by Glen L. Hall
Eagan raised his hand, not in the mood to be interrupted by Emily.
‘There I was, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with no villages in any direction. And there was a man who could quite easily have touched a century, walking alone with nothing more than a stick and a pair of sandals. He asked me whether I would be kind enough to sit with him for a while, as he’d been travelling all night to meet me before I met the Reivers.’
Eagan was now still.
‘Your faces don’t come close to the surprise that must have been etched on mine. So we sat alongside the Coquet and he bathed his feet in the waters and didn’t once gasp at their icy flow. All the while I was wondering how he’d managed to get to that place. It’s inaccessible to all but the most ardent fell-walkers and there was no boat but mine.’
Sam was now hanging onto to Eagan’s every word, watching him weave his tale.
‘We sat there in the sun and he told me that he lived in the borderland, in a place that I’d probably not heard of and that was of no importance today. He spoke sometimes in an uncommon tongue, drifting back into an English I could barely understand, revealing a message that was as confusing as it was worrying.’
‘What was the message and what has it got to do with us?’ Emily had beaten Sam to the question.
Eagan leaned forward and looked her in the eye.
‘He said I should expect two unexpected visitors, visitors who would need shelter against a gathering storm. I met him two days ago and he said that on my return the visitors would be waiting for me.’
Sam should have been shocked, but somehow he wasn’t. The last few days had put paid to that. But Eagan himself looked shocked. He put his drink down on the table.
‘I have long travelled through those lands. I know the fells, woods and dens. There was no way for the old man to have travelled to the place where I found him without a boat.’
When he spoke next, his voice was low and inquisitive.
‘The Forest Reivers have a fireside story of an old man wandering the borders, warning travellers of unseen dangers. Whether you believe such stories or not is neither here nor there. What is surprising is that the old man’s words have proved prophetic.’
‘You know I don’t believe in fairy stories,’ Emily said, pushing her glass away.
‘It’s not fairy stories you should be worried about,’ Eagan said. ‘It’s when they become real that you have a problem. I was sent to seek the Forest Reivers by my father. He wanted me to bring them to Warkworth. He said in the days ahead we would need their help. I don’t think he expected you to come here, or I would have known.’
He looked curiously at Sam. But once again Emily spoke first. ‘We came here for a rest, Eagan. We’ve had a long night with little sleep. Today isn’t a good day for more stories.’
Lack of sleep was indeed stamped in the dark rings beneath her eyes.
‘Apologies, Sam,’ Eagan muttered. ‘I can see you are both tired and I am being a poor host. Forgive me. Father has been acting a little strangely of late and I’m worried about him. And the Forest Reivers speak of skirmishes along the whole of the borders. I’ve never seen them fearful in their own lands before.’
He stretched, as if his own words bothered him.
‘These are hard folk, not easily frightened. But when I met them, they were travelling in force through the secret ways, following the river east to the Cheviots and their spiritual meeting-place, the King’s Seat. They have called the heads of the four main families together.’
Sam had been hoping that they would outrun such grim news, that Warkworth would offer them a haven whilst he consulted Oscar. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking.
‘There are other things that you need to be aware of.’
Emily had turned her head away from the table as a sign that she didn’t want to hear any more. Eagan ignored her, his dark eyes focused on Sam.
‘There have been queer folk passing through Warkworth this past year. Folk I’ve never seen before. The Pauperhaughs’ eldest son was attacked on the old road between Alnmouth and the coast. By a wolf.’
Sam’s blood ran cold at the mention of Morcant. There was just a little bit of him that thought he probably deserved to be attacked.
Eagan drained the last of his lemonade.
‘Look,’ he added more gently, ‘why don’t you get some rest? Have the run of the house. I’m going into Amble so I can have the pick of the vegetables for this evening’s tea.’
He made his way back up the slope towards the old school house.
Silence fell. Sam watched the hypnotising flow of the water as he thought about what Eagan had said. Every now and again the heron flapped its wings and made a harsh croaking sound. Emily was looking down at her feet, seemingly working herself further and further into a black mood.
Then there was the splash of oars and Sam turned to see the Celtic Flow cutting quickly through the water. Eagan, wearing what could only be described as a woolly jumper, waved to them as he moved off in the direction of Amble harbour.
‘Wouldn’t it be quicker if he walked?’ Sam asked.
‘Oh, everything he does is for attention – the way he talks, the way he walks, the way he dresses!’ Emily exploded. ‘He spends far too much time with the Reivers. He’s brought suspicion on our family, not to mention brought himself to the attention of some unsavoury characters from Amble. Don’t be fooled, Sam, that nonsense about the old man is an attempt to put himself firmly in the middle of whatever is going on. He will have overheard Uncle Jarl talking and been upset by the fact that it had nothing to do with him.’
‘He’s always been perfectly polite to me. I know he’s different and flamboyant…’
‘That’s all part of the façade. He thinks tending a wild orchard is work and he pretends to live off the land. He didn’t tell you that he was arrested in connection with the attack on Morcant, did he?’
‘What?’
‘Morcant was found bruised and battered in Birling Wood and Eagan’s blood was found on his clothes. Eagan was arrested and it was Uncle Jarl who got the charges dropped. You know there’s history between the Reigns and Pauperhaughs that goes back several hundred years? Well, that’s opened it all up again. My uncle’s tried to get the Reigns, Pauperhaughs and Hoods all talking, but if you ask me, Eagan’s determined to rock the boat, especially now he’s befriended the Forest Reivers.’
Sam thought about this. ‘So am I right in thinking that the people who’ve been meeting at the bookshop are representatives of each family?’ he asked.
Emily gave a brief nod.
‘What hope do we have if the people who are meant to help us can’t even trust each other?’ thought Sam. Leaving Professor Stuckley suddenly felt premature, and they’d come only thirty miles. Where was the Shadow now? If it attacked, there would be just him and Emily left to face it.
She had turned to look at him.
‘If this is all real, Sam, have you ever thought why you? What does the Shadow actually want from you?’
‘I think it wants me dead.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know, but when it stood before me at the gates of Magdalen, I could feel its intent. I know you don’t believe me about the woman, but she’s the only reason I escaped. I don’t know where she comes from, but there’s a change when she is nearby, an energy that prickles my skin, and she has a power that has been able to keep the Shadow at bay.’
Emily frowned, remembering the flicker of light she’d seen on the lawn. ‘It just sounds so weird, but – oh, I don’t know any more, Sam. I’m so tired. I’m going to sleep for a bit, okay?’
She walked off to her room.
Looking at the sparrows hopping across the lawn and the ducks paddling lazily in the river, Sam pondered her animosity towards Eagan. He knew she could be prickly, but very rarely was she spit
eful. There had to be something else at work.
Perhaps it had to do with the company Eagan was now keeping. Very few people had anything positive to say about the Forest Reivers.
THE TRUTH ABOUT OSCAR
‘I am doing you the most amazing omelettes and salad with a touch of homemade mustard!’
Eagan was on all fours, sticking his head into a cupboard, looking for a frying pan.
Sam looked across at Emily, who was busy shaking her head at him. Ignoring her, he said, ‘Eagan.’
‘Blast! Sorry, Sam – did you say something?’ Eagan withdrew his head and looked up enquiringly.
‘I’m thinking about going up to the orchard this evening.’
For a split-second Eagan’s face was clouded by concern, then he pushed the hair from his eyes and disappeared back into the cupboard. When he resurfaced, he was clutching the frying pan.
‘Why?’ he asked, as he got to his feet.
‘I want to go and see a man called Oscar.’
‘Oscar?’
‘Yes. I want to talk to him. I met him last week in Oxford.’
Eagan paused. ‘There’s only ever been one Oscar around here as far as I know. Are you sure you have the name right?’
‘Definitely. He told me himself.’
‘Someone’s been playing a joke on you,’ said Eagan, placing the frying pan down on the stone top. ‘The only Oscar in Alnmouth was there in the fifties, possibly sixties. He was one of the Inklings, though he was on the periphery of the group. We have a few first editions of his work in the library. Father used to read them to me when I was little. I’d be very surprised if he was hanging round Oxford now.’
He laughed.
‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘it definitely sounds as if it was the same man. I bumped into him in Magdalen. He’d come to give a message to Professor Stuckley.’
‘Professor Stuckley?’
‘Brennus!’ Emily said triumphantly. ‘You didn’t know Brennus was there, did you?’
‘Why is Brennus going by the name of Professor Stuckley? Does Father know?’
‘Yes.’ Emily couldn’t get the word out quickly enough.
Sam felt a little uneasy at the way she was enjoying her advantage over her cousin.
‘I think Professor Stuckley and Professor Whitehart – that’s his brother – were in Oxford trying to make sure that I was safe,’ he explained.
The atmosphere in the kitchen had suddenly turned cold. In the silence, Sam could hear the kaark of the grey heron as it took off from the riverbank.
‘Someone needs to tell me what’s been going on,’ Eagan said flatly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said hurriedly. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned Oscar. It would be good just to get a little sleep and then I’m sure we would welcome the opportunity of accompanying you to the orchard tomorrow.’
‘Well, I’d like to know how you met Oscar in Oxford, for a start,’ Eagan continued. ‘He’s been dead for over a decade.’
‘What? But I gave his message to Professor Stuckley and Professor Whitehart and they never mentioned he was dead. I’m sure they would have told me.’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t the same one, after all.’ Eagan picked up the frying pan and moved towards the stove. ‘Who knows? Why don’t we have lunch and you can tell me your strange tidings and I can tell you what I know?’
* * * * * *
It wasn’t long before they were back at the little table at the bottom of the garden overlooking the river. There were now a few light clouds in the sky, but it was still a fine day. Eagan had prepared what could only be described as a small banquet. Sam couldn’t deny that he was a superb cook. The omelettes had been light and stuffed with potatoes, mushrooms, cheese and tomatoes, and the salad had tasted as good as it had looked.
‘You have to admit,’ began Eagan, as they cleared the last morsels from their plates, ‘even you, Emily, that I make a nice salad.’
Sam couldn’t help but laugh and even Emily’s pout almost became a smile.
‘I think it’s time we all came clean,’ Eagan went on. ‘It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble and I can’t help you without understanding what it is.’
‘This is going to be tricky,’ thought Sam. He looked at Emily, but she was sitting with folded arms, looking down at her empty plate.
‘Do you want to start with Oscar?’ Eagan prompted.
Sam took a deep breath. ‘I met Oscar last Tuesday night,’ he began. ‘He had a message for Prof– for Brennus and Drust. He mentioned a Circle that was broken and a Shadow that was moving through the Otherland. He told me the Dead Water was lost and the Fall was dying. He said the professors had to seek the help of the Three.’
Eagan was watching him closely. ‘What did he look like?’
‘He looked tired. And he’d been in some kind of accident. He had blue eyes, grey hair and a grey beard. He was quite strongly built. I’d say he was no more than sixty at a push.’
‘You see, there’s the problem.’ Eagan sat forward in his chair. ‘Oscar would be in his eighties – it can’t have been him. As for circles and shadows and Otherlands, there are rumours, of course. I have, however, heard stories about the Dead Water. The Forest Reivers say it is an edgeland where wild things dwell, creatures not from this world but from a world that lies on its western shore.’
‘And you believe the fairy stories of the Forest Reivers?’
Eagan couldn’t help but sigh. ‘Oh, be quiet, Emily. Go on, Sam.’
‘He was with a man called Culluhin.’
‘Culluhin?!’
‘Yes – who is he?’
‘He is mentioned in the Forest Reivers’ folklore. He is a knight of the Druids. Protector of the Garden of Druids.’
‘The Garden of Druids,’ thought Sam, ‘just what it said in the letter.’
‘What is the Garden of Druids?’ He tried to make it a casual question, but he couldn’t stop his cheeks from flushing.
Looking at him curiously, Eagan explained, ‘The Reivers say it is where the Druids came from. But again, we are in the realms of myth.’
The letter was definitely real, Sam thought. He wondered how far he could trust Eagan. Did Emily have a good reason for her behaviour?
Keen to change the subject, he said, ‘Tell me more about the orchard.’
‘The orchard?’ Eagan was surprised. ‘Why, you know about it already, Sam! What more can I tell you? It’s very old – it’s been there since before the castle was built. It’s been in the Reign family for generations. It was originally in the hands of the Hoods, but then it was seized by the Pauperhaughs, only to eventually end up with the Reigns. By all accounts, that’s why there is so much mistrust between the old families.’
‘I don’t understand why you would have people fighting over an orchard.’
‘I think they used it as a lookout point or something. On a good day you can see Alnmouth from the top of Birling Hill. Very few people go there now, but Father says it’s where the Marcher Lords used to meet.’
‘Marcher Lords?’
‘Surely Emily’s told you about them?’ Eagan was looking at his cousin and she was shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘I’ve heard Uncle Jarl speak of the Marcher Lords, that’s all,’ Emily broke in. ‘Mercenaries, by the sound of them.’
Eagan shook his head, a light laugh escaping his lips. ‘Come on, cousin, you’re half a Reign – you should know the history of the Marcher Lords. They were the defenders of the borderland, Sam. They would come together with the Forest Reivers once a year to vow their allegiance to each other. They would camp in the orchard, fish in the Coquet, pick the fruits from the trees and make merry. Then they would defend the realm from the Underland. They brought peace to these lands – or so the story goes.’
‘Peace! They were all villains!’
Eagan shot Emily a glance. ‘I don’t think they were villains. And the Reivers certainly aren’t.’
‘They bring trouble everywhere they go!’
Emily had clearly had enough. She left the table and stomped back towards the house.
* * * * * *
Eagan took his hat off and pushed back his hair. ‘I don’t know why she believes all that, Sam. The Forest Reivers’ reputation is ill-deserved. They have been guarding these lands for generations and the only thanks they receive is suspicious looks if they venture into the markets.’
‘I think she’s scared and doesn’t want to admit to it. That’s all. I’m sorry she’s being so rude to you.’
‘Oh, she’s been like that all summer. She blames me for the breakdown of her parents’ marriage.’
‘Why? What’s it got to do with you?’
‘According to Emily’s father, I tried to kill Morcant.’
‘And did you?’ Sam felt a little foolish as he said it. Eagan was hardly likely to tell him if he had.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘but a lot of people don’t believe that. I’ve been warned to stay away from the village shops. Most of them are owned by the Pauperhaugh family. No one goes in or out of Warkworth without them knowing.’
‘So what did happen?’
Eagan turned his face towards the river, watching its currents gently twist and turn.
‘One evening in early summer I decided to pay a visit to the orchard to check the trees. There are only one or two of us who know the path to its gates. I always go part of the way by boat so that no one can follow my tracks. That day when I was on the path, I quickly realised that I was being followed, so I doubled back through the woods. There’s no man alive who could have followed me through those woods, and yet there was Morcant Pauperhaugh. I could tell something was wrong with him by the look in his eyes. And he was carrying a long knife.’