Stone Keeper

by Beth Webb

  Despair ate her soul. Her dark hair fell out in handfuls. She grew thin, and sometimes Gilda needed goat’s milk on a spoon.

  On Beltane morning, Tegen made wreaths of hawthorn for Ula, Claudia and herself, then she gave Kieran a crown of pale golden oak leaves woven with sprigs of black-budded ash. Lastly she tucked a spray of the musty, milky blossom into Gilda’s shawl.

  ‘I must find someone to bless you, to protect you from the demon,’ Tegen whispered. ‘If there are any druids left in Britain, they’ll come to the spring fair. I won’t let evil reach you – I swear I won’t.’

  Then she led the way down the winding path to the meadows between the village and the Winter Seas where the Beltane fair was in full swing.

  It was here she had danced for the first time and been given her green silk shawl. On that day, she had begun her journey into magic. Witton had seen her power and been frightened of it.

  It was at Beltane she had married Tonn.

  Leaving the others to enjoy the juggling displays and the stalls selling spiced cakes and trinkets, Tegen carried Gilda to an oak stump where Witton used to sit. Tegen pushed aside the swathes of ivy. ‘This is my seat now,’ she said.

  But the wood was rotting. There were no druids. Not even any half-trained bards croaking badly rhyming songs to entertain the crowds.

  Tegen wandered between the stalls, but the people fell silent or drew back as she approached.

  With a heart of lead, she took her baby up the small hill to Witton’s old roundhouse, now sagging with rotten thatch and cracked walls. She pushed open the door and went inside. The smell of damp and decay made her cough. Shafts of spring sunlight shed gold on the mouldy sheepskins that had once been the druid’s bed. The hearth was desolate and black.

  Amongst the ashes lay a few peeled sticks arranged in patterns. Tegen picked them up and examined them. They weren’t ogham, but she sensed they had important meanings.

  So, at least one druid had been here since she had left, but was it before or after the slaughter of Mona? Was he or she still alive?

  Perched on the same stool she had used when Witton pronounced her Star Dancer, Tegen buried her face in her baby’s shawl and cried.

  She did not hear the soft footfall behind her. Her eyes were so swollen she did not see the edge of a long, white woollen robe, or a sandaled foot.

  ‘Can I help?’ asked a deep voice with a heavy accent.

  Tegen looked up. A thin, old man with dark skin drew up another stool and sat beside her.

  ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my house?’ Tegen snapped, then felt guilty for being so rude. It hadn’t been ‘her’ house for a very long time.

  The man smiled and bowed his head politely. ‘Forgive intrusion. I thought here deserted. I stranger. My name Josephus. I live with friends on Tor-hill. I am see celebrations here. I interested your druids, so I am come learn from these remains.’ He swept a long hand around the room. ‘Druids seems gone, I think?’

  Wide eyed, Tegen stared at him. Her hand covered the Watching Woman’s stars on her right cheek.

  Josephus rose from his stool. ‘Please, forgive.’ He bowed slightly. ‘I go?’

  ‘No … wait,’ Tegen dried her nose and eyes on her sleeve-rag and sniffed. Cuddling Gilda tightly, she looked up into the man’s calm, dark eyes. ‘You say you live on the Tor? So you must be a druid too? You dress like one – you feel like one.’

  Josephus put his head to one side. ‘You might say yes. But I come from far land. My ways of doings am different from yours, but I love all.’ He helped her stand. ‘I like see goings-on outside. You honour with me accompanying?’

  Tegen smiled at his awkward words and old-fashioned courtesy, but she did not want excitement.

  Gilda wriggled and whimpered. ‘Thank you, but I’ll stay here, my baby needs feeding,’ she said.

  ‘Can I holding her?’ Josephus asked gently. ‘What name is?’

  Tegen hesitated while she listened to his spirit. He felt strong and true. ‘She is called Gilda. Can … can you give a strong blessing? One that will really protect her?’

  Josephus smiled. ‘I can.’

  And she entrusted her darling to the old man’s open arms.

  Humming a lullaby, he cradled Gilda until she was quiet, then he laid his hand on her head and spoke in foreign words.

  His blessing rippled gold and white light over Gilda’s tiny body. Then he handed her back, still faintly aglow in the hut’s dingy light.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tegen murmured, and he left.

  Six moons later, Ula married Derren. Her own father had been a potter in Gaul and she soon became part of the family business. Kieran and Derren worked on the new roundhouse together and Claudia painted the walls with exotic designs from her mother’s tribe. They handfasted at the time of golden leaves, Ula’s dress already stretched over her swollen belly.

  As the sun set, the couple were escorted to their new home with drums and whistles to scare away demons, Tegen sat with Gilda on her lap, watching Ula’s happy face lit by torchlight. The red scars under her fringe had faded. ‘Their future will be good,’ she told Gilda who gurgled and reached for a firefly glowing in the grass.

  At that moment, Claudia and Kieran came running up to Tegen and flung themselves down, pleasantly drunk and full of laughter. ‘I am really happy for the first time in my life!’ Claudia announced. Then springing up again, she hauled Kieran to his feet. ‘Dance with me!’

  ‘There’s no music,’ he objected.

  ‘I hear crickets!’ Claudia hiccoughed, swinging him around until they both fell in a heap at Tegen’s side.

  Claudia grabbed her fingers and kissed them. ‘Thank you so much for rescuing me, I was never really happy as a Roman lady. I have too much of my mother’s Celtic blood in my veins. If it hadn’t been for Ula, I’d never have survived Camulodunum. She insisted I fled with Owein. She kept me going all the time we were hiding in that stinking waggon. You once said she’d save my life. I thought you meant she’d do something big and heroic, but it was in simple things like making sure I ate and laughed.’

  ‘She’s no less a hero!’ Tegen replied.

  ‘Oh I know, especially as I was so awful! That’s why I’m so happy for her. I could stay here forever! I want to dance again!’ She rolled over in the long grass and kicked her feet towards the stars.

  ‘You won’t though,’ Tegen said.

  ‘Won’t what?’

  ‘Stay here forever, I have seen it.’

  Claudia sat up, wide-eyed. ‘Where will I go?’

  ‘Somewhere green – with hills.’

  ‘What about me?’ Kieran asked.

  ‘You will become a bard in a foreign land.’

  Kieran pushed Tegen playfully. ‘Don’t be daft!’

  ‘You’ll believe me when it happens. Only Ula and Derren will stay here, the rest of us must leave – soon. Trouble is brewing.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’ Kieran frowned.

  Tegen stroked Gilda’s dark curls. ‘Suetonius is looking for me, and he’s getting close.’

  The Tor

  Winter came. At first the Romans at the mines left the local people alone, only appearing in the villages to collect taxes or occasionally to search for a thief or vandal.

  But beyond the Winter Seas, there was hunger because farmers had fought rather than sown crops. The old ways were lost; the Goddess was no longer worshipped properly.

  The Romans demanded more than the people could afford. Reprisals and vengeance killings multiplied.

  Despite the hardships, Gilda blossomed. As she grew, so Tegen withered under the weight of her persistent dreams. They clung to her spirit like a cloak of sodden wool.

  One night, Tegen threw off her sheepskins. Dripping with sweat, she coughed and struggled to breathe. She opened her eyes in terror.

  The golem was leaning over her bed. It opened its fiery mouth, its words crackled:

  The master has been patient too long. Tonight you must bow
to your new lord.

  Tegen screamed, ‘Never! Get out! Get out of my head. Get out of my house. NOW! You don’t exist! I destroyed you. You’re nothing!’

  And the creature laughed like snapping wood. Its breath stank of soot.

  ‘FIRE!’ Kieran yelled from downstairs. ‘Tegen? Claudia? Get out! The cottage is on fire!’

  With Gilda howling under her arm, Tegen scrambled down the ladder into the choking heat and smoke. The hearth was spitting as if loaded with pinecones. Flickering red light licked the walls and billows of smoke.

  Tegen looked around. ‘Where’s my cloak?’

  ‘Forget it! Come ON!’ Kieran yelled, opening the door. Icy air blasted inside, flames rose up roaring.

  Tegen and Claudia flung themselves outside, just as the roof collapsed with a deafening crash.

  ‘Witch!’ screamed a voice. Rough hands grabbed at Tegen’s arms.

  She clutched Gilda closer. They were surrounded by angry, torch lit faces. Some were yelling, others wielding sticks and knives. ‘Where’s the witch? Burn her!’ they screeched.

  Whimpering, Claudia clutched at Tegen. Kieran drew his knife, but there were too many to fight.

  Muttering a spell, Tegen drew a pall of thick smoke around herself and her friends. ‘Run!’ she urged, grabbing what she hoped was Claudia’s shoulder.

  Cloaked by magic, they slipped between the angry hordes and ran downhill through the dark woods until they came to a hidden hollow. There, they crouched and shivered.

  Gilda sobbed and Tegen gave her a finger to suck.

  Kieran went a little way back into the trees, and then returned. ‘No one’s following, we’re safe for the moment.’

  ‘What was that for?’ Claudia demanded. ‘We haven’t hurt anyone.’

  Kieran sat next to her. ‘I didn’t want to say anything, not with everyone being so happy about the wedding an’all. There’s been rumours in the village about Tegen being a witch … Something to do with raising a demon in a cave and drowning a lot of people?’

  ‘There was a flood, but it wasn’t me who summoned the demon,’ Tegen replied quietly. ‘But why a fire, and why tonight?’

  Kieran sighed and buried his head between his knees. ‘I had no idea it’d come to this, honest,’ he said at last. ‘They say in the village that there’s Roman money being offered for you.’

  Gilda snuffled unhappily. Tegen cuddled her, grateful for her damp warmth. ‘Perhaps they thought it was easier to kill me than capture me alive?’

  Kieran nodded. ‘Maybe. They’d do anything not to have them bloody Romans in the village. Easier to hand over a corpse than risk being fried by one of your spells. But I didn’t think they’d do this, I thought it was all talk. Sorry, I should have said something.’

  ‘And I should have guessed.’ Tegen hesitated. ‘Kieran, can you find a boat?’

  ‘Why?’

  Tegen looked back towards her old home, where flames still painted the night. ‘We can’t stay here. They’ll scour the woods when it gets light. I want to go to the Tor – to the new druids. I think I’ll be safe there while I think what to do next.’

  Kieran scrambled to his feet. ‘I’ll go to Ula’s first and borrow a couple of cloaks and some food. You hide, and when you hear me call like a heron three times, come to the water’s edge and answer like an owl.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Tegen replied, and Claudia jumped to her feet and hugged him.

  A short while later, when dawn was little more than a smudge of light in the east, a harsh voice cried three times.

  Clutching Gilda, Tegen made her way through the squashy mud to the water’s edge, Claudia slipping and cursing behind her.

  With wet shoes and shivering badly, Tegen hooted back.

  The sound of a paddle’s steady splash veered towards them.

  Tegen hooted once more. ‘Over here, you’ve gone too far,’ she called softly.

  The coracle turned, and soon Kieran was steering the little boat towards the shore. He splashed into the water and dragged the boat across the mud. ‘Sorry, it’s too shallow; you’ll have to wade. Take my hand.’

  Claudia lifted her skirt and stepped into the chilly water with a shudder.

  When she had clambered in and settled herself down, Tegen passed Gilda across to her, then she took her place.

  Kieran bent his back and pushed the boat into deeper water. ‘It’s getting light, hurry, try and get behind one of the little islands before the sun comes up or they’ll see you and be after you.’

  Tegen nodded and picked up the paddle.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘No room,’ he answered tersely. ‘I’ll hide at Ula’s for a couple of days. With any luck they’ll think Tegen is dead and everything will blow over very quickly. The Romans can’t go after someone who’s just ash.’

  As the boat span across the winter seas, Tegen wove a blessing and sent it after Kieran. ‘Come and see us soon. Ask for the house of Josephus.’

  All morning, they paddled across the marshy seas, keeping out of sight behind sedge-covered islets. It was almost noon when they edged the boat around the tip of a scrub-covered promontory that looked like an enormous sleeping pig. On the far side, the afternoon sun caught on a long wooden wharf where two ships were moored.

  One was wide and laden with bulging sacks. Only a large brown dog was on board, watching imperiously from his throne of stinking, uncured skins.

  The other had high, gaudily painted prows. A man was striding the narrow central deck shouting orders to a dozen slaves. Their manacles clanked as they struggled to get their long oars into position.

  The rest of the dock was empty, apart from an old watchman dozing by a brazier.

  ‘I thought this was a sacred place,’ Tegen said, ‘it looks more like a trading post.’

  Claudia shrugged. ‘I don’t care what it is – I have to get out of this wind and find something to eat. Gilda is frozen too.’

  With a few more strokes, Tegen brought the coracle alongside the jetty. She gripped the slimy planks and heaved herself up. Claudia tossed her a rope which she looped around a wooden post and made fast.

  Tegen rubbed her stiff, blistered fingers, then took Gilda while Claudia scrambled out of the boat. Together they made their way up a narrow zigzagging path that climbed the steep slope of the promontory. Their wet boots slipped on the greasy mud and the wind slammed their backs as they struggled on. At the top, they paused to catch their breath. Ten or fifteen arrow-shots to their right, a swathe of woodland skirted the steep sided Tor, which rose dramatically to a forlorn crag at the top.

  ‘I longed to climb up there when I was a child.’ Tegen said, then she swung around to survey the view. Then she laughed. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she exclaimed, running to where a small thorn tree was in full blossom, its creamy flowers nodding between sparse green leaves. ‘Is this a sign that the Goddess is still alive in the Land?’ Pulling a few red threads from her cloak, she bound them around a spindly branch in offering.

  The blossom bowed merrily in response.

  Claudia staggered and slipped as she joined Tegen. ‘Who cares about a tree?’ she grumbled. ‘I’m freezing, and what if we get seen? Have you any idea where this man lives?’ she demanded between chattering teeth.

  ‘No, but there’s only one path, so we’ll take that.’

  The girls walked through the newly built settlement. A small stream trickled down the main street, with shops and alehouses on either side. A woman was selling turnips and leeks from a basket, while her son juggled green apples. A couple of farmers strode down the road whacking sticks at a flock of goats. From the other direction a gaggle of geese waddled and hissed, chased by noisy children.

  Tegen bought a pot of milk for Gilda and asked directions, then they trudged uphill past a scattering of small huts huddled together as if for warmth. At last they came to a cress-filled water meadow below a small coombe with a lonely cottage.

  The wind blew colder as heavy
yellowish clouds piled in the northern sky.

  ‘Are you sure about these druids?’ Claudia asked through chattering teeth. ‘I’ve heard people saying they’re foreign. They might be Romans.’

  Tegen squeezed her hand. ‘If they can make that tree bloom on a winter’s day, then they might just be capable of miracles. Who else can we turn to? The man I met was kind; I think they are very like druids. We will be safe, and soon you will go to a green land – and so will my Gilda. I have seen it.’

  But where will I be? Tegen wondered silently, sniffing back tears.

  The golem’s threat was as raw and awful by day as it was by night.

  Tegen whispered into Gilda’s ear, ‘You will be safe, but I must face my fears and be ready for whatever happens next.’

  The baby looked up at her Mam and smiled, blowing bubbles through her snotty nose.

  Tegen kissed her. ‘And above all, you must be kept safe, my darling,’ she added under her breath. She longed for Josephus’s soft lights to flow over them both. If only he could wash her pain away – and protect her baby.

  They reached the whitewashed cottage. Smoke seeped through the thatch, and inside, someone was singing. Tegen knocked hard on the plank door.

  A tall man with dark skin and a kindly smile opened it. His long white robe tugged in the gale.

  ‘Hello Josephus,’ Tegen said. ‘We need help. May we come in?’

  Refuge

  ‘Tegen and Gilda!’ Josephus exclaimed. ‘You and friend welcome.’ He ushered them into the gentle darkness of the little hut. ‘I thought I hear voices. Come. What bitter day! I have plenty eating.’ He gestured towards a pot of vegetable stew and flatbread baking on the central hearth.

  Josephus shut the door against the winter’s raging. The girls found stools while the old man dished up food. Then he took Gilda and fed her bread dipped in gravy.

  ‘How this old man serve you?’ he asked as they ate.

  ‘I am being hunted, Tegen explained, ‘we need somewhere to hide, until I can make – arrangements.’