by Gail Merritt
‘I had no idea that he knew anyone connected to the Mantles. He never had anything good to say about the Talarin or the Souran.’ I waited for her to reply, then realised that she was already gone, leaving me to muse over those early days when my father had been young and spent time in the company of the old king, when still a prince. Perhaps that was when Olemia had fallen in love with her King, long before she became Silver Mantle. Gwythin and Olemia had been novices together and perhaps that was how Gwythin knew my father. Perhaps they had both been part of the same company of young courtiers. For a moment, I mused about a romance between her and my father, but it had not been love that I felt in her, it had been pity and remorse.
The days after the funeral involved fare welling guests and accepting gifts and kindnesses from the people of Brak. A formal message of condolence came from the King. It was without warmth or comfort and I left it in the rose arbour to blow away as easily as Ardin’s affection for me had blown away at the sight of the stone princess. Talithia spent much of her time alone in her chamber and I was grateful for Sandor who occupied Geldia, while I accompanied Tregrin as my father’s new steward, Jerl, gave account of my father’s affairs. Jerl had served under my beloved Ruthen and was Channa’s nephew who, she said, was doing his best to live up to his uncle’s high standards. My father had left a handsome retainer for Channa as well as suitable bequests for Geldia and myself. A similar amount was for Talithia, accompanied by a plea to Tregrin to allow her to remain in the castle, if she so wished. Tregrin was eager to agree.
‘This is Lady Talithia’s home and I have no intention of driving her or anyone else away from their rightful place.’ Here he gave me a quick glance. He coughed. ‘Cousin Megwin, I want you to know that I will comply with all your father’s wishes for Brak. The Gathering is a noble birthright and I won’t let him down, but I do feel awkward about inheriting what should be yours, if only you were born a man.’
‘The laws of Magra are quite clear, cousin. I have never been in doubt that one day Brak would be yours.’ I allowed him to lead me down the corridor away from my father’s apartments at the end of the meeting. ‘I have a home in Vellin and, as Green Mantle, I travel through the Five Kingdoms quite often. So long as you take care of Talithia and my stepsister and serve Brak as my father did, I am content.’
‘Oh, I shall.’ His face was full of earnest intent and smeared with ink. ‘Lady Talithia is so gentle and sweet. I could never imagine myself doing anything that would hurt her.’ We were outside my father’s library. ‘I do not intend to change much except for that strange little room above the stables. I believe it was once your room.’
‘It was.’ I had remained in a room close to Talithia, but I was still protective about my little garret and wondered what he proposed to do with it.
‘From the roof of that room there is an uninterrupted view of the sky and I intend to turn it into an observatory.’ His squint at me was almost as a question.
‘You observe the skies?’ I was intrigued.
‘It is one of my dearest passions,’ he confessed. ‘You have no doubt, um, noticed that I am a bookish person, who would prefer time in a library to time on the exercise yard. I am never happier than when I am pouring over some ancient volume or constructing a new machine.’ He was warming to his subject.
‘Machine?’
‘Come and see.’ He moved to grab my hand but then reconsidered, leading the way to the room beyond the library. It had been my father’s trophy room, once hung with the heads of beautiful creatures that my father had hunted. The hideous collection had graced the great hall until Talithia had insisted they were removed after their marriage. She said she could not dine while all those creatures watched her. The room had been stripped of all decoration and the fine carpets were gone. Several long benches lined with walls and in the middle of the room was a workbench, similar to the one Ruthen had been so proud of in his hut beyond the kitchen. Strange creations of wood and metal sat upon the wall benches, some almost reaching the ceiling, others no more than a few inches high. He handed me one of the small ones.
‘A device for taking the shells from boiled eggs,’ he explained. ‘That one is for winding twine into a neat ball. Watch.’ He demonstrated. ‘Here is one that I am very proud of, it polishes shoes.’ He placed an old shoe in the machine, and we watched as several mechanical arms went to work on it. To my amazement, the shoe began to shine. It was almost possible to see a reflection in the surface. Suddenly, the shoe leapt out at me. I ducked and it crashed against the farthest wall. ‘It still needs a little work on it.’ He quickly moved further down the bench. ‘But this one here, this one is finished. It turns the pages of a book without the reader having to move his hand. Watch.’
So it was that I discovered my cousin Tregrin was much more than a pale young man with straw coloured hair and poor eyesight. He dabbled in everything. He showed me the constellations, brewed ale and liquor in the bowels of strange contraptions and even rode about the corridors in a cart, not pulled by any person or beast. His mind was forever busy, searching, questioning, shooting off in new directions until sometimes it was hard to follow him. At the same time, he grew into his new role as the Lord of the Gathering. Talithia helped him to dress appropriately for meetings or when he went out among the people. He solved the problem of the castle drainage system, started major renovation of the aqueduct that diverted water to several of the tenant farmers and devised a lighter roasting spit for Channa. Consequently, she thought he was an angel.
I filled my days with my family, a family that I had neglected when my father was alive, and I spent my evenings sitting by Channa’s fire sharing my childhood memories with Sandor. It was only when I closed the curtains around my bed that I felt the strange emptiness left by my father. He had always been a distant figure but steadfast, like a lighthouse on a familiar rock that mariners grow to cherish. When I could not sleep, I went over our last conversation and wondered why my father seemed to blame the Mantles for his losing both my mother and me. I could make no sense of it but decided to ask Black Mantle when we shared our thoughts again.
About two weeks after my father’s funeral, Matt arrived in Brak with our horses. I had been walking the hills with Sandor when we saw their familiar forms ambling up the road to the marketplace. By the time we reached the castle, Matt was already sitting in Channa’s kitchen enjoying her rhubarb pie while Gilbert and Deric tucked into fresh oats in the stables. When Matt saw us, he rose but his greeting was without joy. The strange disease that we had left behind us on the marshes continued to strike its young victims and Gwythin could find no cause nor cure. Blue Mantle had joined her and together they tried to heal as many as they could, but the malady would often return to the same child, until the sick gave up and waited for death. Matt begged me to return. The terror was moving northwards. It had struck children further inland, and among the victims was the eldest son of the landlord of The Green Sail. Worse still, on the very day Matt left with the horses, Tamora, Beryl’s beautiful daughter had smelt the apples.
14. - Storm
We spent the rest of the day preparing to leave Brak. I half-wished that Gwythin would arrive with auks to speed our journey but by sunset I was resigned to a long ride back to the coast. Gwythin and Blue Mantle were too busy restoring some strength to their patients to consider us at all. After supper, we spread a map across one of Tregrin’s benches and discussed our swiftest route. Jerl, now Tregrin’s bailiff, had also been a royal messenger in his youth and knew short cuts and passes that could take us across open land in a direct path. Nevertheless, it would take over three days of hard riding.
‘Are you sure that your horses are suited to this?’ Talithia asked.
‘I can give them a little Mantle help,’ I winked. Gilbert had gone pale at the thought of climbing through the hills and picking his way down loose moraine.
‘I’ve picked a good mount for you, my Lord.’ Jerl nodded at Tregrin.
Talithia rounded on
them both. ‘You intend to go too?’
‘I do.’ Tregrin looked almost defiant. ‘You and Jerl can manage here very well without me and I might be able to help. I have a good knowledge of herbs and remedies.’
‘He does!’ Channa put in as she served hot drinks. She had invited herself to the discussion but could offer little help to any journey as she had never ventured far from Brak in her life. ‘Cured my aching shoulder, he did. Better than new, it is.’
‘But the danger…’ Talithia persisted.
‘I am perfectly safe. I am with Matt, Sandor and Green Mantle herself. Who could harm me? And as for the sickness, well that is a chance I am prepared to take to learn more about it.’
Talithia looked to me for support but what could I say? Tregrin ’s knowledge of herbal remedies and healing skills would be useful, and I thought we needed all the help that we could muster. Eventually Talithia threw up her arms in resignation, and when we left at dawn, she waved farewell from her balcony. Ralph, the little owl at her side. He had made the journey north with Matt and offered to stay to protect her. I wasn’t sure who would be protecting whom.
The land between Brak and the Listi was sparsely populated. The lower hills and valleys were dotted with small villages and farming communities, but the high places were wild and barren. On another occasion I would have liked to linger there, to smell the air and meet the denizens of those lonely places. We spent our first night in a cave as guests of the wolves who lived there. The horses were nervous until Gilbert reassured them that we were on good terms with all the wolves in the Five Kingdoms, telling them the story of how he had been afraid of the great wolf pack in the Forests of Lore until he had met them.
By dawn we were already struggling up a steep cliffside, leading the horses behind us. The old road wound up to the highest plateau through a series of wooded platforms but the heavy rains of two stormy winters had seeped into the limestone below, and one fearful night, the whole hillside had writhed and crumbled away. Remnants of the beech woods still remained as decaying logs and piles of broken rocks in the valley below. It was fortunate that most wild creatures had natural premonitions of such things and the woodland animals had moved away several days before, but two farmhouses were not so fortunate. As we climbed we saw what was left of their rough-clad walls and broken roofs. No sign remained to tell who had lived there or if they had survived the deadly torrent of rock and vegetation that must have rained down on them that night. We shuddered and set our eyes on the track ahead.
In late afternoon, we passed east of Vellin and were back in the rich farmland of the Listi and made camp in a meadow beside a brook. All tired, we took to our beds shortly after the sun had taken itself below the horizon and spent a peaceful and uneventful night. As we made our way to the lower Listi, I allowed my memories of Vellin to surface, and the pain I still felt about Ardin’s betrayal shocked me. He had professed his love for me and within hours fallen under the spell of princess Melia, the stone statue that Silver Mantle had brought to life to steal him from me. Ardin knew nothing of this deception and was probably himself influenced by Silver Mantle’s magic but the ease with which he cast aside my affection still hurt. I drove the thoughts away, but they continued to hover on the edge of my mind, colouring my mood throughout the afternoon.
We ate in the shade of an ancient oak, while itinerant foxes gave me news of the epidemic. It had spread, but not as far as I had expected, still keeping to the east of the towns and heaviest in the marshland and estuary. My companions were all subdued, perhaps from the rigours of our ride and lost in their own thoughts.
‘Come and play with us!’ chirped a pair of red squirrels in the branches above as we rested. ‘When the badness goes, come back and play, Green Mantle.’ I spoke aloud to them, promising that I would.
Tregin’s eyes moved swiftly between me and the squeaking animals. ‘Were they talking to you? What did they say?’
‘They want Lady Megwin to play with them,’ Sandor said as one of the cheeky little creatures sat on his shoulder. He grinned at me but caught my expression and sobered. He began to stammer. ‘I didn’t, I mean I couldn’t really, I mean I just sort of…’
‘You heard them!’ I reached to squeeze his hand and stop him floundering. ‘I suspect that you’ve always been able to hear. You just didn’t know that you were doing it. Don’t worry the power isn’t exclusive to the Mantles. But you must be cautious because it isn’t always a blessing. I know.’
‘I think I only hear feelings. These little fellows were all full of excitement and playfulness. I don’t speak to them like you’ He returned my squeeze, which was noticed by Matt, who ducked his head, hoping no one else was watching.
‘I suspect that you’ve been with Lady Mantle for too long, son.’ Matt tapped out his pipe. ‘You need some time with normal folk.’ He strode off towards the horses, ending our sojourn and increasing the uneasiness that had crept between us. Tregrin spent the rest of the afternoon endeavouring to lighten our mood but as we drew closer to the Listi and the wetlands our thoughts became darker. By the time we crossed the river, north of the Erba rapids, we were ready for an argument.
‘We should rest here tonight,’ Matt suggested. ‘We can’t do anything in the dark and we’ll be fresh for tomorrow.’ It was a sensible idea.
‘We are only a few miles away from the cottage. I say we press on and rest when we get there.’ I urged Gilbert forward, but Sandor placed Deric across our path.
‘Matt’s right! We could easily injure ourselves or the horses in the dark, and this wind is bringing rain.’
‘I suppose you can foretell the weather too? Have you also spent too much time with Blue Mantle, Sandor?’
His eyes sparkled with indignation at my words. ‘I knew it. You tried to make light of it, but you were angry that I could understand the squirrels, I didn’t ask to be able to do this. It doesn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t change our friendship. More importantly, it shouldn’t cloud your judgement. Matt’s right about staying here and we gypsies have had to learn to read the weather.’ I knew he was right, but I was too wrapped up in my own anger, grown, I suspect, from those lingering thoughts about Vellin. I was Green Mantle and I would do as I pleased.
‘Then you stay here!’ I pointed to the barn where Matt and Tregrin were already unpacking saddlebags. ‘I’m going on.’
‘It’s going to rain!’ Gilbert grumbled.
‘Don’t you start to argue,’ I told him. ‘Get along.’ I did not wait to hear their pleas, if indeed they pleaded. As the first drops of rain blew in my eyes, we left them beside the barn and set out into the twilight. Of course, Sandor had been right about the weather and we had not travelled far before the rain was lashing our faces and dripping down my neck. Gilbert slowed to a walk, but I scarcely noticed, I was crying too much to care. It might have been sorrow at the loss of my father, or the thoughts of Ardin and Vellin, or the misery that awaited us in the marsh, but more than anything, it was the certainty that my pride had sliced a wedge between Sandor and myself. I had been jealous of him, too proud that I alone should speak with beasts, and I had been too stubborn and petty to recognise my true feelings, disguising them in a need to reach the cottages. I was envious and angry with myself for it.
‘I’m wet!’ Gilbert informed me.
‘So am I!’
‘Well, what are you going to do about it?’ Gilbert could be very annoying, and I decided not to answer him. Instead I tried to see the road ahead, but the night was closing in. ‘We should never have left the others.’ He persisted.
‘Concentrate on the road!’ There was an ominous rumble of thunder to the South, and I needed to keep his attention away from the coming storm. I hoped that we might reach the inn road before the storm reached us.
‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ He stopped. ‘The path is getting narrower all the time. I think we should turn back. If we’ve got lost, we’ll finish up in the marshes and all manner of terrible things could ha
ppen to us there.
I dismounted and hugged his neck. ‘We’ll turn back if you want to. I think we might be on the wrong track. I’ve been very selfish and I’m sorry, Gilbert.’ He nuzzled me and swung his own back legs around, pointing us both in the opposite direction.
‘Nobody’s perfect,’ He was eager to be retracing our steps, but I insisted that we walk until we were certain of the way back. We edged our way in soggy darkness until a finger of lightning struck a tree on the track ahead of us. Everything happened in an instant. I felt rather than saw Gilbert rear up. I saw the tree burst into flame. I saw the branches explode from the trunk and I felt the hot wood strike my head. Then the world became a sickening pain and my last memory was the cold but soothing wetness of the ground as I hit it.
Before I opened my eyes, I knew it was daylight and I knew that my head ached. The pain increased when I blinked. It seemed that there was glue on my eye-lids and, when I focused, what I saw meant nothing to me. I appeared to be surrounded my leaves and for a moment I wondered what I was doing in a tree. The glue on my face was threatening to pull my eyelids closed, so I rubbed them and was surprised to find the glue was red.
I must have slept again and woke when the sun warmed my face. This time I realised that I was in the middle of a fallen branch, and memories of the previous night came flooding back. I touched my face, finding more congealing blood from the wound on my head. I wondered where Gilbert was and struggled free of the debris, calling his name. My voice sounded feeble. There was no sign of Gilbert, nor any other creature except for a huddle of woodlice, squeezing themselves into the crevices of the tree branch. It took a lot of persuading to get them to crawl onto my hand.
‘Sick head, leaking, Mantle.’ One of them touched the others’ antennae.
‘It’s nothing,’ I assured them. ‘But I’ve lost my horse and I don’t know where I am.’
‘You’re here.’ The woodlice agreed with each other.
