In The Grip Of Old Winter Page 17

  Peter drew closer to Oswald’s voice.

  “Go past me,” said Oswald. “Walk nine or ten paces.”

  Peter counted up to ten and stopped. He heard Wulfwyn and Godwine step through the dark and then came the sharp scratch of a flint being struck. Sparks flared in an arc close to the ground. Two or three stayed bright and with a sudden crackle, a flame blossomed and caught. Strands of dried moss curled and withered as they burned and the flames spread and their brightness lit Godwine’s face. He placed twigs and then small chunks of wood on and around the fire and the flames turned orange.

  White roots, that sprouted long thin hairs, dangled from above and a worm dropped and wriggled across the floor. Larger roots protruded from the side of the earthen cave. A pile of furs lay in a heap and the fire filled a small hollow scooped out of the hard-packed soil. An earth-smell, so rich that Peter pinched his nose because it made him gag, might be the only smell that ever existed.

  Eorl Oswald raised his hand to indicate their hiding place. “A den for thieves. I have not questioned Godwine as to how he knows of such a place, though I am guessing that his answer might not be the one of truth.”

  Godwine tended the fire and gave no clue as to his thoughts.

  “Here.” Oswald passed a fur to each of them. “Let us sit with as much ease as these rough comforts allow.”

  Peter spread his onto the ground and sat. The fire crackled and the smoke drifted towards the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.

  Wulfwyn sat cross-legged across the fire from Peter. “Eorl Bosa holds Leonor?”

  Oswald covered his face. “Aye. I cannot tell how our considered schemes to keep her safe, failed. I have lost my daughter, my manor and my freedom. I will be hunted, killed or taken, my allegiance to this land forgotten.” He lowered his hands. “I have little hope, but whilst I breathe, my Leonor will not be forsaken. How I wish that I did not live to see these times.”

  “Many hold that wish,” said Wulfwyn. He picked up a stick and laid it at the edge of the fire until it glowed a deep red and a tiny flame danced on its tip. “The manor’s horn sounded and Bosa’s knights appeared upon the cleared way. Did the guards upon the manor walls spy your approach?”

  Oswald shook his head. “No, I feared that, for Godwine and I crept close to scout the manor’s defences. Though we were not so close when the horn blew. We hid at your approach, for we thought you Bosa’s knights sent to flush us out. I do not know why the horn blew.”

  Wulfwyn glanced across at Peter. “Is there some tale that can be revealed by that which you wear?”

  The seal-amulet, no longer red, the silver markings long-vanished, resembled nothing more than a black iron disc. Peter lifted it up and spun it round, as if he hoped to spot something to explain what happened at the cleared way. “I don’t know; it hasn’t done that before. I mean - last time a silver shape appeared I - I knew what to do. But this time, I didn’t understand what it meant - and well - something happened to those knights, but I didn’t do anything.” He let go of the seal-amulet and it bounced against his chest. He must sound so stupid and when he saw the three men frown as they stared at him, his cheeks burned and he shuffled back as if he might escape their hard gaze.

  Eorl Oswald spoke first. “What is that around your neck? It is - different now. I do not understand your words.”

  Wulfwyn threw the twig into the fire. “It is a curious talisman that is hard to know.” He picked up another twig. “The carrier is abroad, for it was he that revealed our camp to Bosa.”

  Oswald said, “The carrier has not been seen in these parts for many seasons. I thought him dead. He must be withered with age. What reason has he against me? I have given him no cause for harm.”

  “The carrier gives no allegiance,” said Wulfwyn. “That is always his way. He serves his purpose, none other. He is unmarked by the seasons and the strength of his will endures. For his return is as a companion to others.”

  Oswald raised his hands. “Why must all be spoken in riddles? Tell me plain or not at all.”

  “The words I speak are strange. Their meaning is difficult, but I have the truth of it with my own eyes.” Wulfwyn rubbed his brow. “The folk tales, the night horrors whispered at eventide around the fire, the words of travellers and old dames that frighten the young - these are no wilful utterances, for there walks with the carrier upon this land a cold and heartless spae-wife and the black dog of night-terrors, the barghest.”

  Eorl Oswald’s mouth hung slack and Godwine glanced up from the fire and studied Wulfwyn as if he spoke nonsense.

  “And this is plain speaking?” said Oswald. “Your wits are turned.”

  “I cannot ask you to believe my words, my Eorl.” He faced Oswald. “I fear for Leonor too; there waits for her a fate far worse than a union with Bosa. The tales told of spae-wives from across the sea might make any man lose their wits. She is terrible to behold.”

  “It’s true,” said Peter. “She appeared in the camp with the carrier and the barghest.” He held up the seal-amulet. “She wants this back. It’s hers. The carrier gave it to me by mistake. They attacked us, but then the silver shapes appeared in my head and I beat them back. You’ve seen the barghest, Eorl Oswald, it attacked you on the common way, I...” He’d saved Oswald from death, but how to explain the consequences of what he’d done? How to admit that he’d followed him like a spy?

  A sudden shout from outside echoed into the cave. Wulfwyn and Godwine rose and drew their weapons. More shouts, somebody screamed and then a rumble of thunder that growled deep and low.

  “The barghest,” Peter and Wulfwyn chorused.

  ***

  Peter leapt up. Godwine stamped out the fire and darkness fell like a black curtain. Smoke filled the cave and Peter covered his nose, though his eyes stung and watered. His heart beat loud and hard.

  He strained to hear anything that might explain the cries they’d heard. Though he dreaded the possible scrape of claw on earth and the rasp of hot breath if the scent from their trail revealed this hidden cave to the barghest. The dark made every bad thought possible. He might die here, they all might and their bodies rot and moulder, never to be found, eaten by worms.

  He touched the seal-amulet. Cold and dead and invisible in the dark.

  “Do we have weapons?”

  Peter jumped at Wulfwyn’s voice.

  “I lost my sword in the glade,” said Oswald.

  “Then follow the boy.”

  A few embers still glowed from the fire and Peter stepped over them. A hand clamped onto his shoulder as Oswald brought up the rear. The rich earth-smell mingled with the smoke as they crept into the narrow tunnel.

  Peter brushed Godwine’s back with his fingers. Their breathing sounded loud as the earth walls closed around them. Peter wished he had a knife or a sword. He stared ahead and strange white shapes wafted across his sight.

  Just the dark or a trick of the eyes.

  If something waited for them in the tunnel, then its attack must come now. Ahead, the tunnel walls faded from black to grey. He scuttled after Godwine, eager to see the daylight.

  Oswald stumbled after and muttered. “Better to meet our foes in the open than be cornered like rats in a trap.”

  Wulfwyn and Godwine stood braced on either side of the tunnel’s entrance, ready to fight. Peter peered around their backs, but if danger threatened, it stayed hidden or had passed, for a dead man lay beside the oak’s broken trunk, the backs of his hands pressed against his chest as if to push off a heavy weight. Blood covered his neck and jaw and his wide eyes stared straight up at the grey sky. He wore armour, though no helmet and his sword lay several feet away from his body.

  Oswald stepped forward. “What manner of death has come upon this man?”

  Wulfwyn approached the dead man and Godwine followed.

  Oswald’s hand pressed on Peter’s shoulder. “Stay. Your eyes must see sharper than mine. Shout if danger threatens.”

  Snowflakes floated through th
e branches. The harder Peter stared into the trees, the deeper the shadows. If the barghest watched, it stayed very still.

  Oswald said, “What do you see?”

  Peter shook his head. “Nothing.” The seal-amulet lay cold and black against his chest.

  Wulfwyn crouched and peered at the man’s neck, studied the ground close to where he fell. Then he knelt, leaned forward and closed the man’s eyes.

  Godwine picked up the sword and returned to Oswald and Peter.

  “Ah! A weapon at last,” said Oswald and took the proffered hilt.

  “Is there a dagger?” asked Peter.

  Godwine didn’t reply, but returned to Wulfwyn who, bent double as he peered at the ground, stepped away from the dead man.

  “Godwine cannot speak,” said Oswald. “The Normans captured him after the battle with Harold and ripped out his tongue.”

  Peter swallowed. “Why?” The thought made him hot, angry and sick all at the same time.

  “It is the way when blood lust runs high. In war, the victor’s triumph overflows even when the battle is won.” Oswald strode down the bank and took several swings with his new sword against a fallen branch. The wood cracked and broke and splinters flew in all directions. “This will serve.”

  Wulfwyn climbed halfway up the bank behind them and as he climbed, he studied the forest floor. Then he stood, sheathed his knife and ran back down. “The barghest makes its tracks away from this place. We cannot stay, for I do not know its purpose.”

  Oswald said, “This is the beast of which the boy speaks?”

  Wulfwyn strode past them. “Has Godwine some other shelter?”

  “I cannot leave Leonor,” said Oswald. He glanced at the dead man. “What has happened here that a knight lies dead? You tell strange tales that babes hear as fancy, but which you speak of as true. This man ran from Bosa’s manor, his dying, clear to my eyes, of others who are dead or fled from whatever assails that homestead. I must see, for good or ill, or I will never rest. Leonor lives, for as long as I breathe I will not believe any other claim, not until her body is laid at my feet.” He swiped his sword through a mound of brown and brittle leaves and some of them flew through the air and fell to the ground faster than the falling snow. “Let me go alone to Bosa’s manor. I cannot hide like some thief in the night. I have delayed too long.”

  “My Eorl, Leonor’s safe return is my wish also,” said Wulfwyn. “Consider that we are too few to fight. It is far worse to waste our lives...”

  Oswald pointed his sword at the dead man. “All the knights might have perished, Bosa too. The meaning of how this has come to pass must be found and that we cannot know when we hide like moles in the ground. This chance might be given and we must take it, or live to regret our weakness until the end of our days.”

  Peter glanced at Godwine, but his face betrayed no hint of what he thought. Wulfwyn’s jaw tightened. “You are my Eorl and have my allegiance.”

  Oswald grunted, turned and strode away. Godwine followed.

  Wulfwyn watched and then he said, “Come.”

  Peter walked fast to keep up with his pace. “Oswald does know about the barghest, because it attacked him - and the seal-amulet worked and I chased it away - or he would have died.”

  Wulfwyn drew his knife. “You know when the passing of a man’s life is upon him - how?” He studied the ground as he walked.

  “Because -.” Bear told me. “Because the barghest frightened Oswald’s horse. It reared - Oswald didn’t stand a chance if he fell off.”

  “Our Eorl does not acquaint an attack from a black dog and the guise of the barghest as one,” said Wulfwyn. “Why need he, when the barghest is told of in old tales from old ways? That it walks and breathes as well as you and I is not an easy truth.”

  No. And Oswald never did know the truth, because he died. That he lives now is new. A different strand weaves its way through time. And no one knows how it will end.

  Peter’s stomach clenched. Fear and danger threatened, even death. He didn’t know how to fight a knight. And if the spae-wife attacked and the seal-amulet didn’t work...

  Wulfwyn halted and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Ahead, Oswald and Godwine slowed. Two dead knights lay to their right. Godwine approached the corpses, stooped and picked up a long black knife. Oswald hurried back to Wulfwyn and Godwine followed.

  “It is as before.” Oswald drew his finger across his throat.

  “Cut by a knife or torn by teeth?” asked Wulfwyn.

  Godwine shaped his fingers to look like talons and gripped his own throat.

  Wulfwyn nodded. “As before. Though these two died before the other, if I read the marks of that one’s trail aright.”

  Oswald peered back over his shoulder. “We are close to the manor.”

  Peter stood in silence as they all listened. Snowflakes fell, some fast, some slow. He rubbed the seal-amulet between his finger and thumb.

  Oswald said, “There is no clash of arms, no cries. We must proceed with care.” He glanced at the two dead men. “Armour and weapons hold little protection, or so it seems.”

  Godwine held out the knife, hilt first, for Peter to take.

  “Oh, wow! Thanks.” He turned the knife over and over. The black blade tapered to paper-thin sharpness along either side and the edges gleamed as they caught the light. He didn’t know how to use a knife, hoped that he needn’t have to fight, though gripped tight in his palm, some of his fear receded. “Thanks.”

  “Stay close,” said Wulfwyn. “Follow.”

  As they approached the manor, the trees grew farther apart. Wulfwyn crouched and scuttled from trunk to trunk. Peter copied and so did Godwine. Oswald bent double and came last.

  A wide space separated the last line of trees from Eorl Bosa’s homestead and the moat that circled its high earthen banks and wooden wall. A manor twice the size of Oswald’s, with many smaller buildings clustered close together, so many it might be a village. A bridge spanned the moat. In the middle of the bridge, the carrier crouched.

  ***

  Oswald whispered. “What manner of man is he that he still draws breath when death threatened his life and maimed his body?”

  Wulfwyn lay flat and wriggled out from behind the tree. Godwine crouched, sword in hand.

  Peter held up the seal-amulet and whispered to Oswald. “He gave me this. He said to give it ‘to the one who is waiting.’ He didn’t mean to give it to me and now he’s trying to take it back.”

  Oswald took the seal-amulet between his finger and thumb. “It is dull and cold. What charm do you speak to make the silver shapes show?”

  “I don’t speak any charm. I don’t know how it works. I made it work once - no twice, but I don’t know how to make it work when I want it to.”

  Oswald let go of it. “That the carrier gives this as a gift is curious to my mind. Why did he give it if he did not mean you to have it?”

  “I don’t know.” Peter tried hard to remember when Bear told him about the seal-amulet’s history, but he knew that just sounded weird if he attempted to explain the spae-wife’s and the skin-walkers’ stories.

  Wulfwyn wriggled back behind the tree. “Not one knight walks Eorl Bosa’s walls. No clash of arms or orders shouted. The carrier waits, untroubled by peril or fear.” He wiped his forehead. “I cannot know what passes within.”

  Oswald rasped in a hoarse whisper. “It is just the carrier. A cripple and we are four.” He raised his sword. “He will flee or die.”

  Wulfwyn stood. “No. It is not the carrier alone we will fight.”

  Oswald scowled. “A black dog and - and an old maid?”

  Wulfwyn pointed at the seal-amulet. “Chance saved my life when the silver marks showed clear and the boy, by curious instinct or a god’s fate, released the charms that beat back our foes, but it is not his will that gives him mastery.”

  “You fear old wives’ tales, nothing more.” Oswald jerked his thumb towards the manor. “Would I had a bow; one arrow and an end to
fear.” He grabbed the seal-amulet’s chain. “I will take this, if that is what you choose, and I will know its ways quicker than a child.”

  The chain tightened around Peter’s neck as Oswald yanked it over his head.

  “No, my Eorl.” Wulfwyn gripped Oswald’s arm. “It is not given for you to take. It is the boy’s and his to keep. The destiny that awaits him is not ours to know.”

  Oswald’s hold tightened. “Let another try if he does not know its ways.”

  Peter dropped the knife and wriggled his fingers under the chain to stop it from choking him.

  “My Eorl, the boy cannot breathe.” Wulfwyn took hold of Oswald’s arm with both hands.

  Oswald’s face turned red. “Release me.” He spluttered with anger. “I will not be denied.”

  Peter staggered between the two men as they shoved him from side to side.

  Wulfwyn’s face grimaced with effort. “It is the will of the fates that this is given. Look upon his form. He walks on lands that are changed. He speaks with a tongue that knows our words, though not our ways. He is delivered to us and that which he wears for a purpose. That purpose is broken if the two are parted.”

  Oswald let go, gave a great sob and covered his face. “It is for Leonor.”

  Peter gasped for air. The chain, where it pressed through his anorak and into his neck, left his skin sore.

  Oswald’s shoulders heaved as his voice cracked. “Why must I be thwarted? Is it a father’s council that he must abandon his child? Danger threatens and I run and hide. I came for her, but she will never know, forced back as I am like some frightened beast. Betrayed and forsaken, that will be her memory of the father who promised his love.”

  Godwine stepped between them, his eyes wide and his finger to his lips. Peter crouched and Wulfwyn dropped to the ground, grabbed Oswald’s cloak and pulled hard. The Eorl’s arms whirled as he staggered, lost his balance and slumped onto his hands and knees.

  Peter peered over Wulfwyn’s shoulder. On the bridge, the carrier shifted left and right and then stared in their direction. The hood that covered his head hid his face in shadow. He’d attack if he heard the argument. Peter checked the seal-amulet. Still black and cold. No one moved. Where had the knife dropped? Where was the barghest? If it followed their trail from the cave, it might be very close, even behind them. Peter held his breath. Oswald, still on his hands and knees, gulped and wheezed. The barghest killed the knights and they wore armour. The spae-wife must be in the manor. Did Eorl Bosa draw his sword to fight her off, or did he make her welcome?