“Unpredictable,” the bishop supplied.
“Well, yes,” Polly agreed, “but this doesn’t seem reasonable.”
“Many things that people do are unreasonable,” the bishop pointed out. “Now what should we do?”
The lake was bathed in a radiant light as the sun rose, and with the sun the rich singing of the morning song. “I will ask the others,” Karralys said. “Then we shall see.”
Karralys went around the compound asking people singly, in pairs, in small groups, Og at his heels, whining a little, anxiously. There was consternation over the disappearance of the raider, more than over Zachary.
Eagle Woman berated herself. “I should have heard him. Normally, my ears are tuned—”
“Normally, you do not have a shoulder that has been pierced by an arrow,” Karralys said.
“And the young man—where can he be? Cub told me his heart sounded like a dry leaf in the wind.”
“We will call council at the great stones,” Karralys said. “Meanwhile, we must get on with the day’s work. We will continue to keep watchers posted to look out for canoes, or perhaps an attack from the forest.”
Polly and the bishop were asked to join the group in the circle within the ring of standing stones.
“If they think they can use this Zak—” Tav started.
“Zachary.”
“—as a hostage, they are wrong. He is worth nothing to us.”
“He is our guest,” Karralys said quietly. “Under our hospitality.”
“I do not understand why he came,” Tav said. “I fear that he will bring us grief.”
“We are still responsible for him.”
Cub turned to Karralys anxiously. “If they treat him roughly, I do not think his heart will stand it.”
“That bad?” Eagle Woman asked.
Cub looked at her soberly.
“Then,” Tav deliberated, “it was just as well he did not fight yesterday?”
“It might have killed him,” Cub said.
“He is young for his heart to be so feeble,” a man wearing a red-fox skin protested.
“Perhaps he had the child fever with the swollen joints that weakens the heart,” Cub suggested.
—Rheumatic fever, Polly thought.—Yes, that sounded likely.
“Enough,” Tav said. “What are we going to do? Why did the raider take him? Of what use can he be—except as a hostage?”
“If it is as a hostage,” Karralys said, “we will hear from them, and soon.”
There seemed nothing more to discuss. Karralys dismissed the council, doubled the watch. Polly helped Anaral make bread in an oven made of hot stones. She looked around for Og but did not see him. He must be with Karralys, she thought.
“This goddess,” Polly mused, “and the Mother. Are they one and the same?”
Anaral punched down the risen dough. “To me, and to Karralys, yes. To those who are not druids—Tav, for instance—the goddess is the moon, and the Mother is the earth. For some, it is easier to think of separate gods and goddesses in the wind, in the oaks, in the water. But for me, it is all One Presence, with many aspects, even as you and I have many aspects, but we are one.” She placed the bread in the stone oven. “It will be ready when we return.”
“Where are we going?” Polly asked.
“To the standing stones. In that place is the strongest energy. That is why council is always held there.”
The standing stones. Where, three thousand years in the future, Polly’s grandparents’ house would be, and the pool which could not be dug as deeply as planned because there was an underground river.
“Below the place of the standing stones”—Polly followed Anaral away from the tents and the lake—“there is water?”
“A river. It runs underground and then comes up out of the earth where it flows into the lake. But its source is beneath the standing stones.”
“How do you know?”
“It is the old knowledge.”
“Whose old knowledge?”
“The knowledge of the People of the Wind. But Tav would not take my word for it, so I gave him a wand of green wood and told him to hold it straight in front of him, and not to let it touch the ground, and then I asked him to follow me. He thought I was—what does Bishop call it? Oh, yes, primitive. But he followed me, laughing, and holding the wand. And when we got to the standing stones, he could not keep it still, he could not keep it off the ground. It leaped in his hands like a live thing. Then he knew I told true.”
When they got to the standing stones there was someone lying on the altar. With a low cry, Anaral hurried forward, then drew back. “It is Bishop talking with the Presence.”
While Polly watched, the bishop slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and smiled at her and Anaral. Then he returned his stare to some far distance. “But, Lord, I make my prayer to you in an acceptable time,” he whispered. “The words of the psalmist. How did he know that the time was acceptable? How do we know? An acceptable time, now, for God’s now is equally three thousand years in the future and three thousand years in the past.”
“We are sorry,” Anaral apologized. “We did not mean to disturb your prayers.”
The bishop held out his hands, palms up. “I have tried to listen, to understand.”
“Who are you trying to listen to?” Polly asked.
“Christ,” the bishop said simply.
“But, Bishop, this is a thousand years before—”
The bishop smiled gently. “There’s an ancient Christmas hymn I particularly love. Do you know it? Of the Father’s love begotten—”
“E’er the worlds began to be.” Polly said the second line.
“He is alpha and omega, He the source, the ending—” the bishop continued. “The Second Person of the Trinity always was, always is, always will be, and I can listen to Christ now, three thousand years ago, as well as in my own time, though in my own time I have the added blessing of knowing that Christ, the alpha and omega, the source, visited this little planet. We are that much loved. But nowhere, at any time or in any place, are we deprived of the source. Oh, dear, I’m preaching again.”
“That’s okay,” Polly said. “It helps.”
“You’ve had good training,” the bishop said. “I can see that you understand.”
“At least a little.”
He slid down from the great altar stone. “Zachary,” he said.
“Do you think he’s all right?”
“That I have no way of knowing. But whatever all this is about, our moving across the threshold of time in this extraordinary way has something to do with Zachary.”
“How could it?” Polly was incredulous.
“I don’t know. I have been lying here contemplating, and suddenly I saw Zachary, not here, but in my spirit’s eye, and I knew, at least for a flash I knew, that the true reason I had gone through the time gate was for Zachary.”
Anaral dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged. Polly leaned against one of the stone chairs. “For his heart?”
The bishop shook his head. “No, I think not. I can’t explain it. Why go to all the trouble to bring us three thousand years in the past for the sake of Zachary? I don’t find him particularly endearing.”
“Well, he can be—”
The bishop continued, “But then I think of the people Jesus died for and they weren’t particularly endearing, either. Yet He brought back to life a dead young man because his mother was wild with grief. He raised a little girl from the dead and told her parents to give her something to eat. He drove seven demons out of Mary of Magdala. Why those particular people? There were others probably more deserving. So, I ask myself, what is there that makes me think I have crossed three thousand years because of Zachary?”
Polly plunged her hands into the pocket of the red anorak. None of this made any sense. Zachary was peripheral to her world, not central. If she never saw Zachary again, her life basically would not be changed. Her fingers moved restlessly i
n the anorak pockets. She felt something hard under her left hand. Zachary’s icon. She pulled the small rectangle out, looked at it. “I guess Zachary could use a guardian angel.”
“A great angel and a small child.” The bishop, too, looked at the icon. “The bright angels and the dark angels are fighting, and the earth is caught in the battle.”
“Do you believe that?” Polly asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“What does a dark angel look like?”
“Probably exactly like a bright angel. The darkness is inner, not outer. Well, my children, go on about whatever it is you need to do. I will stay here and wait.”
“You are all right, Bishop?” Anaral asked.
“I am fine. My heart is beating steadily and quietly. But I probably should not fight in any more battles.” He glanced at the sun, which was high in the sky, then clambered up onto the altar again and lay back down. The shadow of one of the great stones protected his eyes from the glare.
Polly followed Anaral back to the compound.
There was an unease to the day. The normal routines were carried on. Fish were caught. Herbs were hung out to dry. Several women, each wearing the bright feathers of her bird—a finch, a lark, a cardinal—were making a cloak of bird feathers.
Cub called to Polly, “I may need your help.”
Polly had forgotten the second raider, the very young man with the compound fracture, whom Anaral had tended so gently the night before. Now he was lying under the shade of a lean-to. His cheeks were flushed and it was apparent that he had some fever. Cub squatted down beside him. “Here,” he said, “I have some of Eagle Woman’s medicine to help take away the fever. It is made from the mold of bread and it will not taste pleasant, but you must take it.”
“You are kind,” the young raider said gratefully. “If you had been wounded and taken prisoner by my tribe, we would not have cared for you in this way.”
“Could you have cared for me?” Cub asked.
“Oh, yes, our healer is very great. But we do not waste his power on our prisoners.”
“Is it a waste?” Cub held out an earthen bowl to the raider’s lips and the lad swallowed obediently. “Now I must look at the leg. Please, Poll-ee, hold his hands.”
Polly knelt by the raider. Anaral had followed her and knelt on his other side. Polly found it hard to understand him, but she got the gist of what he was saying in a language that was more primitive than Ogam. “What is your name?” She took his hands in hers.
“Klep,” he said. At least, that is what it sounded like. “I was born at the time of the darkening of the sun, of night coming in the morning as my mother labored to bring me forth. Then, as I burst into the world, the light returned, slowly at first, and then, as I shouted, the sun was back and brilliant. It was a very great omen. I will, one day, be chief of my tribe, and I will do things differently. I, too, will take care of the wounded and not let them die.” He gasped with pain, and Polly saw Cub bathing the broken and raw skin with some kind of solution. Anaral turned away while Polly held Klep’s hands tight, and he grasped her so hard that it hurt. He grimaced against the pain, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. Then he relaxed. Turned and looked at Anaral. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled at him gently. “You are very brave.”
“And you are doing well,” Cub said. “I will not need to hurt you any more today.”
Klep let out a long breath. “I hear that Brown Earth, my companion, is gone from you, and also one of yours. Or is he one of yours, with the pale skin and dark hair?”
“He is not one of ours,” Cub said. “He comes from a far place.”
Anaral asked eagerly, “Do you know where they are?”
Klep shook his head. “Not where they are, or how they left. Your medicine made me sleep like a child and I heard nothing.”
Cub asked, “Do you think Brown Earth took Zak with him?”
“I do not know. Would this Zak want to go?”
“We don’t know,” Anaral said. “It is very strange.”
“We don’t understand,” Polly said.
“If I knew anything,” Klep assured them, “I would tell you. I am grateful. Brown Earth has a big mouth. It may be that he has made promises.”
“Promises he can keep?” Cub asked.
“Who knows?”
“Rest now,” Cub ordered. “Anaral will bring you food and help you to eat. I will be back this afternoon to put fresh compresses on your leg.”
They reported their conversation to Karralys.
“It solves nothing,” he said, “but you have been helpful. And Klep may yet be helpful, who knows? Thank you. Eagle Woman sends her thanks to you, Polly. Cub will need you again when he dresses her shoulder. Anaral”—he smiled gently at the girl—“is a nourisher, but she cannot take the sight of blood.”
“It is true,” Anaral agreed. “When I cut my finger, I screamed. Poor Bishop. But I will be glad to help Klep eat.”
“We are glad you are here, Polly,” Karralys said. “And we wish you could return to your own time. You must wish that, too.”
Polly shook her head. “Not until we find Zachary. And not until there is rain.”
The attack came during the night. Og woke Polly, barking loudly. Anaral was up in a flash, spear in hand. Polly followed her. Torches cast a bloody glow over the fighting people, and at first Polly could not tell which were the People of the Wind and which were the raiders. Then she saw Og rushing to Karralys’s aid, jumping on a raider who had a spear at Karralys’s ribs. Og clamped the man’s wrist in his jaws, and the spear fell.
Then Polly felt something dark flung over her, and she was picked up like a sack of potatoes. Her screaming mingled with the general shouting. She tried to kick, to wriggle free, but her captor held her tight as he ran with her. She could not tell in which direction they were going. She heard the snapping of twigs underfoot. Felt branches brushing by. Then at last she was put down and the covering removed from her head. They were on the beach, out of sight of the village. Trees reached almost to the lake’s edge. The moon was high, and she gasped as she saw Zachary standing by a shallow canoe.
“Zach!”
“You brought her,” Zachary said to her captor. “Good.”
“Get in the canoe,” Zachary said. His face was white and pinched in the moonlight, but his voice was sharp.
“What is this?” Polly demanded.
“It’s all right, sweet Pol, really it is,” Zachary reassured her. “I need you.”
She drew back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her captor’s hands were around her elbows and she was propelled toward the canoe. He was not Brown Earth, the raider who had had the concussion, but an older man, muscled, heavy.
“He won’t hurt you, as long as you don’t make a fuss. I promise,” Zachary said. “Please, Polly.” He was cajoling. “Just come with me.”
“Where?”
“Across the lake.”
“To the people who are trying to take our land?” Her voice rose with incredulity.
“Our land?” Zachary asked. “What do you care about it? It’s three thousand years ago. You don’t know anything about the People Across the Lake. They aren’t enemies.”
“They attacked us.”
He overrode her, speaking eagerly. “They have a healer, Polly, an old man, wise, and full of experience. Brown Earth saw Cub.”
“Cub will help you.”
Zachary shook his head. “He’s too young. He doesn’t know enough. The healer across the lake has power. He can make me better.”
“Fine,” Polly said. “Go to him. But leave me out of it.”
“I can’t, Polly love. I would if I could. But they want to see you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you called the snake and it came. They think you’re some kind of goddess.”
“That’s nonsense. Anyhow, how can you understand what they’re saying?”
“If I can get them to speak slowl
y enough, I get the gist of things. I’m not good at Ogam like you, but I get enough. And sign language can be very effective,” Zachary said. “How else do you think Brown Earth got me to go with him? Please, Polly, please. I don’t want him to have to hurt you.”
“You’d let him? I thought you cared about not hurting—ouch!” Her captor’s hands tightened about her arms like a vise.
“Please, Polly, just come, and everything will be all right.”
“Take your hands off me,” Polly snapped. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but her captor silenced her with a rough hand. From the village she could hear sounds of shouting, so probably her cry would not be heard. Her captor shoved her toward the canoe. He was taller than she was, and full of brawn. To try to fight him was folly. At the moment it seemed the simplest thing to get into the canoe, to go with Zachary and the raider, to see what all this was about.
The raider pushed the bark off the narrow beach, grating it over the pebbles, then leapt in lightly, barely causing it to sway.
Zachary reached out to touch Polly’s knee. “I’m sorry, Polly. You know I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.” His face was drawn and anxious. “They sent this goon with me because they were afraid I mightn’t bring you. I’m the one they don’t trust, not you. You’ll be treated well, I promise you, just like a goddess. And that’s what you are to me, even if I think of you as a goddess differently from the way they do.”
She sighed gustily. “Zachary, when the fighting’s over and I’m missing, they’ll be frantic.”
“Who will?”
“Karralys, andAnaral. The bishop, Tav. Cub. Everybody.”
Her captor made two guttural sounds, which Polly interpreted as “Let’s go.” He pointed, and they could see several longer canoes moving swiftly across the lake.
The battle, then, was over, though Polly had no idea who had won, who had been hurt, or even killed. Swiftly she leapt into the water and sloshed toward shore, but her captor was after her and grabbed her before she could reach land.
“You have no right to take me against my will,” she struggled to say.
He did not reply. He picked her up and carried her back to the canoe.
A Wrinkle in Time Quintet Page 95
