by Jacky Gray
Tamas however, was completely smitten, stammering like a dullard. ‘That’s v-very k-kind. Is it f-far?’
‘About a mile by the road but it’s a lot quicker if you climb those rocks.’
‘W-will you be all right climbing rocks? I mean, is it safe?’
A scornful look indicated her opinion of Tamas’s concern, and she surprised them both by running lightly over the pebbles with no care about slipping or twisting an ankle on their treacherous surface.
Geraint was first to take up the challenge. With a quick punch on his friend’s arm, he was after her like a dog after a hare. Although he started later, the taller boy’s long legs gave him the edge and he overtook Geraint just as he was about to catch up with their guide. She was as nimble as a mountain goat over the rocks and completely fearless, nothing like the spoilt beauty Geraint imagined from their previous, brief meeting.
As Kia predicted, this beach was much better. The long stretch of sand housed many fabulous shells, reminding him of the dress her mother had worn to his Herfest trial. They only had two hours before the tide started covering the rocks, and it was well spent, filling both of the small sacks Rattrick had provided.
That night, Geraint’s dream became a little more bizarre. The three tribes were no longer fighting each other, but were all pelting rotten fruit and vegetables at some people trapped in a cage in the centre. He could not make out the faces, but it looked like two boys and two girls.
The following day, they returned earlier with three larger sacks, one of which contained a lunchtime snack, provided by Savannah on the understanding they would return it filled with shells. Geraint knew the constant teasing between Kia and Tamas heralded a budding romance and discretely kept some distance away. Having filled the first two sacks, they stopped and ate the cheese, fruit and honey bread, washing it down with Savannah’s special cordial. They laid down to enjoy the warmth of the autumn sun, but Geraint was still thirsty, taking the bottle over to the spring to wash it out and fill it with water.
When he returned they were snoozing so, with a grin, he left them the water and took the bag over to a cave he’d noticed just before they broke off for lunch. Inside the entrance lay a huge stone covered in dark blue shells which cling on to every bit of the surface. There were layers and layers of them, resembling some kind of weird body armour. Several clumps had fallen off. He reasoned this must be where the creatures inside the shells had died and so it was all right to collect them. Examining them, he was sure they would make fine centrepieces for the necklace designs, adding a contrasting splash of deep colour. He was so busy in his task he did not hear the approach of his enemies until it was too late.
34 Trial by Fire
‘What do we have here, all on his own like a sad Johnny loner?’ Manfrid’s tone held delight, and Georgios responded with glee.
‘No-one will go near him now he’s got a Townie for a girlfriend. They think he’s a traitor to his clan.’
‘And to his sex, going to the Esbats with the women.’
‘I didn’t believe it, but look at him; collecting shells like a girl.’
‘Going to make yourself a pretty necklace, pretty boy?’
Geraint let them carry on trying to insult him, knowing he was no more a girl than Manfrid as he’d proven by besting him every time they met. But it did not make sense to linger in such a remote spot so he picked up the half-full sack and headed back to the others. Manfrid and Georgios were not finished, running through their catalogue of insults as though they were rehearsed.
‘Those Townie girls can’t want a real man if they’re prepared to put up with a pretty boy.’
‘That Townie girl will have to take what she can, don’t you remember how fat and ugly she was?’
‘Yeah, the Townie boys probably can’t bear to go near her unless they put a sack over her head.’
‘Now there’s an idea. I was going to say she’ll probably never get to know what it’s like with a real man, but with a sack over her head I could just about manage it.’
Rage built up in Geraint as he walked. He found it a lot easier to ignore insults about himself. No matter how he tried to focus on other things, their evil words penetrated through. Stopping, he intended to tell Manfrid the consequences if he heard the slimy weasel had so much as looked at her.
Something else captured their attention and they ran past him, shouting with glee. In horror, he realised he’d inadvertently provided them with another target for their evil schemes.
‘Today just gets better and better. How much trouble are these two going to be in when we go back and tell the camp what we found them doing?’
‘In broad daylight with so many witnesses. They have no shame.’
‘And after he brought half the camp along because he thought we were doing it with those juniors. Revenge indeed is sweet, I feel like I’ve just been drinking honey.’
‘Which is exactly what he was doing before they fell asleep.’
‘And what a honey to drink. Pitivo’s daughter no less. Hereward will have to stump up a pretty penny to put that right.’
‘If Pitivo doesn’t shoot him first. And Tamas too.’
‘The boy who deflowered his precious daughter.’
Tamas had woken up and was still dozy, but as their banter became more and more crude, he sprang to his feet, obviously intending to defend the girl’s honour, but Geraint got to him first, pushing him away before he could do any damage. ‘Stop it Tamas, they’re not worth bruising your knuckles over. Ignore them Kia, you weren’t doing anything wrong and they know it.’
She was understandably upset by their crude remarks and probably frightened about what her father and mother might say, bursting into tears. Geraint knew Tamas had suffered enough at their hands to know they would go through with their plot whatever he said or did. No matter how much satisfaction it would give either of them to make Manfrid’s nose bleed, it would not help their case and would probably do some harm. So the pair of them ignored their tormentors and endured the barrage of insults as they walked back to the main beach where the others were waiting with the wagons.
Geraint’s dream finally began to make sense. The four figures in the cage were not his enemies and the two girls they enticed into the woods, but himself and Siany, Tamas and Kia. Even before he reached the security of his father’s wagon, the vicious rumours had spread round the camp. It was obvious Manfrid had been busy on the previous day talking to someone in Rattrick’s camp about the new trials and Esbat celebrations, probably one of the girls still smarting from Savannah’s telling off. He must have discussed this with other boys in Hereward and Pitivo’s camp in such a way they were bound to question it with their parents.
By the time they returned from the beach, everyone knew he was going out with a Townie and that he’d been at an Esbat. Added to his father’s new ideas about the way women were treated, it was all a bit too much for the other two tribes. Their men were still very entrenched in the traditional Renegate ways where the man was in charge and everyone else was there to do his bidding.
It came as no surprise when Geraint was summoned to attend a council meeting and had to explain himself to the panel consisting of three men from each tribe. Hereward took it upon himself to be the chief accuser and Pitivo, as host, led the proceedings.
Tamas looked worried stood as his friend was called forward, but Manfrid and Georgios were positively gloating.
Geraint played along, believing he would get a fair hearing. As the tribunal progressed, it became clear the outcome had been decided amongst the leaders beforehand. The first charge was read out; that he’d been having an intimate relationship with a non-Renegate girl. ‘Is this true?’ Hereward pointed at him dramatically.
‘No, she’s my girlfriend but …’
‘You will only answer the questions yes or no.’ Pitivo looked very stern. ‘Is this girlfriend a Renegate?’
‘No.’
Hereward consulted his notes. ‘Geraint, you are
charged with attending an Esbat, knowing this ceremony is against the Renegate code. Is this true?’
‘No. I did attend it, but …’
‘Which is it to be, yes or no?’
‘No, I did not know it was against any code.’
‘Did you attend an Esbat? If you say any more than yes or no, it will be the same penalty as if you’d lied.’
‘Yes.’
‘The accused is guilty of both crimes. I suggest a severe punishment for flouting the Renegate code on at least two occasions.’ Hereward’s voice held the triumph of victory, but Pitivo upheld the rules of tribunal.
‘Does anyone speak on behalf of the boy?’
During the stony silence, Geraint looked at each man on the panel but none of them would meet his eye, not even his father whose gaze was fixed on a point somewhere to the side. The heat of tears flared behind his eyes and he swallowed and widened his eyes to stop them from watering. Just as he’d given up hope, a voice rang out from behind him.
‘I will speak for Geraint.’ Amid the many gasps of disbelief at her audacity, Savannah stepped forward. ‘This boy is brave and honourable and would not knowingly do anything against the Renegate code.’
Hereward’s anger left him barely coherent. ‘You would let a woman speak at council?’
Pitivo took a measured look at the faces around him. This would need careful management and no matter how he chose to play it, he was almost certain to offend someone. ‘I thank you for your wise words Savannah, but you know as well as any of us the code does not permit a woman to speak at council. However, if there is one man present who will attest to your words, then your argument will stand.’
Another voice joined in. ‘If it pleases the council, I would like to speak for Geraint. My apologies Rattrick, I would have been here earlier, but my sister took a turn for the worse.’ Darrack still wore his riding cloak.
‘Save your excuses for later. What say you about the boy?’ Hereward did not look pleased at this development.
‘As Savannah said, Geraint is brave and honourable …’
‘His courage and honour are not in question. Can you deny he broke the code?’
Darrack glanced to where the boy stood as stone, his face devoid of expression. ‘Geraint would not knowingly break the Renegate code.’
‘Yet break the code he did, so the blame must lay at the feet of his teachers. Do we know who trained the boy?’
‘That would be me. I have trained Geraint in the ways of the Renegates.’
Pitivo wanted to move on. ‘We will decide your fate at the end with the boy. Call up the next offender.’
But Darrack hadn’t finished. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt this council on its business, but I’m afraid my news will concern most of the people here with its urgency.’
‘Speak man.’ Pitivo had good reason to delay the next case.
‘It’s the Renegates from Kent, Hengest and Horsa. They have come to Wessex and taken over.’
Hereward was dismissive. ‘So the good people of Aveburgh will pay tolls to different men for a while. It is not our concern, they can afford it.’
‘They have not yet reached that far west of Oxford. At the moment they have taken over your pitch and another one to the north hitting the London bound traffic.’
Rattrick stood up. ‘I’m sorry Pitivo, but this is the worst possible news. At least in Aveburgh the Townies have been preparing for this, but the Oxford council would be at their mercy.’
Hereward turned on him. ‘You have been cooperating with the Townies over this? It is no wonder your son is so lawless with you as an example.’
‘Whatever you think of the way I run my tribe is not important now. The Townies have tolerated us because we are not the great threat they pretend we are. It suits them to tell tales of the fierce bands who roam the area; it keeps their youths from straying too far from the paths.’
‘You mean we are keeping the streets safe at night? I knew we should be charging more toll.’ The laughter greeting Andrzej’s remark was welcome and even Hereward joined in, lightening the mood.
Rattrick seemed reluctant to darken it again, but he had no choice. ‘I’m sorry to break up this happy gathering, but these men are truly black hearted. They are as likely to slit a throat as a purse and think nothing of beating and raping women, girls and even boys.’
Geraint was paralysed with a single thought. ‘Siany.’
‘Yes, son. I would like as many men as can get a horse to come with me now. If we ride through the night we should make it up to Aveburgh by tomorrow eve.’
‘But it’s a two day ride, it will kill the horses.’
‘We’ll take it slowly and rest them when we can.’ He turned to Emilian. ‘Will you organise the rest to bring the wagons up? The women can drive and the juniors can help them.’
Pitivo stood. ‘Any of my men who wish to will join you and the rest of us will travel up to protect your women on the journey. If these ruffians are as bad as you say, they’ll give us a bad name and we’ll no longer be able to trade. They must be stopped or we all suffer.’
Geraint had not stayed to hear the plans, shooting off to the wagon where he grabbed a saddle and was strapping it onto one of his father’s horses when Savannah found him.
‘Stop. This is not helping anything.’
‘But Siany. She could be hurt. Anything could be happening to her.’
‘If it’s already happening to her then you will be far too late to stop it.’
‘How can you say that?’ Frustration closed his throat sending his voice into a squeak.
‘Because I need you to pay attention. Stop what you’re doing and focus on your breathing.’
‘How will that help?’
‘It won’t if you don’t do as I say. You have a special connection to Siany, and together we can send some protection to her. She will get it instantly and it will be more effective than you knocking yourself out when your poor horse breaks its leg in a ditch.’
With a heavy sigh, he saw the sense in her words and did as she bade, sitting opposite her as she lit a white candle and the spicy scent of rosemary filled the air. Placing a red crystal in her left hand and a bloodstone in his left, they linked hands around the candle and she made the incantations in a low voice. An image of Siany on the swing seat came into his mind, gradually a bright blue light surrounded her whole body. Then Savannah began to chant out loud and somehow, he knew the words and said them with her:
“O Goddess, protect Siany tonight and keep her safe in your loving light. Protect her from harm and from all her fears, for she is the one who I hold dear. I thank the Goddess for helping me. In love and light, Blessed be!”
35 Riders on the Storm
The start of the journey back to Aveburgh was, without exception, the worst experience of Geraint’s life. Although there were times when he’d felt as frightened, angry or hopeless as he did right then, it was only ever for a few hours before something good happened to take the pain away. But the worst thing was the absolute helplessness at the situation. Helpless because he felt betrayed by his father who could not say a single word in support of his son. Helpless because he had no choice but to travel at the pace his father dictated in order to preserve the horse’s energy for the journey when all he wanted to do was gallop there at full tilt. But mostly helpless because of the things he imagined were happening to Siany. Horrible things he had no actual experience of, but had heard adults talk about in hushed tones, shuddering in disgust at the pain and depravity. After two hours, they stopped for the horses to have a drink and a short breather, and Savannah cornered him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m racing up the country to save Siany.’
‘But I can hear your thoughts from the back of the train. You’re undoing all the good we did with the protection spell. Have you learnt nothing about the power of thought?’
He tried to protest, but knew she was right. ‘Every t
ime I think of her in a bad situation I am making it more likely to happen.’
‘Exactly. If you must think of her at all, surround her with the blue light and know she is safe from harm. Otherwise do not think of her at all. I know it’s impossible for a love-sick fool such as you, but try thinking about how we are all going to reach our destination safely. Or how the horses will remain healthy and fully shod and, when we get to Aveburgh, Malduc will welcome us and loan us his best warriors for the fight.’
Thinking about Siany in a positive light made the journey a little less gruelling. After a long, hard ride, Rattrick called a halt to allow the horses to recover. They pulled into a small copse and most of the men were so tired they dismounted and settled down.
Savannah’s suggestion they cover themselves with their capes was met with derisive remarks about fussing women. Rattrick’s men complied despite the jeers of the other men that they were girls. Some of Hereward’s men muttered about how unlucky it was to have a woman along and how she would slow them down.
They’d been asleep no more than half an hour before rain poured down, an unexpected shower which soaked the rest of them to the skin. The grumbling became even louder then, and the word wicce could be heard on many lips as though she personally had summoned up the rain. But when they could not get a fire going with the damp wood, she sprinkled it with dust which made it crackle into flame. Her suggestion they should remove their wet outer clothes and hang them on branches to dry more quickly did not go down well. Pitivo’s deputy, Ryder, a powerfully built giant with a dour expression which belied a dark sense of humour, unexpectedly took her side.
‘She’s more of a man than most of you, sitting around grumbling like spoilt brats. If you’d listened to her in the first place, you wouldn’t be suffering now.’
Darrack took up the cause. ‘Our men are not weakling girls for using cloaks. The first rule of a good warrior is that you take care of your horse and yourself.’