Song for a Scarlet Runner

by Julie Hunt

  ‘She’s never been this late before.’

  ‘Don’t keep going on about it,’ Marlie snapped.

  ‘Maybe she’s sick,’ I said. ‘Or tired.’

  We had always worried that one day Wim wouldn’t come anymore. It was a long way from Skerrick to the Overhang and we were afraid the journey would get too hard for her.

  ‘Maybe Alban Bane won’t let her come.’ I regretted speaking as soon as the words were out.

  ‘Stop it,’ Marlie cried. ‘Of course he’ll let her come. She has to get the cheese.’

  It was getting light. I looked at the cheeses lined up on the shelf. Usually we only made three a week, but since the stranger had come we’d been making five or six. The cows had kept up their generous milk supply, and there were dozens of cheeses waiting for Wim to collect them. There were too many to fit on the shelf, so we had stored some in a box at the back of the night cave.

  ‘She’ll never carry them all,’ I said.

  ‘We could help her,’ Marlie replied. ‘We could help her carry them back.’

  That was a foolish thought, but I didn’t say anything.

  ‘If something’s happened to Wim they’ll send someone else,’ Marlie said.

  The thought of someone other than Wim coming to collect the cheese made tears prick in my eyes. I knew Marlie felt the same way. I heard her sniffing.

  ‘Are you crying?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ Marlie threw back the blanket. ‘Come on. Get up. I’ll take the cows out today.’

  ‘Don’t you want to draw straws?’

  She shook her head. Her face had a sharp, pointed look.

  ‘If Wim comes you’ll miss her,’ I said.

  We milked in silence – the only sound was the calves moving about inside the night cave.

  After a while, Marlie spoke. ‘Maybe we should give up milking.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped. ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re spending too much time milking and making cheese when we should be out looking for food.’

  ‘Wim would want us to keep milking,’ I said. ‘It’s what we do.’

  ‘I know it’s what we do, but how long do we keep doing it? We could milk one cow instead of all six.’

  ‘Wim will come. She’ll probably come today.’

  But Wim didn’t come that day, or the day after. Both of us became frayed and short-tempered. Another week went by, then one morning we woke and found the flashing glow beetle was back on the roof – the same one we’d seen the day the stranger arrived. I thought Marlie would be pleased, but she wasn’t.

  ‘It’s a bad sign,’ she said. ‘Wim’s not coming. Not today, not ever.’ She turned to me in the dark. ‘I wish you never brought that stranger here. It’s something to do with him. I know it. It’s your fault.’

  ‘How can it be my fault?’

  ‘Didn’t the stranger say you looked like the people of the Badlands? Perhaps your father is from there. Maybe you’re half bad.’ Marlie had started to cry.

  ‘I’m not half bad,’ I said. ‘It’s not my fault!’

  I took the cattle out past the Boulders. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Maybe it was hunger, or maybe it was because of the fight with Marlie. Bella stayed close to me. I could tell she didn’t like what Marlie had said; when I sat down to rest she came and breathed on my face.

  ‘I won’t go home to the Overhang,’ I told her.

  There is a blue-black shadow in every cow’s eyes and I felt Bella was offering me hers. It was deeper than the night cave. I wished I could hide in it. I started to cry.

  ‘It’s all right, Bella,’ I said. ‘Everything will be all right when Wim comes.’

  I didn’t go home that night until long after dark. Marlie was waiting by the fire.

  ‘I saved you some soup,’ she said. ‘I was worried that you weren’t coming back.’

  I sat down and ate, not even bothering to shut the calves in the night cave.

  ‘Wim will come soon,’ Marlie said gently. ‘Not just to collect the cheese but to collect us as well.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  She didn’t answer. Instead she came and hugged me.

  ‘I’m sorry, Peat. I didn’t mean what I said this morning.’ Marlie had always been thin, but now I could feel her bones.

  ‘You’re getting skinny, Marlie.’

  ‘You too,’ she said.

  My sister was six years older than me, but that night she seemed younger. When we climbed onto the sleeping ledge she snuggled close to me.

  ‘Tell me the story, Peat – the old story.’

  I knew which one she meant. It was a story she’d used to tell me when I was smaller; then I’d taken it over and changed it and she hadn’t liked it anymore.

  ‘Where do you want me to start?’ I asked.

  ‘The feast. The meal they prepare to welcome the girls back.’

  ‘It was meat,’ I said. ‘Goat’s meat. It was roasting in the fire pit.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘There were corncakes with honey, and nuts that were part of the hoard they found hidden under the floorboards of Alban Bane’s hut.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ Marlie asked. ‘Did he die?’

  Sometimes I killed Alban Bane. I had him fall from the steephead while he was looking for birds’ nests, or I let him stumble into a sinkhole at night. I didn’t really care what happened to him in the story, or in real life, but Marlie cared because he was her father.

  ‘Give him a change of heart,’ she said. This was her favourite ending.

  ‘Alban realised his mistake.’ I spoke quietly. ‘He should never have sent the girls away. He wasn’t angry anymore, and all the badness in him turned to good. He helped cook the feast, and he said there should be singing and dancing.’

  ‘And the flowers?’ Marlie asked. ‘Tell me the bit about the flowers.’

  ‘The girls wore flowers in their hair – yellow orchids that grew out near the Gap, and bunches of violets plaited together.’

  Marlie knew as well as I did that no orchids grew anywhere near the escarpment, and that even if they did the cows would trample them. Violets were something Wim had told us about but we’d never seen.

  ‘And did the girls dance all night?’

  ‘All night,’ I replied.

  I heard Marlie sigh with satisfaction. Then her breathing grew steady, and in a few minutes she was asleep.

  I lay awake staring at the roof of the Overhang. The flashing glow beetle was still there. I knew glow beetles probably signalled to each other and not to people – but that blue-green light seemed to be flashing right at me, sending a warning.

  THE ESCARPMENT

  Later that night one of the cows started bellowing. I wasn’t asleep; I was still staring at the roof of the Overhang, although the glow beetle I had been watching was gone. The cattle were usually quiet in the evening. I sat up and looked out over the wall. There was a light at the crossroads.

  ‘Marlie, someone’s coming.’

  I jumped down from the sleeping ledge as my sister struggled to wake up. The cattle were tramping around outside in the yard, and the light was getting closer. Then I heard a voice calling in the dark.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s me.’

  ‘Wim! I knew you’d come.’ Marlie sat up so quickly she hit her head on the roof. ‘I was telling Peat—’

  ‘Shhh!’

  Wim put her lamp on top of the wall and climbed over. She was pale and breathless, and she was carrying the stranger’s bag instead of her pack full of supplies.

  ‘What’s happened, Wim? Why are you here now, in the night?’

  Wim didn’t speak at first. She sat down next to our cooking fire and stared into the coals. I was about to throw some wood on when she caught my hand.

  ‘No, Peat. Listen to me. That stranger . . . he was carrying a disease. People in Skerrick are ill and Alban is blaming you.’

  ‘What?’ Marlie cried. ‘That’s not fair. It’s not Peat�
�s fault!’

  ‘We saw him,’ I told Wim. ‘His shirt was torn.’

  ‘I tried to warn him.’ Wim spoke in a hurried whisper. ‘He knocked on Alban Bane’s door and asked for work. Alban wanted to know where he came from, and when the stranger pointed to the west Alban flew into a rage and called him a thief and a bandit. Do you think I have work for the likes of you? he cried. In the old days your people stole our cattle, and now you’ll steal anything you can get your hands on. How did you find your way here?

  ‘When the stranger mentioned you Alban knocked him down, then he rang the bell so that everyone came running. The stranger wasn’t strong, but he was quick and clever. He got up and ran, and he was lucky to get away, to escape with his life.’

  Wim took both my hands.

  ‘And you must do the same, Peat,’ she said. ‘I came as soon as I could. Alban forbid me, and had me watched. Marlie, help me pack this bag. I managed to grab it when I snuck away. Get whatever supplies you have left.’

  ‘We’ve run out.’ Marlie’s voice was trembling.

  Wim took her lamp to the back of the Overhang and quickly gathered a few things – a knife, a cup and a blanket.

  ‘There’s bread in the bag,’ she said. ‘I didn’t have time to get anything else.’

  She scooped a cup full of milk from the bucket by the cooking bench and handed it to me.

  ‘Drink this. You must leave immediately.’

  ‘But where will she go?’ Marlie cried.

  ‘West, through the Gap.’

  ‘The stranger went east,’ I said.

  Wim paused. ‘The poor fool.’ She put her finger to her lips. ‘Shhh. We have to be quick.’ She wrapped a cheese in cloth and put it in the bag, then she turned to Marlie, holding the top open. ‘What else?’ she asked.

  Marlie looked completely bewildered. She cast her eye around the Overhang and, finding nothing, put her hand to her neck and took off the cow charm.

  ‘Take this, Peat.’ She put it over my head.

  Outside, the cattle grew more restless. Two or three cows were bellowing now, and we could hear them rushing about in the yard. Wim blew out the lamp.

  ‘They’re coming,’ she breathed. ‘I tried to get here sooner.’

  After that, things happened quickly. There was a shout and the cattle were running. I heard them break through the fence, and then their hoofs were pounding on the road and my heart began to pound as well.

  ‘Go. Go now!’ Wim slipped the bag over my shoulder and pushed me towards the stone wall; then we both stopped, because there were lights beyond the yard – lanterns, flickering a short distance from the Overhang. They were coming closer, and they seemed to be coming from all directions. We heard voices, an argument.

  ‘That brat should never have been born. Look what she’s brought on us.’

  ‘Leave her, Alban. She’s just a child.’

  ‘She might be a child, but she’s trouble. She knew what she was doing.’

  ‘How could she have known? Let her go.’

  ‘Let her go? Three people have died already. A dozen are ill. We could all catch the disease and you say let her go! She caused this and she’ll pay for it.’

  ‘It’s true,’ a third voice joined in. ‘She sent him to us as revenge.’

  ‘Revenge for what?’ came the second voice.

  ‘Her mother’s death,’ the first voice snapped.

  ‘Alban, you’re not well. You’re delirious . . .’

  The voices went on, but I stopped listening. Marlie took my hand and pulled me to the back of the Overhang. ‘The night cave!’ she whispered, as we slipped through the open gate.

  It was pitch dark inside, but I could see light coming from the hole at the back of the cave. I couldn’t remember climbing through it – sometimes you move faster than thought. Suddenly I was out on the ledge, looking back down at Marlie.

  ‘Block it off,’ she whispered. ‘Block off the hole so they can’t see the light from in here!’

  I took the blanket from the bag and began stuffing it in the hole. The last thing I saw was Marlie’s face, looking up at me.

  ‘Go well, Peat,’ she said.

  Then I heard Wim shouting into the darkness. ‘She’s gone. The child is gone, Alban. You’re too late.’

  ‘If we don’t find her I’ll take the other one instead!’ the man yelled back.

  ‘No, you won’t!’ Wim cried.

  I crawled across the ledge on my belly and looked down. Below me were half-a-dozen lanterns, and there were more in a long line coming up the road from Skerrick.

  ‘Out of my way!’ A voice echoed in the Overhang. I heard a bucket being knocked over and a clang as our cooking pot hit the back wall.

  ‘Leave our things alone!’ Marlie cried.

  There were footsteps in the night cave. I held my breath.

  ‘Why aren’t the calves locked in? You’ll get no milk if the calves are with the cows.’

  Then the voice was outside again, giving orders.

  ‘Find her! She’ll have gone towards the Gap. I want her back here by morning, and find the cattle as well.’

  Some of the lights began moving along the road, heading west.

  ‘Make a fire,’ the man shouted. ‘A big one.’

  I could hear branches breaking as the people helped themselves to our woodheap. It was dark on the ledge, but if they built up a fire I would be seen. I looked up at the escarpment towering above me. It reared into the sky like a dark wave; I couldn’t see the top. Without thinking, I began to climb, feeling my way, finding handholds. The blood thudded in my ears.

  When I reached a crevice in the rock, I lodged myself there and adjusted the weight of the stranger’s bag. I didn’t dare look down. A slight wind blew, pressing me into the rock wall, and when I started climbing again the updraft seemed to help me.

  Soon I was high above the ledge. The smell of smoke faded, and there was nothing in my mind except where to put my hands and feet. I had always been strong. The soles of my feet were tough, and my toes gripped the rock like fingers.

  I was dimly aware of the moon rising and hoped I was high enough to be out of sight. From below I was probably no more than a speck on the escarpment, a tiny insect crawling on the face of the rock. As I moved up, I had the strange feeling that I was climbing out of my past and into my future.

  Eventually the way was blocked by a jutting outcrop of rock. I paused and looked down. The fire was a red circle far below. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then I began moving east across the cliff face, with the idea of getting far enough away from the Overhang by morning to climb back down to the road. I couldn’t go west because Alban Bane had sent his people that way.

  All night I climbed across the escarpment. At last I found a crack in the rock wide enough to wedge myself into and stopped to rest. My arms and legs were shaking. The wind whistled past, and I was suddenly cold. Somehow a small tree had taken root in the crevice, its trunk just as thick as my arm. I reached into the stranger’s bag. The rope was there; the same rope I had used on Bright. I tied one end around the tree and the other around my waist, then I squeezed myself further back, away from the drop. There was a blanket in the bag as well, not a rough felt blanket like the one I’d left in the hole in the back of the night cave, but a light sort of rug. I wrapped it around myself.

  The moon had moved across the sky. Soon it would be dawn. In my exhaustion, I thought I heard the stranger’s voice on the wind. I tried to make out the words, but they weren’t in any language I understood. I pulled the rug close and closed my eyes. In my mind, I was following the stranger through the world. I wore a thread around my neck like his, and the wind blew the tangles out of my hair so that it flowed out behind me like his did. It was evening and we were in high mountain country. In the distance I could see lights. He bounded ahead of me, and when we reached the top of a rise we were suddenly looking down on Hub, with all its roads and rivers leading in a hundred directions.

  I mu
st have fallen asleep for a while. I stirred, and became aware that the wind had dropped. In the silence, I could hear water trickling somewhere in a crevice behind me. I opened my eyes and put my hand to my neck. The stranger’s thread wasn’t there but Marlie’s cow charm was. I hoped it was lucky, because the sun was high in the sky and a huge drop yawned beneath me.

  THE SLEEK

  The view from high up on the escarpment was breathtaking. I had never seen so far before, or even dreamed that so much country existed. I could see the steephead where Bane Valley ended, and mountains beyond it. In the east I could make out the marshes. They were grey-green and they stretched away into the distance.

  I felt light-headed with the vastness of it all, and a bit giddy; then, without warning, I was sick. I held onto the tree and leaned out so as not to get it on the blanket. The road was far below. It was the same road that went past the Overhang, but it looked different here – it was narrow and grassy. The sight of it made me dizzy. I leaned back into the crack between the rocks and closed my eyes, my throat burning and my mouth tasting foul.

  There was no wind this morning, and the only sound was trickling water. I discovered a gap in the rocks behind me, wide enough to poke my head right into. It was dark inside, and had a musty smell, but the water sounded close and I wanted to wash my mouth out, so I got the cup out of my bag and reached my arm in. The gap wasn’t big enough to put my head in as well as my arm, so I couldn’t see what I was doing.

  I felt something swipe me. Oh, did it sting! I lurched back and would have fallen if it hadn’t have been for the stranger’s rope, which held me as I dangled over the cliff edge.

  I scrambled back to safety and looked at my arm. There was a fine trail of blood from my elbow to my wrist.

  Cautiously, I peered into the hole again. For a moment two small bright eyes met mine. There was a chittering sound, then all was quiet. I tore a strip off the blanket and wrapped up my arm before reaching into the hole again. The creature spat, but if it tried to scratch me again I couldn’t feel it. The cup hit rock. I held it the right way up and heard water running into it.

  ‘That’s all I want, little one,’ I whispered as I pulled my arm out.