In The Grip Of Old Winter Page 10

  Oswald sat on a tree stump while his horse stood close-by and munched at a sparse clump of grass. On his haunches in front of Oswald, squatted Wulfwyn. Both men kept apart from the others, but near to where Peter lay.

  Oswald leaned forward. “The muster is now complete?”

  Wulfwyn gave a brisk nod. “Aye. A few shy of two hundred answered the call.”

  “I fear that number is less than I hoped.”

  “Enough to beat the Normans into the sea,” Wulfwyn replied. “Some warriors answered that scattered from Harold’s army, battle-hardened men that fight for our dead king’s name.”

  “Have I their loyalty? Turncoats and spies thrive when fortune favours risk.”

  Wulfwyn glanced across the clearing. “They will slice every Norman into a thousand pieces before they listen to a word of their foreign filth. Revenge is sweet when pride still smarts. Do not dispute their loyalty.”

  “It eases my heart that you speak such words, Wulfwyn.” Oswald wiped his sleeve across his brow. “Such times make even brave men anxious.”

  Wulfwyn rocked back and sat upon the ground. “We hold the advantage on this land. The Normans follow the easy paths through the trees and do not know the hidden ways that give speed to our pursuit. We have traps from which they will not walk free. An arrow through a Norman’s neck will be a sign to their comrades that they are surrounded, a sign that they are dead.”

  Oswald rose and paced. “I wish, though, that some easier way might be found. I fear for Leonor’s safety, for Eorl Bosa will persist in his demands and while he lives his retribution will be swift and with Norman knights at his call...” Oswald clenched his fist. “We cannot fail once the spark is struck.”

  Wulfwyn sprang to his feet. “Then do not talk of defeat. Come, I will tell you the means by which we secure his capture.” He walked closer to where Peter hid. Oswald followed.

  “This,” Wulfwyn said, “is your hearth stead.” He picked up a large log and placed it end up on a bare patch of ground. With his knife, he gouged furrows into the earth away from the log. “This is the path from your hearth stead to the common way.” He made more furrows that cut across the path. “This is the common way.”

  Oswald, hands clasped, watched.

  “Men,” Wulfwyn continued, “let us say one hundred, will take up arms around your hearth stead. Some archers will be concealed within the tower where Tobias paces.” Wulfwyn thrust the knife into the earth and stood. “Eorl Bosa receives reports that you and Leonor are attacked by outlaws loyal to King Harold’s name.” He scratched his chin. “Bosa’s attack will be swift with as many men as he can muster. He will ride the common way and once this camp is passed,” he swept his arm around the glade, “another one hundred of our men will follow. When he rides up, he will find the hearth stead empty and know that you and Leonor are captured.” Wulfwyn spread his arms wide. “At my signal, we will strike and drive against him from all sides to force him into a tight place from which he will lay down his sword, or die.” He crossed his arms. “If he lives, you will force his confession as a traitor to this land and to the name of King Harold. You will not accept an objection from him to this charge. Extract a pardon for us all and his promised word that no pronouncement of these events will be set down or uttered. He will hire many of our men into his household to hold him to this pledge.” Wulfwyn picked up his knife and thrust it into the sheath at his belt. “This is our victory.”

  Oswald gazed at the ground and said, “And if he dies?”

  “All his men will perish and their bodies flung into a pit where the trees grow close and the day never shines.”

  “So, he is lost and the cause of his passing never discovered?”

  Wulfwyn gave a brisk nod. “Justice serves the common good and stamps upon the traitor.”

  Oswald drew his cloak close. “This is a perilous business and yet it is true.” He clasped Wulfwyn’s arm. “I am no warrior and must trust to your judgement. What is our most immediate need?”

  “Bring Leonor here tonight, with as much as will give her comfort.” Wulfwyn paced back towards the fire and Oswald followed. “I will send the men forward to take up arms. Then, set Tobias upon your horse to ride at speed to Eorl Bosa’s to report the attack.” He grunted, which Peter thought might be the beginnings of a laugh. “We might cut Tobias, to give his words their rightful weight and revenge the hurt his arrows almost caused my person.”

  ***

  Part Two

  Oswald led his horse around the clearing to where a fallen tree gave him the opportunity to mount.

  Peter scrambled away from the bush and back into the ravine. As he stood, he heard behind him the scrape of something hard against the earth. He whirled round. A figure, the carrier, it had to be him, scuttled back towards the common way.

  Peter’s heart thumped. He’d never heard him approach. Caught off-guard, he’d be overwhelmed in a moment. No time to think of what might have been, for the thud-thud, thud-thud of Oswald’s horse came closer.

  He darted away. As he approached the ravine’s entrance, he ran even faster, for he feared the carrier might be up ahead ready to grab him in an ambush.

  Peter burst onto the common way through a flurry of broken stems and fluttering leaves. Away to his left, the carrier disappeared into the gloom.

  Peter hid behind a tree opposite the ravine. He wheezed in ragged gasps and took deep breaths to stay quiet.

  Oswald’s head emerged above the leaves and he glanced to the left and the right before he urged his horse out of the ravine and on to the common way. He guided it to the right as they headed for home.

  Peter leaned against the trunk to catch his breath. If the carrier managed to creep up on him, then so might Almina. The two of them, he thought, worked together, though granddad said the carrier attacked Almina close to the charred branch. Did one of them touch it by mistake, or on purpose? If they both came to this time, did they lose each other in the fight?

  Oswald, already a distant figure, rode close to the side of the common way to quicken his horse’s pace. Peter came out of hiding and followed. There didn’t seem any point in sneaking into the manor now that Oswald and Leonor meant to return to the outlaw’s hideout, but he didn’t want to wait out here alone. He’d stay by the charred branch and then follow them back.

  He slipped his hand into his anorak pocket and the seal-amulet’s chain brushed across his fingers. He reached deeper to hold the cold iron disc and started. The seal-amulet warmed at his touch. He stopped and pulled it out.

  At that moment, Oswald’s horse whinnied, loud and desperate. It reared and struck the air with its hooves. Spittle flew from its lips as its head thrashed from side to side. Oswald shouted as he attempted to bring the horse under control and to stop from being thrown.

  Before him, teeth bared, ready to pounce, crouched the barghest. The dog’s deep snarl rumbled through the trees.

  Peter leapt off the common way and into the trees. He scrambled up the bank and hid behind a bush full of thorns.

  Oswald’s voice roared in fury and the barghest’s growl rumbled with menace. The horse backed away, its legs splayed as its hooves slipped on the frozen mud. The Eorl drew his sword and whirled the blade round and round above his head.

  In Peter’s hand, the seal-amulet pulsed with warmth. No longer dull and black, a red glow spread from its edges towards the centre and as the glow deepened, silver marks glittered on its surface. Shapes, like triangles and squares, cylinders and circles, blocks with holes cut from their centres, spirals that twisted and parallel lines, sometimes double, sometimes triple that ran in the horizontal and the vertical, appeared.

  They shifted as if in water, moved by the gentlest current. One shape sparkled brighter than the others, like a strange crescent moon, for one end tapered to a curved point while the other flattened into a thick wedge.

  With the tip of his finger, Peter touched the shape. A tingle, like electricity, bore through his skin and up his finger. He
didn’t like it, for it seemed as if the sensation might spread through his whole body and he snatched his finger away. It throbbed, though it didn’t look any different and as he wondered, as if by instinct, he pointed at the barghest.

  The black dog yelped, writhed and backed away from Oswald. It drew its lips wide to reveal sharp canines, each as long as a small dagger.

  Peter pointed again and the barghest turned tail and bounded into the trees and out of sight.

  The horse stamped and snorted. Oswald twisted round, the sword still raised above his head, and peered back up the common way. Peter ducked. His finger no longer throbbed and the seal-amulet lost its warmth and with it the red glow and the silver shapes. What had he done? Had he done anything?

  Oswald rode the horse back and stopped opposite Peter’s hiding place. The old man talked, though Peter didn’t catch the words. He heard surprise and confusion in Oswald’s voice and then fear, because something terrible must have frightened away such a big dog. The horse’s flanks glistened with sweat. Oswald brought the horse round and headed away at a brisk trot.

  Peter cupped the seal-amulet in both hands. Now cold and black and with no clue as to how or why it had changed, he thrust it back into his pocket. Did the barghest make it change? Why didn’t he notice it before on his way to Farmer Brunt’s? Perhaps it didn’t change in his time, only in this time. Did the barghest run because he touched the silver shape and then pointed his finger? Coincidence perhaps, for it might have been frightened by Oswald’s sword, though he found that hard to believe.

  He slithered down the bank. No sign of anyone or anything in either direction and Oswald’s quickened pace had taken him out of sight. Peter scurried back towards the manor. His fingers gripped the seal-amulet. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise if it warmed again. What did that odd tingle that ran up his finger and into his arm mean?

  He reached the track up to the manor and stepped off into the trees where the ground levelled out above the banks. He darted from trunk to trunk, to avoid being spotted by Tobias, until he reached the charred branch.

  Bear might understand the strange symbols that appeared on the seal-amulet, perhaps understand why the barghest ran?

  Time didn’t stand still in one place any longer. He’d noticed in his time, after he left Bear, that dad fell off the ladder and had been helped into The Hall before he returned. What if he missed Oswald and Leonor when they fled to the outlaws’ glade? He needed to talk to Bear.

  I have to know more about the seal-amulet.

  He reached the charred branch and crouched. No sound came from the manor and Tobias didn’t appear on the tower. They must all be inside, preparing to flee.

  I’ll risk the possibility of time slipping by faster.

  He reached towards the charred branch and shut his eyes. “Bear.”

  Far away, the distant wind keened and the heat of day and the cold of night blew past his cheeks. Silence, and he opened his eyes. Pitch black and he let go of the branch and turned to where he guessed the bonfire blazed.

  With a whoosh, the huge fire ignited and its light flickered through the trees. The skin-walkers, still and silent, faced the flames. To their right, upon the fallen tree where he had talked with Bear, sat Almina.

  ***

  Bear spoke. “Welcome, Peter.” He stepped back from the fire.

  Peter glanced from Bear to Almina. “What’s she doing here?”

  Almina rose and Bear said, “She has been waiting for you.”

  Peter clasped his fingers around the seal-amulet. No warmth and when he pulled it out, no silver marks. “She tried to take it off me and you said she mustn’t have it.”

  “That is so,” Bear said. “Yet, there is confusion with both our needs.”

  Bear’s calm tone didn’t convince Peter. Almina must be up to some trick. “She knows about the carrier because granddad saw them together. And - and if she knows about the charred branch, then - then suppose they have a secret plan?”

  Bear raised his arm and gestured Peter nearer. “Why don’t you come closer to sit and talk, so that we may all understand the other’s meaning?”

  Peter didn’t move. “I don’t trust her.”

  Almina smiled. “Peter, we got off on the wrong foot. I understand why you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me after what I did. Can’t we talk about it?”

  A terrible thought that Bear, all the skin-walkers and Almina meant to set a trap with pretend words that enemies used to trick their listeners. He dismissed the possibility as stupid, because the skin-walkers had let him go last time. The charred branch offered him one chance of escape and if he moved away, that chance no longer existed.

  He wanted Bear’s and the skin-walkers’ protection and he had to believe that if they didn’t attack Almina, then she didn’t pose a threat.

  He walked towards the fire and that murmuring note that sounded like bells, rose from the skin-walkers.

  “Please come and sit next to me, Peter,” Almina said. “I do so want us to be friends.”

  “I don’t want to sit next to you,” and he sat at the other end of the fallen tree as far away from her as possible.

  Almina sighed. “Well, it’s a start,” and she sat down.

  Bear paced closer and stood between them. “Peter, will you place the seal-amulet upon the bark.”

  With a reluctant shrug, he pulled the cold dark disc from his pocket and laid it down. Almina craned forward, but stayed seated. Bear sank to his knees as if he meant to study it closer, though his face stayed masked by his hood. The other skin-walkers gathered near, though none came as close as Bear.

  “It looks the same...” said Almina.

  Bear lowered his head. The fire crackled and the shadows flickered amongst the trees and he leaned back. “It is the same and the charms are no longer dormant, for they thrive from use.”

  The skin-walkers uttered a sharp note of alarm and Almina placed her hand against her cheek as if from shock. “It can still be used - but how? He’s just a boy.”

  I’m eleven! Peter peered at the seal-amulet, but saw no evidence of the red glow or the silver marks.

  Bear rose and paced. “The spae-wife has arisen to inflict new torments upon this land.” The skin-walkers backed away. “Our binds that kept her prisoner are broken. Whether she broke free by cunning or by the design of others, I cannot tell. It is enough to know that she walks once more.”

  “But,” Peter said. “No one else was near. The seal-amulet went red and it felt warm and I saw the marks and touched one and the barghest ran off. That’s - like a huge dog, big and black. There was only Oswald and his horse. I kept hidden and would have seen if somebody else was there.”

  Almina gave a little cry and her fingers fluttered in front of her mouth. “I had an instinct that something like this was going to happen.”

  Bear stopped pacing and faced him. “These words you speak are strange. Tell them to us again.”

  Peter glared at the ground. He didn’t like Almina listening. “The barghest attacked Oswald and his horse. The seal-amulet felt warm and glowed red and then all these silver shapes appeared and one was brighter than the others and I touched it and pointed my finger at the barghest and it ran away.” He clasped his hands in his lap and didn’t look up, determined not to tell the story again.

  Bear stayed close to the fire. “Did you speak the words of a charm?”

  “I don’t know any charms.” He twined his fingers together. “Something - I don’t know, like electricity made my finger tingle when I touched the silver mark.”

  Almina jumped up. “I knew it, he’s a natural. He doesn’t need charms and spells to make it work. He can channel the power without even thinking about it. Oh Peter, you clever boy, don’t you know how special and powerful and - and valuable...?”

  Peter scowled at her. “Is that why you tried to grab me, to force me to make it work?”

  Almina sat down again. “Oh, Peter. I knew about the seal-amulet long before you, b
ecause when I was a little girl, the carrier gave it to me.”

  Peter glanced at Bear. “She’s lying.”

  “No,” replied Bear. “She speaks the truth, for from that time came our first meeting.”

  Anger made Peter’s cheeks burn. “But when I told you about her, you said you’d never heard her name and not to give it to her.”

  “That is true,” Bear replied. “For the name Almina was not known to me.”

  Almina laughed with a high shrill note that sounded mad. “My real name is Saskia Puttell, which you must admit is a frightful name for an actress and so when I went onto the stage I changed it to Almina Realto, which is much more memorable.”

  Bear stepped closer. “Saskia is a name that I do know and when still a child of around your years, the carrier gave her the seal-amulet.”

  “You can imagine my surprise,” said Almina. “That horrid looking man with no legs giving me this weird...” she pointed to the seal-amulet, “… thing. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just carried it around in my pocket, much like you, until one cold winters day I touched that burnt branch and hey presto! I came here. I’d touched that branch ever so many times before and nothing ever happened. Very scary. I expect you felt the same.”

  Peter glanced at the fire, at the skin-walkers, at Almina with all her weird make-up. “I didn’t come here first. I went to Leonor’s and Oswald’s time. I didn’t have the seal-amulet then.”

  Almina’s eyes widened. “Oh... Who?”

  Bear said, “This is what makes me wonder, for there is upon Peter some strange aura that is not easy to define.”

  Peter squirmed. “I don’t have any auras, not a birthmark or anything.”

  “He doesn’t mean that, dear,” Almina explained. “He senses something - odd, in a nice way - about you, something that might - break the cycle every time we have a bad winter.”

  Peter frowned. “Cycle?”

  Almina nodded. “That’s right. The seal-amulet, the carrier, the burnt branch, the big black dog and that funny little ghost girl who creeps about the house, she gives me the willies, they all appear whenever there’s a bad winter and then they all disappear when the snow melts. Years go by when there isn’t any snow at all and then nothing happens; it’s only when there’s a very cold winter that the story repeats itself. Didn’t Master Prospero tell you?”