have Dai’s full pay when I return. Perhaps the boys will come up to Ffynnon Las. There’s work there for them if they want it,” he promises.

  “Maybe.” Cerys struggles to hold her emotions in check. “Or maybe they won’t want a daily reminder of who was responsible for their father’s death,” says she.

  My mouth hangs open. Still she does not believe me! She takes Edwyn’s word that I was careless. How can I make her see, make her know the truth? Edwyn looks openly triumphant. This is so unfair! I clutch at Cai’s sleeve. He knows I am innocent, surely he can convince them. But when he looks at me I see doubt in his eyes. No! I point at Edwyn, my accusation plain. Cai narrows his eyes, his head cocked, thinking, considering what it is I am trying to tell him. When I look at Edwyn again he has his arms folded, eyebrows raised, in an expression of such smugness, such self-satisfaction. Is Isolda’s control over him so strong that he can be so completely altered? Can he have cared so little for Dai? Is all that matters to him my humiliation at any cost? My fury escapes me before I have time to check it. A whirlwind whips up dust, dirt, and stones, rendering the air choking, stinging grit assailing our faces. Sara starts to wail and scream. The piebald whinnies in fright. Edwyn flies backward as if he has received a body blow from some invisible giant. He is knocked off his feet and sent skidding across the yard, only stopping, winded and shocked, when he comes up against the very gate in question. As quickly as it started the wind subsides. Edwyn gasps for air, pointing a trembling hand at me, shouting his accusations.