by Duncan Pile
The brilliant sunshine reflected off the snow in a blinding flare, and, looking around him, Gaspi drank in the sparkling beauty of the scene. The dark, bald undersides of tree limbs were iced starkly in white; the sheer black rock of the mountainside contrasted against its snowy covering. Birds flitted from branch to branch, chirping brilliantly in the still air. Breathing deeply, Gaspi shook off the last of the previous evening’s darkness, and ran to the pond to meet his friends, as he always did on a Feast-Day morning.
Emea was helping her Ma that morning, so Taurnil and Gaspi practiced their goalkeeping and shooting skills on the pond, and after eating lunch with Taurnil’s family they went back out that afternoon to carry on - only to find Jakko and his friends already using the ice. One of his friends pointed them out to Jakko as they approached, and turning to face them, he leaned confidently on his stick and stared them down, a customary sneer stealing over his face.
“Here comes the orphan. How’s your useless Da, Gaspi?” he taunted. It was unspoken but common knowledge that Jonn sometimes fell to drinking heavily, but most people understood why and left him alone. Few things could make Gaspi’s blood boil, but mocking Jonn was the worst of them. Seething, he froze momentarily, clenched fists turning as red as his face. Taurnil only just caught on to the level of his friend’s fury in time, and grabbed him by the arm as Gaspi was about to lunge forward.
“Stop, Gasp!” Taurnil said firmly.
Gaspi tried to pull away, but after several attempts he stopped and stood glaring furiously into Taurnil’s eyes. “Let go of me, Taurn, I’m telling you…”
“There’ll be another time, Gasp. He has his ice boots on and you don’t, and he has five of his friends with him.”
“I don’t care,” Gaspi retorted. “He can’t get away with that. I just...” But the moment was passing, and Gaspi’s anger was easing to a simmer. “Okay, let’s go then,” he said angrily. Taurnil released his friend’s arm and they walked away, Jakko and his gang’s laughter following them down the street.
“I don’t care so much what he says about me, Taurn,” Gaspi said as his anger drained away. “It’s that recently he’s started bringing Jonn into it. You know what he’s been saying? That Jonn was too much of a weakling to defend my parents that day. That he cowered in the bushes begging for his life while they killed them. I mean, I know it’s not true, but if Jonn was to hear…”
“Jonn can look after himself, Gaspi,” Taurnil responded. “You don’t need to protect him.”
Gaspi sighed. “Maybe not, but I just can’t help myself. Jakko drives me insane. I’d love to pound his face in...” The two friends walked in silence for a few minutes, before Taurnil suggested they go and see Emea at her Ma’s place and see if they could persuade her to come out with them.
Emea was sitting with her Ma, a plump woman of middle years who always had some sweet goodies for them hidden away somewhere. Emea’s little sister Maria was playing with coloured wooden balls in the corner and the two ladies were at the kitchen table with cloth and thread strewn all around them. Looking up, Emea’s Ma saw the boys as they approached the door. Smiling, broadly she called out to them “Come in boys, you’re just in time,” and bustled off into the pantry to find something for them to eat.
Gaspi and Taurn went in, and sat down at the table. Emea looked sharply at their faces. “What happened?” she asked.
It was Taurnil who answered, “Jakko was making trouble again.” Gaspi huffed and looked at the floor.
“Well, that’s not unusual. What’s got you so riled, Gasp?” Emea probed.
“He was having a go at Jonn,” Gaspi answered reluctantly, still looking at the floor. He glanced up, and seeing the sympathy in Emea’s eyes he continued, “I just can’t bear it when he goes for Jonn. He can say what he likes about me, but when he starts in on Jonn like that I just see red.” Passing a hand across his eyes he blew out some air. “He was saying that Jonn was useless,” he added, some seconds later.
Emea reached out a hand and placed it gently on Gaspi’s. “Sorry Gaspi,” she said.
Gaspi knew he should be feeling embarrassed, but looking into Emea’s eyes he felt strangely comfortable. The moment extended warmly, until Emea’s Ma came back in with a plate of pastries, and Emea withdrew her hand. The pastries were light, soft rolls of dough with fruit sprinkled throughout, one of the boys’ favourites. Grabbing a couple each, all three of them gobbled them in silence apart from the occasional noise of pleasure, their host beaming at their enjoyment.
When the plates were clear, Emea’s Ma shooed them out of the house. “Go on then, you three. Go and have fun. Just make sure you’re back before we go to the Moot Hall tonight, Emmy!” Flinging rucksacks on their backs, the three friends bustled out of the door and into the cold, fresh air. It was a good day for exploring the forest, hunting imaginary boar, and shooting at game birds with homemade slingshots. They had some strips of cloth Gaspi had ripped from one of Jonn’s old shirts, into which they placed rocks, spinning them round and round their heads and releasing them at whichever unlucky feathered target they chose.
Gaspi was particularly good at this, but Emea and Taurnil were fairly skilled too, and after an afternoon of high imagination and hunting they trudged home in the failing light with five plump birds to give to their parents and to Jonn. They wouldn’t be needed tonight, as it was a Feast-Day, and they would eat in the Moot Hall with the village. Parting at the village well, they went to their homes in preparation for the night’s festivities.
Just as they were separating, Emea caught Gaspi’s arm. “Gaspi, save me a dance tonight?” she asked. Her sweet face looked oddly determined and intense, and, feeling suddenly nervous, Gaspi smiled weakly and nodded, before turning and walking away. He was suddenly aware of a storm of movement in his belly, and wondered why he felt that a pit had opened beneath him and that his next step would send him tumbling into it.
On entering the house, Gaspi was surprised to find Jonn sitting in the kitchen, polishing his best shoes.
He looked up as Gaspi entered the room. “Alright there Gasp? You’d better get a rush on if you want to be ready for the feast.”
Gaspi grinned and ran to his room to get ready. Jonn hadn’t been to a feast all winter, and even though Gaspi really enjoyed them, he always hated leaving Jonn on his own. On previous occasions his enjoyment had been overshadowed by images of Jonn sitting on his own in front of the fire, leaving him with a burden of guilt. This time would be different. Jonn would be there with him, enjoying the music and company. Maybe this would be the start of a new happiness for Jonn. Gaspi’s imagination continued to create a happier future for him and Jonn as he got ready for the evening.
The villagers flowed into the hall in twos and threes. Some families would have to leave one parent at home with very young children, but almost the entire village would be out for the feast. In Gaspi’s opinion, this was the best thing about winter: the massive tables groaning under the weight of platters of food, everyone laughing and happy, the wild swirling music and the stamping of feet going on long into the night. This was also a chance to dance with Emmy, something he was trying not to think about, but which kept intruding into his thoughts, bringing with it a fresh surge of discomfort in his belly.
He was sitting in the corner with Jonn, feeling proud of his guardian with his combed hair, brushed jacket and shining shoes. Jonn looked like the perfect highland gentleman, and Gaspi wanted everyone to notice how finely he had dressed.
Despite some minor signs of twitchiness, Jonn himself looked surprisingly comfortable, even among the large crowd of fifty or sixty people. He sat in the corner smiling and nodding to people as they called out greetings, Many of the women made a fuss over him, coming over and saying just how lovely it was to see him. One or two of them asked him to dance with them later, and to Gaspi’s amazement Jonn agreed, smiling warmly at the requests. Suddenly tears were welling up in Gaspi’s eyes, and he had to blink furiously and clench his jaw to avo
id letting them spill onto his cheeks. A surge of pure, bright hope was filling Gaspi’s heart, so strong he wondered if he could contain it, but he kept it to himself, and as the feasting began he found that incredible feeling fuelling his happiness to new levels. He laughed and joked with ferocity, drinking in every last drop of joy, earning amused, warm glances from Jonn and other adults around him.
After the feasting the dancing began, starting with a slow, rhythmic tune that relied heavily on the booming of the Tibor. Two lines of villagers faced each other, made up of men on one side and women on the other. Sleeves were already rolled up above elbows and the top few shirt buttons undone in anticipation of the exertion to come. Everyone was smiling already, and as the music started people began the careful pacing that later on would become a ruck, as steps and form were entirely forgotten and people abandoned themselves to rhythm.
Gaspi spun and twirled with person after person, swapping partners many times in the course of a dance. He was old enough to be allowed to drink some ale from the casks that sat in the corner, and two cool, creamy, flagons later he was feeling a great warmth spreading out from his belly that seemed to have reached his face, where a grin had fixed itself immovably. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a lady taking Jonn’s hand with a look of infinite kindness on her face, and leading him to the open floor. Jonn had a look of surprise on his face the whole evening, as if taken aback that he could relax enough to let some of the warmth in. He looked out of his element but happy to be so, and though a big man, he looked smaller to Gaspi in the company of all these other adults, dancing in the bright, flickering light of torches and fire.
Gaspi passed to another partner, and turned his head away from Jonn to find Emmy in his arms, smiling exquisitely at him. He became aware of the sweatiness of his fingers, and the complexity of the footwork he found himself suddenly unable to follow. He had never noticed before the flecks of hazel in her deep brown eyes, and found himself saying so. Emmy looked both pleased and nervous, and neither noticed they had stopped dancing. There was a long moment of stillness and unbroken eye contact, and then, following his instinct, Gaspi leaned forward and kissed her. It was only a brief kiss, but Gaspi would never forget the softness of that moment, and the sensation of her lips on his, her warm breath mingling with his own. It was a moment isolated from all others, with a meaning and sensation all of its own. What came before and after were just seas surrounding an island of bliss.
And then they pulled back, becoming aware of the smiles directed at them from nearby dancers, and the laughter of some of the men. One woman slapped her husband’s hand as he playfully mocked Gaspi. Feeling embarrassed, Gaspi caught Jonn’s eye, whose smile had no mockery in it, but was full of approval and understanding, and suddenly Gaspi was not embarrassed anymore. Grinning, he grabbed Emmy and began to dance with her again. She too seemed unconcerned by the onlookers’ attention, and though sometimes they passed shy looks back and forth, they were mostly comfortable with each other. The swirling in Gaspi’s belly had diminished, and he was left with an excited feeling that this was the beginning of something new for himself and Emmy; something well worth exploring.
The dance drew to a close, and the two friends moved to the chairs left at the side of the moot hall where exhausted revellers were resting, to find Jakko sitting with two friends and scowling like a thundercloud. He stood up as they approached, anger radiating from him in waves. “Jakko, please don’t!” Emmy pleaded.
“Why should I listen to you, you…whore?” The word fell out of Jakko’s mouth uncomfortably, and he looked embarrassed to have cursed in such a way, but anger and injured pride would not allow him to back down, and his jaw firmed as he prepared to take it further. Lights flashed behind Gaspi’s eyes, but before he was able to pounce on Jakko, Emea grabbed his wrist and pulled sharply, turning him towards her.
“Gaspi, don’t be like him! Listen to me…please!” The words cut through the blaze in Gaspi’s head and he held back, just. Standing there, fists still clenched, he stared at Emea in frustration. She span back on Jakko, fury sounding in every word. “Get out of here, Jakko. You can forget we were ever friends. You are a pig.”
Jakko’s face flared bright red, and for a moment regret and pain showed in his eyes. But unwilling to voice his feelings, he turned and stalked out of the room, his friends trailing behind him.
“Thank you, Gaspi,” Emea said. “I know you wanted to hit him, and he would have deserved it. But I don’t want to descend to his level.”
Gaspi was smiling at her. “Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“I don’t think anything I could have done would have been as harsh as what you said to him,” he answered. Emea looked suddenly uncertain. “No, don’t feel bad,” Gaspi said firmly. “He deserves it. Let’s forget about him and have another dance.”
And they would have done that, but the musicians were packing up and it was time to go home. Jonn had volunteered to help clear up, so he and Gaspi and a few others were putting away tables and chairs and sweeping the floor. In the morning, some of the women would come in to clean properly, but this would make their job easier. Emea had gone home with her parents, and in the aftermath of the feast the men worked with easy companionship in the light of the dying fire.
When they were done, they threw dirt on the fire and made their way out. The other men departed, and Gaspi and Jonn turned alone from the large doors of the hall and began to walk home.
Before they had gone even ten paces, Jonn put an arm out to stop Gaspi, who was lost in a reverie and came to a halt in surprise. Following Jonn’s gaze, he saw a flicker of movement from out of the dark near the pond. His hand on Gaspi’s shoulder, Jonn stood still and waited for the shadows to resolve themselves. Two figures emerged from the gloom, and Gaspi was surprised to see it was Jakko and his Pa, Brock Hermon. Jonn seemed less surprised.
“Good evening to you, Brock. I didn’t get the chance to say hello at the feast.”
As Brock moved forward, his face caught the light from nearby windows. Gaspi had never really noticed before, but Jakko’s piggish face was a close imitation of his father’s, though bulk and years lent a worn quality to that unappealing look. Brock was the village blacksmith, the skin of his arms and hands scarred and reddened in places from his work, and in the lantern’s glow his face looked red to Gaspi too. His face was set in a leer, aggression seething behind hard little eyes.
“Why did you turn up tonight, Jonn?” Brock asked. “You’re a disgrace to yourself and to the village.” The deep slur in Brock’s voice showed him to be very drunk, and he was speaking so loudly that faces quickly began to appear in nearby windows.
“Brock, I think you should go home to bed and sleep this off,” Jonn said.
“What was that? Don’t you tell me what to do Jonn! You lost that right when you killed her,” Brock slurred drunkenly. Gaspi felt Jonn go rigid next to him. “You heard me, Jonn. You lay in the bushes and cried like a coward. You may as well have killed her yourself.” This was the first time Gaspi had heard anyone say that rumour to his face, and for a moment he was so shocked he couldn’t even react.
“I didn’t...” Jonn murmured.
“What’s that...coward? I can’t hear you!” Brock shouted. Jakko was sneering at Jonn, and then turned his face to Gaspi, a mingled look of hatred and satisfaction beaming unpleasantly from his face. The moment of shock was over, and Gaspi felt a burning fury building in him beyond anything he had ever known. Men were coming out of doors, feet crammed hastily into thick, fur-lined boots but otherwise dressed for bed, and freezing in the winter air.
“Brock, you need to calm down,” called Seth Bertram, Taurnil’s father.
“Don’t you tell me what to do, Seth,” roared Brock. “She should have been mine. But she got what she deserved.”
Brock’s attack had caused Jonn to withdrawn into a protective trance, trying to prevent the sharp edges of painful memories he tried so hard to submerge from scraping his m
ind once again. But at these words he came awake like a boar springing from concealment, an agonised roar sounding from his mouth. In a moment he was surging forward, arms outstretched, but he was stopped in his tracks by a mad rush of movement and wind sweeping past his head.
In the heart of unquenchable anger, Gaspi’s fury broke free of the constraints of his body. He became aware of the environment around him: of trees and soil and ice, and of creatures sleeping or prowling in the night. They felt like they were a part of him, his to command, and he filled them with the fire burning in his heart. He sent his will swirling and spreading out through the air, leeching up through tree trunks and along branches, filling the breast of every bird nearby, crackling through the thick ice of the pond. Gaspi didn’t know how he did it, but suddenly nature had become an extension of his anger, responding to his every thought.
Birds came awake and flung themselves from branches and nests, diving from the trees, gathering speed and momentum, before swooping down past Jonn and driving their sharp beaks into Brock and Jakko. They scraped them with scrabbling claws, flying in again and again to stab and scratch at the focus of Gaspi’s hate.
Brock and Jakko were shouting fearfully, swinging their arms wildly at their assailants, before turning and running out over the pond. They slid and fell, scrabbling to their feet, falling again, crawling desperately away from the unrelenting swarm of cruel beaks. Blood was showing on their clothing, seeping through a hundred holes and tears. Gaspi’s anger flowed through the ice, the inches-thick surface groaning as power coursed through it. He extended a hand, palm downwards, thrusting out splayed fingers. Massive cracks splintered the edges of the pond, sending a fine spray of snow and ice into the air and then, as Gaspi clenched his fingers fiercely into a fist, they lanced inwards from every direction. The thrusting fractures met in a violent explosion in the middle of the pond, shattering the surface beneath Jakko and Brock. The two terrified, bleeding men disappeared in a surge of spray.