Daughters of Fire

by Barbara Erskine

  V

  ‘I walked across here.’ Exhausted, Viv stopped and looked round yet again. ‘It looks different now the light’s going. There were several little stunted trees. It’s under one of them. I don’t know which one.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ The gun was heavy and Peggy was growing tired. The barrel wavered slightly as she kept it pointing at Viv, the stock once more tucked into her hip. ‘You are trying to put me off. You have two more seconds!’

  ‘Peggy!’ Pat was frantic. Suddenly she was seeing everything clearly again. ‘Don’t be silly! Give her a chance. She’s right. It all looks the same. And it’s getting dark.’

  ‘It’s further over,’ Viv said at last. ‘Look. Over there, nearer the trees on the edge of the scree. The cracks in the rock are more pronounced there. I stuffed it down one of them.’ She was beginning to panic again as Peggy, growing more and more impatient, shouldered the gun and began to line up the sights.

  Pat moved towards the limestone outcrop, then she paused as she saw something move in the deep shadow behind it. There was someone there. Sagging with relief she scrambled towards the shadowy figure. ‘Over here, Viv. Look.’

  ‘Go on!’ Peggy shouted. Her voice was growing hoarse. ‘Go where she says!’ She gripped the gun more firmly.

  Viv stumbled towards the rocks. She was almost there when Hugh stood up from the shadows where he had been crouching watching them as they worked their way slowly towards him.

  ‘I think I’ll take that gun, Mrs Steadman, don’t you?’ He reached out to grab the barrel as Peggy let out a sharpcry and pulled the trigger.

  As they wrestled the shot reverberated across the hillside. In the silence that followed the gun flew through the air to crash onto the stones. As shot pattered harmlessly around them, Peggy let out a scream of fury and broke free, turning to plunge behind the rocks and out of sight into the ravine beyond. Lunging after her, Hugh ran into the shadows and disappeared.

  ‘Hugh!’ Viv cried. ‘Come back!’

  ‘It’s OK. She’s dropped the gun!’ Pat scrambled after them, leaving Viv standing alone on the edge of the stone outcrop.

  ‘Wait!’ Viv staggered forward. ‘Pat, wait! What about Venutios!’

  The air was thick. Cartimandua was there.

  The silence of the past was swirling all around her. Viv couldn’t breathe.

  Suddenly she was pitching forward into darkness.

  37

  I

  Beside the farmhouse the five men stared up at the hill. ‘That was a gunshot!’ One of the policemen scanned the semi-darkness of the hillside, his hand shading his eyes. ‘It seemed to come from beyond the Scars. We’ll take the car and go round by road!’ He turned to Steve. ‘You go with these gentlemen. But be careful!’ Already he was running. ‘We need the armed response vehicle out here now!’ he yelled, as his colleague threw himself into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine, reached for his radio. ‘Tell them the situation!’ In seconds they had pulled out of the gate and disappeared up the track.

  Steve and Meryn looked at James. He shrugged. ‘My car is at your disposal, gentlemen.’ It was an ancient four-wheel drive. ‘Perhaps you’d better drive, Steve?’ They piled in, with the two dogs sitting with James in the back as Steve put the car at the track and pressed his foot down hard.

  Twice they stopped as the car left the rough stone track and cut across the grassland, scanning the horizon for a sign of life, then in the distance Meryn spotted two figures momentarily silhouetted on the skyline. ‘There!’ He pointed.

  ‘We’ll have to leave the car,’ Steve said shortly. ‘They’re heading for the river.’

  They stopped at the edge of the rock and scree. Steve leaped out and began to run, the dogs at his heels. There was no sign of the police.

  James shook his head with a sigh. ‘You go,’ he said to Meryn, shrugging. ‘I can’t manage on this rough ground. I’m sorry.’

  Climbing slowly out of the car, he stood staring after them. In the evening sky the moon was hanging over the shoulder of the hill. He could hear the crash and rattle of feet on stones from the deepravine ahead. From the distance he could hear the roar of the waterfalls.

  II

  ‘Viv, are you listening?’

  Pat gave up any hope of following Hugh and Peggy into the steep wild ravine and turned back. Kneeling, she put her hand on Viv’s shoulder as Viv lay curled upon the ground, her head cushioned on her elbow, her eyes closed. ‘You are there, aren’t you? In Cartim-andua’s time? You must come back. I need you here. Now!’

  Viv’s eyelids fluttered. ‘We have to find the brooch. Mairghread will tell Vellocatus I slept with the Roman. She will betray me.’

  ‘The brooch doesn’t matter any more. Peggy’s gone mad. She’s going to kill someone. Please, wake up!’ Pat shook Viv by the arm. ‘We don’t need this now!’ Her own head was clear. Whatever Peggy had given her earlier had worn off. ‘I’m sorry about Medb. I’m sorry about everything. Please, Viv!’

  Viv groaned. ‘He is jealous. So jealous. The seers tell us he and his men have killed two bears. They have the meat and the pelts and they will be back before Samhain and he will be happy to see me until Mairghread spreads Medb’s poison.’

  Pat could feel the perspiration dripping down her face. ‘Carta. Send Mairghread away. Send her to Venutios. Get rid of her. You don’t need her any more. Do you hear me? Send Mairghread away. Then let Viv wake up.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Viv, I need you here!’ Pat was near to tears.

  ‘The brooch is over there. Near the tree,’ Viv whispered suddenly. ‘Vivienne told me where to hide it. She knows it holds power.’

  ‘God help us!’ Pat stood up in despair. She froze suddenly. An elderly man was hobbling over the rough ground towards them.

  ‘You must be Pat?’ He smiled and held out his hand with old-fashioned courtesy. ‘I’m James Oakley. And is this Viv? Hugh was telling me about her.’

  Pat stared at him, white to the lips.

  ‘Can I help?’ he went on, glancing over his shoulder towards the darkness of the ravine. ‘We heard a shot.’

  Pat turned and gestured towards Viv. ‘Please.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Make her wake up.’

  III

  There was snow on the hills; months had passed, months of suspense while walls had been strengthened and watch towers built. There were more houses and more granaries and store rooms. Icicles hung from the broad eaves of the round house where Carta sat before the fire listening to her bard. Finlay had judged her mood to perfection as he always did. Starting his songs quietly, introspectively, gently, he built them surreptitiously in pace and humour, watching the queen in the firelight, lifting her mood. The house had been busy. Essylt was there with all her children. And her brother, Fintan, his wife and son and his family. They had come for the double winter festival of Brigantia and Imbolc and stayed, trapped by the weather. The compound had been noisy. Chaotic with children and dogs. Now they had gone. Finlay frowned as a figure appeared in the doorway, then relaxed as he recognised the king. Vellocatus stooped and kissed the top of the queen’s head, then he threw himself down on the bench beside her. ‘The thaw has set in at last. Spring will be here before we know it.’ He glanced across at her. ‘What is it?’ He was wearing the golden bird on his mantle.

  She shrugged. ‘The flames speak of war. Soon. When the roads are passable.’

  He swore under his breath. ‘From which direction? Venutios again?’

  ‘Always Venutios.’ She sighed. ‘One by one my warriors desert me. Fintan has gone now, with his wife and children.’ Her voice broke. Her own brother’s defection hurt more than she could bear.

  ‘Through the snow?’ He frowned.

  ‘As you say, the thaw has set in. As soon as the wind changed he went silently in the night. And with him Diarmid, another of my best men, Vellocatus. I trusted them.’

  Vellocatus, too, was staring into the flames. He sighed. ‘You should not ha
ve married me. Your men cannot stomach me as their king. I have brought you nothing but misery.’

  She gave a fond smile. ‘I would never regret marrying you. Never. You are everything to me, my dear.’

  The silence that followed was broken only by the gentle notes of the harp. There were no more songs.

  In the distance a wolf howled.

  Venutios invaded the northern territories under the first full moon of Cutios, in the time of wind, when the snows had gone but the ice had firmed and roughened the mud in the tracks enough to bear a horse and chariot at speed. His warriors swept down through the hills and took two of the Brigantian fortresses almost before Vellocatus had mobilised Cartimandua’s army. The fighting was fierce, Venutios’s men well-trained, his army large - far larger - than before.

  The two armies faced one another along a broad stretch of moorland near the river beneath slate-grey skies. Vellocatus mounted his chariot - he had a driver of his own now - and saluted Carta with a jaunty wave of his spear. ‘We’ll send him packing, my queen, once and for all. Have no fear.’

  As the horses thundered towards one another over ground which shook, Carta looked up. Kites and buzzards were circling, sensing the coming blood.

  She had already seen disaster in the sky. Neladoracht. Divination by reading the clouds. It was something she was very good at.

  They brought Vellocatus back on his chariot, a vicious spear wound in his chest. Gruoch was there even before he had arrived. She too had read the signs. She had a team of healers trained to deal with the worst of battle injuries, but Carta did not need to see their faces to know this one was mortal.

  She spent a long time at his bedside, helping with their ministrations, then as dusk fell and he slipped into a feverish sleep she rose from his bedside and walked out into the cold night. Finding her way to the spring at the foot of the hill was second nature. She did not need a lamp. Silently and alone she walked over the rough ground, wrapped in a dark mantle, and threaded her way down through the trees, slipping on the pathway which led to the spring. In the moonlight the grass and the lichen-draped firs were silvered with moisture from the mist which had dropped away as the wind strengthened.

  Quietly she sat down on the stone rim of the basin near the ancient head of the goddess, surrounded by the sound of water.

  Vivienne!

  She waited, staring down into the dark reflections.

  Vivienne? I need you. Tell me what to do!

  Viv frowned. She was aware of two figures near her, but they were of no interest; they were far away in time. They could not help.

  Vivienne!

  The voice had carried from far away, no more than a breath in the air.

  Help me! A life for a life. Is that what you demand? Save him for me, great goddess. Spare him from this pain. I need him here. At my side.

  Silence.

  Viv strained her ears, not sure if she had heard the words aright.

  Behind her in the distance a voice was calling her name. Turning her back, she closed her eyes.

  Vivienne! You can make everything all right so Vellocatus can live. You can save him. You must save him!

  The voice was insistent in her brain, calling her again and again.

  In her dream, Viv glanced up at the moon. Tattered rags of cloud partly obscured it. Soon a larger, blacker swirl of cumulus would be drawn across it. Enough to bring darkness to the countryside. With a small whimper of fear, she forced herself back into the shadows. Carta was waiting beside the spring.

  IV

  ‘Listen to the falls! After all this rain they are in full spate. Aren’t they wonderful?’

  Peggy had scrambled down the side of the steep valley, the game bag which was slung across her shoulders dragging behind her, catching on the undergrowth as she pushed and slid her way through dog’s mercury and ramsons, ferns and tangled trees down towards the river. She stopped at last at the edge of the rock and turned to face Hugh with a smile of triumph. Deep in the ravine it was almost completely dark, the falls behind her deafening, glittering with silver foam as the light from the rising moon cut down over the hillside.

  ‘So. We needed a man after all.’ Peggy was still smiling at him. Her hair was tangled and wild, her face scratched. There was a tear across the front of her blouse. Groping blindly in the bag she drew out a large kitchen knife and brandished it in front of his face.

  He backed away a little. ‘Can we talk first?’ He was still panting slightly, feeling the rock slippery under his feet.

  She had scarcely any strength left, but she raised the knife and pointed it towards his chest. ‘What have we to talk about?’

  ‘We could talk about Medb. Venutios killed her, you know.’

  ‘Which is why she’s so angry.’ Peggy smiled. ‘You think I didn’t know that?’

  ‘She’s angry because Venutios vowed that one day he and Cartimandua would be together again.’ He paused. ‘Be careful, Mrs Steadman. It’s slippery from the spray.’ Hugh edged backwards, still trying to catch his breath.

  She shook her head. ‘She was trying to use Pat. But Pat is weak. She is useless. She needed someone stronger.’ She waved the knife again.

  ‘Are you saying she needed you?’ Hugh shook the spray off his face.

  ‘Of course me! She has given me such power, even without the brooch! And all I have to do to please her is to kill Venutios! To make sure he never makes his peace with Cartimandua!’ She laughed.

  ‘And I walked into your trap.’ Hugh sighed.

  ‘Convenient, wasn’t it!’ She was beaming. ‘One life. Two men. A professor and a king. How lucky can one get!’

  Hugh glanced round in spite of himself. Was Venutios there? Venutios who had killed Medb with his bare hands. He was too frightened to feel anything save the cold damp from the spray seeping into his shirt. The woman’s face was implacable as she watched him. ‘Can you see him?’ he asked. Engage her. Try to keep her talking.

  She nodded.

  He shuddered, resisting the urged to turn round and look where she was looking. ‘Tell me what he looks like.’ Somehow he had to distract her, see if he could get round beyond her to the safety of the cliff wall. He took a small side step and then another. The ground was shaking with the roar of the falls.

  ‘He’s tall; tattooed with war paint.’ She narrowed her eyes. She was staring at a point just behind him. In spite of himself Hugh felt a shiver of pure terror. ‘He is very close to you,’ she went on. Her tone was conversational now. She shifted her grip on the knife.

  ‘Because he doesn’t want me to die, Mrs Steadman,’ Hugh stated. ‘On the contrary. He is anxious to keep me alive. He needs me.’

  He could hear someone coming. A branch cracked further up the hillside and he heard footsteps slipping on the scree, tripping over tree roots, pushing through the curtains of wet leaves. ‘Down here!’ he shouted suddenly.

  She smiled. ‘No one can save you.’

  ‘Ma?’ Steve’s voice reached them over the sound of the water. ‘Where are you?’

  She looked up at that, surprised. ‘Steve?’ she called. ‘You’ve come back!’

  Steve slid the last few feet down the wet rockface and landed a few feet from Hugh, the dogs after him. He saw the knife in her hands and recoiled. ‘Ma? Is that one of your Sabatier set? What are you doing?’

  ‘The gods need blood.’ She shrugged. ‘Medb needs blood.’

  ‘What rubbish!’ Steve stepped towards her. She swung the knife towards him and he stopped.

  ‘We’re going to have a party.’ She brushed some spray off her face. ‘Venutios has to drink our health before he jumps.’

  ‘Shit!’ Steve glanced at Hugh desperately. ‘A party sounds like fun, Ma,’ he said cautiously. He looked round. She and Hugh were so close to the edge, if either slipped they would plunge into the falls. She was holding the knife in front of her with both hands. ‘Take my bag, Steve.’ She slid the strap over her head and dropped it on the ground. ‘I’ve brought mead.�
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  Steve reached over and hesitantly he took the bag as the dogs cowered behind him, staring at her. He had never seen them behave like that before. ‘Go on.’ She nodded towards it.

  He opened it and withdrew the small brown bottle and two plastic mugs. ‘We have to drink a toast in mead,’ she went on casually. ‘Unscrew the bottle.’ She watched him do it. The sweetness of honey and herbs was so strong he could smell it over the scent of the river and the wet ferns and moss all around them. ‘First a libation.’ She gestured with the knife. ‘An offering to the goddess.’

  He poured a small drop out over the edge of the path into the falls.

  ‘Now, for you and Venutios.’

  Steve glanced at Hugh desperately. ‘The police are coming,’ he mouthed. He doubted if Hugh could hear him against the roar of the waters. Hugh was moving very carefully along the rock towards her now, as Steve poured mead into the two mugs. His hands were shaking.

  ‘Give him one.’ She swung the knife towards Hugh. He froze.

  Steve sniffed at the mug cautiously. ‘Bloody hell, this smells pretty potent, Ma.’ He glanced back at his mother.

  She smiled. ‘It is. A drink fit for the gods. An ancient recipe.’

  He took a sip and then another. After the initial bitterness it was extremely good.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down, Steve. Here, on the rocks where it’s safe. Then you can watch.’ She had found a flat place high above the water. ‘This is perfect. A moonlit tryst.’ She was watching them both carefully. ‘Drink!’ She waved the knife at Hugh.

  Hastily he took the mug from Steve.

  ‘Don’t touch it, Hugh.’ The voice suddenly so close behind her took Peggy by surprise. She swung round. Meryn was standing on the path. He raised his hands in a gesture of openness. ‘Mrs Stead-man. The gods do not need a sacrifice. It is the wrong time.’ His voice was strong.