by Jacky Gray
17 Gaelic Sound
They felt very grown up walking into the senior guild, something few juniors got to do, without risk of retribution from the previous year’s juniors. Leathan assured them this wouldn’t happen. ‘As friends of mine, you will be welcomed. If anyone asks who you are, mention my name.’
‘Are you well known, then?’ Archer raised an eyebrow.
‘Of course. There’s nowhere else for us to go. We’re not allowed in alehouses without a majority medal.’
‘I thought there were three senior guilds in Oxford.’ Fletch’s frown suggested the memory of previous visits.
Leathan explained how the Magi seniors had taken over the eastern guild and the Warriors the southern guild. Between them, they were bullying the others away. ‘So they closed the southern guild and put marshals in at the other two to stop the division.’
‘That’s no good. Sounds exactly like the junior guilds with adults in charge.’ Finn wasn’t impressed.
‘It’s all calmed down again now, but they still come in and check occasionally. It’s nothing like my memory of the junior guild, what do you think?’
Glancing round, Archer commented first. ‘There’s no skittle alley or climbing frame.’
‘No, we’ve got a wrestling mat for anyone who needs to get rid of some energy. But only if it’s too dark or too wet outside for the range or stump ball.’
Fletch explained this was similar to stool ball, with a longer pitch, narrower bats, and a bar balanced across the stumps.
‘What’s that?’ Archer pointed to the group of lads clustered round a wooden table with a piece of netting fixed down the middle, separating it into two halves.
‘It’s a handball table. You take it in turns to hit a small ball across the net with a hard leather glove.’
‘If you can get near it.’ Fletch knew from experience.
Archer said, ‘I don’t see any girls playing.’
‘They don’t get a chance; all the boys are trying to be experts. It’s new and exciting. Even the gaming tables are empty.’
As he spoke, two girls sat down at a nearby table, setting up for a game of chess. One of them looked up and smiled. She was easily as pretty as Bethia, with golden hair and slender curves.
‘That’s Leticia, she’s the most popular girl here. All the boys fancy her, but she’s walking out with Rogert. That’s the boy on the handball table, he’s the current champion.’
‘Of handball?’ Finn’s eyes were still on Leticia.
‘Of everything. Or so he thinks.’ Leathan guided him away from the girls before he attracted trouble, lowering his voice. ‘He’s full of his own importance, but we only have to put up with him for another year, then he gets his majority medal. Hey Fletch, how about a game of Fox and Geese?’
Archer and Finn sat at the next table and played a couple of rounds of the strategy game with coloured marbles on a wooden board. Finn was getting fidgety from sitting down. ‘Anyone fancy a quick wrestle? I need to move around a bit.’
‘They cleared away the wrestling mat to make room for the band. There’ll be dancing; you can move then.’
‘I don’t dance unless I’ve had a couple of quarts of ale.’ Finn shuddered at the idea.
Leathan made the winning move. ‘Talking of which, the tokens you got when you came in will get you a free ale. Why don’t we get a pitcher and four beakers?’
‘Now you’re talking. I knew there had to be some reason for coming here.’ Finn went with him to get the ale while Fletch tried to explain the rules of tabula to Archer. It was a more involved game with dice, counters and a complex set of rules to move them around the black and red triangles on the board.
A couple of the girls got up on the small dais at the end of the room, one playing a harp and the other a set of pan pipes. As they played a haunting tune, the two girls abandoned their chess game and joined in, adding their voices to make pleasant harmonies.
During the applause, Leticia fetched a tambourine and the next song had a strong beat. Several people stopped what they were doing to stand round the dais, clapping their hands and stamping their feet. The next one was obviously a favourite and every girl in the place got up, arranging themselves in lines. They seemed to know the words, singing along enthusiastically as they all echoed the same moves with the precision of a Roman army practising a drill. Several boys abandoned their sporting contests to watch, many singing along to the chorus and some brave souls joining in with the moves. Archer thought the applause sufficiently loud at the end and frowned as a huge shout sounded from the doorway.
‘Is that the best you can do? Have you lost your voices?’ A giant filled the door frame, with long bushy locks which reached way past his shoulders. Tattoos covered the muscles which bulged out of his tight leather tabard, cut off below his shoulder blades.
‘I’ve heard more fun at a wake.’ He wore no tunic underneath and his chest gleamed with sweat. A massive drum was slung over his shoulder and a green and blue tartan kilt swayed as he walked through the crowd which parted to let him pass. ‘Those girls deserve better than that. If you canny give ’em a wee bit of noise, we’ll no’ bother gettin’ started.’
The crowd started making so much noise Finn said his ears would soon start to bleed. Girls were screaming and everyone was clapping, stamping their feet on the ground and chanting, ‘Doug, Doug, Doug.’
As Fletch clapped along, Archer and Finn swapped uncertain glances, but they soon joined in, caught up in the spirit of the place. Doug leapt onto the dais, making a drama of bowing over the girls’ hands. He deposited a kiss on each girl’s cheek until he reached Leticia; her kiss was full on the lips. Archer watched Rogert; he didn’t seem to mind a bit, which was odd. Surely you were supposed to feel jealous if someone kissed your girl?
The rest of the band appeared, similarly dressed in kilts and short tabards, showing off glistening muscles. All had at least one tattoo of a Celtic design on their upper arms. Some of the kilts were short and swinging, others long and flowing, all made from the same chequered tartan. As each musician leapt onto the stage, Doug said their name and the crowd picked it up in a chant.
Riley looked out of place as the only one to wear his hair short. He brandished a shallow drum with a thin hide stretched over it which carried the signature Celtic design.
Finn explained it was an old Irish instrument called a bodhráin, played with a wooden tipper.
Angus carried a much narrower cylinder with one end wider than the other, both covered in hide. Aiden, the sole blond in the group, strode on with a fiddle under one arm and a small gittern in the other.
The last man, Rohan, was a lot smaller than the others, with a mane of fiery red hair and a tartan sack over his shoulder.
As he made the introductions, Doug adjusted the buckle to hang the drum around his hips. Unclipping the sticks, he held them crossed over his head dramatically. A hush crept backwards from the stage, enveloping everyone in its silence. The tension built slowly and when Archer thought he could bear no more, it broke with a wail so awful he thought someone was in pain. He searched the room to see who suffered, while everyone else focussed on Doug’s drumsticks. All except Rohan, who seemed to be blowing air into his tartan sack. As Archer made the connection that this was the injured animal, the air exploded with a cacophony of sound.
18 Archer, Son of Sedge
The explosion of sound and movement was so intense almost everyone in the room jumped, even though most people had heard it before and were expecting it. The three drummers beat out rhythms which twined around each other in a complex energy which spoke to Archer’s blood in a primitive voice.
The fiddle joined in, telling the story of a battle where the heat and frenzy made heroes of men and widows of women. It bore no resemblance to the military music played by marching bands, which merely told of hours of endless drilling under a relentless sun. Archer had never known anything quite like this; it was fire and passion; life and death. Finn’s expression
said he felt it too.
The crowd were with them every step of the way, clapping along – even with the frequent changes of tempo. They seemed to know where to shout as the men on stage punctuated the music with what to Archer’s ears were battle cries. The song seemed to have lasted for ever and yet it was over almost before it began. The slowly receding clump of horses’ hooves and marching foot soldiers faded as the drums died down to silence. The fiddle and bagpipes painted pictures – the desperate sorrow of the aftermath with a weeping widow and the faint moans of the dying.
During the brief pause, the crowd drew in a collective breath. The silence was broken by an almighty crash on the drum and a wicked laugh from Doug. ‘Are you all dead out there?’
His words were drowned by cheering and stamping. He let it go on for a brief moment before launching into one of the popular tunes of the day.
Angus told the wicked tale of how Friar Tuck tricked Robin Hood, only to have the jest turned back on him. Aiden had switched to the gittern and he sang a solo verse as Alan-a-Dale, which started ‘A wandering minstrel, I.’
Rohan put down the pipes and sang a verse as Much, the miller’s son. Every senior in the place seemed to know all the words to the verses and Archer, Finn and Fletch heard the chorus enough times to join in. Doug sang a verse about Little John’s first meeting with Robin, accompanied by rude gestures.
Riley sang the last verse about how Robin finally conquered the evil sheriff and married his Marian. Leticia appeared for this verse and Riley sang it to her, ending with a kiss on the cheek. She stayed on the dais for the last chorus, joining in with her tambourine and curtseying at the end when they took their bows.
Doug made a big show of applauding her small contribution, then asked if she would mind staying for the next song. A modern song, it had spread widely throughout the land the year before. Basically a love song, it told the sorry tale of a boy whose lady-love was promised to another. As they sang, it was obvious they had previously duetted together. Doug hooked his drum onto his belt until the chorus, which had a cheeky rhythm that got everyone clapping along.
The next few songs were instrumentals with fast beats and once again the girls did their co-ordinated moves. Most of the boys took the opportunity to gulp down a mouthful or two of ale.
‘Glad you came?’ Finn shouted to make himself heard as they queued for ale.
Archer nodded. If this was the life of a senior, he couldn’t wait until next year.
Doug announced there would be a short break after the next song, which was brand new; only written that day. Archer and Finn were returning from the bar and weren’t paying much attention to the introduction. As they reached the table, Fletch twitched with excitement as he said, ‘It’s us, listen.’
‘This is the tale of Archer, son of Sedge,
And his brave companions Finn and the Fletch,
Out in the forest and it was late,
When they were caught by the Renegates.’
Archer stood with his mouth open, he couldn’t believe his ears – someone truly had written a song about them. A couple of Leathan’s friends glanced over and several people nearby had heard Fletch and were watching them curiously.
This level of attention made him feel uncomfortable, so Archer spent a lot of time staring deep into his beaker of ale, as Riley told the story of how he’d held an arrow to Hereward’s ear and the threat he’d made. He couldn’t believe the detail and tried to think who could have told them. The information was unlikely to have come from the outlaws; it didn’t exactly show them in a good light. They surely wouldn’t admit to threatening a group of juniors, let alone being outwitted by them. No, it had to be one of the others.
Finn seemed every bit as shocked and anyway, it wasn’t his style. Fletch was a different matter, he liked a bit of attention. But unless he was an exceptional actor, his face suggested innocence. Leathan then, they had told him everything last night out in the garden, but his face showed the same disbelief as the other two. This was impossible. Archer racked his brain trying to think. No-one else could possibly know; they had not told anyone. Then he remembered something Bowman had said about it being all over the taverns last night. But how?
He had no more time to speculate. As the song ended and the cheering began, someone whispered to Doug and he held up his hand for silence. ‘Whoa, shhh, I’ve just heard something astounding. Not only is that incredible story true, but we actually have the very lads here among us. Archer, Finn, Fletch, get up here now.’
Even if they had thoughts of trying to slide away quietly, it was simply not possible. A crowd of giggling girls came over and pulled them up out of their seats, pushing them up to the stage. They were dragged up by the band members, each one of whom wanted to shake their hands and clap them on the back. Finally they were satisfied and Doug led Archer to the front. The crowd were silent even before he raised his hand.
‘Well done Oxford, you’ve done something no other town has managed to do in all the years I’ve been a minstrel – which isn’t quite as many as it may look.’ There was a burst of laughter as he covered up his beard, trying to appear younger. ‘Three things in fact.’ He paused, letting the laughter die down completely.
‘The first is to produce a hero worth writing a song about. The second is to let me sing the song to a wonderful audience. And the third is to allow me to shake his hand. Well done Archer.’
The lad’s arms were raised into the air by the members of the band, and they were forced to take a bow as the audience yelled and cheered until Archer’s face burnt with the energy.
The curse of celebrity plagued them for the rest of their eve. In particular, several of the girls were quite forceful, surrounding them when the band finished, demanding to give Archer a kiss for luck. He was grateful when Leathan shooed them away. ‘Sorry ladies, you’ll have to put him down now, we need to go.’
‘Don’t be a spoilsport, we never met a real live hero before.’
‘Well he may be back again soon, but they have to make an early start on the morrow.’
As the protests continued, Doug appeared, asking permission to perform his song around the country. The boys were stunned into silence. Leathan was quick to recover, assuring him they would be honoured. Doug clasped Archer’s hand then pulled him into a bear hug, slapping him on the back.
‘I’ll wager a lad like you will attract trouble wherever you go.’ He gestured at the girls. ‘You’re bound to need a ballad writing sooner or later – you know where to find me.’
‘Thanks, but it’s not likely. I don’t like all the fuss.’
‘You mean this?’ He beckoned a couple of the girls who were gazing adoringly at him. ‘All the more for us, then.’ He put his arms round their shoulders and squeezed them to him. After kissing their cheeks, he let them go with a smack on the rump which made them giggle.
The following morning, as they trailed the Isis southwards, Archer had a vision of Ganieda and Sedge hearing the song. Panicking, he discussed it with the others and they agreed it was probably better to mention the incident briefly, passing it off as a silly contest. If their parents got to hear about it later, as they undoubtedly would, they could not berate them for lying. That settled, they found a suitable place and picked their way across the stream. They gave the horses free rein, eating up a few miles at a canter. The adventures of the last two days combined with the late night had left them all a bit drained.
At the St Mary’s road, a sign for the Open Arms proclaimed, “The best ale outside of Oxford, only one mile away.”
‘What do you think? The horses could do with a rest and it was good ale.’ Finn’s expression was hopeful.
‘Haven’t you had enough in the last couple of days?’
‘You don’t have to drink ale, Archer. They have fruit juice if you want to be a girl. What do you think Fletch?’
‘Leave me out of this, you two decide between yourselves. I am not going to be caught as pig-in-the-middle. Yes, it was excellen
t ale, but I wouldn’t want more after what happened last time. It’s too early for food, but we need to stop somewhere and we do know the horses will get a good rest there.’
‘Good point. I will concede to you Finn, however we can’t stay too long. The plan was to eat at Uffington, there should be somewhere good; it’s a major pilgrimage.’
‘Which probably means it will be more expensive.’
The innkeeper seemed pleased to see them and surprised they had not used his cousin’s toll bridge on the way back. ‘I told you to stick to the paths. There are all kinds of ruffians who would prey on a band of young lads.’
Before Archer could stop him, Fletch launched into the tale, finishing with, ‘Maybe you should tell your brother to warn people not to go too far east like we did.’
‘Certainly I shall. I would never have suggested it if I had known. What you must think of me, sending unsuspecting youths into such danger.’
‘It’s not your fault. The forest goes all the way to the Dorchester road. They’ve probably got another band waiting for people that way as well.’
‘While it’s kind of you to say, I still feel badly. You shall have a meal from me at no expense.’
Archer wouldn’t hear of it, explaining they had to be home by nightfall. He tried to distract the man with the tale of how he’d bargained with the rebel leader, promising to pay him the price of the toll if he lost.
‘You only paid half for the toll. Oh I see. How smart. They certainly picked on the wrong troop.’
Finn couldn’t resist telling how the drummer band Gaelic Sound had sung a song about them.
‘You mean I have three real live heroes in my inn? Wait ’til I tell the wife. Have another ale. For free. This is incredible.’
After disappearing for a few minutes, he returned with a plump woman with a baby in her arms. She obviously handled the business side, suggesting an excellent bargain. If they let him display a sign saying they had stopped at his inn, the three of them would get free food and ale every time they passed.