by Julie Hunt
‘Come on, Bella,’ I sighed. ‘We’d better find him.’
I headed along the road with Bella and Little Shy. The other cows followed, their calves trailing along behind. I could hear Bright’s bell, but it was growing fainter.
Wim said if you followed the road far enough you would eventually come to the Gap, which was a narrow break in the escarpment. It led to the Badlands and, in the old days, it used to be guarded to stop thieves coming in and stealing the cattle. She said whole herds had been driven through, and if you went out there you could still see their hoof prints: the ground that had once been mud was now stone and the hoof prints were there forever.
I had never been far along the road. It was overgrown, and there wasn’t much feed out that way, but this was the direction Bright seemed to have taken. Soon we were pushing through saplings and small shrubs, and the ground became rough underfoot. I couldn’t see if it was caused by potholes or the hoof prints of ancient cattle, because the undergrowth was too thick. I called Bright, but he didn’t answer and soon I could no longer hear his bell at all.
It must have been past midday when the cows began behaving strangely. Bella moved out from under my arm and ran ahead, bellowing, and the others followed. Then she propped, and the group stopped dead behind her and stood staring.
Cows are curious creatures, and they are easily spooked, but I was more spooked than they were when I caught up and saw what they were looking at.
THE STRANGER
We’d reached the Gap. I couldn’t believe we had come so far. It was only as wide as a cow, and the sides were sheer. Bright was standing in front of it. I would have liked to go nearer and look through, but someone was there – a stranger, a man with long fair hair and a bag slung over his shoulder. He was tall and thin, and he was scratching Bright behind the ear while the calf moved his head up and down and leaned against him. I had never seen Bright act in a way that wasn’t wild before, but that wasn’t what shocked me – it was the fact that someone was there at all. In the nine years of my life, I had never met anyone while I was out with the cattle.
‘I thought he must belong to someone,’ the stranger said. ‘Where are you from?’
I gaped at him, too stunned to speak. He must have thought I didn’t understand, because he repeated the question slowly. He spoke in the western tongue, a language Marlie and I knew because our mother had spoken it. Wim had told us it was long since banned in Skerrick, because it was the language of the Badlands.
I pointed back along the road, never taking my eyes off the man. He wore a long loose shirt made of some fine sort of cloth that seemed to change colour in the light.
‘Is it far?’ he asked.
I nodded.
He sat down next to Bright, still scratching his ear.
‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘I was hoping I was almost there.’
‘Almost where?’ I asked.
‘Wherever the next place is.’
‘The next place is Skerrick,’ I told him.
‘Is that where you live?’
I shook my head. ‘Marlie and I live at the Overhang. We look after the cattle.’
The man was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, ‘Which is closer – the Overhang or Skerrick?’
‘The Overhang,’ I replied.
‘Well, I’ll go there, then, if it’s all right with you?’
I didn’t know if it was all right or not. The only visitor we’d ever had was Wim.
The stranger stood up, leaning slightly on Bright. He had the clearest eyes I had ever seen and he wore a thread around his neck.
‘Are you from the Badlands?’
The stranger threw back his head and laughed. It was a high, windy sound.
‘Badlands? Where’s that?’
I pointed towards the Gap and he laughed again.
‘No. I’m a traveller,’ he said. ‘I come from lands a long way from here.’
He began walking down the road. The cows parted to let him through and Bright looked rather annoyed, as if he had expected the stranger would stay scratching him all day.
‘Come on, Bright,’ I said, taking hold of his ear.
Bright refused to move, so I got behind him and gave him a push. It did no good. When Bright wasn’t being wild, he was stubborn; Marlie said he was like me in that respect.
‘Do you want some help?’ the stranger called.
I pushed Bright again and this time he moved, but not in the right direction. He took off towards the Gap and probably would have gone straight through if the stranger hadn’t whistled. Bright stopped immediately and looked over his shoulder.
‘Come,’ the stranger called.
I stared, amazed, as Bright trotted up to the man and rubbed his head on him. The stranger took a rope from his bag and held it out for me to take.
‘Use this, or I’ll have to be whistling and calling all the way.’
‘He doesn’t know how to lead,’ I said when I’d caught up.
But Bright surprised me. He didn’t object when I put the rope around his neck, and when I started walking he walked beside me – I didn’t even have to pull him along.
‘Do the cows belong to you?’ the stranger asked, as we walked along the road.
‘No. They belong to Alban Bane. Everything belongs to him – the cows, the cheese, the land, even the Overhang.’
‘But you don’t belong to him,’ the stranger said.
I stopped in my tracks.
‘What makes you say that?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m new to this country, but to me you look much like the people in the land I have just left.’
I was shocked.
‘I look like a robber or a cattle thief?’
The stranger smiled. ‘Not everyone in your so-called Badlands is bad,’ he said. ‘They have the same colour hair as you do, only theirs is less wild. Maybe they comb it.’
‘What’s it like there?’ I asked him.
‘The cattle are bigger than yours.’ He held up his hand to show me how high. ‘And the corn grows taller than me.’
I gazed up at him to see if he was lying, but if he was his face showed no sign.
‘How much milk do the cows give?’ I asked.
‘A full bucket each. Sometimes more.’
That couldn’t be true. Our cows gave less than half that.
‘It’s a fine place,’ the stranger said. ‘But there’s a sickness there. I had to pass through quickly.’
He fell silent after that, and he didn’t speak again until we reached the Boulders. There, he paused and looked up, his eyes following the line of the escarpment.
‘This place feels closed in,’ he said. ‘Is there nowhere to get a view?’
‘There’s a good view from the ledge above the Overhang,’ I told him, although I wondered if he’d fit through the hole at the back of the night cave. ‘From there you can see the road heading east towards the marshes. You can see Bane Valley and the path that leads to Skerrick.’
‘I will go to Skerrick tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And find work.’
I told him I didn’t think strangers were welcome there, especially if they spoke the western tongue.
‘What’s the next village after Skerrick?’ he asked.
‘There isn’t one. The valley ends in a wall.’
‘Ah, a blind valley!’ The stranger scratched his chin. ‘I’ve heard of such places. The wind blows up and meets itself coming back.’
It was late afternoon now, and the Boulders threw long shadows on the ground. ‘Do you mind if we rest for a while?’ he asked.
‘I think we had better keep going. Marlie will be worried.’
‘Who is Marlie?’
‘My sister.’
The stranger gave a little sigh and continued walking. I asked him what work he did.
‘I’m a journeyman. I can do anything – work with cattle, till the soil, grind grain, make bread. I can build and sew and work with metal and stone.’
There seemed no end of thin
gs that the stranger could do. I wanted to ask him all about these things, but he seemed to be short of breath so I held my tongue.
By the time we reached the Overhang it was almost dark. A big pile of wood was heaped against the fence, which meant the glow beetles had been wrong – Wim hadn’t arrived, and Marlie had spent the day collecting wood. I handed Bright’s rope to the stranger and ran ahead.
Marlie stood and stared, gaping in the same way I had when I’d first seen him.
‘Who is he?’ she gasped.
‘I don’t know. A traveller. A journeyman.’
‘You shouldn’t have brought him here. We’ll get into trouble.’
The stranger took the rope off Bright, who trotted straight into the night cave. The other calves followed. Marlie’s mouth fell open.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she said, as she shut the gate behind them.
By then the stranger was standing in front of the Overhang, leaning on Bella.
‘Let me help you with that wood,’ he said. ‘I’ll chop it and stack it.’
Then slowly he sank to the ground and sat with his head on his knees. I realised he was exhausted.
Marlie hesitated for a moment, then she went to the stranger.
‘Help me take him inside, Peat.’
The stranger was tall but he wasn’t heavy. With one of us on each side we half carried him into the Overhang, where we propped him up against our cooking bench. Marlie had made soup. He watched quietly as she poured it into bowls and seemed surprised when she offered him some.
‘Most grateful,’ he whispered.
‘Where are you going?’ Marlie asked.
‘East, eventually,’ he said. ‘To the marshes and beyond.’
‘Beyond!’ Marlie was shocked, and I was too. ‘There is no beyond,’ she told him. ‘The marshes go forever.’
‘That’s what you think,’ he said. ‘There is always a beyond.’
Then he laughed and, although he was weak, the sound echoed through the night cave and came back stronger than it had begun. We had never heard anything like that laughter before. It was a wonderful sound, high and wild, but it frightened me and I thought it frightened Marlie as well.
‘Shhhh, you mustn’t,’ she said, looking over the wall as if she feared the sound might echo all the way down Bane Valley to Skerrick.
The stranger took no notice. He sipped his soup.
‘Life’s short,’ he said. ‘And the world is larger than you think. Come with me if you like.’
‘We have to look after the cattle,’ Marlie said.
‘Tomorrow I will go to Skerrick.’
‘Skerrick!’ Again Marlie was shocked. ‘No one has visited there for years.’
The stranger pulled himself up on the cooking bench and took a few unsteady steps forwards, then he saw our sleeping ledge and slumped onto it.
‘Would you mind if I rest for a while until I get my strength back?’
He put his bag under his head and lay down, staring up at the glow beetles on the roof.
‘This reminds me of Hub,’ he sighed. ‘The lights of Hub.’ Marlie and I stared at each other.
‘Haven’t you heard of Hub?’ he asked.
We shook our heads.
‘Hub is the centre of the world. From there you can go anywhere you want. A hundred roads lead out of Hub, and a hundred rivers too, and each river leads to the sea. The only problem is choosing which way to go.’
He laughed again, and then he started coughing. His eyes shone with a feverish light.
‘Are you ill?’ Marlie asked.
I was wondering the same thing. He was either ill or a bit mad, raving about the lights of a place called Hub.
‘I’m just tired. I’ve come a long way, and I have a long way to go.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Like all of us,’ he added.
Then he went to sleep, wheezing slightly.
‘What should we do?’ I asked Marlie.
She looked at the glow beetles.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘We’ll sleep by the fire tonight. Tomorrow he will head back the way he came.’
As usual, the glow beetles were wrong. The stranger seemed better when he woke the next morning. He thanked us for our kindness, chopped and stacked the wood with surprising speed then left, taking the road to Skerrick.
As soon as he had gone I climbed up onto the ledge above the Overhang and watched. He walked with long easy strides, heading down the valley. At that rate it wouldn’t take him long to get to Skerrick, less than four days.
It was one of those mornings when the sky was full of moving clouds. Bane Valley looked darker than usual and soon the stranger would be lost in the distance.
‘Wait!’ I called. ‘What’s your name?’ But already he was out of earshot.
It had rained in the night, and when a flash of sunlight lit the road it looked like a silver thread. I wished I could wind it in and bring the stranger back. Why hadn’t we asked him more questions while we’d had the chance?
‘We should have invited him to stay,’ I told Marlie when I came down.
She was milking Bella, and for once Bright wasn’t bawling.
‘Maybe we’ll see him on his way back,’ she remarked vaguely. She was staring into the bucket as if she was in a trance.
‘Peat, look at this.’
The bucket was three-quarters full. Bella had never given that much milk before, even when the grass was plentiful, and yesterday she had spent more time walking than grazing.
I took my stool and placed it next to Pem. It was the same with her – the milk just kept coming.
Wim arrived two days after the stranger had left. It was evening, and we both ran to her, eager to be the first to tell her our news.
‘I know,’ she said, before we could speak. ‘I met him on the path. You shouldn’t have shown him the way.’
She handed her pack to Marlie and put an arm around each of our shoulders.
‘I tried to convince him to turn back, but he wouldn’t listen. That poor young man.’
I hadn’t thought of the stranger as a young man, but I supposed that to Wim everyone was young. Wim was quite old, older than our mother would have been – perhaps forty. Her boots were worn out with walking, and she looked worn out as well. I took her hand.
‘He tamed Bright,’ I told her. ‘And the cows are giving more milk.’
‘Well, that’s something,’ she said grimly. ‘But I fear for him. He’ll get no welcome in Skerrick.’
Wim always worried about us, but that night she seemed more worried than usual, and the next morning she lingered instead of leaving at first light. When Marlie took the cattle out to graze, Wim stayed and helped me with the work, straining the curds for the cheese while I cleaned out the night cave.
‘When the stranger returns you’re not to speak to him, Peat,’ she said, as she was leaving. ‘Just let him go on his way.’ But she looked doubtful, as if she wasn’t sure which way that could be. Perhaps she feared he wouldn’t return.
Marlie and I kept an eye on the road, waiting for the stranger to come back. Whenever it was my sister’s turn to take the cattle out she brought them back early, and I was up on the ledge looking out whenever I could.
When he didn’t return, we began to wonder if we had dreamed him. In our minds he grew taller and his hair grew longer.
‘What colour were his eyes?’ Marlie asked. ‘What did he have in his bag?’
I went over every word the stranger had said to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything from our conversation on the road, and when Marlie kept asking questions I began to make up the answers.
‘His bag was full of treasures from the places he’d been.’
‘Did you ask him where he came from?’
‘He didn’t come from anywhere. He’s always been a traveller. He said his people were wandering people and he was born on a high mountain pass somewhere north of Hub.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
I nodded. ‘The air was so th
in up there that his mother had to speak to him in whispers so as not to waste her breath. She told him the world was vast and full of wonders. She whispered that in his ear.’
‘How could he remember if he was only a baby?’
‘The stranger remembers everything,’ I said.
Marlie was chopping up potatoes for our dinner. She put down her knife and stood up, gazing over the rock wall. ‘I wonder if he’ll remember us,’ she sighed.
We waited for ten days, although it seemed longer, then suddenly one morning the stranger was there on the path from Skerrick. I saw him from the ledge. His shirt was torn. He had lost his bag and he wasn’t walking with the same easy strides he’d left with. When he reached the crossroads he stopped and waved, then he hesitated. I thought he was going to come and speak to us but he must have changed his mind because he waved again and the next moment he was gone, heading east, his light hair streaming behind him.
GLOW BEETLES
‘What do they say?’ I stared at the glow beetles on the roof.
‘Today is the day.’ Marlie lay beside me on our sleeping ledge, holding the cow charm that hung around her neck. ‘You see that cluster to the south?’ There was a cloud of twinkling beetles near the entrance to the Overhang. ‘That means Wim will definitely come today.’
She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.
It was ages since Wim’s last visit. Two full moons had passed and our supplies had almost run out. We had a couple of handfuls of corn and a few slivers of dried meat left, and as well as the milk and cheese, we were eating whatever we could find – wild turnips and nettle, the odd mushroom that came up after rain. Most of the time it was enough, but this morning I had woken up hungry and cranky.