by Jacky Gray
‘Thorsday. May the fourteenth.’
‘But it was Moonday the eleventh. I have been asleep all this time? I must get up; they will be finished.’
Once again, her strong arm meant he could go nowhere. ‘You have been three days in the death-sleep, so it won’t hurt you to spend a little longer recovering. Do not worry about them finishing without you; they'll be lucky having it finished by the investiture on Sunday. Stay here. I’ll bring you some broth.’
Reagan sat back on the plump pillows, his mind reeling with the implications of her words. He’d been three days in the death-sleep? This was not something he knew a lot about, only that the adults all went about with grave faces whenever mentioned it because so many people never woke up from it. He felt sure it was nothing more sinister than the fact he’d been working far too hard for many weeks and not sleeping or eating properly. No-one would ever call Kalen the most organised of people. Sometimes they would spend all day tackling a tantalising problem and forget to eat at all. He would wake up the next day, or sometimes in the middle of night with the same sort of hunger he had now, and eat until he felt sick.
That wasn’t really a problem, simply a consequence of being involved in a project of this importance. Nobody died from not eating and sleeping properly or working too hard. His musings were interrupted by the most delicious aroma he could ever remember smelling. Even Ganieda’s broth didn’t make his mouth water this much. He sniffed the air appreciatively and sat back as she placed a small bench on the bed then set down a tray with a huge bowl of broth, thick with vegetables and lumps of meat.
His eyes widened. ‘No need to bring me the cauldron. Not that I’m complaining, it smells fantastic. Truly this is a dish of ambrosia.’
She smiled. ‘If your appetite is as big as your words, there is more, but you’ll need to save some room. My date and honey cake is the reason Draedan proposed to me.’
‘I’ll find room for your cake even if I have to be sick first. Not that I’ll need to. Nothing less than a horse would satisfy my appetite today. My stomach thinks I’ve not yet eaten this moon – no, make it this year!’
Laughing, she poured some juice and thick pieces of fruit tumbled from the jug into the beaker. Putting the jug down, she turned a stern face to him. ‘I have to go to the inn now, but I trust you will not do anything foolish like trying to get out of bed. If you’ve been a good lad and done nothing but eat and rest, I will take you to the motte and you can see how your friends are getting on with the cutting. Is that a deal?’
‘Deal. This is truly wondrous. Thank you.’
Darma was as good as her word, and he felt refreshed after such a fine lunch and three more hours’ sleep. When they reached the motte later that afternoon, Kalen and Thearl were arguing with the cutting team over the tail. Apparently, one man thought it should be attached to the body and had cut through the small channel of turf separating it from the horse’s rump.
Thearl was obviously tired and worried about how far behind they were. ‘Reagan. How wonderful to see you. You’re just what we need; everything’s been going wrong.’
‘Take no notice of him; he’s just superstitious like most craftsmen. It’s good to see you, but should you be out of bed?’
‘Darma said I could spend no more than an hour and she’s counting the minutes.’
‘In that case we’d better get to it. We’ve had a few problems in the cutting, but we’re almost ready to pour the cement. How would you like to ride with us to our vantage point and take a look? It’s just not the same from here.’ Kalen gave Darma his best smile. ‘If it’s alright with you, Darma.’
‘But it takes a while to ride round the river; you won’t be back before the hour is out.’
‘Not anymore.’ Kalen grinned. ‘The good people of Somerford have created a footbridge to allow us to ride out to Angrove wood and get a good view from a mile away.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if that didn’t become a more permanent toll bridge very soon.’ Thearl grinned his amusement at the idea of money being made as a result of his horse.
‘Are you sure it’s a good idea for Reagan to do this after what happened last time?’ Darma was still worried.
‘It’s essential to show him there is no problem. He’ll ride on the back of my horse so I can bring him back more easily if he can’t stand the sight of it.’ Kalen’s grin was infectious.
She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I think it would be a good idea if I came as well; then I can help him if he needs it.’
‘Sure, you’re welcome.’
Reagan had a slight reservation about revisiting the sight which knocked him senseless for three days. But somehow, he gained strength from clinging onto Kalen’s back as they trotted briskly across the bridge and cantered to the edge of the wood. When they turned at the wood, the last bucket of chalk had been emptied from the cart at the bottom of the mound, so every part of the design was now filled with a shallow layer of the gleaming white stones. The sun rose just high enough in the sky that its rays bounced off the edges of the different faces in a manner which made the whole horse shimmer with life.
Darma gasped. ‘Why it’s quite beautiful! I never realised. I could almost swoon myself.’
‘But you’re not going to, are you?’ Kalen sounded alarmed. ‘I’m not sure I could manage to get you both back.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m going to stay awake if you have to punch me every ten seconds.’ Reagan was quick to reassure him it wouldn’t be necessary. ‘I want to watch the effect as we approach the motte and check our calculations were good from all angles.’
‘Rest assured Thearl and I have done that several times, but it can’t hurt to have a fresh pair of eyes.’
The painter stayed behind to check a problem with the back leg, saying he would catch them up.
‘What do you think, then?’ Despite his greater years and experience, Kalen seemed to need Reagan’s approval.
‘As I thought before. It’s nothing less than the spirit of an ancient, noble horse. You have done well without me.’
Kalen beamed at the praise. ‘I won’t pretend it was easy. Thearl was a hard task master. I could have done with your help; it would have speeded things up considerably.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You could have gone with him, and he could have told you each of the tiny adjustments he insisted on making.’
Reagan grinned. ‘There were a lot, then.’
‘Hundreds. Each time he would ride out, then come all the way back and tell us, and we’d change something. Then he’d ride all the way out again and signal if it was right or wrong. When it was wrong, he couldn’t signal how to change it so he had to come all the way back and tell us.’
‘Sounds like a long process.’
‘Long, tiring and mostly unnecessary. Half the time he’d change it back to how it was before and the other half he’d forget what he wanted. We all got annoyed after two days of this.’
Darma had been listening to the exchange and was obviously confused. ‘I don’t understand how it would have helped if Reagan was with Thearl. Surely it would have taken as long for him to ride between the two of you with messages.’
Kalen looked smug. ‘But he wouldn’t have needed to. Reagan and I can mind-link, so he would have been able to tell me what Thearl wanted and I could have requested the changes without anyone moving. We would probably have finished cutting it by Tiwsday eve.’
Darma’s voice sounded tight and unnaturally high. ‘Reagan can mind-link?’ She lost all the colour from her face, but no-one noticed as Thearl galloped up, wanting everyone’s opinion about the position of Hengst’s eye.
Sometime later, Reagan realised he’d still not asked her what she had meant about a chosen child.
37 Hengst the Proud
Thearl was even more pleased to see Reagan’s return to health than Kalen. He became quite emotional that eve after one of Darma’s tasty meals and a few beakers of Draedan’s ale. ‘You
’re nothing less than a good luck charm. It’s as though Hengst was waiting for you to get better.’
‘Nonsense. It looked wonderful from the wood.’
‘I noticed you managed to stay awake this time.’ Thearl’s affectionate nudge nearly cleared the table of beakers. Kalen stood to “water his horse” and order another round of ales.
‘Kalen told me about the problems with the changes. It would have been a lot quicker if I’d been there.’ Reagan’s guilt was quick to surface.
‘But that wasn’t the just of it. One of the team cutting the turf managed to slice through his foot with a spade on the first day so we were a couple of men short while he got it sorted.’
‘Oh dear, sounds nasty. Is he alright now?’
‘It was quite serious; they had to take him to Ganieda. She managed to sew his toe back on, but he won’t be working in the fields for a while, let alone on the horse.’
‘So you’re a man short.’
‘Two really. Lindel didn’t tell us he had a headache on the first day, then his nose started bleeding. Darma insisted it was probably a bad reaction to the two spirit lines crossing. Some people can’t be close to them.’
‘It sounds like a health hazard.’
‘Well, that’s three of you. Then there were the dead birds. Three of them in the middle of the horse yesterday morning and then another five this morning.’
‘Eight again. Do you know why?’
‘Clennan thinks it might be the lime. They peck at it thinking it’s bread and it chokes them before they can spit it out. They swallow and it poisons them.’
‘But wouldn’t they see it happening to other birds and figure it out?’
‘You would think so. I’m no nature expert, but I thought birds were a bit smarter than that.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Just about, now we’ve finished the cutting and got the cement layer in. We’ll leave it to set properly until tomorrow eve or even Saturnday, then we just have to add the top layers of chalk and it’s all ready for Sunday.’
‘Do you get a rest tomorrow?’
‘Not quite. We have to sort out the drainage. If there’s nowhere for the rainwater to go, it just collects in the lower levels and streams down the hill leaving white trails so the horse looks like it’s leaking or something.’
‘What can you do?’
‘I have no idea. That’s Kalen’s area of expertise. Something about digging channels under the turf to take the water off to the side, away from the chalk.’
Saturnday gave the perfect opportunity to test out Kalen’s drainage channels. It rained from sunup to sundown. Malduc had sent along carpenters and a couple of wagons with the dais and paraphernalia necessary for the ceremony on Sunday. It was to be one of the biggest events in the area for decades, and many of the local craftsmen had been gathering there all week. They brought along carts with their wares, hoping to sell keepsakes of the event. The likeness of Hengst soon appeared on beakers and earthenware, plates and even clothing. But the most plentiful were the small local rocks and stones. Reagan couldn’t believe how quickly artisans made copies of Thearl’s design. He was even more surprised when the big man endorsed the ones he approved of with a signature, for a small consideration. The stall then put up a notice “As signed by the artist” and charged more.
Sunday morning brought a new influx of vendors, this time selling food they’d been preparing for several days. The field in front of the motte was awash with gaily coloured pavilions as several local innkeepers vied to advertise an ale named for the special occasion. The most popular was “Hengst, the ale of champions.” The weather gods obviously approved of the event; Saturnday’s rain left the countryside clean and shining, but the morning breeze and strong sunshine dried the ground ready to take the many thousands who thronged to the unveiling.
Reagan’s mother brought along a brand new tabard and breeches for him. She filled with pride at the prospect of sitting up on the platform with the honoured guests. Not even the council members had that privilege. The ceremony passed all too quickly. Malduc was generous in his praise of the efforts of Kalen and Thearl, leading a long and vigorous round of applause. Eventually, he held up his hand for silence.
‘There have been many other people along the way, without whom today would not be possible, but I’m sure you would rather be getting to the pavilions than hear me read out a long list of names.’ There were a few cheers and scattered applause, but he ignored them and continued.
‘I’m sure you feel this new horse is a welcome addition to the Hengist stable and you will all come to love him as much as you do his brothers and sisters. Although this horse belongs to all of you, it would never have come about if it wasn’t for the exceptional talents of one young man. I give you: Reagan.’
As he bowed, Reagan was overwhelmed by the strength of feeling coming across from the field. It was as though every person in the crowd wanted personally to shake his hand, pat him on the back or give him a kiss. He’d never felt such a huge outpouring of approval. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and raised his fist in a victory salute. Every right hand in the field echoed his salute and the clapping stopped as if by magic. He took the opportunity to speak.
‘Dear people of Hengist, I would like to introduce you to your latest horse, a powerful stallion called Hengst.’ He pulled on the rope, and Kalen and Thearl pulled on the other ropes attached to the hides which covered their creation. The crowd showed their appreciation and he was surrounded by people hugging, kissing, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back. The rest of the day passed in a happy mix of good food and drink, music and dancing, emotional reunions with his family and a few stolen kisses with Amiera.
That should have been the end of it all. But the next day, as they passed through the village on their way home, it was buzzing with news. During the night, thirteen sheep had dropped down dead in a field near Highway. It was all starting again.
38 Devises Barrel Race
‘Thank you for coming Reagan.’ Malduc’s smile was absent once more. ‘I hoped your work with us would diminish after the creation of the Somerford horse. I wanted you to have a rest over the summer, but it seems it’s not to be. Gaia is definitely testing us with a puzzle and it does seem to be very much tied up with numbers and shapes as the two of you have determined.’
‘It seems to be about three and triangles now we have finished with the five.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Malduc’s expression sharpened.
Reagan counted them off on his fingers. ‘The crop circle up near Uffington was a triangle, then the latest one at Silburgh. Three people were taken ill during the cutting of Hengst and there were three dead birds found in the middle of the horse.’
‘Actually, the dead birds appeared on three days, on the first day there were three in the lime cart, but Tully had just cleared them away without mentioning them to anyone.’ Kalen added the news. ‘I suppose he had other things on his mind after that, like whether or not he was going to lose his toe.’
‘How is he now?’ Reagan shuddered at the idea.
‘He is recovering well, according to Ganieda. Three does indeed seem to be a big factor: there were another two crop patterns, one out on Pewsey down and the other north of Barburgh castle near Broad Town. Both had three circles arranged in a triangle which seemed closer to isosceles than a right angle. All measurements were exactly the same.’
‘Three patterns each with three circles all arranged in triangles. That looks fairly conclusive.’ Kalen checked on the map. ‘I think we should do what we were going to and check out the spirit lines at each of the horses, starting with Pewsey and Broad Town. And if this triangle has got anything to do with them, we should be able to work out which is the third horse to make the triangle.’
‘Maybe there’s one needs moving like the Seagry one.’
‘Well, I’ll leave it in your capable hands. With any luck, Blaise will be able to tell you some more tomorrow n
ight.’
Their first stop was Broad Town where no less than five spirit lines coincided, the position was clear and the horse well-maintained. It all seemed fairly conclusive, so they returned back to find a book from Malduc along with a map showing the spirit lines through the Pewsey horse. A curt note said to assume Pewsey was correct and concentrate on the third point. It was a simple matter to work out the distance between Broad Town and Pewsey, but not so simple to decide which of the three sides of the triangle the distance represented.
‘Surely it must be the longest line. That was twenty-eight paces which is exactly double the fourteen miles. Even if it’s wrong, it’s the easiest to eliminate.’
‘Good point.’ Kalen got busy drawing up the triangle so it would fit to the scale on the map, using a pair of compasses to construct the other two sides at the right length. ‘Alright, would you like to have a wager?’
‘Devizes.’
‘You seem very sure. Would you care to explain?’
‘Check it first. If I’m right, I’ll explain.’
Kalen placed the triangle on the map so the two furthest points aligned with Pewsey and Broad Town and the third corner did land on Devizes, but on the town itself, not on the site of the white horse which was a little to the north. ‘Oh dear, so close. The scale must be wrong.’
‘Wait a second. Try this.’ Reagan turned the triangle upside down and refitted the two known corners.
‘It’s a perfect fit. How did you know?’
‘It was simply a hunch. When I connected all the horses together before, I noticed most of the horses are less than five miles away from Aveburgh, but those three are a bit further, about seven or eight miles.’
‘That makes good sense. Let’s hope Blaise agrees.’
The journey out to Oliver’s castle was not as pleasant in the light morning rain, and they followed the Wessex Ridgeway until Reagan sensed a crossing point. Directly north east was Oldbury, the hill fort on whose banks the Cherhill horse was carved. Turning through 180° he looked south west to a hill topped by a small copse which Kalen identified as Furze knoll. ‘I’d like to follow this for a while; it’s one of the lines I sensed yesterday. It seems stronger here.’
