The Amber Legacy

by Tony Shillitoe

  After she lit a candle, she opened the hessian bag. Whisper’s inquisitive nose emerged and her dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. Meg held out a hand and Whisper sniffed it before climbing on. The bush rat was heavy, and overflowed from Meg’s palm, but she sat up on her haunches, sniffing the air, almost as if she was reaching towards Meg. ‘You’re a curious one,’ Meg said, as she stroked the sleek black neck fur behind Whisper’s ears. ‘And cute. What am I going to do with you?’ She lowered Whisper onto her bed and squatted to watch the rat sniffing the yellow blanket, occasionally rubbing the rat’s fur with her fingers. Finally she returned Whisper to the hessian bag, blew out her candle and climbed into bed.

  She kept still, the fibres of her woollen blanket prickling the skin on her neck, thinking of the riding lesson, and Treasure’s strong arms lifting her onto Nightwind’s back. She could see his smile—broad and happy—and hear his strong voice with its unusual accent, giving her instructions and coaxing the horse. ‘Nudge him in the flanks with your heels. That’s it. See? He understands.

  ‘If you pull firmly on the reins he’ll feel the bit and turn. He knows what to do already. You have to show him that you also know that he knows.

  ‘Good work, Nightwind. Good work.’

  And, as he had the previous encounter, he’d kissed her cheek, leaving her skin tingling and her heart pounding.

  In the dream, she stood in the front rank of an army, staring across a green field at a dark forest wreathed in morning mist. Out of the forest burst a warrior in shining blue armour, riding a grey steed that she knew instantly was Nightwind. The warrior galloped across the field, sword flailing, glinting in the dawn light, charging at the rank of soldiers in which she waited. She was afraid and yet she held her ground as the warrior and horse bore down on her. This is the moment, she told herself calmly.

  She sat up in the early hours of morning, imagining that a strange voice—strange because there were no words, just a sense of emotion—was whispering to her. She strained, but heard nothing except her mother snoring and the wind playing under the eaves. She sank back into her pillow and let sleep wash over her again, hoping to dream of Treasure and his gentle kisses.

  She woke later than she intended. The sun was creeping above the hills. Emma would be annoyed. She threw on her green tunic, black trousers and black vest, but quickly opened her window when she realised that her room stank of rat shit. Loosening the bag drawstring gingerly, she lifted Whisper onto her unmade bed, where the black bush rat immediately set to preening herself, grateful to be rescued from her squalor.

  ‘What is that stench?’ her mother called from the kitchen space.

  Meg emerged, carrying the hessian bag. ‘Sunfire didn’t get outside in time this morning,’ she explained, as she hurried past her mother. She shook out what she could in the vegetable garden, carried the bag to the wash bucket and dumped it in the cold water to soak. As she turned, she heard her mother scream. She ran inside to find Dawn, armed with the fire poker, advancing on Whisper. The curious rat had decided to explore her new home and was sitting in the bedroom doorway, nose twitching inquisitively. ‘No!’ Meg yelled, as she pushed past her mother to scoop up the startled bush rat.

  ‘I told you last night that thing is not to come inside. What if it bites Peter?’

  ‘What was I supposed to do? She didn’t have anywhere else to sleep last night. I’ll build a cage today. And she doesn’t bite.’

  ‘You’ll build a cage now,’ Dawn ordered. ‘That creature is outside at once.’

  Meg cuddled Whisper against her chest. ‘I have to go to Emma’s this morning. I promised.’

  ‘Then take that rat back with you and tell her we can’t keep it.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘I mean it. I see that rat again in this house and I’ll get Sunfire to kill it.’

  ‘I’ll build a cage when I get back. All right?’

  Meg left the house with Whisper pressed against her chest. Sunfire came bounding towards her as she reached the track to the village. ‘You stay home,’ Meg ordered, but the dingo approached, scenting the air. ‘Go away!’ she growled. Sunfire looked up at her crossed arms, assessing the black bundle. ‘Go!’ she yelled. ‘Go away!’ and she kicked at Sunfire. The dingo skirted the harmless leg swing and cocked his head to one side, as if he was endeavouring to analyse what Meg was clutching. ‘Go to Daryn,’ she told him, and she walked on.

  At the junction to the main road, she looked back to make certain that Sunfire had obeyed. Satisfied that he had, she headed for the village centre. She greeted Pan and Iris Baker, and Flower Carter, who were chatting outside Archer’s Inn, and she quickly discouraged two village dogs that came sniffing after the scent of the bush rat. As she crossed the bridge, she saw the river was running high still, with debris spinning through the grey water. The sky was clearer than it had been for several days, but the clouds promised rain showers from the south-west. She was curious as to what Emma would start to teach her. As she reached the footpath to Emma’s cottage, she saw soldiers approaching along the southern road, some on foot, some on horseback. She hadn’t expected them. Choosing discretion, she hurried out of sight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Emma, rubbing her arthritic hip. ‘I expected they would come back through here, sooner or later.’

  ‘Why?’

  Emma bent to remove a green bug from a plant. ‘War is like a dragon. It comes and goes, sweeping across the land, killing and burning what it pleases. No one controls war. Someone stirs it up and then it goes berserk.’

  ‘But why here? Why to our village?’ Meg persisted.

  ‘Who knows? It has come and we can do nothing except hope that it will not consume us or those we love.’ Emma held out her hands to receive Whisper. ‘So, Dawn doesn’t appreciate your gift?’

  ‘It’s a rat thing,’ Meg replied. ‘She’ll get over it.’

  The old woman smiled. ‘You have a strong mind. That is something.’ She stroked the rat and kissed its nose. ‘We’ll let Whisper have some time to herself this morning,’ she said, lowering the rat to the ground. Whisper sat up on her haunches, sniffing the air, and scurried into the garden.

  ‘Won’t she run away?’ Meg asked in astonishment.

  ‘Not Whisper. She knows her way around.’ Meg watched the rat disappear into a thick bush. ‘Come on,’ Emma urged. ‘I have something to show you.’ Meg followed Emma into her cottage, noting that, for once, the windows were wide open and the morning light was flooding across the square table. ‘You sit there, where there’s plenty of light,’ Emma instructed. She reached for a shelf and selected a large dark green leather-bound volume. ‘This is where we start,’ she said, as she placed the book in front of Meg and opened it.

  ‘You know I can’t read,’ Meg told her.

  ‘That’s why we start here. You’re going to learn how.’

  By lunch she was hungry and she wanted to go home to help her mother. And there was Nightwind to exercise. And Treasure to visit. The problem was that the soldiers, if they had stopped, would be in the village, and she’d hated walking past them last time. ‘You’ve made a good start,’ Emma told her, closing the book, ‘a surprisingly good start. Tomorrow we’ll continue.’

  ‘Do I have to learn how to read? It seems impossible.’

  ‘If you want to see if you have the Blessing, Meg Farmer, you have to be able to read. When I was your age, my father told me that people who can read can’t be cheated.’

  ‘How?’ Meg asked.

  ‘People can’t make you sign documents without you being able to read them.’

  ‘What documents?’

  Emma laughed. ‘Summerbrook is very simple, true, but in the larger world people place great reliance on keeping records, making deals and signing contracts. When you can read, you will understand these things.’

  Meg couldn’t see any sense in the old woman’s view, but she stopped arguing because she wanted to leave. ‘What abou
t Whisper? Where is she?’

  ‘Behind you.’

  Meg turned on her chair. In the shadows by the cupboard the vague outline of a black rat was cleaning its whiskers. ‘She gets in through cracks in the walls. Rats are very good at that.’

  Meg squatted and held out her palms, and the rat immediately stopped its ablutions and climbed into her hands. ‘She already knows me,’ she said, straightening up.

  ‘That’s because she belongs to you now,’ Emma explained. ‘One day you’ll realise just what Whisper has done for you.’

  Meg stared at Emma for an explanation. Emma stared back, unblinking. ‘What do you mean by that?’ Meg finally asked.

  ‘You’ll learn in time.’

  Meg snorted to show her disappointment in the old woman’s answer, and said, ‘I’d better go.’ She paused, giving Emma another opportunity to explain, but when the old woman just smiled and stayed silent, Meg held Whisper against her chest and walked out.

  When she reached the main road she saw there were soldiers standing at the bridge. She tucked Whisper inside her vest and resolved to walk on, ignoring the soldiers’ eyes and comments. ‘Good morning,’ she heard a soldier say, and a young man with a thin beard and an oversized helmet nodded. She looked away, focussing on the open space before Archer’s Inn where a crowd of soldiers and villagers were mingling. Individual soldiers spoke to her as she squeezed through the outer edge of the crowd, but she only stopped when she caught sight of Brightday Tailor crying in her husband’s arms, and her daughters comforting her. She hugged Whisper against her chest, and pushed past the soldiers to reach the Tailors.

  As she went to touch Brightday’s arm, she saw what gripped the crowd’s attention. Four young men were chained together, stripped, their heads hanging as if in shame. They were dirty and bloodied and beaten. And she recognised them—Loaf Baker, Oak Carpenter and Sheath Barleyman. The fourth was Button. She stifled a cry. Then she felt as if someone was watching her and when she turned she saw Brightday Tailor, grief-swollen eyes, tear-streaked face, looking as if she was pleading. Brightday’s lips were moving, mouthing, ‘My baby. They’ve taken my baby,’ but the words stayed silent. Meg touched the woman’s arm, as she looked back at the scene. A soldier was speaking to Gatherer Barleyman and Pan Baker, who were angry and agitated and shouting. The brewing violence scared Meg. She quietly retreated from the crowd and walked quickly home, glancing back only once when the shouting reached a crescendo. She’d never seen so many soldiers in one place.

  At the junction to her farm, she met Daryn and Mykel and Sunfire. ‘Where are you two going?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Daryn demanded. Sunfire was circling Meg, sniffing and looking up at her.

  ‘Soldiers,’ Meg replied. ‘Don’t go there. It’s getting nasty.’

  ‘That’s why we’re going,’ Daryn told her.

  ‘You’ll get hurt,’ she warned. ‘And the soldiers are arresting people.’

  ‘Why?’ Mykel asked. ‘Are they Rebel soldiers?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why. They just are. Stay here. Mum and I need you.’

  ‘I’m going to look,’ said Daryn. ‘Coming?’ he asked Mykel.

  Mykel looked at Meg, reading her appeal, but he looked away and said, ‘I’m coming,’ and followed Daryn onto the main road into the village. Sunfire stayed, ears cocked and amber eyes inquiring.

  Her mother wasn’t home. Had she missed her in the crowd? Sunfire nudged her leg.

  ‘You can’t have it,’ Meg told him, keeping Whisper under her vest. Sunfire whined. Caught in a dilemma, Meg decided to sit under the big gum near the chicken coop. ‘You have to be good,’ she warned the dingo. ‘Whisper is a friend.’

  She carefully retrieved the rat from under her vest, much to Sunfire’s fascination, and Whisper blinked and rubbed her eyes with her paws. Sunfire leant forward, sniffing, smelling rat but puzzled as to why the creature was in Meg’s hands and why it wasn’t running away like all rats did. Their noses met and the animals shied away. They touched noses again, sniffing.

  Sunfire became excited and nudged the rat. ‘Gently,’ Meg ordered. ‘Lie down.’ The dingo dropped to his belly, eyes fixed on the bush rat. Meg lowered Whisper to the ground beside the dingo. ‘You have to look after Whisper,’ she told Sunfire. ‘She’s family now.’

  The dingo watched the rat intently, ears pricked, as if he was begging the rat to do what all rats were meant to do—run—and justify his instinct to kill it. However, Whisper sat on her haunches and began cleaning her whiskers, as if she was oblivious to the canine’s presence, and gave him no reason to do anything except obey the human’s order. He sniffed the rat, nudging her off her haunches, but the rat simply regained her composure and sat again to continue preening. As if a new understanding emerged, the dingo licked the rat’s back. Whisper immediately turned her attention to straightening the fur ruffled by the dingo’s tongue.

  Meg vigilantly watched the interaction, but her thoughts were muddled by the spectacle in the village. Where and how had the soldiers caught Button and the other young men? And what was going to happen to them? She wanted to go back, but she was afraid of what she might see. She was afraid for Button. He looked so different, tied in chains, hair matted, naked and dirty. How badly had he been hurt, she wondered?

  Her eyes wandered to Nightwind. The grey horse was standing close to the grain shed, looking in her direction, his ears twitching. She was going to meet Treasure for her second riding lesson. She could leave Nightwind with him. That way, if the soldiers were meant to have him back, Treasure could return him to his colleagues and no one would be the wiser about the horse being kept in Summerbrook. If no one asked, or saw the horse, and Treasure was given a fresh horse to replace his that had bolted, he might leave Nightwind behind.

  She scooped up Whisper and headed for the house with Sunfire at her side. Her mother would be angry, but she didn’t have time to make a cage for the rat. She put honey and bread in a small bag for Treasure, checked for any immediate tasks that her mother might have left to be done, before she gathered her coat and the reins, tucked Whisper back inside her vest, and headed to unshackle the horse. Her mind was plagued with the images from the village. There had to be something she could do for the captive men. Treasure might know.

  Treasure’s campsite was empty—no campfire ash, no boot prints—and the riverbank had been meticulously restored to its natural state. Meg searched the surrounding bushland. He’d vanished. Or had he just gone to meet the other soldiers? That seemed the only logical explanation. Perhaps he’d reported to his Warmaster. She sighed. Whisper was asleep inside her vest. Sunfire was reconnoitring the riverbank. She pulled on Nightwind’s reins, and began to walk in the direction of the gully where she’d last hidden the horse. Perhaps going there was pointless, especially if Treasure revealed the horse’s presence to his friends. She might be better to take the horse into the village and return him without any fuss. She wondered if she could exchange the horse for Button’s freedom? But what if the soldiers arrested her for stealing a Royal horse? She hadn’t considered that. That wouldn’t happen though. Treasure would tell them the truth. Wouldn’t he?

  She led Nightwind by the halter, winding through the bush towards the foothills and the gully entrance. As she crested a rise, someone startled her by calling her in a half-whisper. Treasure emerged from the mallee. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘I—’ she started, but hesitated as she realised she couldn’t admit to hiding the horse again. ‘I was looking for you.’

  ‘I shifted camp,’ he said, smiling, although he seemed nervous, because he was scanning the surrounding bush. ‘Part of how I work. I should have told you yesterday that I was moving, but I forgot.’

  ‘I thought you’d joined the other soldiers,’ Meg explained.

  ‘Are they still in the village?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I will see them later, then,’ he said. ‘Or at least the Leader. I
told you I keep out of sight of the others because of what I have to do. You haven’t told anyone I’m here, have you?’ He bent to scratch Sunfire’s neck.

  ‘Of course not,’ she assured him.

  ‘Good. Look, I am sorry, but now that the army is coming I can’t give you any more riding lessons. You see, I am going to be very busy.’

  ‘Oh,’ she muttered.

  Treasure took hold of her arms and she gazed up into his handsome, unshaven face. ‘I don’t know how much longer I will be here,’ he gently explained. ‘I won’t be staying in the same places. I have a lot of scouting to do now. If I can come to you, I will. I promise. And I really am sorry about the riding lessons.’ He pulled her closer and leaned down to kiss her lips, but she turned away at the last instant. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘I—I can’t,’ she said.

  He released her arms. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault. I—I—’ and to her own surprise she started crying.

  Treasure gently pulled her closer, and kissed her hair as her head sank against his shoulder. ‘Tell me,’ he whispered.

  She caught her breath, still wondering why she’d started crying so easily. Crying was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself for a long time, even before her father had left for the war. ‘In the village,’ she said. ‘The soldiers have chained up four of our people.’

  ‘I saw them,’ Treasure said. ‘Who are they?’

  Meg identified each one and sobbed when she named Button. ‘What will they do to them?’ she asked.

  ‘Make them into soldiers,’ Treasure replied. ‘That’s how the Queen’s army works. It forces young men to become soldiers, whether they want to or not.’

  ‘But that’s wrong. That’s not fair.’

  ‘That’s how it is,’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Is that how you became a soldier?’