The Good Hawk

by Joseph Elliott

  The rude man doesn’t want to untie me but he has to. Someone comes in with a bull. It is even bigger than Cray’s one. It is hard for me to climb on. I keep trying but I cannot do it and everyone laughs.

  “You can do it, Aggie!” is a shout and I look and it is Jaime. I didn’t see him before and he is watching and I wave at him and I smile. The next time I try I do it and I pull myself up. The bull stamps its feet and is not happy. I hold on to its hair which is thick.

  “Choose your weapon,” says a boy holding up a box with all things in.

  “I don’t want one,” I say, and then I say, “Thank you,” because it is manners. I only have two hands and I need them for holding.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got,” says Crayton with a wink that is for me. It makes my heart wibble. He gets on his bull and rides it to the other side.

  Everyone is quiet. They are all looking at me which I don’t like. The ground is a long way down to fall so it will hurt. Now I am not sure that it is a good plan. I didn’t think about this part. Crayton is the best one. I cannot beat him.

  A horn goes. Crayton kicks his bull and it comes charging straight toward me.

  I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S DOING. I DOUBT SHE THOUGHT that far ahead. Her hands are clasped around the hair at the base of the bull’s neck, and her head is shaking a little from side to side. She’s going to end up hurting herself. Or worse. She looks like she might fall off before the contest even begins. Her feet dangle far from the ground.

  The starting signal blares, and Cray’s bull runs at Agatha’s. There are maybe fifty yards between them, and Cray is closing the gap fast. Agatha does nothing, staring at Cray’s bull, probably regretting her bravery now that the situation has spun out of her control.

  Cray is not riding full speed; he’s going easy on her. When he is within reach, he taps her bull on its rear with his stick, sending it trotting across the arena in the opposite direction. There is laughter from the crowd, and Cray smiles, soaking up the adoration. Agatha’s bull comes to a standstill in the center of the arena. Cray catches up with her and starts riding around her in circles. She sits with her head bowed, waiting for the inevitable.

  “Well, this has been fun,” says Cray, raising his voice so everyone can hear him, “but I’m afraid there can be only one bó champion.”

  He raises his stick, ready to deliver the final blow.

  “You’re right,” says Agatha, lifting her head for the first time. “There can only be one ch-champion. And that is — that is me because now you’re going to f-fall off, Crayton.”

  Cray smiles, charmed. The smile does not last long, though, for at that moment his bull breaks away from Agatha’s and starts bucking wildly. Cray holds on, leaning forward to whisper into his bull’s ear. Its kicks get more turbulent, and even from a distance I can tell that Cray is spooked. Agatha’s bull remains still, more than content to let her sit and watch the action from its back. The crowd does not know whether to cheer or be concerned.

  Cray lasts an impressive amount of time, given the violence with which his bull is trying to hurl him off. Finally, it is one kick too many, and he flies into the air, landing on his side with a thud. It must hurt, but he hides it well. He jumps to his feet, sweeping his hair from his eyes, and looks up at Agatha in bewilderment.

  Agatha does not celebrate or gloat. She topples down from her bull, stumbles over to Cray, and shakes his hand.

  “I t-told you you would fall,” she says, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear.

  No one knows how to react. For a couple of moments there is silence, then a huge cheer erupts and everyone starts chanting, “Champion! Champion!”

  Cray stares at Agatha, a questioning frown in the middle of his forehead. Then he grabs her hand and raises it into the air. The crowd cheers once again. Agatha’s smile is the biggest I have ever seen it.

  THERE ARE FIVE PEOPLE INSIDE THE TENT: THE WOMAN with the white streak in her hair who questioned me yesterday — whose name is Murdina — a round, weathered man called Hendry, Cray, Agatha, and me.

  After Agatha was named the winner of the contest, people flocked around her, asking her how she’d done it. Claims that it was a fluke were bandied about, and a few other people were more concerned about whether Knútr’s execution would still take place. The term teanga-bèist was mentioned, spoken with an equal mix of excitement and trepidation.

  All the people crowding in made Agatha twitchy. I steered her away from the throng before she lost control and lashed out at whoever was nearest. A few people started to protest, and one woman even went to grab Agatha’s wrist. Agatha yanked her hand away with a threatening scowl.

  “Enough!” I shouted as loud as I could. “You want answers and we want to give them to you. But not like this. Take us somewhere quiet with whoever your leaders are, and we’ll tell you the truth.”

  Cray watched me from the edge of the crowd, his intense eyes filled with curiosity. Murdina stepped forward and apologized for the raucous behavior. She agreed to my request and led us to the tent we’re in now.

  “We’re not getting anywhere,” says Hendry, resting his hands on his belly. “Why won’t she talk?”

  Agatha hasn’t said a word since we left the arena. Her shoulders are slumped and she is staring at the floor.

  “I don’t know,” I say, although I could make a good guess. Agatha is proud and loves getting attention; admitting that she had nothing to do with Cray falling would be a big blow to her ego.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened from your perspective?” Murdina says to Cray.

  “There’s not much to tell, really,” he says. “Bras has never acted that way before. It all happened so fast. I didn’t feel like he was angry or in pain. More that he was playing a trick on me, that he threw me off because he wanted to.”

  “That would fit,” says Hendry. He rakes his fingers through the gray bristles of his beard.

  “Fit with what?” I ask.

  Hendry and Murdina exchange glances.

  “You don’t really think —?” says Cray.

  Hendry’s eyes open wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “I don’t know how much you know about us Bó Riders,” Murdina says to me.

  “I don’t know anything at all,” I admit. “We thought the mainland was deserted.”

  “The vast majority of it is. But we survived. Our tribe has lived in the Highlands of Scotia for hundreds of years, living off the land, traveling from place to place, side by side with the Highland cows. When a child turns five, he or she is paired with a newborn bull, and the two grow up together, spending their lives as one.

  “What Hendry was alluding to is a skill possessed by the very first Bó Rider, a man named Tòmas. It is said he was a teanga-bèist — someone with the ability to enter the mind of an animal and request it to do their bidding. It was Tòmas who established the relationship between our two species, by proposing a way of living that would be beneficial to us both. The herd agreed, and we have lived in harmony ever since.

  “There has not been a teanga-bèist heard of since Tòmas, and many refuse to believe such a thing is possible. Today, they may have been proved wrong.”

  I laugh, although it comes out more like a splutter. “What, you think Agatha controlled that other bull with her mind?”

  “We would know more if she would speak to us,” says Hendry, pressing his thick forehead with three of his fingers.

  They’re playing a joke on me. They must be. Yet their faces are stern and humorless.

  “Maybe I should talk to her in private?” I say.

  “That might be best,” says Murdina, getting up to leave. The others follow her.

  Once they’re gone, I turn to Agatha. Her eyelids are heavy and her cheeks are sallow.

  “Hey, Aggie,” I say. “It’s just me and you now.”

  “Hello, Jaime,” she slurs, sounding a little drunk. She wrinkles up her nose and then smiles as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened to
day.

  “So, what happened out there?”

  Her smile fades. “I’m not — not — not supposed to say,” she whispers.

  “Says who?”

  “M-Maistreas Eilionoir.”

  Maistreas Eilionoir? What does she have to do with anything?

  “Well, she’s not here anymore,” I say. The memory of what happened to her sends a pang through my chest. “And we’re a long way from home.”

  She pauses for a long time and then, with a tight jaw, she says, “I can do it, J-Jaime. I can do — I can do what they say.”

  I sigh. She so desperately wants it to be true.

  “How?” I ask, pretending I believe her.

  “I ask them in my head,” she says. “And try to remember manners.” Her voice is like dandelion seeds, floating away. “The jellysquid . . . But it is not dùth. Don’t tell — I’m so sleepy now. Don’t tell. Can I sleep now, Jaime?”

  She doesn’t wait for my reply. She faints into my lap, her hair spilling across my knees. I lower her onto the floor, cover her with a blanket, and step out of the tent.

  Cray is outside, leaning on a tent rope, waiting for me. Something about him irritates me. Maybe it’s the way he looks down on me, as if I will never be as good as he is, with his perfect body and his perfect face.

  “Where are the others?” I ask.

  “They wanted to give you some privacy. They’ll be back soon.”

  “We need to leave. Are we free to leave?”

  Cray shrugs. “Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  He reaches into a pouch and offers me a handful of cobnuts.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “What about her?” he asks, indicating inside the tent.

  “She’s asleep. The contest exhausted her.”

  “She’s a funny one. I like her.”

  “Me too.”

  I fill the silence by eating some of the nuts. The crunch they make is uncomfortably loud, so I swallow them half chewed.

  Could there be any truth to Agatha’s claim? And why did she mention the jellysquid? Could that have been her as well? It did come out of nowhere right when we needed it, and Agatha was behaving strangely at the time. I’ve never heard of anyone being able to speak to animals before, but the Bó Riders seem to believe that it’s possible.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” says Cray.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Did she speak to you?”

  I chew on nothing. The cobnuts have left a dryness on the roof of my mouth. Agatha told me not to tell anyone what she said, but only because magic is not dùth. She’s right that if the elders had discovered she could do something like that, there would have been serious repercussions. Although what did Agatha say about Maistreas Eilionoir? That she knew and told her to keep it a secret? Why would Maistreas Eilionoir break her elder oath to protect Agatha?

  The Bó Riders think differently from our clan. They speak of the ability with great reverence, as if it ought to be treasured and encouraged. I can’t believe I’m seriously considering the possibility that it might be true.

  Cray places his hand on the side of my arm and stares at me. Something about him makes it impossible not to tell him the truth.

  “She says she can do it,” I say.

  He whistles. “Ò ìoc. I knew it. I could feel it. Incredible.”

  “But it’s not possible.”

  “What do you mean?” He is grinning, barely listening to me.

  “I don’t believe in magic.”

  “It’s not magic; it’s communication,” he says. “We’re all animals, after all. Why shouldn’t it be possible for one species to communicate with another?”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that.

  “So, what now?”

  Cray doesn’t answer. He shakes his head in disbelief and then jogs away without saying another word.

  Where did everybody go

  Are you hiding

  I’ll come and find you

  I’ll count to ten

  Ready or not I’ll either find you or you’ll rot

  Where could you be

  Not in that room

  Not in that room

  Don’t look in there

  Daddy says

  We’re not allowed in that room

  Daddy will shout and shout and shout

  I’ve come here before

  I come here all the time

  It doesn’t smell nice

  Calum showed me

  Naughty Calum

  I can go wherever I like

  My daddy is the king you know

  It’s the room with all the bones in it

  Little ones and big ones

  Hands and legs and heads in a jumble

  Silly head’s lost its body

  You can’t walk if you don’t have any legs

  And you can’t talk if you don’t have a mouth

  Talk to me talk to me

  What did you say

  You can’t talk stupid head

  Stupid bones

  Stupid heads all dead

  Why did everybody die

  Don’t go in there again

  It smells disgusting

  Mummy will be cross with all the mess

  Someone needs to clean it up before she gets back

  I’m not going to do it

  Sorry Mummy not my fault

  I only wanted a look

  Just a little peeky peek

  Everyone is bones now

  No one wants to play with me anymore

  I THINK I HAVE BEEN ASLEEP A LONG TIME. I NEED SOME water. It hurts in my head that is a really bad headache. It is in the place where I talked to the bull. It never hurts when I talk to Milkwort and it was sore only a little bit with the jellysquid. I think it is because the bull is a big animal so it was harder. I am in the tent where everyone was, but they are not here now. Only Jaime is here and I can see him.

  “You’re awake,” he says.

  “It is — rude to watch someone when they are — sleeping,” I tell him. I rub my eyes and stroke my hair to make it nice.

  “Sorry. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

  “I’m awake now,” I say.

  “How are you feeling?” he says.

  “Like my head hurts and I want water,” I say, and he gives me some. It is nice in my throat when it goes down.

  Jaime doesn’t say anything and then he says, “They want to see what you can do.”

  I don’t like that and I am panic. He was not supposed to say.

  “No, they will hurt me. It’s supposed to be a s-secret. I told you not to t-tell,” I say, and the angry is coming.

  “I’m sorry; you’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything without asking you first.” Jaime sits next to me. “But it’s okay, I promise. They think differently from us. They believe you have a great gift. If you really can do it?”

  Someone comes in and it is Murdina. She is the tall one and the bossy one that I don’t like.

  “Good, you’re awake,” she says.

  “I am,” I say. “I woke up.”

  “We are excited by your claim,” she says. She does not look excited. “If proved right, you will authenticate all of the tales of our forefather Tòmas.”

  The round beardy man who is Hendry comes in. He is holding a box and it is resting on his tummy because it is a big one. He hands the box to me. It is pretty and also heavy too.

  “What is this? She’s only just woken up,” says Jaime.

  Murdina doesn’t say an answer to him. “In that box is a viper,” she says to me. I do not know what is a viper. “I want you to open the box and take it out. Be warned, though, if you can’t stop it, it will probably bite you and kill you. So I’d advise you not to open the box unless what you have claimed is true.”

  “Wait! This is crazy,” shouts Jaime, and he stands up.

  “Silence,” says Murdina. She stares at him and he doesn’t speak. “W
e need proof ” is what she says then.

  Everyone is looking at me. I’m still sleepy from before. It makes me tired when I do it. “Okay, I will try,” I say.

  I try to do it, to talk to it in my head like I do with Milkwort. It is easy with him. The jellysquid was easy too because it liked to do what I wanted. The bull was the hardest. He wasn’t sure so I had to make him like me. Then he agreed it would be funny to play the trick on Crayton.

  The one in the box isn’t talking. I think it is because I do not know what it looks like so I can’t see it in my head. I will have to open the box first. I hope it won’t bite me and I die. I put my hand on the lid.

  “You don’t have to do this, Aggie,” says Jaime.

  I’m happy that he does not want me to be dead.

  I open the box.

  It is a snake that is a viper. It is brown and green but mostly brown. Now that I can see it I think I can talk to it, but it is too quick and it comes out of the box and hisses and it has the fangs which I do not want to bite me.

  “Don’t you bite me,” I say aloud even though I can say it in my head for it to hear me. The viper snake doesn’t answer and slides onto me and up my body and on my arm. “Oh, no, no, no,” I say. I have not touched a snake before and I do not like it. Now it is going across my neck and it goes around it so it is harder for me to breathe and I do not like it at all. I close my eyes.

  “Somebody do something; it’s going to kill her!” Jaime shouts.

  I try to talk to it but it doesn’t want to listen. I close my eyes tighter. Get off me is what I say to it. It tightens around my neck. It is even harder than the bull and I am still tired and my head hurts. Something is strange though because it is not mean. It is scared, I think. What do you want? I ask it, and I know in my head that it does not like the box and the people and the tent. Okay, I say, let go of my neck and do not bite me and I will take you away from here and the box. It still squeezes me tighter and I think maybe it wants to kill me anyway. It is thinking and while it thinks I cannot breathe. My eyes are hurting and please get off me now.

  It goes looser on my neck and then it goes off. I can breathe again and it didn’t kill me. Now it is wrapped around my arm. It is heavy and feels wet but it isn’t.