Weed: The Poison Diaries

by Jane Northumberland

  ‘But you are no normal woman. You have longings and wishes.’

  ‘Yes. And you may be the key to that, Weed. It is possible that you can help me achieve my dream and my ultimate desire.’

  ‘And what is your wish?’

  Malina looks up to the ceiling for a moment, considering. ‘I have a simple wish: to save the child.’ She smiles at me. ‘I wish to free her mind and cure her muteness. Heal her wound. She is my charge and it is my duty.’

  ‘How may I do that? I will do anything to help you. I will grow a forest for you.’

  ‘You needn’t do that.’ Malina laughs in her throat. ‘I have told you of my augur in the woods, the bat and the snake.’

  ‘Yes. An ill wind blows from Fala.’

  ‘Yes, but there’s more. I saw three wrens alight upon an oak tree. They began to sing such a song of beauty, so that all songs they had sung before were without harmony compared to this. When they had finished they flew in silence towards the East, returned to the oak perch above me, and flew east again. The wrens are sacred to the holy men and women of this isle. Indeed the wren is called drui-en in the old tongue, and the ancient Druids are named after that bird.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘There is tell of a garden in which great physics grow. Greater far than what you find here; a Priest’s garden no less. It is not far as the bird flies. At Lindisfarne Island it is, in the direction of the rising sun to the east. In that place of ancient knowledge I have heard there is a root for which men have no name. A root of great strength to open the mind, to let the blind see and the dull understand. Its nature is hidden and I could never find it alone, but with you I have hope. If we go there then together we can free Ruth from that dim prison in which she dwells. Will you do it for me, or for her?’

  ‘Of course I will help you and the child.’

  ‘Then let us go in the morning. I have my bundle. You have yours.’ With that she lets her hands play on my body again. A soft rain begins to fall through the open door of the chapel and we kiss. My white skin glints beneath the moonlight as I embrace her tender body. She burns and I feel powerful in her heat, giving everything I have to her. As I stare down at Malina, her face is still a mystery to me, unreadable. Once more I wish my understanding of the growing world extended to her living body. And yet what could be more honest and good than the love that we define together? I am sure of it and I want to shout my happiness so loudly that the dawn sun hears me.

  Chapter 13

  When I awaken later in the morning, Malina is still sleeping in my arms. I gently move her from my embrace and dress in my newly weaved trousers and shirt. They are well made and fit my body snugly, their colour a dark green that will fade to brown in time and sun. I pull my boots on and wind my pocket belt around my waist before going outside. The air smells fresh and clean this morning and wandering through the medicine bed I feel as tall and proud as the encircling trees.

  I’m inspecting the herb garden when I notice a heap of rags at its far edge. When I look more closely I see that the bundle is Ruth curled up peacefully on the grass. I can’t imagine how I could have let her sleep under the elements all night. Malina said that she should stay outside and I made no protest. I smile at the thought of glorious Malina, all regret retreating at once to a dull ache at the back of my mind. I approach the child calmly until I hear a sound that makes me focus. Something is growling loudly nearby.

  I look around, searching the grounds and gardens, when without warning a great wolf unfolds itself from on top of Ruth. Has she been injured by this animal as Malina and I enjoyed the privacy of the chapel? The creature challenges me, eyes unblinking, black lips drawn up to show teeth bared and drooling. Its low growl becomes a dire hiss of warning. The beast’s jaw and neck muscles are tense and rippling. It’s ready to attack. I take a step back, holding my hands up, frightened for myself and for the child.

  ‘Ruth!’ I speak as loudly as I dare. She stirs, and the wild creature looks back at the bundle on the ground. ‘HEY! Hey! Hey!’ I shout at the wolf and it stares back at me, fierce and aggressive. I watch as Ruth fully rouses herself, rolling over to see the great animal. I expect a scream and then remember her muteness. I wave her away frantically, trying to get her to run. Instead she calmly stands and walks directly to the beast, touching it gently on the flank. The wolf turns and puts its huge maw into her hand and gently licks. I stand amazed as Ruth looks off into the distance and without a second’s pause the animal is on the run, pelting away. I look dumbly at the girl and she gives me a hard stare back. I try to smile at her but her face doesn’t soften.

  ‘Has Ruth been playing with dogs again?’ Malina is at my back. Her approach was silent. Malina does everything silently, I think to myself briefly before turning to her.

  ‘A wolf was here. Lying on the child.’ I gesture at Ruth who stands still and calm.

  ‘Of course, Ruth likes the company of animals. She must have gotten cold during the night.’ My lover turns to her ward. ‘Come Ruth, we are going on a journey today. Are you prepared?’ The little girl simply walks over to Malina and stands at her side. ‘I have all that I require, Weed. Here is your sword. You might need it.’

  I take the sturdy weapon from Malina and hang it at my belt. ‘There are one or two things I would take from the garden before we leave.’

  ‘So make ready then.’ Malina replies quietly.

  From the medicine beds I harvest a quantity of Henbane and Belladonna and place the precious Solanacea herbs into my pocket belt. I do not know when I will be returning and so I bid my friends goodbye. I am saddened, though not surprised, by their continued petulant silence. The time I have spent here at Soutra Aisle has been among the happiest of my life and I regret departing on poor terms. No matter. I have new companions now. I will make it better between myself and the growing world soon enough. They won’t begrudge me once they see how content I am with Malina.

  The world becomes a wild thing quickly as we travel together east in the mid-morning light. I take several berries of Belladonna and eat them as the trees thicken around us. The natural world has been distant to me of late but I hope that the nourishing poisons will help me connect with the roots of these unknown woods. A pleasant dreamy sensation percolates through my mind and I strain to listen to the growing forest. At first only the somnolent hum of the Oaks and Ash are discernible but as we penetrate further I begin to hear words although their meaning seems nonsense to me.

  ‘Cocks crow for the morning dew and there is zeal in the heat of the day. Sky bring rain clouds. Sun come near roots, blend rainbow warmth into the earth. Welcome, Weed and flesh. Do you hear the words of flesh? Trust them. They mean you no harm. Or else they do. Live or die to your own will and sing songs to us. Our roots are older than the hedgerows and we have drunk your life ten times this morning.’

  It is the Rowan and Yew who chorus together. These great trees are the most ancient and hallowed of the wild woods. I don’t know what to say but if they deign a welcome to me I must return it. ‘Hello, Rowan and Yew, what are your thoughts this morning?’

  ‘Oh that is what men call us? We guard and I guard. We have the clean bright air to sniff. Can sniff out unwholesome blight. Do you want songs or riddles today? Ills or their cure? Eat our fruit if the ripe berries take your fancy. Hope for your journeys end and know the end is in your journey. Why not forget in Hemlock? It grows in our high boughs. Love freely, Weed. And if you think that you know that Land Walker then bury yourself in the earth. When you do say hello to our roots.’

  The trees speak on as we journey through them long into the afternoon. This wood does not seem as friendly as that which led from Hulne Abbey to Soutra Aisle. Its words are full of ominous meaning. I notice a change has come across Malina too. In the slanted sunlight a hard mien has gripped her features. I realise that she has barely glanced at me since we left Soutra Aisle. For the first time in days I feel alone and uneasy. I want to talk to Malina and break the silence tha
t hangs between us. ‘We’ll be almost clear to Lindisfarne by sundown. Do you have any sense of what lies ahead?’

  ‘The birds fly low and eastwardly. They circle in the ninth quadrant of the sky. There is no danger ahead. For now.’ She answers curtly.

  It strikes me that I have never seen Malina practise her augury before. ‘You can read that from the living animals?’

  ‘Yes, whether they are alive or dead.’ She looks at me, smiling, baring her white teeth.

  ‘But you’re right. They’re better when they’re dead. Child! Go find me something to divine. We shouldn’t have left without a true augur, Weed.’

  ‘I have heard nothing from the Green woods of any threat.’

  ‘Better to be safe than sorry. If we are dead with our throats cut, fodder to wild pigs, then it will do us no good. We may not be able to rest our heads so easy as at Soutra Aisle again. I need red blood.’ She shouts into the forest ahead of her. ‘Bring me a creature!’

  ‘Do you require a fire? I can build one if you like.’ Does she see how eager I am to please her?

  ‘And waste good day to travel by? You’ve not been abroad in memory, Weed, to offer a suggestion so dull. If there is danger, better to meet it by daylight than have an approach in darkness.’

  Ruth reappears from the forest depths carrying a brownish green toad. She hands it to Malina, who holds it up to her face. ‘Warm blood is better! But a fat toad is something!’ In the dappled shadow of the woods, Malina’s features seem to elongate. Lines appear around her mouth and eyes as she peers hard at the creature’s skin. ‘Can’t jump back little toad, only forward. A good omen on the path. Good blood to spill and a neck to twist.’ In an instant Malina has rubbed the spark of life out of the animal.

  ‘Do you feel no pity for the lives you extinguish? If I hurt a plant then–’

  ‘Hush your beak. There are only moments to tell the truth from living flesh. Unless you prefer to wait until its body is mulch for your blind plants. They know nothing of the divine line of past and future.’

  ‘Plants see only the present but the roots are deep that cover the whole earth.’

  ‘Then sense our path, Weed. Know the road we travel; tell if any dangers lie ahead and spare this toad.’

  ‘It’s too late for that toad.’

  ‘Yes it is.’ She doesn’t stop her tramp or lessen her pace for even a second as she wrenches the body of the creature in two. She opens its belly with her sharp nails, scattering its entrails against the bark of a passing tree. Then, faster than a snake and moving in a strange manner, she is upon the messy red trunk, smelling and peering closely.

  ‘Our path is clear for now. Then danger tonight. Death is coming in fours or sixes, but forewarned is forearmed, ay, Weed? Weasely Weed. If I had a weasel we’d know even more. Warm blood has more to give than this cold amphibian muck.’ She looks at me with hardness in her eyes, her tongue playing on her lips longer than it should. I cannot tell if the change in her features is part of this horrible ritual or merely a trick of the light. But then her face softens and she is Malina once more, the object of my love. She smiles at me and I want her again, here on the cleared path. She speaks as if she reads my thoughts. ‘Oh, Weed. Not now. But later. Then we can love again but for now we must work and travel. Yes. We have far to go.’

  I have the sense that she is playing with me, conjuring a face to please me at will. She opens her mouth wide and swallows the toad’s head, crunching bones, blood and all. When she sees my disgust she says simply. ‘Sustenance, Weed. You need to eat to keep your strength up too. Why don’t you munch on one of your senseless rooter-tooters?’

  ‘The plants aren’t senseless.’ I say quietly. ‘I have my own divination to try.’

  I fish the Henbane from my belt-pocket and Malina’s face changes again. She comes towards me, all nose and mouth, sniffs and then licks the pouch with her tongue. ‘Hmm. I get nothing from this, Weed. That’s your department I’m afraid. Stuff it in your mouth and see how well you fare. Let’s on.’

  I eat a large pinch of the good herb, replace the pouch and continue on the path. I think of Soutra Aisle, that fine garden and the honest plants growing there and wonder if I have made the right choice to accompany Malina on this journey. The Henbane takes what seems like hours to have an effect on me but after many miles I begin to feel it working in my blood. It loosens my mind and helps me to hear the words of the roots around me; it is a great relief to greet true friends.

  ‘Hail, Weed!’ We are walking in a thicket of Silver Birch. Their cheerful chorus gladdens me immensely.

  ‘Weed! Good to see you.’

  ‘It’s Weed! Go on, tell him.’

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘He’s in trouble. Tell Weed he’s in trouble. Weed! You’re in trouble. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes I hear you. Is there danger ahead?’ I reply to the singsong babbling around me.

  ‘Ahead? Well you should ask. Travelling the road with walking death. Didn’t you see what she did with that poor lamb?’

  ‘And the toad? That was revolting. What’s wrong with you, Weed?’

  ‘Strychnine said he was travelling with a weird woman. Playing in the wrong gardens, Weed. Well, we’ve all been there.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘Tell him what’s coming.’

  ‘There’s trouble ahead, Weed! There’s men ahead but the trouble’s not just them. Oh, you travel with trouble, Weed. Best to leave these ones alone. You could turn back. It’s still spring. Everything to come.’

  ‘She could be anything, Weed. You never know what flesh is about. Highly untrustworthy. It’s not recommended.’

  ‘Wherever she goes blood follows. Iron in the soil, Weed. How strange. Dealing death to the hot ones since you’re half hot yourself. Strangling your own roots!’

  ‘Oh no. That’s not how it works with the Air Breathers. They’re not one on the great root like we are. Kill or be killed is their way. Endings, endings, endings. That’s what she’s about. Most unnatural.’

  ‘It’s not good for anyone.’

  ‘And I daresay it does no good for the poor Walkers she encounters. Go back to the sap things, Weed. They never harm anyone.’

  ‘Good Birch. Please answer me this. What of the root with no name? That which we seek at Lindisfarne. Have you met Him?’ It occurs to me that if we find this root quickly, Ruth, Malina and I might return to our chapel at Soutra Aisle, where we could be happy and only love again.

  ‘What’s a Lindisfarne?’

  ‘The great garden of healing, on an island in the direction of the rising sun.’

  ‘Oh. You mean whosits.’

  ‘Whatsim.’

  ‘Thingumibob.’

  ‘Perhaps. The root with no name.’

  ‘Do you think Mab would grow a sprout without naming it? A poor mother that would be. You seek the root for which men have no name. And of course we know of him. And he does not like the Walkers.’

  ‘Not one bit. Downright hostile I’d say. You don’t see him out in the wide world. He’s not like the other roots; he doesn’t show his fruits. If you find him be sure to be nice and polite or you’ll not get the best of his medicines.’

  ‘But he won’t talk to a red sap.’

  ‘He won’t talk to you. Watch yourself, Weed. We’d hate to see you come to harm. We’re not sure about your new friends. It’s hard to know the beat of blood and heart. They’re not like you. You’re easy for us to see.’

  ‘Men lie ahead. Mulch is on this road. Of all different kinds. I don’t think you’d like to be that mulch. Keep your ears open, Weed. We’ll warn the trees ahead that you’re coming. Goodbye Weed, good luck.’

  By the time we clear the stand of Birch trees dusk is already falling. I am truly sorry to leave the pleasant voices of my friends and be alone with Malina and Ruth. The Henbane is leaving my system and I feel depressingly clear-headed. ‘Malina. There’s a warning. Trouble’s ahead.’

  ‘I know. W
arriors of a kind are on their way to greet us.’ Her pace doesn’t slacken.

  ‘We should hide. Get off the road quickly.’ I rush to catch up with her and Ruth.

  ‘Nonsense. If it’s a fight they want then it’s fight they’re going to get.’

  ‘But with a child.’ The girl looks to me as she walks. Her face as impenetrable as ever but there is no fear there, only resignation.

  Then in the failing light they come. Silently out of the dark bushes four stout men in heavy clothes arrive to block our path. They bear weapons of diverse kinds and command authority when they speak. ‘Who goes there? Think not of passing on the road to Lindisfarne. Head north.’

  ‘Or south.’ His fellow chimes.

  ‘Or west.’ A third cautions.

  ‘Go no further.’ Two more men appear behind; this looks bad for us. We are surrounded by six stone faced guards.

  I hesitate but Malina speaks out in a strong, deep voice. ‘You know not who we are, nor what is our business on Lindisfarne, yet I am honour bound to offer you a choice. Go now. Flee quickly, or engage us and die. Your blood will taste good on my lips, parched of entrails these last hours. I will bake your heart and fry your gizzard. Your chance to escape is fading even now.’

  ‘You will not pass along this way. The Lindisfarne gardens are under our protection.’ The speaker’s voice hardens in resolve and all negotiations close like an iron gate.

  ‘Now, Weed, duck or be killed.’ A branch of Ash warns me in a synapse wink. I obey as a hatchet flies above my head. An instant later the six men close upon us in a fray.

  I hear a harrowing cry from Malina and watch as like a wild beast she leaps high and fast at the first attacker. Her silver hair flies out behind her and from mid-air she wraps her legs around his shoulders, laughing triumphantly. She sweeps her arms down and grasps the prone man’s throat, twisting hard. The muffled crunch of broken bone shredding soft flesh greets the air and the dead man’s head dangles at a crazy angle. His legs begin to buckle and Malina jumps from his shoulders towards her next victim.