The Ghostfaces

by John A. Flanagan

  As the days passed, there was a good deal of visiting back and forth between the Mawagansett village and the camp on the beach. Sometimes the Herons were invited to the village as a group, sometimes as individual guests of Mawag families. Naturally, the Skandians reciprocated, inviting friends among the villagers to sample Edvin’s excellent meals. Ulf and Wulf were constant visitors to the village, spending time with Millika and Pillika. The girls’ friends and family were continually amused by the fact that the Skandian twins never realized how often the two girls switched identities on them. Strangely, the Mawagansett had no trouble telling Ulf and Wulf apart—something their shipmates had never managed to do.

  • • • • •

  One evening, Hal, Thorn and Lydia were sitting, waiting for Edvin to announce that the evening meal was ready to serve, when they were surprised by the appearance of Tecumsa in the camp. She was alone, which was remarkable in itself, as she was almost invariably accompanied by Stig. She noted Hal’s inquiring look and smiled at him before he could ask the obvious question on his mind.

  “Stig is eating with my family,” she said. “I wanted a chance to talk to the three of you.” She held up a covered tray she had been carrying. “I have brought food for us.”

  She glanced around and noted that the rest of the crew were watching. She nodded her head to a spot on the sand a few meters away. “Let us sit there,” she said, “so we can talk in private.”

  Curious to know what she wanted to discuss, the three of them rose and moved down the beach a little, then sat expectantly by her. She set the tray on the ground between them and removed the cloth cover. Three covered clay bowls were revealed, along with four smaller wooden bowls and spoons. She lifted the lids on the clay bowls and they savored the delicious smells that wafted out. There was a savory rabbit stew, a bowl of mixed vegetables—corn, sweet potato and beans—and a thick soup of spiced fish and shellfish. She deftly apportioned the soup out among the platters and passed them around.

  Hal took a spoonful, snatching in a breath to cool it. He smiled at her.

  “Delicious,” he said and she nodded in acknowledgment of his reaction.

  “My mother made it,” she said. Then she smiled. “She’s a better cook than me.”

  “I can see why Stig spends so much time at your family’s hut,” Thorn said, rapidly spooning the soup into his mouth and spraying droplets around as he spoke.

  Lydia regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Try to get some of it down your throat,” she said archly, and he grinned at her, totally unabashed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Hal set down his empty soup bowl and Tecumsa gestured for him to help himself to the other food. Seeing Lydia’s bowl was empty as well, he reached across for it and spooned a mix of the rabbit stew and vegetables into it before handing it back and serving himself.

  Tecumsa watched with interest. “Why do you do that?” she asked.

  Hal shrugged. “My mam would wallop me if I didn’t serve a lady before myself,” he explained.

  Tecumsa nodded, storing that information away. “In our tribe, all are equal,” she said.

  Thorn grinned at her. “We’re all equal too,” he said, reaching for the rabbit stew. “It’s just that Lydia is more equal than the rest of us.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes and said nothing.

  Hal tasted the rabbit, which was even better than the fish soup. Then he set the bowl down and regarded the beautiful young Mawagansett. “So, Tecumsa, what’s this all about?”

  She smiled at him innocently. “Don’t you like my food?” she asked. There was a teasing note in her voice and he couldn’t help smiling at it.

  “The food is excellent. But I’m thinking you didn’t come here simply to feed us.”

  He also couldn’t help noticing, not for the first time, how very beautiful she was. Her skin was olive and faultless, and her eyes were the deepest brown, with a hint of mischief in them.

  “You are Stig’s friends. I want to get to know you better. I want you to be my friends as well.”

  Thorn burped cheerfully. “Keep bringing us meals like this and that won’t be a problem,” he said, reaching for the rabbit stew.

  Tecumsa smiled at him, then became serious. “I want to know about this brotherband of yours,” she said, addressing the question to Hal. “These are a lot of brothers.” She gestured toward the rest of the crew, sitting round Edvin’s cook fire.

  “We’re not real brothers,” Hal said. “Although in a lot of ways we’re closer than real brothers, I suppose. We joined together to train and sail and fight together. We trust one another. We depend on one another. And we know that no member of the brotherband would ever let the others down.”

  “Stig told me you formed this band,” she said.

  Hal nodded slowly, thinking back to the day that now seemed so long ago.

  “Yes,” he said. “We were all people who were rejected by the other brotherbands forming that day. Nobody else wanted us, so I guess we just decided we wanted one another. That’s probably why our bond is so strong.”

  “And they went on to become the champion brotherband of that year,” Thorn said, his pride in his young friend’s achievements obvious. Hal made a dismissive gesture.

  Tecumsa glanced at Lydia, who was watching Hal closely. “But you? You’re hardly a brother?” she asked with a smile.

  Lydia smiled in her turn. “I joined later,” she said. “I guess I’m a sister to the brotherband—sort of an honorary member.”

  “There’s nothing honorary about it,” Hal retorted quickly. “You’re as much a member as anyone else.”

  Lydia nodded her head, taking the comment as a compliment of the highest order. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  Tecumsa turned her attention now to Thorn. “You’re not one of the brotherband, are you?”

  Lydia laughed. “In a way, he’s the biggest reject of them all,” she said.

  Thorn favored her with an amused look. Then he turned to Tecumsa.

  “For once, Lydia is right,” he said. “I had given up on myself and was lying out in the snow hoping to die when Hal’s mother took pity on me and saved me.”

  Tecumsa tilted her head to one side, looking curiously at him. “How did she do that?”

  He grinned widely. “She had Hal throw a bucket of water over me,” he said.

  Tecumsa made a small moue of surprise. “An unusual way to solve the problem,” she said, obviously amused.

  Thorn nodded agreement. “She’s an unusual woman.”

  “When you say you had given up on yourself, what do you mean?” she asked.

  Thorn considered his answer for a second or two, then spoke. “I felt sorry for myself. I felt the world had done me a great injustice.”

  “Because of your poor hand,” she said simply, reaching out and gently resting her fingers on the wood of his hook.

  Hal and Lydia froze, anxious to see how Thorn would respond. People usually didn’t mention his missing hand. Somehow, they sensed it was not a subject for discussion. But there was no sense of idle curiosity in Tecumsa’s words, only kindness and sympathy. And her dark eyes showed a level of compassion and awareness that precluded Thorn’s taking offense. He glanced down at her slim fingers on the wooden hook, polished smooth but showing the scars of many months of use and hard wear.

  To Hal’s and Lydia’s great relief, he smiled at the young woman. “Yes. Because of my hand.”

  “You must have been terribly saddened,” she said. “Stig says you were a great warrior.”

  Before Thorn could reply, Hal answered. “He still is.”

  Tecumsa smiled at him. “Stig says that too.” Then she turned back to Thorn. “So what is your role with this brotherband?”

  “Oh, I train them. I discipline them. I kick their backsides when they’re lazy and yell at them w
hen they’re stupid,” he said, then added, “At times I do a lot of kicking and yelling, believe me.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “And yet I think you’re not as mean and bad tempered as you pretend to be,” she said.

  Thorn colored slightly and said nothing.

  Lydia stepped into the silence. “Oh, he is, believe me. He’s quite horrible at times.”

  Tecumsa’s dark eyes switched to hold Lydia’s gaze. “And I sense that you have a great affection for him, and he for you,” she said.

  Now it was Lydia’s turn to redden as she realized that the Mawag girl had seen through their constant bickering and teasing, and seen it for what it was—an expression of deep fondness.

  “Well, maybe he’s not all that bad,” she said, looking away from those grave, steady eyes that were locked on to her own.

  Hal laughed quietly. “I’m glad someone has finally seen through you two frauds,” he said.

  They continued talking in this way for another hour, answering Tecumsa’s questions about the brotherband, how they worked together, the ship and how Hal could navigate with such accuracy from one point to another. Most of the latter was described by Thorn and it became apparent to the young woman that the old sea wolf held the boy in the deepest respect and admiration. They discussed Stig, and his amazing skill in battle, and how he and Hal had become friends. She was aware of the story of how Hal had saved Stig from drowning, but she wanted to hear him tell it, and was impressed by his self-deprecating manner. Many Mawagansett young men would have been boastful about such an achievement, she knew.

  At length, the evening drew to an end, by which time they had all been captivated by Tecumsa’s beauty, sensitivity and natural, unaffected warmth. If she had wanted them to become her friends as she had stated, she had succeeded beyond all reasonable expectation. They accompanied her back to the track through the trees that led to the Mawagansett village and made their farewells there.

  “I’ll walk you back to the village,” Hal said impulsively, but she smiled and shook her head.

  “I’ll be quite safe. Stig is waiting at the bend in the track there.”

  And, looking up, they could see his tall form leaning against a tree. She hurried to him and they joined hands and disappeared into the darkness.

  “What a remarkable girl,” Thorn said softly. Then he smiled. “If I were a few years younger . . .”

  “You’d still be old enough to be her father,” Lydia finished the statement for him.

  chapter thirty

  It was some days after the meeting with Tecumsa when Hal broached the subject of returning home with Stig. It was early evening and the first mate had returned from a fishing trip with Simsinnet, laden with fish for Edvin’s smoking chamber. As the Mawag warrior bade them a cheerful good night and headed for the trail through the forest, Hal watched his friend deftly cleaning the fish, then splitting them so they could be laid on the smoking racks.

  “He seems to be a nice enough type,” he said, gesturing toward the departing Mawag, who was bidding some of the other Herons good night.

  Stig nodded. “Amazing how well you can get on with someone when you start out fighting them,” he said. “We have a lot in common, as it turns out.”

  “I suppose when we go home, he’ll start courting Tecumsa again,” Hal said, trying to sound casual about it.

  Stig looked up quickly, a frown creasing his forehead, and said nothing.

  “I mean, it’s not as if you’re planning on marrying her or anything, is it?” Hal continued.

  Once more, Stig didn’t reply. For Hal, the silence was unbearable. It seemed to indicate that there was something important going on—something for which he was unprepared. When Stig finally spoke, it turned out he was right.

  “I’m not sure I’ll be going home with you,” Stig said.

  Hal recoiled in horror. Of all the replies he’d expected, this one had never occurred to him.

  “Not coming with us?” he exclaimed. “But you have to! We’re your brotherband—your family. You were the first one I picked! You’re my best friend.”

  Stig refused to meet his eye, shaking his head stubbornly. “Well, things change, you know?”

  Hal was almost hysterical in his reply. “No! I don’t know! How do things change? You’re one of us. You’re a Heron. That doesn’t change!”

  “But I love Tecumsa,” Stig said in a low voice. It was the first time he had admitted the fact, even to himself.

  Hal made a desperate, helpless gesture. “Then bring her with us! She can come back to Hallasholm!”

  But Stig was already shaking his head. “She wouldn’t be happy there. Everything would be so strange for her.”

  “Everything here is so strange for you,” Hal said, but Stig smiled sadly at him.

  “Not really. I have friends here. There’s Simsinnet and his circle, and Tecumsa’s family has accepted me. I know I’ll be happy here.”

  Hal felt tears stinging the back of his eyes at the thought of losing Stig—big, powerful, dependable Stig. He was the mainstay of the crew, Hal’s strong right hand, always there when Hal needed support.

  “But . . . ,” he began. Then he couldn’t think of anything further to say.

  Stig reached across and gripped his shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “It’ll be all right, Hal,” he said. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll find someone to take my place. Hallasholm is full of young men who’d jump at the chance to become a Heron.”

  “I don’t want someone to take your place. I want you, Stig! Please say you’ll reconsider.” He was aghast at the thought of Stig’s staying behind. It was as if the fabric of his world were being torn apart.

  “Things change, Hal. People change. The situation changes. It’s been a wonderful few years with you and the rest of the brotherband. But it’s time for me to move on to the next phase of my life. And that’s here with Tecumsa.”

  “What about your mam? She’ll be devastated!” Hal said, desperate to change his mind.

  Stig’s face saddened. “Yes. I wish she could meet Tecumsa. But she’ll understand.” He smiled sadly. “You can explain it to her.”

  Then he rose and walked quietly away, leaving his friend devastated.

  • • • • •

  Hal slept badly that night, tossing and turning as he thought over what Stig had said. He remembered something his mother had said to him years before, when he had promised to always be beside her.

  “You’ll move on,” she said. “Young men don’t just marry their wives, they marry their families as well. It’s the way of the world. Mothers know it and expect it.”

  He realized she was right. He resolved, however, to try to convince Stig to bring Tecumsa home with them. Lydia could help. She’d left her homeland and resettled in Skandia. She could tell Tecumsa what a good place it was to live.

  But even as he had the thought, he was assailed by doubts. Lydia hadn’t left any family behind in her hometown. And she had potentially blotted her copybook with the community leaders by liberating a batch of diamonds to pay the Herons for their services. She hadn’t bothered to get permission for that and it could still be held against her. Tecumsa would be leaving her father, mother and brother behind—and an extended family of uncles, aunts and cousins. It wasn’t the same at all.

  “But we’d all help her fit in,” he said. He wasn’t aware that he had spoken the thought aloud until Stefan, on the other side of the tent, called softly to him.

  “Are you all right, Hal?”

  “Yes. Sorry, Stefan. Go to sleep.”

  He heard the other boy pull his blankets up and roll over. He tried to do the same but his mind kept churning. An hour before dawn, he finally dropped off, but he continued to mutter and toss fitfully in his sleep as he dreamed of sailing away from this foreign land, leaving Stig waving farewell on the beach.r />
  Something woke him just after dawn. He sensed something new and he sat up, his head turned to one side to listen. Then he tossed the blankets back and rolled out of bed, slipping out of the sleeping tent and walking toward the palisade. Ulf was on sentry duty and he looked at his skirl curiously. Hal hadn’t told the rest of the crew about Stig’s shattering revelation, but most of them knew something was amiss with their leader.

  “You all right, Hal?” he said, unconsciously repeating Stefan’s earlier question.

  Hal didn’t answer. He sniffed the early morning air. “Did you hear something?” he asked.

  Ulf shook his head, yawning. “No. But I’d like to hear Wulf coming to relieve me,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  Hal walked a few paces away from Ulf, head raised, listening, sensing. Something was different, he thought. Then it came to him. Since they’d been here, the northeasterly wind had driven the waves through the narrow headland into the bay, sending them rolling onto the beach. The gentle rush of waves breaking had formed a constant background sound to their world. And the trees behind them had stirred and rustled with the wind, sounding like more waves breaking.

  Now the waves were stilled and trees were silent.

  The wind had shifted to the southwest.

  chapter thirty-one

  As the rest of the brotherband awoke, they all became aware of the changed conditions. Even Lydia, who was not as attuned to the variations in wind and weather as the rest of the crew, noticed something was different.

  “The wind has backed,” Ingvar told her. “We can go home.”

  There was a general air of elation in the camp as the Herons realized that the time was fast approaching when they could sail for Hallasholm. Only Stig appeared somewhat downcast, as the prospect of saying good-bye to his friends loomed ever closer. He walked off by himself, head down and shoulders hunched. Hal watched him go, his own heart heavy.

  Thorn sensed there was something amiss between the two friends. He took Hal by the elbow and led him a little way down the beach, to a spot where they could speak privately.