by Beth Webb
Josephus considered Tegen keenly. ‘Is all?’ he asked simply. His question searched out her soul, as if he knew she was suffering.
Tegen wanted to tell him, she needed to tell someone. ‘And … and I’m having bad dreams.’
‘Ah.’ Josephus reached out for Tegen’s fingers. ‘I very sorry you dreamings have. We talking later, yes?’
Tegen fought the lump swelling in her throat. She nodded silently. At last she replied, ‘There was a fire last night. Some people think I’m a witch, and they want to kill me – or sell me to the Romans. And there’s someone who hates me … Someone important.’
‘And you afraid. I understand.’
‘No, not exactly,’ Tegen took her sleeping daughter from Josephus. ‘I’m not afraid of the man, it’s just I think I may have to give up my daughter to be free to fight him … and I think I’ll die of grief if she’s not with me. I need somewhere quiet to think – and to be certain what to do.’
She raised an eyebrow at the old man. ‘Is that possible?’ she asked. ‘Do you have somewhere we can stay?’
‘I take you to my sister-house. She makes you warm and snug. My home not excellent for lady visitors. She kind lady, will help with gladness.’
The following morning, Tegen left Gilda with Claudia, and went alone to Josephus’s hut.
His sister Marah was with him, and together they listened as Tegen told of her birth, her sparse training, her marriage to Griff and how he died a hero when the demon was raised in the caves. She described Admidios the Shadow Walker and how he murdered King Eiser. With pride in her voice she told how Owein and Sabrina had fought to defend Britain.
As the afternoon wore on, she found the words to tell of Étain and her mirror magic, Tonn and his unfailing love, his self-sacrifice and its pointlessness.
Josephus and Marah shared their food and clouds gathered. While she described Boudica and her vile cruelty, the skies wept.
By the time the sun was setting, Tegen had torn at the scar on her finger until it bled, she had told all about the golem and the disastrous battle with Suetonius.
‘I stupidly thought that when the fighting finished, that the hatred and vengeance would stop too,’ Tegen explained. ‘But it’s getting worse, my own people are suffering because of me. I’ve seen in the fire that my child must go over the seas to Ériu, but without me. My dreams say that if I join with the demon that pursues me, I may keep her.’ Tegen swallowed hard.
‘You torn in half.’ Marah touched her hand. ‘Poor child.’
‘I must let Gilda go – but what if I refuse?’ Tegen wiped a tear away. ‘But what if I let her go and I still fail? I’ll have lost the most precious love I have. Bran told me not to be afraid of fear, but this is too big. I’m not strong enough. I’m about to fail my destiny.’
‘And what destiny is yours?’ the old man asked kindly.
Tegen stared into the flames dancing on the hearth. ‘When I was younger, I thought I had to make difficult spells to throw out the Romans, but they are only people, like us. They aren’t the enemy.’
Marah wrapped a piece of rag around Tegen’s bleeding finger.
Josephus thought for a moment. ‘So, who is enemy, you thinking?’
‘The enemy is the demon that pursues me – hatred and vengeance.’ Tegen thumped her knee. ‘But it’s too strong, it’s already destroyed the Spirit of Britain. Now it’s sworn to come at Imbolg and destroy Gilda and all I love.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know how to stand against that.‘
Josephus and Marah exchanged glances. ‘We had friend, one time,’ Marah began, ‘he thought save his country from Romans. They grow strong. He fought hate and vengeance also.’
‘What happened?’ Tegen asked, eyes wide.
‘The Romans kill him dead,’ Josephus replied simply.
Marah nodded slowly. ‘Our people betray. Cruel when he do only good things.’
‘But he not fail,’ Josephus added. ‘You not know what waves you make when your ship-wake pass by.’
Tegen leaned on her elbow and sipped at a chamomile tisane. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Do what best you can, then good things happen. Maybe slow, but they come.’ Josephus reached over to the quern where a few grains of barley lay scattered. ‘Tell me please – you plant this to grow the nettles?’
Tegen frowned. ‘Of course not. You get more barley.’
The old man tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Here big secret. You plant love-seeds and they never bloom into hate-flowers. No love-seed ever dies. It may sleep long time. Young plant may be boot-trodden, but it always spring hope somewhere.’
‘So, you think if I trust my destiny, and let Gilda go when the time comes – then all will be well?’
Marah bowed her head over her hands, then said, ‘One day, yes. Is true.’
The room fell silent except for the crackle of the flames on the hearth and Gilda’s soft snuffles.
Then Josephus laughed. ‘I talk much. Marah is face-making at me. I go, you rest.’ He leaned over and kissed Tegen’s head. ‘Why you think when clouds come, sun go away?’
Tegen frowned. ‘But it doesn’t.’
‘Nor your Lady go away. Just no see her. Your Time of Stone now yes? Clouds and snow and oh so much rain?’ Josephus shivered. ‘Land of mists. But Land not dead, just wait spirit come to make green.’
Tegen remembered she had used almost exactly the same image to comfort Witton when he was ill. She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Josephus pressed a barleycorn into her hand and closed her fingers over it.
And that night she did not dream.
The morning before Imbolg, Kieran arrived at Marah’s hut. His face was taut and he paced up and down by the fire, chewing his lip.
‘Sit still, won’t you?’ Claudia demanded. ‘Your pacing is making me edgy too.’ She turned the dough she was kneading and pummelled it extra hard.
Kieran hesitated and scowled at his boots.
Tegen grabbed his arm and swung him to face her. ‘What’s up? You’re like a wild cat in a cage. Sit down and stop fretting. Tell me what’s wrong.’ She dumped Gilda in Kieran’s arms. ‘I’ll give you some bread and milk. You can feed her for me. Whatever it is, it can’t be so bad you can’t tell me.’
Kieran perched on the edge of the bed and absently tore fragments off the bannock, then ate them himself, making Gilda wail.
‘Give her back then,’ Tegen huffed. ‘But what’s the matter?’
Kieran finished the bread and wiped his hands on his trousers. ‘You’re not going to like it …’
‘Like what?’ Tegen and Claudia chorused.
He paused, took a deep breath and said, ‘Tegen, you’ve got to get away. Today. Now.’
‘Why?’ Claudia demanded.
‘Surely Suetonius isn’t still looking for me?’ Tegen asked.
‘He’s got soldiers and spies after you everywhere. But worse than that, there’s cattle disease on the hills, the stored grain’s gone mouldy and people have got rye-madness. They’re looking for someone to blame. People are saying that you’re still alive and stirring things up from here.’ He kicked at the hearthstones with his heel. ‘Your Da and I – we – we think you ought to go back to Ériu.’ He gripped her hands and looked earnestly into her eyes. ‘Please go, now’s your chance to be happy!’
Tegen’s breath caught in her throat. ‘But how can we get there? Boats are expensive.’
Kieran twisted his hands together. ‘Don’t be cross Tegen. Your Da and me, well, we’ve hired a currach see? It’s waiting down at the wharf.’
Tegen rolled her eyes. ‘I think I’d rather walk than go to sea again.’
‘You’re not taking this seriously,’ Kieran scowled. ‘Gilda will be safe with Tonn’s people – so will you.’
Tegen watched her little girl rolling on the hard earth floor with a puppy she’d adopted. Her own home, her own hearth, Bran had promised, but it’d never be home without Gilda …
Tegen stared into the hearth-flames and searched for patterns. ‘Yes Claudia, it’s just like that, and you must go. You must take Gilda and look after her because … because I’m not coming yet.’
Lost in his own thoughts, Kieran’s eyes brightened. ‘And is this my chance to become a bard in a foreign land? What do you think? A whole new life for us all, see?’ He tapped a bright rhythm with a stick on a cooking pot.
Tegen snatched the stick away. ‘What about my Da?’
‘Your Da says he’s too old for travelling,’ Kieran said. ‘But he sends you and Gilda his blessings.’
Tegen’s throat tightened. ‘What about Ula?’ she whispered.
‘She’s happy; everyone in the village loves her. They’ll defend a runaway slave with their lives.’ Kieran squeezed Tegen hand. ‘Have a think, but you’ve got to hurry. The waters ain’t very deep this year. We must get past them marshes before sunset.’
Tegen sat quietly and said nothing.
Kieran hugged her. ‘Cheer up. Do you remember you and Brigid saying time weren’t right for me to go to Ériu? I made a fuss, but you were right. This time you’ve got to trust me. Them hills is swarming with soldiers, and the people are hungry. Someone’ll crack for silver. Bound to. And if they don’t get you now, they’ll be here soon. You’ll be caught, and Josephus and his friends’ll be killed just for looking after you.’
Tegen’s head ached. She’d be safe from Suetonius in Ériu, but the demon would follow her. On the other hand, there’d be friends and druids to guard them. Staying on the Tor would endanger Josephus and Marah.
This was it: the time had come for her to be the Star Dancer – without Gilda.
Tegen gulped. ‘Tomorrow maybe?’
Kieran gripped her shoulders. ‘No. It’s got to be now. The captain won’t wait.’
A knock at the door made Tegen jump. Josephus was standing on the threshold. ‘You come walk with me?’ he asked simply. ‘Marah has made cakes for Gilda.’ He shot a glance at Kieran. ‘And your-ever hungry friend too, I think?’
The thought of fresh air and Josephus’ counsel sounded good. She glanced at Kieran.
‘I’ll wait here for one hand span of the sun,’ he warned. ‘Then I’m off.’
Claudia picked up Gilda and they headed for the smells of baking.
Together Tegen and the old man strolled through the woods and over the lower slopes of the great hill. At last, in his soft, rich accent he asked, ‘You got bad news?’
‘Yes. My enemy is getting close. Kieran thinks I should leave – now.’
‘Us protect you. No fear for you.’ He took her hand and squeezed it.
‘But they will kill you and Marah, and all your friends, so I must go – to go to a place I love – across the sea. It’s called Ériu.’
Jospehus nodded silently.
The long green grass swished around Tegen’s skirt. At last, she said, ‘I may outrun the Romans, but I fear the demon will always find me – and Gilda. The time has come for me to lose my daughter.’
Josephus stroked his white beard. ‘Druids say things turn, is going round and round forever?’ He raised an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Same pattern?’
‘There comes a time of change,’ Tegen explained, ‘when the elements have done their work. It’s called the Time of Spirit, when all good guardians work as one. It brings things together. Human souls have to face the past and make sense of the pattern. If they succeed, then the circle becomes a spiral and they step up to a new level. It’s like changing key in music.’
‘And when Spirit Time comes, there no point to stick in old pattern? We open new ideas. Maybe new wonders too? Your destiny bigger and wider than you guess.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘Like skies.’
Then he turned to Tegen. ‘You still got barleycorn?’
She nodded and took it from her pouch. ‘I understand,’ she replied softly. ‘It’s time to plant the love-seed and not be afraid.’
‘This is your Imbolg. Time for hope.’ Josephus patted her back. ‘We go back, your Kieran friend got feet that itch, yes?’
‘Hurry, quick-quick.’ Marah was running across the meadow to meet Tegen and Josephus. ‘Your friend Kieran has Gilda and gone help Claudia pack. You eat.’
She almost dragged Tegen into Josephus’s hut. Her shaking hands spilled the soup she served.
‘What’s matter, Marah?’ asked her brother gently.
She looked askance at Tegen and hesitated. ‘Just now … men with swords come. Looking for witch-girl with black hair. British mens.’
Tegen froze. The new druids had all taken vows never to lie. ‘What did you tell them?’
Marah’s face creased in merriment. ‘Not worry. I tell them silly and must use eyes. You not here. I give ale and they go. But …’ she glanced across at Josephus, ‘Some tongues will wag for silver pieces.’
Josephus ground his teeth. ‘Trouble comes quick.’
Tegen absently took a spoonful of Marah’s pottage, then put the bowl on the floor.
‘You must eat!’ Marah scolded. You go long-long way tonight.’
Tegen ignored her.
‘You no like?’
Tegen shook her head. ‘No, it’s delicious, but look!’ Pictures were forming in the fire. She dug her nails into her palms as she saw a tall man with a badly scarred face and wearing Roman armour. He was carrying a flaming torch, and smirking with pleasure as he reached up, setting fire to a crumbling old roundhouse on a small hill. The wind whipped the flames into a furnace. Tegen held her breath as she watched the walls fall and the thatch collapse sending a frenzy of sparks whirling into the sky.
The fire raged and more and more images tumbled in on one another. Terrified villagers, women, children, hauled from their homes. Goats and geese hacked to death.
Fire. Swords. Blood. Screams.
‘No!’ Tegen gasped as she saw Derren corralled with other men in a pigpen. Amongst the women, heavily pregnant Ula wept and begged for him to be spared.
She could hear the weeping and smell the smoke. This was not mere imagination.
Tegen grabbed her cloak. ‘Kieran’s right. I must go. Now. I might not be too late.’ She kissed Marah and Josephus and ran outside.
Marah leaped up and called after her. ‘Men gone, you no rushing now?’
Pulling her hood tightly around her head, Tegen turned back. ‘It’s Suetonius, he’s at my village, I don’t know if it’s about to happen, or if it’s all over, but he’s going to kill everyone at home unless I stop him.’
‘But how you can?’ Marah’s dark eyes were wretched with worry.
‘I don’t know, but I must try!’
Spirit-Time
Tegen stopped to catch her breath as she reached her little roundhouse. By her feet, snowdrops were nodding in the wind.
‘Today is Imbolg – my birthday,’ she whispered. ‘It’s the day Huval said I’ll come into my full strength, but I don’t feel very strong. I cannot go to Ériu, but Gilda must.
‘It is time to face the demon and make it stop!’
The air tasted of early spring. There had to be hope.
‘Lord Bran,’ she prayed, ‘it is time to keep your word and give me strength. Lady Brigid, send me your boat as you did before. Goban, take my baby home.’ She imagined a ship with a large sail flying safely across the waters to Ériu. ‘Let it be so.’
Inside the roundhouse, Claudia’s voice shrieked and wailed. ‘I can’t do this! Why did Ula stay behind? This is her job! I’m not standing for it!’
Tegen peered inside and watched Claudia stuffing bags randomly with shawls, cooking pots, combs and sacks of beans.
Kieran was close behind her, pulling everything out again. ‘No Claudia, we don’t need cooking gear, and what good are dried beans on a boat?’
Gilda was sitting on the bed cuddling her puppy’s neck until the whites o
f his eyes bulged.
Claudia span around as Tegen walked in. ‘This is impossible!’ she howled, flinging a spindle onto the floor. ‘Kieran says we have to pack, but everything I put in, he takes out again!’ She swiped at his head with an iron ladle.
He ducked. ‘She’s packing all the wrong stuff – I keep telling her what we need!‘ he bellowed back.
Tegen held up her hands. Everyone fell silent. ‘We’ll just take clothes,’ she said quietly. Then opening her pouch she pulled out some coins. ‘Kieran and I will pack, Claudia, please go and buy bread, ale and dried meat. We’ll meet beyond the village, by the tree with winter flowers.’
Throwing Kieran a look of scorn, Claudia flounced out of the roundhouse yelling ‘Slave!’ over her shoulder.
Tegen folded Claudia and Gilda’s clothes and stuffed them into a sack. Lastly she added Tonn’s stone egg and the blue glass necklace he had given her for their handfasting.
Kieran scooped up Gilda and kissed her dark hair. ‘We’re off to see your Grandma, what do you think of that?’
Gilda blew him a raspberry and giggled.
His eyes had a faraway look. ‘Brigid promised I’d go to Ériu one day. I can’t wait to see Tara and the Lia Fail and to meet queen Étain.’
‘Good, we must hurry. That’s everything packed.’ Tegen swung a bundle over her shoulder and tied it on. ‘Ready?’
Kieran hauled the biggest basket onto his back. ‘I am. That was so much easier without Claudia.’
‘She can’t help it,’ Tegen sighed. ‘Poor girl, she was brought up with Ula doing everything for her. Try and be patient.’
Wrapping Gilda in a thick shawl, Tegen carried her into the morning air and shut the door. The black puppy trotted alongside, his tail wagging.
‘Shoo!’ Tegen flapped at him.
He sat, with drooping ears. Seeing he wasn’t following, Gilda began to wail.
‘Oh very well, come on then. But only if there’s room,’ Tegen warned, and they set off.
Marah and Josephus were waiting for them by the bridge. ‘Oh, God bless you and make many smilings on you,’ Marah sobbed, taking Gilda for one last cuddle.
