Geraint (Hengist-People of the Horse Book 5)

by Jacky Gray

  She bent to pick up the fallen sweets first, and he watched as she put them in a pile, and then returned the ones which fell on the table back to the dish, babbling all the time. ‘It’s lucky she dips them in sugar powder so they’re not sticky, otherwise there would be a lot of clearing up to do. I’ll wash the ones which fell on the floor. It’s not dirty so they won’t be wasted.’

  ‘Leave them, they’ll be fine. This floor’s a lot cleaner than any I’ve ever seen, and I would never let them go to waste. I will have those as my penance, and you must have the ones in the dish.’ He picked a candy from the table. ‘I’m sorry for being ungrateful, but I hate being stuck inside all day and having to rely on other people to do everything for me. And I really miss Ciria.’ He popped it in his mouth.

  ‘Who’s she? Your sweetheart?’

  ‘No, certainly not.’ It was his turn to blush. The sweet made it tricky to talk, so he swallowed it. ‘She’s my dog. Janna couldn’t have her here because of the hens and rabbits; it would be too difficult to keep her away from them.’

  ‘Of course.’ Her expression held a longing.

  ‘And the hens are not used to having a dog around, so it would interrupt their laying pattern. Without eggs to sell, they would not be able buy other things.’

  ‘You’re so lucky. I wish I had a dog, but mother says it’s not fair to keep an animal in a house which is empty for most of the day, and our garden isn’t really big enough. I think it’s more that she prefers cats because they look after themselves.’

  ‘I can tell you would like to be Analina. I thought you liked Helvar, but now I can see it’s because of her dog.’

  ‘Would you like to hear some more of the story?’

  ‘Sure. I still think there’s something not quite right about this Helvar, he seems too good to be true.’

  ‘Oh no; just because he’s good-looking doesn’t mean he has to be nasty. He’s got a very kind heart.’

  ‘I thought so. You fancy him, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly; he’s a character from a story.’

  ‘But if he was real you would, wouldn’t you? You like the idea of a handsome prince to rescue you from your horrid life.’

  ‘My life isn’t horrid.’

  ‘So you don’t wish you had a dog?’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘And you’re not bullied by the girls at lehren?’

  ‘Yes, I mean, no.’

  ‘Which one is it? It can’t be both.’

  ‘I’m not bullied the way she was. They don’t call me names and say unkind things about the way I look …’

  ‘You look fine to me. In fact, much more than fine. They’re probably jealous because you are truly beautiful.’

  The blush this time went much deeper, colouring her neck and the skin just below it, so she glowed in a different way to when he first met her. He’d called her beautiful then, too, but she hadn’t reacted like this. What could possibly have changed? He watched as her head dropped, her burning cheeks covered by a screen of hair. She seemed to have forgotten about their conversation as she focussed on the book in front of her. After a few moments, she carried on with the story.

  Settling back into the pillows, he popped another sweet in his mouth and listened as her voice painted pictures of Analisa’s adventures. The girl now had a very real form for him. Helvar however, was no longer tall, blond and muscular, but short, dark and on the thin side of normal; much like himself. As his eyelids drooped shut, his mind acted out the story, enthralled as Helvar rescued Analina from the wicked gypsies who wanted to make her dance for the nasty ogre. He’d not had much exposure to romance in his life and had no idea how stories normally finished, so he was upset when Siany snapped the book shut.

  ‘Don’t stop, what happens now?’

  ‘That’s the end of the story. They get married and live happily ever after. I’m hungry, I’m going to get some broth. Do you want some?’

  ‘Yes, but can’t you finish it properly, first? I’m sure it says more than that.’

  ‘If you’re so keen, read it for yourself. It’s the second story, called “Analisa and the Gypsy Prince.” Leaving the book on his bed, she disappeared, returning a little while later to find him apparently asleep, with the open book lying face down on his knees. She put the tray down on her chair and picked up the book. Noting the page with a frown, she slammed it shut and his eyes snapped open.

  ‘Are you going to sit up for this?’

  Stretching his arms above his head as though wakening from a light nap, he settled back and placed the tray table over his knees, sniffing the air appreciatively. ‘I must have dozed off. That smells good.’

  ‘Grandma’s broth always is. All the vegetables are home grown, and she knows which herbs make your insides glow.’ Moving her chair nearer to his bedside table, she broke bread into small pieces and stirred it into the thick soup, cooling it down. ‘Did you like the proper end of the story then?’

  ‘Yeah, roughly as you said.’

  ‘Did you see any other stories you want me to read to you?’

  ‘How can I tell? It’s just a lot of words.’

  ‘By the titles, silly. Didn’t you read the contents to find out the page for the story?’

  ‘A title doesn’t tell you what the story’s about.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t have a clue that “Jonti and the Pirate King” is about a boy and some pirates or “Leuca’s Dragon” is about a boy and his dragon?’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. You couldn’t tell Analina is a lonely little girl whose best friend was her dog from the title, could you?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ She obviously picked up on his annoyance at her questions, and concentrated on eating her broth with the occasional comment about the food and the weather. When she returned from clearing away the dishes with two beakers of steaming fruit tea, he was staring at the contents page.

  ‘Have you decided which one you want next?’

  He considered for a while, his eyes moving from the top of the page to the bottom. ‘The dragon one I think, yes, Looka’s Dragon.’

  ‘Good choice. What page is it on?’

  But he’d already closed the book and held it out to her with a shrug. Sitting down, she found the start and read out the first few pages. At a really exciting bit, she paused for a drink and, as she put the beaker down, started coughing. He was most concerned, offering to thump her on the back, but she declined.

  When her fit ended, she held out the book to him, saying casually, ‘Maybe you could take over for a while, my throat is really sore.’

  Taking the book from her, he studied the page for a little while and she grew impatient.

  ‘Can’t you find the place? It was about halfway down page twenty-five. Look, I’ll show you if you like.’

  But as she stood, he shut the book abruptly. ‘Actually I’ve got a bit of a headache, and it’s making all the words swim on the page.’

  ‘Oh dear. Probably because it’s so stuffy in here. I’ll open a window, let some fresh air in.’ But the window was already open and something about the way she said it made him suspect she already knew.

  ‘Maybe you should close your eyes and have a little rest to clear your head.’

  He nodded his agreement, settling back onto the pillow.

  ‘It’s a shame; that’s such a good bit, I think I’ll just sit here and read it to myself. I love it when the dragon talks to him for the first time.’

  ‘The dragon talks?’ His eyes opened involuntarily at the idea, and he tried to hide his curiosity. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’ She found the place and handed him the book, pointing out the sentence. ‘Here, read it for yourself. I’ll just get a glass of water; then I might be able to carry on.’

  When she returned, he was staring at the page, his face dark.

  ‘What did you think?’

  In a fit of rage, he threw the book off the bed as he said fiercely. ‘If you knew I co
uldn’t read, why did you have to keep making me do it?’

  Her startled flinch shamed him as she asked, ‘What makes you think I knew?’

  ‘Because you handed me the book upside down. You must think I’m really stupid.’ He turned his back toward her.

  ‘No, I don’t. I handed it to you the way I was reading it. I assumed you would turn it the right way. I wondered if you might struggle to read, but I didn’t know for sure. I thought you’d be offended if I mentioned it, or offered to teach you.’

  Shrugging to agree with the logic, he gingerly turned to face her, wincing at the pain in his leg.

  It was her turn to look ashamed, apologising because her ruse had caused him pain. He told her they were quits and she smiled. Drawing her chair closer, she positioned the book so he could see the words, running her finger underneath each word as she said it out loud.

  To begin with, he didn’t take much notice, just listening to the story, but after a while, he began to pick out words as she read them, especially the names of the characters which were repeated often.

  11 Learning to Read

  So began Geraint’s love affair with books and learning. Siany spent the whole of Sunday by his side and came round for a couple of hours each afternoon after lehren finished. She was a patient and methodical teacher, and he was an enthusiastic student, asking questions and making connections easily. He didn’t care much at the start for the grammatical rules, but by the time she’d answered the fourth question about tenses, he admitted he might need to know about them, so each day she taught him a new aspect of the language.

  When his father came to pick him up at the end of the fortnight as arranged, his eyes widened in horror at the details of what needed to be done every day to aid his son’s recovery.

  ‘What happens if there is no-one to help him, and he has to manage himself?’

  ‘I’ll be all right, Father. You could find a staff to support my weight. I’m sure Savannah or someone would be able to check on me if you’re out for the day.’

  ‘But there’s another harvest fayre next week, and I shall be gone for four days. Savannah’s going with me; she always does a good trade at Glastonburgh. Many people there buy her potions and herbs. Then we planned to travel round the west coast for a few weeks to the regular Samhain rounds. This is our busiest time of year.’

  ‘He’s welcome to stay with us until you come back. We love having young people around, and he’s no bother.’ Janna looked thrilled at the prospect.

  ‘Is that all right with you, Tol? I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It would be our pleasure; the lad’s a credit to you.’

  ‘And he so reminds us of our dear Renata. I see her smile every time the lad is happy.’

  Rattrick beamed at Tol’s compliment, but Janna’s mention of his wife made a dark shadow cross his face, and he did not stay long after that. Bending down to give his son an awkward hug, he promised to send someone round with a few extra clothes.

  When she came round later, Siany clapped her hands at the news; then her face dropped. ‘Father’s not happy about me spending so much time over here; he thinks my studies are suffering. He says I must complete all my home tasks before I come to see you, or I can only stay for an hour.’

  ‘Oh dear, this is indeed bad news.’

  ‘And if he gets one more complaint from a professor about missed work, then I must stop coming at all.’

  ‘That would be awful, but you must obey your father.’

  ‘It’s so unfair. I did the work; I simply forgot to hand it in.’

  ‘Why did you forget?’

  ‘Because it was the last class, and I wanted to get out quickly to see you.’ She opened her bag to avoid looking at him and he heard echoes of her father’s attitude in his next words.

  ‘Well it’s a shame, but your father’s right; you can’t let something like this interfere with your education.’

  ‘But I’m learning so much by teaching you; it’s making me think about it more. Even my professor noticed; she said I was top of the class in reading and writing.’ She paused at a memory; the look on her face suggested an unpleasant one.

  ‘Except she said something more, and the other children got jealous, didn’t they?’

  ‘How do you know? You’re right. She said if I kept it up, I’d soon be able to teach the class and that I’m a chip off the old block.’

  ‘Don’t bother telling me any more. I can guess how they used it to make your life a misery.’

  He suggested an obvious solution, and she showed him her home tasks. They discussed what needed to be done, and then she completed them while Geraint read the next chapter of her book, underlining any of the words he didn’t know. Tol lent him a dictionary and he got used to looking them up until he needed no words explaining. He was good with numbers and had a natural aptitude for practical subjects. His experience of natural things came in useful, as did his knowledge of the daily travel of the sun and the moon which she needed for a project in her nature class.

  ‘That’s not right, surely the moon rises and sets in about the same place every day like the sun.’

  ‘Yes, it always rises in the east and sets in the west just like the sun; there is no disputing that. But although the sun rises and sets at round about the same time every day …’

  ‘It rises at dawn and sets at twilight.’

  ‘Yes, but the moon sets and rises just when she pleases, Tol says she’s just like a woman.’

  ‘He would say that. When I stay here, he complains if I sleep for more than an hour after sunrise, but I tell him children need more sleep to give them the energy.’

  ‘Well if you take the last moon for example …’

  ‘It was a harvest moon and it’s the time for working together as a team or with a wise teacher. Just like we are doing now.’

  Geraint nodded. ‘I know the names but I didn’t know they had a meaning apart from the obvious one.’

  ‘Oh yes, at least that’s what we learnt in rituals. The next one is the hunter’s moon and that’s the time for self-examination.’

  ‘Interesting. Anyway, back to our harvest moon. When she’s full, she rises as the sun sets and sets as the sun rises so they are in opposition.’

  ‘Isn’t it always like that?’

  ‘I used to think so too, but Savannah taught me she rises at least an hour later every day so by the time she has waned to a half-moon, she doesn’t rise until nearly midnight.’

  ‘Who, Savannah or the moon?’

  ‘The moon of course. That is who we’re talking about. Savannah is a healer.’

  ‘I got confused because you kept referring to she. Is she pretty?’

  ‘The moon? I think she’s beautiful.’

  ‘Now you’re being deliberately obtuse. You know I mean Savannah.’

  ‘I’ve never really thought about it. She’s old enough to be my mother or even grandmother. It’s like asking me if Janna is pretty.’

  ‘Well, is she pretty?’

  ‘Who Janna? I don’t know. I don’t tend to think about women like that. I know she’s warm, generous, funny and hard-working. And that I’m lucky to be staying with her.’

  ‘You’re just not going to give me a straight answer, are you? Never mind, I need to try and write it all down.’

  ‘I’ll let you get on with it while I read the next couple of chapters of King Arthur and his round table knights.’

  ‘I know which I’d rather be doing.’

  As the weeks progressed, it became more of an exchange of knowledge. Although Siany’s reading skills were superior, his expertise far surpassed hers when it came to the ancient burial customs surrounding the long barrows dotted around the area. She was pleased because this happened to be the topic for a history project. ‘So this links in directly with the nature project because most of the stone circles are aligned on Yule sunset and Litha sunrise.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but many of the long barrow
s line up with the sunset at Samhain because that’s when they would have their ceremony of the dead.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  Geraint made his explanation of the ritual understated, trying to play down the horror of leaving the bodies for animals and birds to remove the flesh. It didn’t work.

  ‘Ewww, that’s horrible. Thanks for that image; now I feel sick.’

  ‘Sorry, but that’s the way it was back then. They believed the soul generally moved on to the next world, but they lived in fear of spirits coming back and causing mischief as long as anything remained on the bones.’

  ‘That’s daft. There is no more chance of a spirit being in the flesh than in the bone.’

  ‘We know that now, but they were very superstitious back then.’

  Shuddering, she made a few notes in her notebook. ‘So what happened to the skeletons?’

  ‘They were buried in the chambers in the long barrows and later the round barrows. First there would be a long, drawn out celebration with huge feasts and long songs or poems honouring the lives of the deceased.’

  He let her digest this information, but after a long silence, she still hadn’t written anything down.

  ‘Are you all right? I’m sorry if it’s a nasty image, but that is how we think it used to happen.’

  ‘I know it did.’ Her small, quiet voice made him glance up sharply. She’d turned a white colour which reminded him of the horses etched into the hillsides.

  Her voice choked as she whispered, ‘I was there.’ Then she got up and ran out of the room.

  12 Hengist or Horsa?