by Ian Martyn
‘Yes. Oralf wonders if you’d like to marry the girl.’
Kirby stopped and held on to Harold as his legs threatened to buckle. He searched his memory for anything that might have precipitated such a suggestion. He wondered if here, perhaps just smiling at a girl was enough. ‘Er, she’s young enough to be my daughter.’
Harold hadn’t stopped grinning. ‘Not that important.’
‘Oh yes, I can see that going down well. Sorry, just off to see my young wife in that other world.’ He raised his voice a little. ‘Really, Dad, that’s nice. Say hello to Doris for me and have a good time. Try not to get killed, ha, ha’ He glared at Harold. ‘What d’you think?’
Harold laughed. ‘Come on, we’ve got to be off.’
Outside Kirby’s eyes became slits as his brain protested at the harshness of the sunlight. Someone thrust something into his hands. He opened one eye a fraction wider. It was Goran and the something was a brown hunk of dried meat.
‘Eat,’ Goran said. ‘You’ll feel better.’ He did, and he did, a little.
When he managed to open both eyes, he noticed Shirley and was standing with Oralf’s three daughters. Her hair was braided, and keeping it in place was a decorated leather band. Around her neck were what he presumed were wooden beads. Susie and Connie joined them, and he had to admit that all three looked as if they belonged here.
Harold handed him his pack, which he shrugged on to his shoulders. Goran was already heading out of the village. Susie kissed and hugged the three girls, then skipped along to catch up with Goran. Shirley hugged them as well and then headed across to Kirby while Connie talked to her brother.
‘What do think, sir?’ Shirley asked, patting her hair.
‘Very nice. I’m not sure the chief would approve of the headband mind you.’
Shirley frowned, ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’ll save it for when I go clubbing.’
‘Yes, well stay here for too long and I think “going clubbing” could take on a whole new and more literal meaning.’
As they left, the girls waved and Doris blushed as her eyes met Kirby’s. Harold nudged him and laughed.
‘Made a friend, sir?’ Shirley asked.
‘Yes, thank you, Constable. Just remember you’re still on duty and your appraisal is coming up soon.’
‘Sir.’
It was only as they were leaving the village did Kirby think to ask. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Dunstanburgh,’ Harold said.
‘Dunstanburgh?’
‘Well, what will be Dunstanburgh. It’s not far, see that hill?’
Kirby raised his eyes from the road and squinted into the light in the direction Harold was pointing.
‘Over that hill is another hill.’
‘You don’t say.’
Harold ignored the sarcasm. ‘And over that hill is what’ll be Craster in a couple of thousands of years in your world.’
‘Ah.’
forty-four
Leaving the village behind, Harold strode ahead and Connie took his place beside Kirby and Shirley
‘Where are we?’ Shirley asked. ‘Or rather where will this be?’
Connie lifted her gaze to the road ahead. ‘How well do you know the area?’
‘Pretty well. Visited in the summer since I was a kid. Used to walk much of it with my dad, especially along the coast. He loves it’
Connie pointed. ‘Recognise it?’
‘Looks like part of the Whin Sill.’
Connie nodded. ‘Aye, that’s Ratcheugh Crag.’
‘Near Longhoughton?’ Kirby asked.
Connie glanced back towards the village. ‘That is Longhoughton, or at least it’s where Longhoughton will be. Not that in your time anyone will know. Oh, some people may get a queer feeling as they walk over a patch of ground that perhaps something was here a long time ago. Then they’ll shrug and walk on.’
Shirley glanced back over her shoulder. ‘What? You mean that these ancient places leave a sort of trace, a memory in the land?’
Connie smiled, then nodded in appreciation. ‘Something like that. Although it’s not the place, it’s the people. There’s magic in people. They leave their mark where they’ve lived, and the land doesn’t forget them.’
‘But this isn’t my Northumberland, my past?’
Connie puffed out her cheeks. ‘Yes and no. I know what Harold said but it’s not that simple. It’s all connected. Think of it more as an alternative.’
Shirley scratched her head. ‘Thanks, that really helps.’
The ground rose in a gentle slope before them and Kirby ran his hand through the tall grasses at the side of the track as he pondered on what Connie had said. ‘So, are the billions of people in our time still marking the ground? Must get very confusing.’
Connie smiled. ‘No, for magic to work, you have to believe in the magic. I’m afraid you lost that many centuries ago. Maybe when I’m long gone someone will walk over where I lived and get a funny feeling.’
‘They’ll struggle where I live, Shirley said. ‘I’m on the fourth floor.’
They fell into a companionable silence for a while. Kirby let his mind focus on the meditative rhythm of putting one foot in front of another. He could hear the gulls calling their raucous cries and every now and then he caught sight of one wheeling on the updraft created by the Whin Sill. He caught a whiff of wood smoke on the breeze and to his left, in a copse of stunted trees, a thin smudge of grey rose before dissipating. He pointed to it.
‘Charcoal,’ Connie said.
The path ahead narrowed as it continued up the slight incline, forcing them to walk in single file. As they passed through gorse and bramble, Kirby appreciated his leather clothing which shrugged off all attempts of the vegetation to snag him. On reaching the top, he stopped to take in the view. Below, the sea glinted in the summer sun and reflected the blue of the sky. The shore was just as he remembered it, great slabs of rock with gouges carved by the sea so that it looked like a patio laid by giants. The tide was perhaps half way in, or out of course. In the small sandy inlets, Knot and Dunlin ran from the waves on stick thin legs like frantic clockwork toys, until taking flight, then banking, dipping and weaving together as if bound by invisible wires.
Susie had stopped ahead of them and was shielding her eyes with a hand as she looked up and down the coast. Goran stood next to her, leaning on his spear saying nothing. ‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘Just perfect,’
‘You like it up here?’ Kirby asked.
Susie smiled as she glanced towards her mum. ‘Very much. I like living in Jesmond and Newcastle, and sometimes you kind of forget. Then when you come back…’
‘I know what you mean,’ Kirby said. ‘There’s something about it that soothes the nerves.’ He glanced across at Harold. ‘A little magic perhaps.’
Harold grinned. ‘You’re learning.’
‘You know,’ Shirley said as she too paused to admire the scene spread out ahead of them, ‘I think of myself as more of a city girl. I love the buzz and all that. But I have to admit there is something to be said for this. For a short time at least, you know.’ She paused to slap at an insect that had landed on her neck. ‘Not that I’d want to make a habit of it.’
‘Yes well, come on,’ Harold said, glancing across at Goran who raised an arched eyebrow in reply. ‘I hate to break this up. We need to get off the ridge. I don’t want us to be seen.’
‘By who?’ Kirby asked.
‘Anyone.’
They followed the coast before turning at the headland and walking down towards the sheltered bay that in Kirby’s world would be Craster in a couple of thousand years. In his mind, Kirby could see the harbour wall and the few small fishing boats that were left bobbing in its shelter. He could almost smell the smokehouse where they still produced traditional kippers. They continued down into a wooded area at the bottom of the little valley and then up along where a row of small cottages would be. A mile or so ahead was an outcrop that at the same time
was familiar and yet so different. To Kirby’s eye it looked naked without its ruined castle, which in his day dominated the skyline.
‘Funny, I still expected it to be there. It seems like it’s always existed, so permanent.’
Harold nodded, understanding what he meant. ‘Someone’s there though,’ he said pointing to a drift of smoke rising skyward.
‘Sarah’s there,’ Susie said. She shook herself as if a chill breeze had intruded on the warm summer day. Connie put an arm around her and gave her a hug. ‘I’m sorry, don’t know how I know. I just do.’
‘I believe you,’ Harold said. He turned to Goran. ‘I think we need to cut inland.’
Goran nodded and led them down a narrow track between two thickets of what Kirby thought was hawthorn. Again he was glad he was wearing the leather. After a few yards, the way broadened out and he caught up with Harold. ‘The girl’s there?’
‘Susie reckons so.’
‘And you believe her?’
Harold patted Kirby on the shoulder. ‘Listen, I know you’re still struggling with the idea that magic is anything but sleight of hand and some fancy card trick on Saturday night telly. But here people understand, they believe, and because they believe it remains real. Sarah is Marianne’s daughter and old blood. Susie is Connie’s daughter who’s Marianne’s sister, they’re linked. Bring them somewhere like this and the magic speaks to them. And because they’re not used to it, it might be that it kind of floods into them, awakens things.’ He looked across at Connie, who nodded.
‘What things?’
‘Not sure.’
‘That’s helpful.’
‘The ability to connect with magic is strong in our line,’ Connie said. ‘Whether you can use it and how might vary. Also, so does how it affects, changes you. Marianne has always been fascinated with its power and that’s perverted her.’
‘And you?’ Kirby asked.
‘I’ve seen what it did to Marianne, even as a child. I didn’t want to end up like her.’
‘And what about me, Mother?’
Connie gave Susie another hug. ‘You’ll be fine. You’ve sensed Sarah because of your emotional connection with her, that’s all.’
Kirby studied the pair of them. Something inside him told him they’d both be fine. Connie glanced across at him and smiled.
‘Where to?’ Shirley asked.
Harold shielded his eyes. ‘The top of this little ridge, what in your day is called Scrogs Hill. There’s cover up there.’
As they set off again, Connie dropped in beside Kirby. ‘Well, well, Inspector, I do believe there’s a little magic in you as well. Mind you, I shouldn’t be surprised knowing Alice.
Kirby frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘When we were talking about Susie’s connection to magic I sensed your desire to protect. It was faint, but it was there, like a warm blanket.’
Kirby raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?’
Connie laughed. ‘Yes, really. In your world the magic is spread because no one believes. So it has little effect for most people. Here it concentrates with those that have an affinity for it.’
Kirby scratched his head. ‘I dunno.’
Connie smiled and took his arm. ‘Oh, but you do, Jonah Kirby. Because in your world, you use it all the time without realising it.’
‘I thought you said it has little effect.’
‘I also said, for most people. Yes, it’s faint, almost imperceptible, and you call it instinct, following your nose. You ask the right questions that get people to open up to you. You know when something doesn’t smell right.’
‘That’s just experience. Being a copper.’
‘Perhaps,’ Connie said, letting go of him. ‘Come on, we’re lagging behind.’
Kirby quickened his pace, tagging on to the back of the group. He studied those ahead of him. Goran was out in front leading. Connie and Harold were chatting, and Susie and Shirley were sharing a joke, heads close together and giggling. He wondered about what Connie had said. Was it possible he was using magic? Was that what instinct was? He shrugged, what did it matter what you called it? Although he did wonder about taking more interest in horse racing when he got back.
After another fifteen minutes walking Harold called them to a halt in the middle of a ring of scrubby trees. Their tops were bent at almost ninety degrees, away from the sea, testament no doubt to the gales that blew in on the prevailing North East wind in the winter.
‘Good a spot as any,’ Goran said, slipping out of his pack and helping Susie and Shirley with theirs.
‘Now what?’ Kirby asked as he sat down.
Harold smiled. ‘Don’t know about you, I could do with something to eat.’
‘Fine, point me in the direction of the nearest burger van and I’ll buy.’
Harold indicated to Kirby’s pack. ‘We can do better than that.’
Kirby undid the thong that secured the flap. Inside were what looked like parcels of leaves. He took one out and peeled away the outer layer to find some of what he presumed was last night’s venison. ‘Wondered why it seemed heavier. But then my brain was struggling a little first thing.’
Susie, Shirley and Connie were also delving into their packs and coming up with their own parcels of flatbread and dried fruit and what looked like cheese. Meanwhile, Harold had produced three large skins of liquid.
‘Quite a picnic,’ Kirby said.
‘There are some blackberries back there as well,’ Goran said, flowing to his feet, much to Susie’s obvious pleasure.
‘I’ll help,’ Susie said.
‘They’re getting along well,’ Harold said as he lay back with his hands behind his head.
‘He’s just a bit different from the lads she meets at uni,’ Shirley said. She grinned. ‘A bit exotic.’
Kirby sat picking at the grass. ‘Yes, well I’ve heard of long-distance romances. However, they’re normally measured in miles, not centuries.’
‘Hmm,’ Connie said, her eyes fixed on where the pair of them had disappeared down the slope among the vegetation.
Above them a few crows were riding the breeze. Kirby watched them bank and twist against what he presumed was the mid-afternoon sky. It would be idyllic if wasn’t for that fact that he was about two-and-a-half thousand years in the past with a bunch of bloodthirsty, heavily-armed warriors about half a mile away. ‘So why are we here?’
Harold propped himself on an elbow. ‘We need to get an idea of what Marianne is up to. Think of it as a bit of reconnaissance, a stake out.’
‘You’ve been watching too many American cop shows. I don’t think we in the Northumbria police force do “stake outs”.’
Harold shrugged. ‘What then?’
‘We keep an eye on things.’
‘I’ll tell you what she’s up to,’ Connie said. ‘No good.’
‘Agreed,’ Harold said. ‘Then again we’ve got to understand what sort of no good if we can.’
Kirby chewed on the end of a grass stalk, something he hadn’t done since a kid. ‘I understand your concerns for this world, Harold. However, my focus is on keeping law and order in mine.’
Harold nodded. ‘Understood. The thing is, if we can try to combat whatever she’s doing here, that’ll help in your world as well.’
‘So when do we take a look?’
Harold leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘Later, in the evening, just before the sun goes down.’
‘Why?’
He opened one eye and focused on Kirby. ‘Because to get a bit closer I want to us to hide in the shadows and for that you have to have shadows to hide in. So chill, man, and let the vibes of this place ease your troubled mind.’
Shirley threw a small stone at Harold. ‘So what did you do in the sixties, Harold? Were you into long hair, flower power and all that? Or was it just a blur?’
Harold grinned. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
Shirley laughed. ‘Perhaps not.’
Susie and Goran r
eturned with a small mountain of blackberries. Kirby thought about asking if they’d picked them above waist, or at least dog-height, before deciding that might not apply here. There again, who knew what else might have wandered along this path? He ate them anyway, along with the cold venison and flatbread. As picnics went, it wasn’t bad. ‘So what now?’
Harold lay back down, hands resting on his stomach and closed his eyes. ‘I suggest we all get a bit of rest.’
Kirby huffed. He put his pack behind his head and lay back. He sat up again and removed a few sharp stones before trying again. He glanced across at Harold who was already snoring. He peered up at the sky and was reminded of his daughter. A Simpson sky she would have called it, after the intro to the cartoon series. And it was, fluffy white clouds against the blue. If anything, the blue seemed more intense in this world. He wondered if that was due to a lack of pollution or simply that he never took the time to look. You just accepted it, the sky was the sky. He’d never considered how enormous it was and how small it made him feel. He shifted his weight and then removed another stone, from under his backside this time. He’d never understood how people managed to fall asleep on the ground, or in deckchairs. It was ridiculous. He believed you needed to be comfortable, warm and in the dark to sleep. One out of three wasn’t enough. He yawned.
Next thing he knew someone was poking his arm.
forty-five
‘Hey, sleepyhead, we need to get up and see what’s going on.’
Kirby looked up at a human silhouette kneeling next to him. He took a deep, slow breath and focused. It was Connie and she was smiling.
‘Back with us then?’
‘Sorry, it’s just so peaceful. Must have nodded off.’
‘You don’t say. I would never have guessed from the snoring.’
‘Sorry.’ As he sat up he realised Harold and Goran were gone. The sun was sinking towards the horizon and those shadows that Harold wanted were lengthening. He must have slept for a couple of hours. Susie and Shirley were sitting, picking at the last of the blackberries. A mental inspection of his body found several points of complaint where the hard ground had dug in. He rolled on to his knees and then stood up, grunting. It seemed as if someone had stuck all his vertebrae together. He rolled his neck and there was a definite click. ‘Where’ve they gone?’