The Memory of Snow

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘Haven’t you?’ whispered the girl. Her eyes flickered away from his face and she fixed her gaze over his shoulder. Charles twisted around in his saddle. On the hillside opposite, he saw a faint, white shape. It seemed to be the outline of a person. As he looked, it began to walk towards him.

  ‘He is here,’ whispered the dark haired girl from behind him. ‘Come; come to us.’ Hay whipped his head around to shout at the girl, but she had vanished.

  ‘What the...?’ he cried and twisted around again. The dark haired girl was on the other side of his horse, and the figure in white was standing right behind her. The horse whinnied and pranced. Charles hung on to the reins.

  ‘Charles Hay,’ said the figure in white. It stepped out from behind the dark haired girl and raised its hand. Now he could see that the gown was not white – it was stained with blood and ripped in several places as if a blade had thrust into it. ‘A curse be upon you; you will pay for your errors of judgement. I curse you with all my powers and all my knowledge. I curse you for the harm you have inflicted on other people and the women you have violated. I curse you for your actions, your thoughts your words and your deeds. Suffer, Charles Hay, as you have made others suffer.’

  Nobody was near enough to hear Charles Hay scream or to hear his cries for mercy. Nobody was there to hear him choke his last breath out. They found him soon afterwards, his body floating in the seven feet of water in Coventina’s Well. They couldn’t explain how his throat had been cut or how he had ended up in the water. They put it down to murder; but there was never a manhunt. Perhaps a vagabond, or a traveller had done it, they said. Some even said he had inflicted the wound himself, out of guilt. They had found a small, bone-handled knife on the edge of the Well; maybe he had dropped it as he had fallen? Nobody would ever know.

  And far up on the ruins of Carrawburgh, a hazy figure stood watching the scene below. She had always loved it here, and now she was part of it forever.

  2010

  It was fuzzy and unclear through the blizzard, but what Liv saw could not be doubted. A group of men seemed to be pawing a young, half-naked girl, and the sides of the temple were lined with other men watching. It all happened in silence. One man, a dark, cloaked figure seemed to thrust something into the girl’s leg.

  Liv began to run through the central aisle, but it was like running through treacle.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ she cried. Her legs wouldn’t move fast enough, but she gave no thought to what she would do when she actually got to the people. A group of other men seized the girl. The girl twisted around to face Liv, and then dropped to her knees. The image of the girl raised her bound hands to Liv and Liv automatically reached out to her. Then, just as quickly, the shape of the man with the staff hit the girl across the shoulders and she slumped to the ground.

  ‘No!’ shouted Liv. She threw herself towards the girl and her hand clasped around nothing. The image disappeared, but the snow still came down, falling thickly, covering the altars and the statues. Liv didn’t feel cold, but she was shaking. She stood up and stared at the spot where the girl had been. A name suddenly popped into her head.

  ‘Meggie,’ she said out loud, startling herself. ‘The witch whose ashes they put in the burn. I think I’m cracking up. It’s all that research...’ Liv stood for a moment, the girl’s face clear in her mind. Then she backed away from the altars, as if she was in a trance. Her bag lay forgotten where she had dropped it and she turned as she reached the old lobby. Liv left the temple, not thinking about where she was going.

  It was as if something had taken control of her body. Automatically, she headed towards the kissing gate and followed the path around the edge of the temple.

  I have to go to the Well, she told herself. I need to go to Coventina’s Well. She drifted across the little wooden plank that made a bridge across the stream. Her footsteps barely showed in the fresh snowfall. She turned right, and moved towards the Well. Her mind was full of strange words and images. There was the girl at the temple, who had to be fair-haired Meggie. Then another face appeared to her. A dark haired, dark eyed girl who seemed to be waiting by the side of the path. There was a hum of voices, more chanting and then the dark haired girl whipped her head around, her expression changing into one of fear then anger.

  ‘Vos proditor mihi. Quod iam vos capto dico mihi is eram a erroris.’

  Then Liv heard a man’s voice answering her.

  ‘Is eram. Puto mihi. Ego did non vilis is.’

  ‘Vos iuguolo mihi.’

  ‘Ego sum rumex. commodo indulgeo mihi. ego diligo vos.’

  ...you betrayed me. And now you tell me it was a mistake

  ...it was. Believe me. I did not mean it.

  ...you killed me

  ...I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you

  ‘Stop it!’ sobbed Liv. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to hear all this!’ She covered her ears with her hands and stumbled onwards, trying to squeeze her eyes shut, but the images kept on coming and the voices kept on talking.

  Liv found herself standing by the remains of Coventina’s Well. She was trembling and crying, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. She stared into the muddy pool, and again all sorts of images flashed through her mind - men throwing altars and statues into the water; a young girl kneeling by the side of it, whispering mystical words and casting handfuls of herbs into it. A man floating face down in it, his white shirt ballooning up around his lifeless body...

  Liv felt something hard and cold being pressed into her hand and she gasped as she looked down and saw a tiny, bone-handled knife clutched in her fingers.

  ‘Oh no, please. This isn’t right!’ she cried. She turned around, looking for whoever had pushed it into her palm; a shimmering, glowing figure melted into the hillside and a dark shape formed on the top of the fort.

  ‘Servo vestri,’ urged a girl’s voice. ‘Protect yourself. You cannot trust him. Learn by our mistakes...’

  ‘Who is this?’ cried Liv. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘We are everywhere,’ whispered the voice. ‘We are the Guardians of this place...’

  As Liv stared at the spot where she thought the voice was coming from, she felt a light pressure on her shoulder. A hand grasped it and then sharply pulled her around to face its owner.

  2010

  A man’s face swam in front of Liv’s. All she could see clearly were his blue eyes pleading with her. She tried to pull away from him, a scream catching in her throat.

  ‘Please tell her,’ begged the man. ‘Tell Aemelia I am sorry. It was a mistake...’

  ‘You killed me!’ cried a girl. It was the dark-haired one; the one whose face had flashed in front of Liv’s vision. ‘I cannot forgive you for that.’ Liv somehow understood the words. She felt the crushing pain of both the man and the woman physically draining her. She tried to shake the man’s hand off her shoulder, but he held her in a strong grip; an unearthly cold was burning through her clothing and touching her skin.

  ‘They made me, I had no choice. I did not know!’ said the man.

  ‘He’s telling the truth,’ said a female voice. ‘Aemelia, allow him a chance to explain. You know his action was pre-destined. It’s all a part of what we are...’ The blonde girl from the temple appeared out of the blizzard. Her white shift gleamed like frost against the snow.

  ‘No,’ replied the dark girl sharply. ‘It is too late. He has no place here and I have work to do. Meggie, ask him to leave. I want no part of his dishonesty.’

  Liv flinched as the man’s hand gripped her shoulder even tighter. The atmosphere was oppressive, the snow still whirling around. Liv began to sob. She didn’t understand any of this. The man’s grip slackened on her shoulder and he turned to face the dark eyed girl: Aemelia. Aemelia’s shape blurred into the snow and disappeared and the man followed a fraction of a second afterwards.

  The fair haired girl watched them vanish and her shoulders slumped as if in defeat. Then she turned to face Liv. The sp
irit girl moved closer to Liv, watching her intently. It was as if she was trying to work something out, as if she recognised her on some level. Liv had the sudden urge to apologise to her, to say she was sorry for not saving her from the man with the stick and the mob in the temple. Without thinking, Liv reached out to her. Meggie reached out at the same time, and had there been any substance to Meggie’s form, their fingers would have touched. Liv forced herself to stay still, although her knees were threatening to buckle under her at any minute. She managed to stay upright and her breath came in frightened little bursts as Meggie stared at her unblinkingly. It seemed to Liv that Meggie had become a little clearer, more solid looking. Yet she knew in her heart what this girl was.

  ‘You were there at the temple,’ Meggie said eventually. Her voice was clear and soft, rolling with a Northumbrian burr that Liv had never considered. ‘I know who you are now. I thought you were Coventina. I thought you had come to save me.’ Her face twisted a little, the painful memory returning. ‘I understand why nobody came. I’ve learnt the reasons.’ Liv opened her mouth to protest but Meggie tilted her head to one side and smiled. ‘No, don’t worry,’ she continued. ‘This is a strange place. Sometimes our worlds collide. You and I were there at different times, but our spirits are connected. It’s like Aemelia. She couldn’t stop what happened to me; but she had gone before, and she wanted to protect me in the only way she could. Aemelia doesn’t have my beliefs. She learned to accept them when she became a Guardian here. If only she would accept his.’ She shook her head. ‘Perhaps now you are here, we can close the circle and she can listen to him. Truly listen to him, with her heart as well as her mind. She knows she is part of this, as much as I am.’

  ‘I –I wish I could have saved you,’ whispered Liv. ‘If I’d only been there properly...’ Meggie smiled slightly, a vestige of bitterness in it. Yet Liv knew she wasn’t blaming her.

  ‘You couldn’t have saved me, even if you had been at my side as a sister,’ said Meggie. ‘Nobody could have. I accept that now. The same thing would have happened to you. You see things like I did. You feel things. That is why the spirits have brought you here. I would have feared for you. He would have taken you as well.’

  ‘Who would have taken me? The man who...the man who..’ she couldn’t bring herself to say ‘killed you’.

  ‘Yes. Him. But you would have faced a worse demon before that.’ Meggie frowned, remembering. ‘All I wanted was to be peaceful and to be loved. I only wanted to help people. But it went wrong...all because of Charles Hay. I can’t forgive him for what he did to me. And for what he did to Alice.’ Meggie moved closer to Liv and laid her translucent hands over Liv’s. A current of energy flowed into her and Liv cried out as a succession of images flashed through her mind like a film reel. There was a young girl with laughing eyes, then the same girl lying dead in a filthy cottage. An image of a church and then the sensation of being manhandled out of the building. There was crying and begging and finally a man’s face with arrogant eyes staring at her accusingly.

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Liv. ‘What did I just see?’

  ‘I showed you some of my life,’ said Meggie, satisfied. ‘I was right. We do have a connection. You wouldn’t have seen it otherwise. Charles Hay. He is the one who is to blame. My poor Alice. She was only seventeen. ‘

  ‘I’m seventeen,’ whispered Liv. ‘And that girl. Was it Alice? She looked like me.’

  ‘She’s a lot like you, isn’t she?’ said Meggie. ‘She had dark hair like yours. And the same colour eyes.’ Meggie raised one hand and stroked Liv’s hair. It felt to Liv as if a gentle breeze were lifting the dark strands. Meggie smiled sadly. ‘Hay would have taken you as he took her. But Alice is safe now. He lost the power to hurt her when she died. It was the people she left behind who felt the pain. It was me who killed Alice. It was my fault. I should never have given her the potion. I would never have hurt her willingly, though. Do you understand that?’ Meggie stared at Liv, as if asking for absolution from this girl who looked so much like her friend.

  ‘Those people were cruel!’ said Liv. ‘They were all evil. You weren’t a witch at all. I’m so sorry...’ she began to cry, feeling ridiculous that Meggie’s words could have affected her like this. She remembered the story of the witch’s ashes flowing through the burn and felt helpless.

  ‘They just didn’t know any better,’ said Meggie. ‘But Alice didn’t blame me.’ Meggie laughed, disbelievingly. ‘She told me afterwards, you know. She managed to come back and find me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. This place is full of something magical. So much has happened here, but it can affect people in different ways, you know. I used to see the soldier on the fort up there. You saw him too, didn’t you?’

  A memory flashed into Liv’s mind from earlier that morning – the dark shape up on Carrawburgh. It seemed an age ago.

  ‘That was a soldier?’ whispered Liv. She blanched, suddenly realising something ‘Was he the one who was talking about Aemelia?’ She looked around her, trying to see a vestige of the couple who had been speaking in the strange language. Latin. It had been Latin.

  ‘I hope they can finally make peace,’ sighed Meggie. ‘This sacred place of ours – we guard it and protect it, but there has always been something missing. I think that’s what you’re here for. You were drawn to it, weren’t you? Just like we were. Knowledge and passion are so very powerful. I...’ Suddenly, she looked up, and stared behind Liv’s head. Meggie’s eyes widened and a look Liv could not identify flashed across her face. It was fear and horror and shock, all mixed together.

  ‘No! No! What is he doing here?’

  Meggie still had hold of one of Liv’s hands, and Liv felt her clutch it tighter. It was an instinctive reaction – even now, whoever this person was, he could affect her like this.

  Liv turned quickly. The man she had glimpsed in her vision was staring at Meggie with the same arrogant eyes he had possessed in life. This man’s spirit was dark; almost as dark as the soldier’s and Liv knew it was Charles Hay. His spirit was made of a blackness that was different to that of the soldier. The soldier had radiated sorrow, self-hatred and regret. This man emanated pure evil. Liv shrank away as the man moved silently, a dark shadow leaching into the area around the Well.

  ‘Praise be to the forces that have released me,’ he said quietly. ‘Yet look at this place. It is nothing more than a piece of boggy ground. It has no power over anybody now. I have waited a long time for this.’ He approached Meggie and Liv. Liv felt Meggie’s hand contract even more around her fingers.

  ‘You can’t harm us any more,’ whispered Meggie. ‘Our power is greater than your evil. As Guardians of Coventina’s Well and servants of the sacred deities that protect this place, we order you to leave.’ Liv could feel a slight tremor in Meggie’s hand. The shimmering figure wavered as if the ghost of Hay was draining her energy somehow.

  ‘Whose power?’ sneered Hay. ‘You have no power. You are the same as you were – a sad, lonely witch who wanders the moors because nobody wants you. Oh, poor, dear, little Meg.’ In one swift motion, he left the place where he stood and was at Meggie’s side. Meggie’s shape flickered again. Liv could tell she was losing confidence. The man who had haunted her life was still haunting her death.

  Liv looked around, searching for Aemelia. She knew Meggie needed Aemelia’s strength and sent a silent plea out to the universe for Aemelia to return. The Guardians had to work together to protect the area from evil and treachery. Meggie and Aemelia had turned it back into a sacred place and wiped the brutality away from it. They had cleansed it. Hay couldn’t be allowed to tarnish it any more. Liv saw two figures on the fort, faint through the still-falling snow: Aemelia and her soldier.

  ‘She’s on the fort!’ burst out Liv. ‘They’re both up there…’

  Hay whipped his head around and those arrogant eyes were staring at Liv.

  ‘What is she?’ he asked, his voice full of scorn. ‘Does she protect this place as well?’ He
pushed his face right up to Liv’s and Liv felt sickened. His hair was hanging around his face, some of it still tied back in a ragged old ribbon, and his shirt was dripping what might have been water all over the ground. A jagged cut ran from one side of his neck to the other. Another current of energy flowed through Meggie’s hand and once again Liv saw flashes of what had happened. This man was cursed; she gagged as she visualised his death. It was almost as bad as Meggie’s; but worse in that fact that nobody wielded the knife that killed him. She saw him clutch his neck and fall from his horse, coughing and choking as the blade cut deep into the flesh. Blood spurted out of his veins and he writhed on the ground trying to fend off his invisible attacker. At the end of it, a white mist wrapped itself around his body. It lifted him up and the body was tossed into the Well, as if it was completely weightless.

  ‘Ah. Another enchantrix, yes? Another charmer. You are part of this then. I see my Meg has taught you well,’ hissed Hay, reading the terror in Liv’s eyes. ‘Can you see what happened to me? What she did to me? Do not be fooled by her. She is a murderess. Did she tell you she killed her best friend? Poor, little Alice. So sad. Yet, you look so like her. I could almost…’ He reached his hand out and touched her hair as Meggie had done. Only this time, it was like cold, slimy seaweed wrapping around her skull and she ducked away from him.

  ‘Be strong, Olivia,’ murmured Meggie, staring at Hay in disgust. ‘He can’t hurt you…’

  There was a humming noise in Liv’s ears and the atmosphere shifted. She staggered a little as Aemelia appeared by the trio. Aemelia grasped Meggie’s free hand, and held her own up. Some inexplicable force flung Hay away from Liv. He growled and tried to push back through them, into the centre of the odd little circle, but something was stopping him.

  ‘Olivia,’ Aemelia said. She spoke in heavily accented English now. ‘I know that name.’ Her sloe-black eyes cleared as she remembered something else. ‘She took me to him. She was paid well for it. But he killed her anyway. Then he took the money back.’