by Jacky Gray
The broader of the two men nodded at the stones. ‘That’ll be why you’re here then. It’s said the spirits of the recently deceased come here on Samhain to talk to their loved ones.’
‘She died when I was very young.’
‘But still you came here today to talk to her.’ The first one who spoke held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry about my comment earlier. I’m Fletch, Son of Fletcher. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Geraint, Son of Rattrick.’ He glanced at Siany who raised her eyebrows in a gesture which suggested she was expecting to meet him there. He wanted to talk to her, but this was neither the time, nor the place as her expression drew his attention to the other man. ‘So if he’s Fletch, you must be Finn, right?’
The man paused in the act of putting out his hand. ‘That’s right, Finn, Son of Finian. Do I know you?’
‘No, I was referring to the two companions of Archer, Son of Sedge from the song.’
Taking a deep bow, they linked arms and gave a quick performance of the first verse as he looked on in alarm at his blunder. They seemed to be taking it with good humour, and he sidled over to Siany and whispered, ‘You said it was just a story. How come you suddenly know them?’
‘Uncle Fletch is married to cousin Bethia. The song happened years ago when I was far too young to understand anything.’
‘Fletch is your uncle and you didn’t know he was THE Fletch?’ He was hissing in frustration, but the subject of his concern came over and clapped him on the back.
‘I’m not really her uncle. She just says it to annoy me. Because she tells me I’m sooooo old.’
‘Your Father, Rattrick wouldn’t be the leader of a band of Renegates who patrol the ridge at Highway, would he?’
Geraint hesitated before replying to Finn’s question. He didn’t want to see the disgust most Townies had for his people in the eyes of one of his boyhood heroes.
‘I’ll assume the pause means yes. Don’t be ashamed, boy. We’ve heard good things about him.’
‘I’m not ashamed. My father’s a good man and an excellent leader.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. So, young lady, what does your father think of you mixing with the son of a Renegate leader?’
‘Father likes Geraint, he just disapproves of their way of life.’
‘I can believe that. Beth says he looks down on anyone who isn’t a high-ranking Magi.’ Fletch’s mild tease had a bitter tang.
Before Siany could voice her objection, Geraint jumped in with, ‘Darryn can be arrogant, but he’s very fair and he can recognise worth in people, no matter who they are.’
‘Oooooohhh, that’s you told.’ Finn wagged a finger. ‘If we’re not looking for trouble with your good lady, we’d better get back.’
‘Are you kidding? How often does she get Tricia to herself these days? The two of them will be sharing a bottle of your elderflower wine and hoping we drop in for an ale or two at the Waggoner’s on the way back.’ Fletch looked hopeful.
‘With our young charge in tow? I don’t think so.’
‘But the sun’s only just set and we haven’t been inside yet.’ Siany still bristled with indignance from the earlier comments.
‘You’re not getting me in there. Now the sun’s down, it’ll be full of creepy crawlies.’ Fletch shuddered, doing his best impression of a squeamish girl.
‘Don’t be rotten. Siany’s made of much sterner stuff than that.’ Finn gallantly sprang to her defence.
‘I know, I was copying Beth.’
‘You wait ’til I tell her. You won’t be laughing when she …’
‘Finnegan. I can tell by your expression the rest of your sentence is not suitable for these young impressionable ears. So Geraint, where are you off to next? I couldn’t see any sign of wagons.’
‘My folks are down at Stonehenge for the night.’
‘But it goes on until sunrise. Where are you going to sleep?’
‘The wagon is down at Pewsey. I suppose I’ll go back there when I’m finished here.’
‘Nine miles in the dark on Samhain? Are you crazy?’
‘That’s not going to happen. Beth would flay me alive if she found out I’d let a friend of her favourite cousin go off on his own. You’re coming back with us, young man. I insist.’
‘But you’re leaving now. I have to do … something here first.’
‘You mean you’re going in there? How will you see anything? You’ll stumble into the rocks and end up black and blue.’
‘I have a torch and some firesticks.’
‘That’s different. Come on then, what are you waiting for, we’ll come in with you.’
‘I – it’s sort of … private.’
‘Well, we know when we’re not wanted. Come on Finn, the Waggoner’s beckons. And after I offered him a bed for the night.’
‘Stop teasing the poor lad. We’ll wait outside. Will it take long?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so.’
As he lit the torch, Siany turned to the others. ‘I have to go in, too. I’m a part of it.’
‘You think we’re going to wait out here while you two …’
‘Think very carefully what you say next, Fletch. They’re only sixteen and, from what I can see, Geraint is a well brought up young man. I’m sure she will be safe with him.’
‘Thank you, sir. I assure you; no harm will come to her. You can watch from the entrance if you’re worried.’
‘Actually, I will, if it’s all right with you.’ Fletch climbed over the rocks at the entrance. ‘It’s chilly when the wind blows.’
The others followed. Once inside, Geraint didn’t know what to do. The images had been quite sketchy. He’d seen someone else with him but had not realised it was Siany. Crouching to avoid the low ceiling, he tried to hold the torch behind him to light her way. However, his body blocked the light so he could not see where he was going. But she seemed to know what to do. ‘Keep going until you reach the big chamber at the end.’
It was only eight paces, but they had to walk carefully as fallen stones were scattered over the ground. The flickering flame made shadows leap around them as they entered the square cavity, stepping over bones littering the floor. He reached the back wall and lodged the torch in a crevice designed for it. Sitting down and crossing his legs, he faced the opening. Siany sat in front of him with her back to it.
‘That’s all I saw, I don’t know what to do next.’
Taking her lead from him, she whispered her question. ‘Do you have your offering?’
He reached into the sack and brought out the two small bones. Taking them from him, she held them up to the flame, then brought them to her lips. ‘Ask your question.’
‘Is … she … happy?’ An image of Ciria splashing in the water at Swallowhead spring filled his mind, but the young healthy dog from his youth, not the old lady she’d become. ‘Thank you.’ But it didn’t end there. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around the young Ciria’s chest, cuddling her just the way his mother used to. Hardly daring to look up, he saw her face buried in the dog’s neck, her long hair spread out like a curly blanket. His breathing stilled as she raised her head and he saw her smile beaming out like a ray of the sun, filling him with the knowledge he was loved and the world could be such a good place.
He’d quite forgotten about Siany until she whispered, ‘Do you want to tell her anything?’
‘I love you Mother. Father loves you, too. He’s a good man.’ His voice sounded loud in the silence.
Although she did not speak, his mother’s expression told him she knew. Then he heard her voice inside his head, singing the lullaby she always sang when he was a baby.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as the image faded. He put out his hands to touch her, but they grasped only air. Then he realised Siany had slumped forward, and he caught her before her head fell onto his knee. ‘Siany. Are you all right?’
The two men had been quietly chatting, but Fletch must have sensed something as he shouted, ‘Ev
erything all right back there?’
‘She’s fainted or something.’
‘Nothing but trouble these girls. You mark my words, young Renegate. Ouch.’ As he approached, Fletch hit his head on a rock and his loud exclamation rebounded in the small space.
Siany stirred and sprang back when she realised she was almost lying on Geraint’s chest. ‘What happened? What did you do?’
Fletch’s voice poured calm. ‘Relax, you just fainted. I don’t know what kind of wicce you were practising, but it looked powerful from over there.’
‘It wasn’t wicce, it was just …’
‘Talking to your dead mother isn’t wicce?’
‘But we didn’t cast any spells. There were no candles or incense, wands or chants.’ Siany’s tone was defensive.
‘You seem to know a lot about it.’
‘I read some of Patricia’s books.’
‘That explains it. Can you stand?’
‘I think so.’ She stumbled, so Fletch picked her up, but there wasn’t room to carry her, so he had to put her back down and content himself with supporting one shoulder. Geraint supported the other one, and they did an awkward sideways shuffle until they reached the end. A few minutes out in the fresh air, and she declared herself “as good as new.”
Finn took no chances, sweeping her into his arms and striding down the hill, leaving the other two to follow. Geraint struggled to keep up, hampered by the torch. When they reached the bottom, she insisted Geraint put her down or she would cast a spell on him.
‘So you’re not wicce, but you’re going to cast a spell.’
‘Leave her alone, Finn. She just doesn’t want to spend any more time in your arms, and who can blame her.’
Finn put her down and aimed a punch at Fletch who caught it easily. No real intent lay behind it, merely the lifelong sparring of good friends.
‘So what do we do now? It’s way too early to go back home.’
‘Have you eaten, Geraint?’ Finn’s hand went to his belly as it grumbled.
‘I have some bread and cheese.’
‘That’s no good. On a night like this, you need spicy vegetable broth and beef with roasted pine nuts.’
‘And funnily enough, they just happen to be on the menu at the Waggoner’s.’ Fletch’s grin suggested he knew the menu well.
‘Do they indeed? What a coincidence. And look, we’re nearly there now.’
The inn was crowded, with only one small table free. Fletch insisted the youngsters take it and followed Finn to the bar where they joined a group of rowdy friends.
Without the security of the two celebrated “Uncles” or the business of the ceremony, Geraint felt completely tongue-tied about talking to this beautiful girl. Her face was every bit as lovely, but in the last year she’d lost some of the boyishness in her body; it was starting to curve like a woman’s. He saw the admiring glances cast her way by many of the men in the inn as they walked past.
‘You’ve become so handsome I nearly didn’t recognise you. All the girls are looking at you.’
‘You’re teasing me. I was just thinking exactly the same about you. Except beautiful instead of handsome. And the men are looking at you, not the girls.’
Siany giggled. ‘I should hope not. I can’t believe how you’ve grown into a man in only a year.’
‘I can’t believe it’s a year since I saw you. It feels like only yesterday.’
‘You can’t have missed me then.’
‘No. I mean, yes. You’ve been in my thoughts every day. You’re what keeps me going when the day gets tough or boring.’
Blushing at the compliment, she lowered her gaze as the serving girl brought two dishes of steaming broth. During the meal, she explained how deeply his rejection of her on the bridge had affected her. It was all bound up with bullying at lehren, and nothing said by Tol, Janna or her parents would convince her of his good intentions.
‘I’m sorry I was so cruel, but I had to make them believe I didn’t care about you, or they would have hurt you to make me suffer.’
‘I understand that now. Janna brought a book where something similar happened – except the other way round. The princess had to reject the woodsman she loved to stop her father having him killed.’
Geraint badly wanted to smile at the idea of a story making her forgive him, but she looked so miserable, he stifled it.
She peeped through lowered lashes. ‘I wanted to meet you, but Father forbade me to mention it to Bethia – he didn’t want them to risk going near the Renegate camp to deliver my letter.’
‘You wrote a letter? What did it say?’
‘That I understood why you’d acted the way you did and that I wanted to meet you to talk about it.’
‘Your father was right, it’s much too dangerous for Townies to approach a Renegate camp.’
‘Will you forgive me for thinking what I did?’
‘Of course.’ He reached across the table to hold her hand, but Fletch walked past and they both pulled away and focussed on their meals. A little while later, he asked why she’d come that night. She told him about the identical dream she’d had every night for two weeks running. It was always the same: She went to the long barrow at West Kennet, he was there and she helped him talk to a spirit. She didn’t know it was his mother, but guessed it might be. The rest of the evening was enchanted as he rediscovered her warm intelligence and wicked humour.
He was a little nervous about staying in the house of strangers, but Bethia’s welcome soon put him at ease. Patricia said very little until they were about to leave but, as she kissed his cheek, she said something strange. ‘The Open Arms. I don’t know why I just thought of that, but it will become important for you in the next few months.’
‘Sorry, what?’ He frowned.
‘The Open Arms.’
‘Do you mean the inn on the Michael road just outside Oxford?’
‘Yes. Finn takes us there often; he knows the innkeeper.’
‘Oh yes, we’re quite famous there. Just mention you know us and he’ll fall over himself to help you.’
‘Thank you, but I cannot think what I would need from him.’
‘Except it’s exactly halfway between Oxford and Aveburgh.’ Fletch gave a meaningful look between him and Siany.
Bethia raised her eyes skyward. ‘Take no notice of Uncle Fletch, he just likes to dream.’
The inn became a halfway house where Geraint and Siany could send private letters to each other. And from the week after Samhain, a place where they could meet and have lunch together in private. As Finn predicted, the mention of his name guaranteed they were treated with absolute discretion and respect at all times.
Savannah’s influence meant Rattrick eased up on his enquiries where his son went every other Saturnday when he disappeared on his two-wheeler. A few quiet words curbed his curiosity as she suggested Geraint had proven well able to take care of himself.
Her piercing gaze reminded Geraint not to take unnecessary risks and to be aware of which patch Hereward’s tribe were patrolling as many of them went close to the Oxford/Wantage border. Geraint took heed of her warning and always remained vigilant on the stretch leading up to the inn.
24 Evading Capture
The worst thing about being in the forest in the dark wasn’t the cold or damp which chilled you to the bone, or even the knowledge that if your pursuers caught up, you would suffer indescribable torment at their hands. Much worse than any of these was the fear of unknown terrors which lurked in the darkest corners of your imagination.
Every breath of wind was a wraith brushing past, leaving a damp mist whose tendrils squirmed into lungs, triggering deep, gut-wrenching coughs. Every snuffle or crackle of leaves became a wild animal with sharp, blood-coated fangs and even sharper claws. Disembodied eyes glittered in the moonlight, filling every dark corner with demons which sucked in souls and breathed out fire.
Hearing the howls getting louder, Geraint knew they were getting closer, and he had to
make the choice between two impossible options. He could stay put, trying to use his exceptional concealment skills to hide and hope they would pass by, or carry on, deeper and further in. Getting more and more lost, leaving a trail that would be obvious in the daylight, and not too difficult at night for experienced trackers.
A small part of him screamed with bitter anger that he was only in this predicament because he’d tried to help, but he scolded it to stop immediately. He saw no point in thinking this way; it would only build up resentment and the resulting negative energy would ensure things turned bad. Clearing his mind of anything but the absolute certainty he would escape unscathed, he melted into the thick green foliage of a cypress tree.
A few minutes later, he heard the hunters close by. They didn’t bother to hide their presence, so sure were they their prey had gone.
‘Forget it. He headed west, I’m convinced of it.’
‘I reckon I saw something moving down here. We’ll just stay for five minutes; he’s certain to make a move.’
‘I can’t believe we let a junior through. We have all the seniors.’
‘Oeric did say his cousin was exceptionally skilled, that’s why he brought him along today.’
‘I reckon he could do with taking down a peg or two.’
‘Who? Oeric? Yeah, I always thought him a bit too big for his boots, just because his uncle’s the leader.’
‘It’s not like he has the same blood; it’s only by marriage. No, I meant the boy.’
‘Geraint? He seems likeable enough to me.’
‘That’s the trouble – everyone loves him. All the women treat him as though he’s some kind of golden child. They all wish they had a son like him.’
‘How is that his fault? He doesn’t act like his father’s the leader. I’ve never seen him try to lord it over the other kids, even when he won the Herfest trial let alone the Beltane contest.’
‘Yeah? So what’s he doing here today, training with seniors? Who does he think he is?’
‘I told you. Oeric asked him along to give him some tips on hiding out.’
‘Hengist knows, that boy needs help; he’s like an ox.’