Money, strangely enough in the circumstances, was no problem yet; they had hundreds of pounds with them in actual cash and Dan, Moira, and Greg had banker's cards, though they were reluctant to use them locally in case they were on any official 'wanted' list and their bank accounts were being watched for clues to their whereabouts – unlikely as yet but not impossible. But there was no point in hoarding money which might suddenly become worthless so they pooled it, and trusted whoever went on shopping sorties to spend it wisely. Buying gas cylinders without handing in empties, for example, was a highly expensive way of stockpiling gas, but they agreed it was worth doing. Greg, nosing round a dealer's yard in Welshpool, came home proudly with a second-hand rotovator and an even more second-hand chain-saw, which he had picked up very cheaply and was confident he could put in working order; these would be worth their weight in gold to get a permanent settlement started and gave an additional incentive to stockpiling petrol – so they took to emptying the jerrycans into more easily obtainable polythene containers, technically illegal for petrol storage but quite usable if sealed and buried with suitable care and well dispersed. He also bought a drum of twin-core flex and a lot of twelve-volt bulbs, an almost-new car alternator and various bits of junk out of which he planned, when the time came, to build a waterfall-driven battery-charger so that the camp could have wired lighting.
Eileen's needs, as camp medical officer, received particular attention; she drew up lists of stores and of reference books, which they bought for her as quickly as they could.
The shopping sorties were made daily, on a careful plan. Several towns within an hour's journey were visited, but never twice running, and as far as possible by different people. The one thing they did not want was for their faces to become familiar anywhere locally. They all agreed that Angie and Eileen who had both deserted security-classified jobs were better kept entirely out of sight (in addition to which, Eileen the nurse was too precious to risk) so they stayed in camp. So did Sally (though protesting) because of her age, and Diana because she did not understand enough to guard her tongue in front of strangers. This -apart from Peter, who helped a lot during his own shopping trips – reduced the shoppers to Dan and Moira, Greg and Rosemary. There was no real need for them to go in couples, but they did because they were determined to sink or swim together. If they ran into trouble, they preferred to do it as a pair, rather than face the unbearable possibility of one of them failing to return and the other being left both ignorant of his or her fate and helpless to do anything about it. In Dan and Moira's case, this meant a further distress – the possibility of not returning to Diana; but at least Di had grown up with Greg and Rosemary all her life and if anything happened to her parents they would treat her as their own and Di's own distress would be softened. All the same, Greg and Rosemary insisted on taking the bigger share of the trips and confining Dan and Moira' to what Greg called 'the town-frequency requirement'.
Their insistence, voiced round the camp fire one evening while they were discussing the next day's work, brought into the open for the first time the question of leadership -and surprisingly, it was Eileen who put it into words. Dan was sticking out for an equal sharing of the shopping sorties when Eileen entered the argument.
'I think Greg's right,' she said, 'for another reason, too. An army doesn't put its generals at risk, if it's got any sense.'
'What do you mean?' Dan asked, a little startled.
'Well, let's face it – we've organized ourselves more or less spontaneously so far. But Dan and Moira have been the real leaders.'
Dan and Moira both protested but Eileen went on: 'You have, you know. Greg's the clever one with material things, making things work, knowing where to dig and that. Sally and Angie talk common sense at us when the rest of us get things out of proportion. Rosemary's a genius at turning a field and a pile of luggage into a home and making it feel like one. Me, all right, I'm camp MO. But whether we're witches or not, Moira's our High Priestess and whatever power it is that makes a priestess, she's got it and we need it. And Dan – he's sort of captain of the ship. He sees what to do while the rest of us are still wondering. And I think he's right oftener than the rest of us – and in an emergency he'd be right quicker… We're a sort of family already, not a dictatorship. But there are going to be emergencies and I think we should agree, now, who to look to when somebody's got to take charge… We can always talk things out round the fire and tell him if we think he's wrong afterwards. But I Vote we elect Dan our Captain and Moira our Priestess. And because- we need them, we don't let them risk their necks more than they have to.'
It was a very long speech for Eileen and Moira had the feeling she had been preparing it in her mind for days. When she stopped, everyone started speaking at once, and all in her support. Before they knew where they were, Dan and Moira were elected.
They both expressed their thanks, with more embarassment than they usually experienced. It was not till some minutes afterwards that Moira realized that Peter, unobtrusively companionable on the fringe as he so often was these evenings, had not opened his mouth.
'What do you think, Peter?' she asked.
'Me? Well, it's not my business, really; it's for you to settle. But Eileen's right, of course.'
Somehow, his quiet but unequivocal endorsement meant a lot to Moira. It meant a lot to Eileen, too, she knew; it had not escaped her notice that Eileen was always following Peter with her eyes and averting them quickly when he looked her way.
Eileen had made one other precise contribution to the group, in the first twenty-four hours. She had told them about the Dust and the vinegar masks, and taken daily care to see that gauze and vinegar were on hand and that everyone knew where they were; and she had included Peter in her insistence, as soon as they got to know him. Typically, Greg had introduced technical improvements; on his first shopping sortie he had bought a dozen cheap rubber hot water-bottles and a supply of cotton wool, and had designed simple but efficient vinegar masks from them, tailor-cut to fit each face snugly – including a little one for Diana. They were held on by straps and left both hands free.
Among the routine drills which Dan instituted was a roster for listening to every radio news bulletin – and (once Greg had rigged an aerial to get at least some sort of reception in this mountain-ringed valley) the TV bulletins on Angie's little set as well. The news they found almost unrelievingly depressing. Anti-witch riots were reported from somewhere almost every day and although the figures were always vague, it was obvious that more witches were being arrested than rioters – and many others were being arrested on charges of 'practising', several of them people known personally to Moira and Dan. The Crusaders were as active as ever, though no successor to Ben Stoddart had been publicly named; Quentin White remained their public spokesman and was on radio and television two or three times a week.
Of the possibility of further earth tremors there was no mention at all; nor – to Eileen's growing concern – of the Dust or the vinegar masks. As the days went by, the lunatics of Banwell began to haunt her dreams again, more and more. The absence of any announcement became an obsession with her and she tended to hover round the radio at news-time whether it was her duty-turn or not.
'Why aren't they telling people?' she cried at the camp-fire meeting one night. 'Does it mean the earthquake danger's past? Or does it mean they know just when it's going to happen and they're going to give instructions a day or two beforehand to cut down the panic?'
'I wish I could believe either of those things,' Dan told her. 'But I can't. I think they're gambling on time – and they don't want to divert people's attention from the witchhunt.'
'Oh, God. If you'd seen those people at the Unit… If they keep putting it off, it could be too late – there might be millions like that!'
'I know, love. But there's nothing you can do, is there?'
'There is something,' Peter said suddenly. 'Not much, I know – but it'd make me feel better, and Eileen too, I think. I could take he
r down to New Dyfnant and she could tell the people there.'
The suggestion was so unexpected that nobody spoke for a moment. Peter went on: 'I know what you're thinking you're trying not to draw attention to yourselves. But I'd better tell you, there are rumours in the village that there's a group of witches up here in the Forest.'
'Peeping Toms?' Greg asked, worried.
'Could be – I haven't been able to pin it down. When I heard the rumour first, I said thcre'd been a bunch of campers but that they were behaving themselves and doing no harm. It didn't stop the rumours… Don't worry, they're not the rioting kind. Good solid chapel-goers, every one of them. But if there were another earthquake and the country went really hysterical about the witches being responsible – well, I wouldn't swear it couldn't infect them too… But say you'd given them a warning about the Dust beforehand and later on an official announcement proved you were right and had been trying to help them -they couldn't help thinking of you as friends, could they?'
'It's the hell of a risk,' Dan said. 'I see your point – but supposing someone reported that Eileen had told them? We'd have high-level fuzz on us like a ton of bricks.'
Peter shook his head. 'I know these people – you don't. And they know me. If I got them to promise not to reveal the source, they wouldn't. Welsh mountain villages can be very secretive, if they want to. Especially if they think it's to their advantage… Hell, I like them, they're my friends and I want them protected – I'll admit that. But I think I can look at them dispassionately, as well.'
Dan hesitated. 'It's up to Eileen, whether she thinks it's too much of a risk.'
'Oh no, it isn't just up to me,' Eileen said. 'We'll all have to agree what to do, one way or the other. If we all say yes, I'll go.'
The four men and one woman gathered in the Manse parlour looked very Welsh and rather formidable to Eileen.
She knew Peter had selected them as the key figures of New Dyfnant and she trusted his judgement; but she could not help reacting apprehensively when she saw that one of diem was a uniformed constable. However, he was the only one who smiled at her when they were introduced which eased her apprehension a little.
As was almost inevitable in any group of Welsh villagers, two of them had the same name. One, the village council chairman and publican, she found was known as Dai Morgan Forest Inn; the other was the constable, Dai Morgan Police. The Methodist minister was present, the Rev. John Phillips; the village GP, Dr Hugh Owen, seventy if he was a day, but keen-eyed; and a wiry little woman in her forties, Bronwen Jones, who owned the village shop and had already (Eileen discovered later) outlived two husbands. (The second, so the local joke ran, had 'died in childbirth' from the shock of fathering Bronwen's only son.)
Peter startled Eileen by introducing her as Nurse Mary Brown and telling them immediately that that was not her real name. But it taught her that he knew his audience; he himself was obviously known and respected and his use of mystery as an opening gambit went down well – except perhaps with the Rev. Phillips who pursed his lips a little. Peter must have noticed this, for he addressed himself to the minister at once.
'I'll tell you her real name privately, Mr Phillips, if you wish, as trustee for the others, so to speak. I'm only trying to protect her because she's come here at considerable risk to herself, out of a simple desire to help the village and very possibly save lives… She's a real nurse, though -I'm sure a few questions from Dr Owen will confirm that if you have any doubts. Until a few weeks ago, she was working in an official job connected with certain aftereffects of the earth tremors. That job taught her things which are still being kept secret – things about very simple precautions which could protect people against some very terrible and quite incurable afflictions which would almost certainly be widespread if the earth tremors came back. Nurse Brown has had a very painful struggle with her conscience. She feels strongly that the danger and the precautions should be made public – and that to keep them secret, when the earth tremors might strike again at any moment, is an utterly immoral act on the part of the London government.'
Eileen had to admire his careful choice of words; barely perceptible nods confirmed that to brand the 'foreign’ capital as immoral struck the right note.
'There's only one thing,' Peter went on. 'Nurse Brown feels duty-bound to pass on her knowledge at least to the people around her. But the law would certainly say otherwise. If the fact that she had spoken out reached the authorities, she would be tracked down and arrested. I think it's very brave of her to come here at all with nothing to gain from it personally and everything to lose. So if she is to tell you what she knows, I am asking you all – and that includes you, Dai Police, in spite of your uniform – to give us your solemn word that you will tell nobody where or how you learned it. To pass the knowledge she gives you on to your people, of course – that's why she's here. But never the source of it.'
Eileen could read nothing in their faces during the half-minute silence which followed. Finally Dai Forest Inn asked abruptly: 'Are you a witch, Nurse Brown or whatever your name is?'
In for a penny, in for a pound. 'No, I'm not,' Eileen told him. 'But I've never met any bad ones and I think the persecution of them is un-Christian.'
'Real witch, my mother was,' Dai Police said. 'None of this "Eko, Eko, Azarak" business, or running around in her pelt. But no harm in the other ones I've found.'
'A thorn in the flesh of the Almighty your mother was, God rest her soul all the same,' Dai Forest Inn snorted, adding darkly: 'Wizards that peep and mutter!'
'I think you overestimate the sensitivity of the Almighty's skin,' the doctor commented. unorthodox Myfanwy Morgan may have been, but I've known times when her herbs succeeded after my pills had failed, and very humiliating it was to me. God will remember her good deeds, eh, John Phillips?'
'It is not for man to anticipate the judgement of the Lord,' the minister replied.
Dai Forest Inn snorted again. 'Now there's cowardly, for a preacher! Have the courage of your convictions, man, and quote to us Exodus XXII, verse 18!'
'About not suffering a witch to live?' the doctor said. 'A mistranslation, many authorities maintain. The Hebrew word means "poisoner", not "witch", they say.'
'Also, since I have been accused of cowardice,' the minister put in, 'I must point out that the new dispensation of the Gospels abrogated certain of the harsher rulings of the Old Testament.'
Bronwen Jones threw up her hands. 'Men! Theological nit-picking they indulge in, when what we are here for is to decide whether this poor girl shall be allowed to help us, out of the goodness of her heart, or be carried off to London in handcuffs for her pains. Ashamed of yourselves, you should be.' She smiled at Eileen. 'Do not pay any attention to them, fach. Disputatious they may be but honourable they are too. If they give you their word, they will keep it.'
'Goes without saying,' Dai Forest Inn protested. 'What is under debate is whether we can honourably give our word – not whether we should keep it, once given. The latter is taken for granted. Now I would like to ask the young lady…'
Bronwen Jones interrupted him in Welsh. Eileen did not understand a word of it but it went on for at least a minute and was plainly sarcastic and to the point. It made Dai Police smile, the doctor laugh out loud, the minister clear his throat, and Dai Forest Inn blush. Eileen looked to Peter, but he shrugged helplessly.
When she had apparently completed the demolition of Dai Forest Inn, Bronwen turned back to Eileen and said in English: 'Settled it is, then. I give you my word, nurse fach, and so do the others. Let them say so themselves.'
They did, one by one; and Eileen told them about the Dust, the madness it caused, and the simple gauze-and-vinegar masks that would give protection.
When she had finished there was another brief silence. Then the doctor astonished her by asking: 'We've given our word, so don't be afraid. But was it Corwen Emergency Unit you were at?'
'No – I knew about Corwen but I was at another of the same kind. In fac
t, I only heard about Corwen by accident, when a doctor was transferred from there; I don't know
how many others there are Why, doctor – have you been to the Corwen unit?'
Dr Owen shook his head. 'No one's allowed inside the place. But a colleague of mine at Bala – they whipped away a couple of his bronchitis patients, local people, and he's never seen them since and can't find out about them. It was a couple of days after the tremors… Bears out your story, I must say; not that I disbelieved you, but… Oh, my God, what a terrible thing.'
'Nurse Brown…" the minister began.
'Roberts,' Eileen corrected him. 'Eileen Roberts.'
He nodded. 'I'm glad you trust us. I would say, on behalf of this community, that we are deeply grateful to you. We shall see that everyone in the village follows your advice and you may rest secure that your confidence will not be betrayed.'
They all thanked her and there was no doubting their sincerity. Dai Police added that as for her friends in the Forest (about whom he apparently knew more than he had said) he personally would do all he could to see they were left in peace.
'And as for me,' Bronwen Jones said, 'I'll see the shop has all the vinegar and gauze anyone will need.' She paused, and then committed herself to the ultimate sacrifice. 'Sell it at cost price, I will.'
An immediate effect of Peter and Eileen's mission to New Dyfnant was that the Forest group became a little less wary of the outside world or at least of their immediate neighbours. A cautious visit by Greg, Rosemary, Eileen and Peter to the Forest Inn one lunchtime showed that they had nothing to fear from the villagers, who somehow managed to imply friendliness while studiously behaving as though they (with the exception of Peter, of course) were strangers passing through for the day. On the afternoon of the following day, Dan and Moira went shopping at Bronwen Jones's little store. Peter was not with them, and although Bronwen passed no comment she gave them all her attention, and after they had paid for their purchases, gave them a bar of chocolate 'for the little girl' – who was not with them either and had not been mentioned. They thanked her and she just smiled and said, 'My Trevor, he'll be about the same age. A beloved exasperation a child, innit?' – and left them to serve the next customer.
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