The Islands of Chaldea

by Diana Wynne Jones

  “Not all the time,” said my aunt. “You were asleep when I hauled the stone back. Did you not dream?”

  “Not that I remember,” I said, hoping she would stop.

  Not she. “So there was no time when you were able to see even a flicker of light?” she persisted. “Don’t shake your head, Aileen. Don’t lie.”

  She went on like this remorselessly, until at last I said, “Well, if you must know, I did see the moon shining in.”

  “That has to be nonsense,” my aunt replied. “The stone was tight to the turf.”

  “No it wasn’t,” I said. “There was a gap and so I rolled the stone aside and came out for a bit. There!”

  “That stone,” my aunt said, “had not moved since I rolled it there the night before. I know because I put in two tufts of heather, as we always do, and they were still there in the morning, in the very same places. Or did you think you put them back from the inside through two feet of granite somehow?”

  “Oh,” I said. “No. I didn’t know they were there. I just rocked the stone and it came out.”

  “Did you?” she said. “And what did you think you saw outside?”

  “I didn’t think I saw, I saw!” I said. “It was everything, just as usual, except the moon made it look as if there had been a frost. I saw our cabin and the hills and the sea and the full moon—”

  “And was there a light in the cabin?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, it was all dark.”

  “There should have been a light,” Aunt Beck said. “I was keeping vigil for you. You silly child! You go and have a vision and then pretend you didn’t!”

  “It didn’t feel like a vision,” I mumbled. I felt very foolish. “If it was one, what does it mean?”

  “I have no idea,” my aunt said, to my great disappointment. “But no wonder that disagreeable queen thought you were qualified. You clearly are.”

  “But I don’t feel any different,” I protested.

  “Neither did I,” said Aunt Beck. “The powers have been in you all along, so naturally you feel the same.”

  I said, “I thought I would feel a fizz in my fingers – or at least be able to see into minds.”

  “Or through walls maybe?” Aunt Beck said. “Lie down now and get some sleep and don’t be so foolish.”

  I did lie down, but I don’t think I would have gone to sleep if Plug-Ugly had not arrived, silent and heavy, to lie across my feet, making that chilly inn bed warm as warm.

  I was still feeling foolish in the morning, and for several days after that. How was I to know that it had been a vision? I’d never had a vision before. It had all looked so real. And it seemed unfair of Aunt Beck to blame me because she got angry with the Queen.

  I gloomed about this as we trudged through rain across soggy green moors for the next few days. Ogo asked me what was wrong. I told him, expecting him to tell me not to be so foolish, like Aunt Beck had. Instead, he said, “Er – Aileen, aren’t you supposed to be secret about your initiation rites?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s no great thing after all.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I remember my uncle saying he was not to say a word about his initiation. He seemed to think it was awfully holy.”

  “He must have had different rites,” I said. “And I do think Aunt Beck is being unreasonable, blaming me. After all, she was the one who was rude to the Queen.”

  Ogo looked up at Aunt Beck’s proud profile above us in the cart. “She doesn’t like Bernica,” he said. “She’d have blamed you for something.”

  This was probably true. It was quite comforting.

  The next day, when we stopped for lunch, we were mobbed by donkeys. The inn we stayed at the night before had sold Aunt Beck two loaves and a bag of hard-boiled eggs. My aunt sat on the tailgate of the cart and made sandwiches for us all, with a pot of relish left over from the inn before that.

  Don’t ask me why donkeys should like egg sandwiches. Moe didn’t. I offered her some of mine after I’d given some to Plug-Ugly and she simply plunged her nose back into her nosebag. Green Greet didn’t care for them either. But those donkeys must have caught the scent from a mile away. They came thundering in across the wet moor, a whole herd of them, and tried to eat the sandwiches out of our hands. We slapped their noses aside, but it did not deter them.

  They were wild, hungry donkeys. Some of them had been out on the moor for so long that their front hooves had grown into long upcurving spikes, like Gallis’s slippers. And the ones who got to us first were so determined not to let the latecomers get any of our food that they kept backing round and kicking the slow ones in the ribs. Boom. Like a drum. We were in a savage, kicking mob in seconds.

  Finn went under the cart and crouched there. Ivar took his sword off his belt, scabbard and all, and hit out at donkeys with it. Slap. Whap. They took no more notice of it than they did of the heels of their own kind. One donkey bit him and he yelled. Aunt Beck scrambled for her whip, into the cart. I hastily bundled up the rest of the eggs and the bread in the cloths and then had a tug o’ war for it with a villainous black donkey who saw what I was doing. Ogo was jostled right out beyond the milling herd, where he ran in a half-circle, roaring with anger. He found a whippy stick out there and ran in again, bashing at ears and sides.

  But it was Plug-Ugly who drove the brutes off. I saw him in glimpses, leaping from donkey to donkey, raking with his claws at every one. You could not believe the yelling and braying that made. At length, Aunt Beck snatched Moe’s meal off her and drove her away down the track at a gallop. Moe was only too glad to go. The rest of us ran after her. The last I saw of the donkeys, they were in a fleeing grey huddle with Plug-Ugly bounding after them.

  Ogo and Ivar thought it was ever so funny. When we finally stopped for lunch a second time, in a glen halfway up one of the low hills, they kept saying, “An attack by robbers!” Then they roared with laughter.

  “Lucky it was,” said Finn, “that the robbers were not human.”

  “Are there many robbers in these parts?” my aunt asked sharply.

  “I have never been in these parts, Wisdom. I don’t know,” Finn said.

  This made me feel quite nervous. But the boys continued to make jokes about the brave way we had beaten off the band of robbers.

  “It wasn’t you, it was Plug-Ugly,” I said to Ogo while we packed up to go on.

  “We all combined,” he said merrily. “A great combat.”

  Plug-Ugly seemed to turn up again while we were making our way down the other side of the little mountains. I felt him brush against my legs as I walked. Green Greet could see him. I saw him swivel his head to look down at the place where Plug-Ugly was, and I wondered at the strangeness of both creatures.

  As the track curved, we had a dim, rainy view of more small fields below. It looked as if we were coming to another kingdom of some kind. But it was all misty, until the clouds parted just a little to let through one bright shaft of sunlight. The brightness travelled across fields, and some houses, and swept on up and across us. For a moment, we walked in bright greenness and I distinctly saw the gaunt shadow of Plug-Ugly trotting beside mine, before the sunlight swept on, over the hill and away.

  “Hm,” said Aunt Beck, watching it travel. “I’m not sure I like that.”

  We went on to the next bend in the track, where we were suddenly surrounded by armed men. They seemed to come out of the rain from nowhere, all in black, with black beards and grim faces, and all with swords drawn or spears poised.

  “Oo-er,” said Ogo. “Real robbers.”

  My aunt stopped the cart and looked at them. “And what do you gentlemen want?” she said. “I assure you we have very little worth taking.”

  The nearest and grimmest man said, “You’re all under arrest. The Queen’s orders.”

  And they wouldn’t say anything more. They just crowded in around us, smelling of sweat and wet leather, and marched us on down. The only thing they said, when I asked, “Who
is the queen here then?” was to answer, “The Lady Loma of course. Hold your tongue.”

  Down we went, quite quickly, and very soon came into a wide yard inside a tall stockade. In the usual manner of Bernica, there were pigs everywhere, and some cows, and chickens too, but all silent and ominous. There were a whole lot more men here, and women too, who came to stand in a ring around us, arms folded, looking most unfriendly. The grim men made us get away from the cart and wait there in the rain while they scrambled into the cart and proceeded to go through our baggage. We had to watch them heave out all our clothes into the wet and then shake out our bags, then go through the remains of the eggs and the bread. They took a large cheese I didn’t know we had, but left the rest.

  “This,” said my aunt, “is an outrage. What are they looking for?”

  Whatever it was, they didn’t find it. They helped themselves to Ivar’s best cloak and my nice dress and Aunt Beck’s spare plaid, but they stopped when a murmur began in the watching ring of people. Some were saying, “Here they come,” and others were whispering, “Here’s the Lady Loma now.” The cheese and the garments were promptly passed from hand to hand and vanished as the queen arrived.

  She was a mighty figure. I had never seen a woman so tall and so fat. She was all in red, a huge garment like a tent, that clashed with the mauve-red of her face and the ginger of her hair. And she was drunk. We could smell whisky from where we stood, and the several smaller women with her kept having to push her upright as she swayed this way and that until she fetched up against the cart with a thump. There she stood, squinting and glowering at us.

  “Mercy!” I heard Finn say. “It’s the Red Woman herself!”

  “What,” said Aunt Beck, “is the meaning of this, Your Majesty? I’ll have you know I’m the Wise Woman of Skarr, here on legal business for the High King, and I can’t be doing with this sort of thing.”

  The Lady Loma answered, in a great slurred voice, “Hold your tongue, woman! You’re on trial for injuring my donkeysh, sho you are. Here they come. Shee. Look!”

  And in through the stockade gate came trotting the whole herd of those wild donkeys, roped head to tail and led by a couple more of the grim men. There was no doubt they were the same ones that had mobbed our cart. I recognised the wicked black donkey with the upcurved hooves, second in the line. And I saw that it, and most of the others, had Plug-Ugly’s bleeding claw marks on its unkempt rump. Oh dear, I thought.

  Ogo, who had rounded up more than his fair share of donkeys in his time, muttered, “How did they get them here so quick?”

  A good question. And as the donkeys were driven up beside us, stinking and steaming, I was afraid I knew the answer. The Lady Loma seemed to cast a shadow across the beasts as they came near her, and that shadow showed another shadow inside each donkey, a shadow bent and skinny, with only two legs. I was pretty sure those donkeys had once been men and women. And I was very frightened indeed. I just hoped my aunt would be a bit more polite when she saw the shadows too.

  But Aunt Beck didn’t seem to notice. She stared haughtily at the drunken queen. “So?” she said. “These beasts of yours attacked our cart for food. Do you blame us for beating them off?”

  “I shurely do,” growled the Lady Loma. “Jusht look at the blood on my poor dumb beashtsh! You’d no call to hurt them sho! I blame you for that, woman!”

  “They wouldn’t have gone otherwise,” retorted my aunt. “And if we’re to talk of blame, Your Majesty, who was it turned this herd out to starve on moss and small grasses? Who was it left their hooves in that state? Who was it never gave any care to their hides or their teeth or their health generally? I’ll tell you straight, Majesty, that herd is a disgrace to its owner!”

  “It ish not sho!” growled the queen. “It ish a proud band, sho it ish.”

  The two glared at one another. I could see what my aunt was trying to do. She was trying to impress the Lady Loma with her personality, the way she usually did others. But I was fairly sure it was not going to work, not when the lady was clearly a powerful witch and drunk besides. I could hear Finn whispering, “Oh, don’t, Wisdom! Don’t!” I could feel Plug-Ugly pressing himself invisibly against my legs and I didn’t wonder that he was frightened too – except that he wasn’t frightened really. He was trying to comfort me because he knew how scared I was.

  “It is not proud,” said my aunt. “It’s one of the sorriest I ever saw. But, if it makes you feel better, I apologise for any damage to your herd. What recompense do you want?”

  “Recompenshe!” howled the queen, swaying about so that our cart creaked and poor Moe turned her head and waggled her ears, looking most uncomfortable. “Recompenshe? I tell you, woman, there ish only one recompenshe you can make. Itsh thish!” And she lunged forward, pointing at Aunt Beck with one great mauve hand and making wild gestures with the other.

  I was fairly sure she meant Aunt Beck to turn into a donkey too. But it didn’t work. Maybe it was because my aunt’s personality was too strong; or maybe it was because Lady Loma nearly overbalanced with the violence of her gestures and the women with her had to haul her upright again. What did happen though was almost as alarming. Aunt Beck’s proud face went pale and slack. Her mouth hung open and her knees gave way. Ivar and I managed to catch her before she quite fell down and we held her up, facing the queen. Ivar had a sickly, placating smile. I don’t know how I looked – accusing, I think. I saw Finn was on his knees and Ogo was bowing with his hands together like a person praying.

  Lady Loma stared, squinting at us all. Then she grunted, “What a showy band indeed. Get them out of my shight,” and staggered away from the cart to go back to the big building across the yard.

  “Will we keep their cart, lady?” one of the men called after her.

  We’d have lost the cart then, as well as Aunt Beck’s wits, if Green Greet had not taken things in hand. He flew into the air in a great green whirl and stayed there, flapping in front of Lady Loma’s face. “Remember the curse!” he shrieked. “Remember the curse!”

  Lady Loma put up one thick arm to shield her face and shouted, “And curse you too, you feshtering bird!” Then she yelled over her shoulder, “Jusht turn them out, cart and all!” After that, she went staggering away among the hens and pigs, bawling to her women, “Am I queen here or am I not? What right hash that bird? What right?”

  Green Greet came flapping back to perch on the cart, satisfied. The grim men and the other people began hastily throwing our things back into the cart – minus the garments and the cheese though – while Finn trotted to Moe’s head to turn her around and, in the distance, the women made soothing noises at the yelling queen. It was easy to see that everyone was scared stiff of her. Fair enough, if she turned someone into a donkey every time she was annoyed. I was pretty scared myself. I didn’t breathe easy until I had coaxed Aunt Beck to sit in the cart and Ivar had driven it out of the stockade.

  I had to explain to everyone what had happened, once we were back on the track. At least, Finn seemed to know. Apparently, the Red Woman was famous in Bernica. Finn kept interrupting my explanation with devout cries of, “It’s lucky we were to come off so easy, bless the Goddess!” But the boys could not seem to understand. Ivar wondered why one of the grim men had not long since run Lady Loma through when her back was turned.

  Ogo said thoughtfully, “Better to put a pillow over her face while she was asleep and then sit on it.”

  This surprised me coming from Ogo, but I said patiently, “No, you’d both be donkeys in an instant if you tried either of those things. She’s powerful. She’d know. She’d see your intention before you started.”

  “You mean,” Ivar said incredulously, “that great cow of a woman can actually turn people into donkeys?”

  “Indeed she can,” said Finn. “And does.”

  “While she’s that drunk?” said Ivar.

  “Yes,” I said. “She probably does it oftener when she’s drunk.”

  “And she’s seldom sober, th
ey say,” Finn added.

  “But,” Ogo pointed out, “she didn’t turn Beck into a donkey, did she?”

  “She tried,” I said.

  “I could see she tried something,” Ogo admitted.

  “They’d got themselves a neat set-up there,” Ivar said cynically – and typically. “They set the herd on travellers, then arrest them, and then take all their property, but it’s hard to see it as witchcraft. My brother would appreciate that trick.”

  “Why didn’t your aunt get turned into a donkey?” Ogo persisted.

  “She’s too strong-minded,” I said. “I think.”

  “She is that,” Finn agreed. “She’ll be coming to herself any time soon now.”

  We all looked at Aunt Beck sitting upright and empty-faced among the baggage, all of us sure that Finn was right and that Aunt Beck would rise up any moment and take over the driving from Ivar.

  She didn’t.

  When it came near evening, Aunt Beck was still sitting there. If we spoke to her, she would only answer if we said it several times, and then it was, “Don’t know, I’m sure,” in the vaguest voice. It was alarming.

  Meanwhile, we had passed over some more low hills to where the country felt different. The green seemed a deeper green – but perhaps this was just because the rain was falling harder. When we came to a small village, Finn scuttled across to a woman who was taking a bucket to the well.

  “Tell me, does Lady Loma rule in this country?” he asked her.

  “No, thank the Goddess,” was the reply. “These parts belong to Queen Maura.”

  We all sighed with relief. I think even Moe did. From here on we were all expecting Aunt Beck to begin coming to herself. She didn’t. She sat there. I began to feel seriously alarmed. The trouble was, Aunt Beck had of course had charge of the money. But it seemed to be nowhere in the cart. As far as I knew, none of Lady Loma’s grim people had found it, but I was not sure. I asked the others if they had seen anyone secretly taking it while we stood inside that stockade. They all thought not.