Silver Mantle

by Gail Merritt

  Yared often stole through the back alleys to hear news. He told me that the people whispered about the glorious spring that was spreading across the land. There was one name on all their lips, Green Mantle. Some had heard that the old man died in Vellin. The mystery of the new Mantle filled conversations in the inns and taverns. A few days later he had other news. Llewid had invaded the northern Kingdom of Urvik. Resistance was minimal and after installing a garrison in the capital, he was marching south across Urvik, towards the Northern Meeds. It was time to leave Gaheil.

  ◆◆◆

  The weather grew wild and destructive as we rode towards the Meed of Brak. Trees were pulled from their roots and whole towns lost their roofs. The rain smacked at our faces and felt like a thousand needle pricks on the skin. I felt sorry for my companions, particularly Gilbert who spread his strong legs wide to balance against the buffeting, and we sought refuge in caves and hollows when the storms were at their worst. This slowed our journey when I yearned to travel faster. Each hour brought Llewid and his terror closer to my home and those I loved. I could not bear to think of them suffering the same fate as those in the south and I could not bear to imagine the awful desolation his army would bring to the heathlands.

  We came to Brak in the gloom before dark. The town was silent and shuttered but the smell of burnt wood stung our nostrils. I heard weeping and the odour of death hung in the alleys. The glow of fires on the hill above the town coloured the clouds. Llewid’s army, after sacking the town of its spoils, was feasting, safe in their elevated position and ever ready to move on to their next battle. By the time we reached the market place, we were prepared but still shaken by what we saw in the rising of the full moon. This was where the main struggle had taken place. Rain was falling gently on the bodies, washing away the blood, cleaning them before the dawn. I stepped over familiar faces, thankful that the clouds covering the moon hid so much. Suddenly, I heard a groan, and someone spoke my name. A dark shape was hunched over the side of the fountain. It was Ruthen, bloodied and with an injured hand but still alive. I wanted to hug and kiss him, clean his wounds and dress them but I feared that any noise might bring any sentries left to guard the town down upon us. I helped him to mount Gilbert and told the faithful horse to take him to the wolves. I only hoped that the wolves of Brak had been warned about our coming. Yared assured me they had been warned to expect unusual guests.

  There were guards at the gate of the Meed castle. My father had rarely posted men there, except when expecting someone he felt he should impress. He always said that the castle yard was an open place where his people could visit, those attending his regular sessions of justice, those bringing tithes and taxes, provisions or entertainment, and those who had come down from their hill farms to visit the market. The inner courtyard, where the horses were stabled and Channa’s geese ruled was altogether different. The guards bore the colours and emblem of Dereculd and I doubted they would simply let me pass. The fox led us to a small fence where a gap allowed us to squeeze through into Channa’s geese pen. I gave the fox an angry glance.

  ‘An earlier life,’ he shrugged.

  The geese sensed intruders and began to honk their warning. I tried to silence them and luckily a few recognised me and also my authority as Green Mantle. Still very afraid of the fox and Yared they pressed together in one corner as we slipped through the pen and into the stable yard. Most of the buildings were in darkness but lights shone in the solar, the room my father had created for my mother. It was now the room he shared with my stepmother. More light came from the great hall and the sounds of men drinking ale, Llewid’s officers celebrating another victory no doubt. I wondered what they had done with my father and his wife. They were probably in the dungeon or dead. Although Ruthen had told me she was alive when he left, I feared for Channa’s safety for she was not inclined to submit meekly, even to a fully armed warrior. After giving instructions to my friends, I crept into the kitchen and my senses stirred all kinds of forgotten memories. It still smelt the same, of roasting meat and thick herb broth. The pans still sparkled on their hooks and shelves. The evening fire still glowed with half-spent coals, as it used to do, even in the hottest days of summer. There was so much joy and sorrow inside me, I thought I might explode.

  Channa was sitting beside the fire, her face buried in her apron. She had been weeping but when she heard someone enter her kitchen she looked up and blinked. I had to use restraining magic to stop her from screaming. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. This alarmed her more. I put my finger to my lips then removed the magic.

  ‘Look at me, I’m all of a dither!’ She dabbed at her eyes with her apron. ‘I knew you would come. It’s terrible! Your father and his lady are prisoners and Ruthen, my best man, he’s out there dead, trying to protect his master.’

  I told her that Ruthen lived. She noticed my cloak. ‘A Mantle is it?’ she sniffed. ‘Don’t know if I like Mantles. They came here a few times when your mother married Lord Remwith and since the Lady took you away it’s not been the same. Then the brown one … you’re green, I see.’

  ‘Is the brown witch here?’ I asked getting her a cup of water.

  ‘In the Lady’s rooms. I took her a meal myself. She thanked me very politely’.

  ‘You saw her?’

  ‘Not her face. She was looking out of the window and her hood was up. ‘

  ‘Is the King of Dereculd here too?’

  ‘Was. Don’t know if he’s still here. Called me by my name, he did. As if he knew me. Gave me quite a turn, it did. Trying to be real civil with us. Takes your father’s castle, locks him in the cellars and then asks me for a meal of mutton stew, as if he’s stayed here before.’

  I remembered praising Channa’s mutton stew once when we were dining in Vellin. The invisible string that bound me to Llewid appeared to bind his memory too. In the past, when he captured strongholds, he slaughtered many of the servants and those who held positions of authority. He had spared my father. Why?

  ‘To see if you would come.’ He stood in the doorway, leaning lazily again the post, grinning his most beguiling grin. I gasped. He was older, thinner and there were fine lines on his forehead, but he had not changed. His face was as handsome and open as it had always been, the boyish twinkle in his eyes, just as disarming. His dark curls dropped on his forehead just as I remembered them.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Llewid?’ I took a step towards him. Channa retreated and placed herself behind me, using me as her shield.

  ‘Channa!’ He called her name and she trembled. ‘Bring some wine, dear lady. Lady Megwin and I will be in her father’s study.’ He took me firmly by the arm and guided me to the room that I had always been drawn to, filled as it was with his books, but usually I feared to enter as it was often to receive a reprimand of some kind. Llewid’s grip was firm but not rough.

  I was his prisoner but being given more respect than other prisoners before me. I tried to drive away images that surfaced of our times together in my dreams.

  ‘I knew you would come to Brak.’ He sat me facing the enormous desk and placed his hands on my shoulders. ‘If we were ever to meet, it had to be here. I have looked forward to our meeting, knowing that you would have grown more beautiful in my absence.’ He squeezed my shoulder as a fond brother might. ‘Congratulations on your elevation to the Souran. Of course, that naturally makes us enemies, intent upon destroying each other.’ The squeeze was rougher, and I looked up at him, his face cold and emotionless. Was he going to kill me after all?

  ‘Why are you doing this, Llewid?’ I asked again.

  ‘Because Vellin should be mine.’ He crouched at my side, eyes sparkling. ‘My grandfather split the kingdoms between his two sons. I am the only son of the elder brother and Magra should be mine. It is my right.’

  ‘And what of the rights of all those who have died during your invasion?’

  ‘Don’t blame me for the casualties of war, Megwin,’ he laughed bitterly. ‘Since when have th
e Souran cared what happened to the little people, those whose birth right it is to be trampled?

  ‘I care,’ I spoke quietly, as calmly as I could. ‘And Ardin cares.’ The mention of Ardin appeared to bring the bile to his throat. He turned away from my chair and then swooped back to face me. ‘Ardin only cares about Princess Melia!’ He attacked. ‘That is why you are here, isn’t it? You would never have left Vellin if he had not fallen in love with her. Admit it, you are running away because Ardin has broken your heart!’

  I pushed him from me and stood. ‘I am Green Mantle and I am here to put right all the wounds and scars you have made on the land. Am I your prisoner or am I free to continue my work?’

  Channa came in with wine and some cold meat. I had not realised how hungry I was. As she passed, she whispered that she had thrown some food to my friends in the yard. I gave her a grateful smile.

  ‘Channa will be angry with me if we don’t eat. We can argue later. Eat.’ He drew a chair to the desk, and we ate. It was part of Llewid’s unfathomable charm that he could turn so quickly from adversary to ally and spread calm and affability in a room so recently filled with anger. We ate in silence, but it was a comfortable peace, broken occasionally by the sighs of contentment that Channa’s cooking often produced. I found him studying me. He tucked a wayward strand of my hair back behind my ear and lifted his glass in a silent toast. When Channa had taken away the plates and brought more wine, he moved his chair closer to mine.

  ‘You were brave to catch the spider,’ he said softly.

  ‘You were wrong to put her there, you used her.’

  He sighed. ‘This will be a miserable reunion if you are going to spend the whole evening cataloguing my crimes. Admit that I am downright evil and that you are unable to reform me and then we can forget about it.’

  ‘How can I forget who you are and what you’ve done? The exasperation in my voice had probably told him that I dearly wished that I could forget his crimes.

  ‘Have you missed me?’ he leaned towards me. ‘Have you even thought about me at all? I’ve thought about you every day. Of course, I had something to remind me.’ He held out his hand and I realised someone had entered the room, From the shadows came a brown-robed woman. She took the cowl in her hands and dropped it back onto her shoulders. I gasped and they both laughed. My face! The brown witch had my face.

  18.

  Face to Face

  ‘Welcome home!’ she said as Llewid called for Channa. She unfastened the robe and beneath it she wore a green mantle like mine.

  ‘A little experiment.’ Llewid handed me the brown robe and when I did not move, he roughly wrapped it about my shoulders, sat me in a chair and wrapped the robe tightly to hide my own clothes and lowering the cowl to hide my face. Then he sat beside the fire. My dear old nurse came in and waited.

  ‘Chana, tell King Llewid how it was when the King and Silver Mantle came,’ the brown witch said. ‘Tell him how sick I was.’

  ‘Indeed, it was sick,’ Channa agreed and began to elaborate with details of how I rescued the fox. The witch smiled at me and I knew that their experiment had been a success. Not even Channa could tell us apart. Even our voices were alike.

  ‘You see,’ she started to explain after Channa had left and the brown witch removed her robe from my face, ‘we share a face because we are the same person.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘When you were delirious from the spider venom, we separated. Don’t you remember?’ She took Llewid’s hand so casually that it struck me that holding each other’s hands was something they did often. ‘We stole into your room before we left to say goodbye. I told you where I was going. I waved to you.’ Seeing my own face without a mirror disoriented me. I found that I could not think clearly. ‘Our power is stronger than you can even imagine, and there is more than enough for both of us. You chose your love, and I chose mine.’ She sat beside me and Llewid stood at her shoulder, his hand resting unconsciously there. My mind told me it was trickery.

  ‘You have been dreaming, haven’t you? Every night, we come together. I dream your life and you dream mine.’ She grinned. ‘I think you have had the more exciting dreams, poor Megwin. I remember waking so distressed when you were cast aside by Ardin. Sometimes I’ve even helped you. Once I destroyed a man for you.’

  ‘You?’ The realisation of what she had said brought me to my feet. I had not used the vine, she had. I had not broken faith with my Mantle oath

  ‘So now you know my little secret and your shame,’ Llewid sighed. ‘You can’t return to Vellin knowing that it has been your help, your magic that has made me powerful. How can you ever face them again? Of course, you could join us, but I can tell by your expression that you would never do that.’

  His plan was simple. The witch, the other part of me that had somehow gained her own life during the spider fever, would return to Vellin as Green Mantle. From there she could begin to undermine the Kingdom, sending back information that Llewid might need for his invasion. Llewid would finish with the Meeds and then begin his march south-east. They could not risk my escape, and neither could they kill me because if I died, so might she. They locked me in my old room and returned to my father’s study to complete their plans.

  I had much to think about.Could it be that somehow the power inside had divided and created another me, while my body was fighting the spider venom? It seemed impossible but I had seen the proof. This other me was not bound by the same morals that governed the original me, in truth she seemed not to be bound by any morality at all, killing without remorse. She was the perfect partner for Llewid, encouraging his ambitions until he was consumed by them. Occasionally, that other Llewid would surface and his smile still sparkled, but for the most part, he had been replaced by a Llewid who better suited her purposes. They were made for each other.

  There was a scraping noise at the door. It was still dark but the thin bands of light that announced dawn were growing in the east. Something was being pushed under the door and a familiar voice rasped in my temples. The fox had stolen the key. I suspect that Channa, disbelieving as she would have been, had been encouraged to place it in the fox’s mouth. How he convinced her of his intent, I have never discovered. Yared was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and behind him, in her winter coat and boots, was Channa.

  ‘These beasts seem to know what they’re doing so I just followed their lead,’ was all she whispered, wrapping me in my stepmother’s riding cape. I looked down the corridor that led to the cellars and the make-shift dungeon. I was tempted to free the prisoners but there was too much at stake to get caught, and my three companions had risked enough already. We left as quickly as we could. The amusement among the geese, watching Channa trying to squeeze through their living space almost threatened to alert the guards in the courtyard but as the fox pointed out, they probably just thought it was a fox.

  Outside the Meed Castle we hurried through the streets, wishing that dawn would delay until we were clear of the town. I gathered mist to help us. Channa shivered when she saw me using the power but said nothing. A perimeter patrol almost caught us, but the sight of a snarling wolf pack sent the men scurrying in the opposite direction. Then it began to rain. Once out of Brak, we followed Yared and his brothers to join the rest of the wolf pack. They had found shelter in a cave, in the lea of a hill, making Ruthen as comfortable as they could but he was weak. He had suffered more injuries than he had allowed me to see and I had been in too much of a hurry to deal with Llewid than to scan his body myself. I wished that I had taken more notice of Blue Mantle’s lessons in healing. I tried to send strength into his body but Ruthen rejected it. I could feel his life slipping away.

  ‘No, you cannot leave me!’ I yelled at him. ‘Channa is here; you cannot leave her alone. Fight, you lazy man! As your mistress, I command you to fight!’

  Ruthen smiled. ‘Still wants her own way, I see. That hasn’t changed,’ he gasped, then set his hand on mine. ‘We all know when it is ti
me, child.’

  ‘No!’ I shook him. ‘That’s the coward’s way out and you have never been a coward. If you had not been injured, you would have lived for longer. It is not your time. Take this chance that I can give you. Let me use my power, Ruthen.’

  ‘Channa understands.’ He reached out for her hand. She was crying but she smiled at him and nodded at me. ‘Child of my heart,’ his eyes were clear and gentle, ‘I could not have loved you more if you had been my own, but I am tired. Let me go. The battle will be won by others. I am already with those who went before. Let me go with dignity.’

  We left them alone. I sat outside in the rain, surrounded by the wolves, while the man who had been a father to me slipped quietly towards death. All the power I commanded could not restore him. He had chosen his time and because I loved him, I had to respect that choice. At sunrise, Channa came out. Her eyes were dry but heavy.

  ‘He’s at peace.’ We embraced. ‘He loved you like a daughter. He was very proud of you.’ We held each other until the fox reminded me that we had to return to Vellin.

  I left Channa with the wolves, instructing them to guide her back to Brak when the army moved on. With the fox secured in his travel pouch, we hastened southward. Through a land, wasted and tortured by Llewid’s armies. There have been many accounts of that ride. Some are pure fancy. Peasants watched and marvelled for, as we passed, the power of Green Mantle renewed the land. I channelled all my sorrow and fury into creation. Amaryllis lilies and lavender sprang up where Gilbert’s hooves broke the ground. A trail of foxgloves marked the journey of my dearest friend and bindweed twined in full flower in Yared’s wake. I scented the air with cherry blossom and sage, and birdsong heralded my arrival in the valley of the Listi.