Company of Liars

by Karen Maitland

  In an instant Jofre was wide awake.

  ‘I suppose he’s told everyone,’ he said angrily. ‘Zophiel too?’

  ‘He’s told no one. I happened to see Rodrigo come in here. And I can tell by the way you’re wincing you took a beating. I’ll try to keep the others out of here as long as I can, but you’d better make the most of tonight’s rest. If Zophiel hears you groaning, he won’t need to be told, so you’d best think of a good excuse or learn to hide your discomfort till you heal. It’s my betting it’ll be a good few days before you’re sitting or walking comfortably again.’

  Jofre’s fists clenched. ‘It’s all that bastard Zophiel’s fault. Rodrigo would never have done it if Zophiel hadn’t told him to. He’d no right to treat me like that, like a… a child.’

  ‘Rodrigo would never have beaten you if you hadn’t given him cause. You’re fortunate; many masters would have done far worse for much less and you know it.’

  ‘I suppose you want me to say I deserved it,’ he said sullenly.

  I shrugged. ‘What you say doesn’t matter, lad, the question is, has it cured you?’

  ‘I won’t be sitting down to a game of dice today, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘I dare say that was the idea, but when the strips are healed?’

  For a moment he glared furiously at me, then his shoulders sagged and the truculence suddenly seemed to drain out of him. He stared down at the floor.

  ‘I can’t help it, Camelot. Rodrigo is the greatest musician there is and the greatest teacher. I don’t mean to hurt him. It’s not his fault I behave as I do and that bastard Zophiel has no right to tell him he’s a lousy master. It’s me. It’s my fault. I’m stupid and useless.’

  ‘You’re neither of those. Rodrigo believes you have a great talent, greater even than his, that’s why he pushes you. I know it is hard when you are young, but –’

  ‘Why does everyone say “When you are young”, as if things are going to change when I grow up and become a man? I am already a man, Camelot, though you all treat me like a child. You don’t understand; there are some things I cannot help, some things which are never going to change. I don’t want to be what I am, but I can’t stop it.’

  But although I couldn’t tell him, I understood only too well. I had been blind not to see it before. That evening in the barn I had realized for the first time what was buried inside Jofre and it was something he both feared and despised. He loathed himself, loathed his own nature. I almost believed that Jofre wanted to be punished for what he carried inside himself. Perhaps that’s why he had deliberately done those things that would anger Rodrigo the most. I wondered if Rodrigo had sensed that all along.

  But Jofre spoke the truth when he did not answer my question, for we both knew that even if Rodrigo flogged every inch of skin from his body, it would not cure him. The only cure for his misery was to learn to embrace his own nature and he could only do that when he found someone who could give him the kind of love he both despised and craved. Until that happened, no punishment that God or man could devise would be able to stop him destroying himself. Like Rodrigo, I too left the barn on the verge of tears.

  I’d not gone more than a few paces when I ran into Narigorm. She was leaning against the side of barn, a malevolent smile playing on her face. Her attention was fixed on two figures struggling against the wall. It was an unequal match. Zophiel had Cygnus pinned to the wall by his throat in a way that looked far from friendly.

  ‘You’re lying, boy, I know you are. You were about to say something to Osmond at the bridge this afternoon. Don’t deny it. I heard you. But whatever you think you saw, you keep your mouth shut, do you understand me, freak? If I catch you –’

  ‘Problem, Zophiel?’

  Zophiel looked round at the sound of my voice and immediately dropped his hand. Cygnus took a big gulp of breath. He looked scared, as well he might.

  ‘Didn’t Narigorm tell you, supper is ready? You’d best come at once unless you want to find your supper in those dogs, for I doubt we can hold them off much longer.’

  It was pointless asking Narigorm why she hadn’t delivered the message. I wondered just how long she’d been standing there beside the barn and what else she might have overheard.

  We were all too hungry to talk while we ate, which was just as well. The simple act of eating can cover many kinds of silences and that night several of us round the table had reason to be grateful for that. As the pot emptied and our bellies filled, the eating slowed and finally the dogs, who had been whining and scratching at the door, were allowed in to devour what was left. This they did in several huge gulps as if fearing that if they didn’t swallow it fast it would be snatched from their mouths. Finally, when the pot had been scraped clean and even they were convinced there was no more, they lay down and closed their eyes to dream it all again.

  We were dozing in the mellow contentment that comes from a good meal when we heard the howl. The dogs’ heads came up; they too had heard something, but they soon settled again. We relaxed too, thinking that what we had heard was nothing more than the wind wailing like a banshee as it tore through the trees and ramshackle buildings. But the howl came again, louder and longer. This time there was no mistake.

  Zophiel and the dogs leaped up at the same time. The dogs ran growling to the door, the hair bristling between their shoulder blades. Zophiel hovered in the centre of the room.

  ‘You heard it? You all heard it? Camelot, was that a wolf or a dog?’

  ‘It sounded like a wolf.’

  The old widow crossed herself. ‘Saints and all the angels preserve us!’

  Though the door was shut, Zophiel made a grab for one of the props to push it up against the door, but Rodrigo too was on his feet.

  ‘No, wait. I have to fetch Jofre. He is alone in the barn.’

  ‘The barn!’ Zophiel’s hand froze on the prop. He swayed as if his head wanted to rush out of the door, but his legs were refusing to carry it. I knew he was not concerned for Jofre, but his precious boxes.

  I tried to calm them both. ‘If it is a wolf, it is only one. The barn door is shut and so is this. Jofre will be fine as long as he doesn’t open the door and he’s not that foolish.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ the old widow said, ‘but I’ve not heard of a wolf in these parts since I was a girl. If there’s one there’s bound to be more. Always run in packs, they do.’

  Zophiel’s face had paled. ‘You’re sure you’ve not heard a wolf until tonight?’

  The old woman pulled a face, ‘I may be old, but I’m not deaf. I tell you, there’s been no wolf in these parts for years. Hungry they are, like the rest of us. It’s driving them out of the forests. You prop those doors, before we all get eaten alive.’

  Cygnus stumbled towards the door. ‘Xanthus! She’s tethered in the old stable, but the walls are half tumbled-down; she may as well be staked out for them.’

  Zophiel moved swiftly in front of him and opened the door wide. In an instant the two dogs had bounded out. Cygnus made to follow, but Zophiel grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt, flung him back into the room and slammed the door shut.

  The old widow tottered to her feet. ‘My boys,’ she screeched, clawing ineffectually at Zophiel as he bolted the door. ‘My boys’ll be torn to pieces.’

  We could hear their excited barking fading as they ran off into the darkness. Pleasance got up and, putting her arms round the widow, gently led her back to her bench.

  ‘Hush, now. It was only a lone wolf. If there were more, we’d have heard them answering the call. It was probably old or sick, driven out by the pack. The smell of the dogs alone will be enough to drive it off. They won’t need to fight it.’

  She looked up and smiled reassuringly at Cygnus who sat rubbing a bruise, the second he had received from Zophiel in as many hours.

  ‘Don’t fret, Cygnus, the poor old beast won’t attack any animal as big as a horse, not without its pack. The chickens are much easier prey, if it should come th
is way.’

  I thought of the little family huddled under their bridge with no doors to keep wolves out and I prayed she was right.

  Zophiel rounded on Pleasance. ‘So you know about wolves, do you? Perhaps we should send you out there and see which it prefers, chicken or human.’

  Pleasance’s cheeks flushed and she looked down at her lap, trying as she usually did to blend unnoticed into the background.

  ‘Or maybe,’ Zophiel continued, ‘I should have let young Cygnus go out there after all, seeing as he is half-fowl.’

  Having cowed Pleasance into silence again, Zophiel might well have continued venting his spleen on Cygnus, a game he much preferred, had not Narigorm suddenly piped up, ‘Pleasance isn’t afraid of wolves.’

  Zophiel turned to stare at Narigorm, who was sitting cross-legged on the widow’s truckle bed behind us. ‘Then she is either more foolish than she looks or she has never encountered one.’

  ‘Oh, but she has,’ said Narigorm. ‘Tell them, Pleasance. Tell them the story you told me.’

  Pleasance shook her head and tried to retreat further into her corner. But Narigorm persisted. ‘She was midwife to a wolf once, weren’t you, Pleasance?’

  ‘Midwife to a wolf!’ Adela’s face lit up with excitement. ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘Come now, Pleasance,’ said Zophiel. ‘Don’t be modest, midwife to a wolf, that’s hardly nothing. Now that we know this much, you must satisfy our curiosity. Besides, it would be ungracious to our hostess not to repay her exceptional hospitality with a story. Camelot has already favoured us with his wolf story; yours can hardly be more fanciful.’

  His tone was again cold and calm as if nothing had happened, but he remained standing, his head inclined to the door, listening to the distant barking of the dogs.

  ‘Please, Pleasance,’ Adela begged. ‘We won’t let you rest until you do.’

  Pleasance gave a wan smile and with obvious reluctance began her tale.

  ‘Once, many years ago, I served my neighbours as a midwife, delivering their little ones and helping the mothers through their time of travail. One day a neighbour of mine was nearing her time and I went to fetch some herbs to brew a draught that would ease her birth pangs.’

  Adela reached out and squeezed Pleasance’s hand, smiling warmly. ‘I am so thankful you will deliver my baby. I was so frightened thinking of it before. I am such a coward when it comes to pain, but now that I know you will be there to help –’

  ‘It is against God’s will that the pain of birth should be eased,’ Zophiel broke in coldly. ‘Birth pain is woman’s punishment for succumbing to temptation. God ordains that she should suffer pain for the good of her soul.’ He glared at Adela as if hoping that she would suffer all the torments of hell during her labour.

  ‘You’d soon change your tune if you had to give birth,’ I told him. ‘Now, let Pleasance tell her story in peace; you were the one who asked to hear it.’

  I thought of Jofre lying in the barn and wondered if pain would indeed redeem his soul. Pain certainly changes the sufferer, but I’d never seen anyone change for the better because of it.

  Pleasance hesitated, glancing at Zophiel.

  ‘Get on with it, woman,’ he snapped, turning his head once more towards the door, listening to the sounds outside.

  Nervously Pleasance resumed her tale. ‘It had been a long winter and when I went to my stores I found that my stock of pennyroyal was exhausted. It was not yet sprouting in my herb garden for I lived high up on a hill where spring comes late. So I went down into the valley where the plants have more shelter and leaves come earlier. Pennyroyal grows best along the banks of streams and rivers, so I found a stream and followed its course into the forest. But no matter how hard I looked, I could not find a single sprig of that plant.

  ‘I grew hungry and settled down in a sheltered spot to eat a hunk of bread, but as I ate I felt a prickling on the back of my neck and knew that I was not alone. Looking up, I saw a huge she-wolf drinking at the stream not a few feet away from me. Her belly was swollen with cubs. She was a beautiful creature, with a thick glossy pelt and powerful shoulders. At first I was terrified, and then she lifted her head and looked at me with big amber eyes, like flame, and as I looked into those eyes the fear left me and I saw she was just a mother, hungry and thirsty. I threw her the remains of my bread and she caught it deftly in her sharp white teeth. I stayed motionless until she had disappeared, then I stood up. That’s when I saw it, right where the wolf had been standing, a thick clump of pennyroyal in full leaf.

  ‘A week passed and then one night there was a knocking at my door. At first I thought it was my neighbour’s husband come to tell me her pains had started, but when I opened the door I found a stranger standing there. He was a tall man, wild of hair and eye, but not unhandsome.

  ‘ “Goodwife, bring your herbs and come quickly,” he said. “The birth pains are upon my wife and there is no one who can help her.”

  ‘It was a bitterly cold night, frost already sparkled on the ground in the moonlight, not the night you want to leave your warm fireside, but when a child comes, he comes. So I gathered those herbs and ointments I thought I might need and followed the man out into the night. Soon we had walked past all the cottages and out of the village into the valley beyond. The man led and I followed, tracking the tall dark figure by the light of the moon. It was then, as moonlight flooded the path, I noticed that he left no footprints in the frost, nor shadow on the ground. I was afraid, but I said nothing.

  ‘Finally we came to a narrow gap between two rocks. The man motioned me to enter, but I hesitated for the gap looked little more than a crevice in the rock. And as I stood there I heard a loud, booming voice call out from inside, “Enter, goodwife, and do your work.”

  ‘I stooped down and squeezed through the gap and all at once found myself standing in a huge cavern. Then I saw a sight which made my heart stop. For the cavern was full of sheidim dancing and laughing and howling like wolves around a huge fire whose flames leaped up red and blue.’

  ‘What are sheidim?’ Adela asked.

  For a moment Pleasance seemed startled by the question and hesitated, then her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘They are demons.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that word before.’

  Rodrigo broke in quickly, ‘Maybe it is not used where you come from. I have found every village has a different word for such things. Is that not so, Pleasance?’

  He was staring at her with a curiously troubled expression on his face. His gaze momentarily darted to Zophiel, but he was still apparently intent on the sounds outside. An odd look passed between Rodrigo and Pleasance which I could not interpret and she suddenly looked scared.

  Rodrigo squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. ‘Go on with the story. The demon…’

  I noticed that Pleasance’s hands were trembling as she took up the tale again.

  ‘The… the demon who had called out to me spoke again. “Goodwife, do your work. If you bring forth a boy, you may ask for anything you want, but if you bring forth a girl, you will wish that you had never been born.”

  ‘At his words the sheid… the demons howled with laughter and I shook so much I could hardly hold my pack. The demons pulled aside a curtain and there in the corner I saw the she-wolf that I had fed at the stream. She was snarling, but when I looked into her amber eyes I saw a woman suffering in labour.

  ‘She spoke, a low, throaty sound which I had to strain to hear. “Goodwife, you gave me food, so I shall give you this – take care not to eat or drink anything in this place, however hungry or thirsty you become, for if you do you will become one of us.”

  ‘I did what I could for her, but the labour was long. I do not know how many hours I was in the cavern, but I worked and said nothing. From time to time one of the demons would bring plates of food and goblets of blood-red wine to sustain me, but I remembered the warning and ate and drank nothing though I was faint wit
h hunger and my throat was parched from the stifling heat of the fire.

  ‘Finally, the she-wolf gave birth to a single cub, a male, and the demons howled with delight. Shimmering flames of black and silver shot up from the fire and the ground trembled under the stamping feet of the demons as they linked arms and danced round it. The demon who had called out to me called for me again and asked me what I wanted as payment for my work. I refused to take anything, saying that to deliver a child is a blessing, no matter what that child may turn out to be. The Holy One himself blesses those who perform a blessing; no other payment is needed.

  ‘But the demon said that I must take something, else they would be in debt to a human and that could never be, for then they would be bound to the human until the debt was paid. I in turn had no wish to be bound to a demon, so I looked around for the thing of least value I could take. The floor of the cavern was covered with stones, so I picked up a stone and said I would take this as payment for the debt. No sooner had I said those words than I found myself outside the cave and standing alone on the edge of my village, staring up into the frosty night sky. It was as if no time at all had passed, yet I felt as though I had been in the cave for days.

  ‘As I turned for home I felt something hard in my hand. It was the stone I had picked up. I was about to toss it away when the moonlight fell on it and I saw that it was shining. I took it home to examine it more closely. I swear that when I picked it up it was just an ordinary stone, but when I looked at it again I saw this.’

  Pleasance reached inside her kirtle and pulled out a thick leather thong which hung about her neck, on the end of which was a large round piece of amber, fiery as a wolf’s eye.

  ‘So you see,’ she said, ‘the wolves will not harm me. It is their sign.’

  Zophiel, from the door, began a slow mocking clap. Pleasance flushed and quickly dropped the amber back inside her kirtle.

  ‘I confess, my dear Pleasance, I was wrong. I thought the camelot’s tale was far-fetched, but I have to say you have outdone even Camelot. Tell us, my dear Pleasance, do you honestly imagine that God would bless a woman who brings a demon into the world? To give succour to a demon is damnation to your soul.’