by Jodi Taylor
‘So you’re not.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Yes, you did, really. The correct answer is “Of course I’m human. What sort of question is that to ask on a first date?”’
‘Well, obviously that’s what I meant to say. I was just so taken aback by the rudeness of your question. Are you?’
I stepped back. ‘Am I what?’
‘Are you human?’
‘Of course I am. What sort of question is that to ask on a first date?’
‘In your case, a perfectly reasonable one. Scores, sometimes hundreds, of people pass safely under that bridge every day but not you. Why not?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, suddenly tired and taking refuge in tears. ‘It was a horrible experience. I just want to go home.’
‘Of course you do,’ he said, taking my arm again. ‘Where do you live?’
I nodded upriver. ‘Rushford.’
‘Well that’s quite a long way off – how about a bit of a sit down and a cup of tea before you set off?’
Suddenly, that seemed a very good idea. My legs were trembling and there was no way I could manage the long walk home. I hadn’t even had lunch yet.
‘OK,’ I said, thinking he’d take me to a café or something up on the Whittington road.
Instead, he plunged off into the woodland. ‘This way.’
Michael Jones had once commented severely on my willingness to go off with strange men in uncertain circumstances. Now would be a good time to pay heed to his warnings. So obviously I didn’t, following Iblis through the beech trees. We didn’t go too far – just into a small clearing, which was apparently where he lived. A small tent was pitched and a string of washing hung between two trees. A small circle of stones held the ashes of a dead fire.
I stared around. ‘You live here?’
‘Yeah. Why not? It’s a nice place.’
It was indeed. A very nice place. The unfurling new leaves gave the light a soft, green quality. Dappled sunlight filtered through the branches. Somewhere a dove cooed. Apart from woodland noises, everything was silent and peaceful.
He was bustling about. ‘Sit down. Do you want some tea?’
Since this would involve him making and lighting a fire and fetching water from somewhere before even beginning to make it, I declined politely. ‘I only need a moment. Just to pull myself together.’
‘Sure. Make yourself at home. That rock over there is particularly comfortable.’ In one fluid movement, he crossed his legs and sat down on a carpet of crispy beech leaves.
I made myself comfortable on the appropriate rock. ‘Thank you, although now I feel a little guilty at leaving my host sitting on the ground. How long have you lived here?’
He seemed vague. ‘I’m not sure. Quite some time. You lose track after a while.’
‘I can imagine. Do you live here all year round?’
He nodded. ‘It’s nice in winter.’
I remembered what Mrs Barton had said and took a chance. ‘Even after all the snow last winter?’ and watched him very carefully.
Not a flicker. ‘Well, there wasn’t that much was there? It was all gone the next day.’
Another vote for Jones’s reality and I was more confused than ever so I changed the subject.
‘How do you eat?’
‘Oh, foraging, living off the land, all that sort of thing.’
I suspected these were grand words for petty theft and poaching, but that was his business and nothing to do with me.
‘Well, thank you for rescuing me.’
‘My pleasure, Elizabeth Cage.’
‘How did you know I was there?’
‘I heard you screaming. You have a very loud scream, you know. They probably heard you in Rushford.’
I looked around. ‘In that case, where are they?’
He laughed. ‘It’s three miles. Give them time.’
I shook my head. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?’
‘Fair’s fair. You’re holding back as well.’
I nodded reluctantly and he grinned at me. He really had a very nice smile. I couldn’t help myself. I smiled back.
‘That … thing?’
‘Yes?’
‘Who – what was he?’
‘Oh, you don’t want to worry too much about him. That’s just old Þhurs. He’s a bit of a remnant. Left over from the Old Days.’
His assumption I would know what he was talking about was both flattering and unhelpful.
‘What was he doing under that bridge? Should we report it to the authorities?’
There was a strange moment. I almost expected him to say, ‘Sweetheart, I am the authorities,’ as Michael Jones had once said to me, but he simply said, ‘Where did you expect him to live?’
‘Well, not under a bridge where everyone walks.’
‘Well, that’s rather the point of lurking under a bridge, isn’t it? There’s no point in hanging around a place where no one ever goes.’
‘But everyone walks under that bridge. It’s a proper footpath.’
‘Yes, that’s quite interesting, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Everyone walks there but only you manage to cross over into the realm of the Jötund.’
He stared at me, inviting me to tell him how I’d done it and I would probably have done so if I’d actually known how I’d done it, but I didn’t so I changed the subject.
‘I ought to go. Thank you.’
He waved that away. ‘You’ve already thanked me.’
‘That was for rescuing me. This is thanking you for your hospitality.’
‘Ah, again, you’re welcome. I’ll walk you back to the towpath.’
‘What about …?’
‘Old Þhurs? What about him?
I said slowly, ‘He’s all alone.’
‘Yes. He’s a troll. They like it that way.’
‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘No, he doesn’t.’
‘Well, yes, he likes some company, obviously. Young and female if he can get it, but sadly for everyone, his dates never end well. Why? Do you feel sorry for him?’
‘Yes, yes, I do, a little. He’s old and the world has moved on. He’s been left behind.’
‘Haven’t we all?’ he said lightly, and moved on before I could consider his words. ‘I don’t know how you managed to find your way into his cave. I rather suspect you’re … different.’
‘Not really,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘I’m actually rather ordinary, you know. What will happen to him?’
‘Þhurs? I’ll have a quick word and tell him to be more careful in future. Although to be fair, if you wandered into his lair, you were fair game.’
‘I didn’t wander anywhere,’ I said indignantly. ‘I was on the towpath. All I did was walk under a bridge.’
‘And in this country trolls don’t live under bridges?’
‘What? Every bridge?’
‘Well, no, not every bridge obviously. Not any more, anyway, but a few do. They like to live at the water’s edge, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s where the land meets the water. Where the boundaries are blurred. Where two worlds connect. That’s where you usually find a troll.’
‘Really?’
‘No, not these days, so don’t worry about it.’
‘Too late.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said airily. ‘Although you might want to be a bit more careful in future. Just in case.’
‘I will,’ I promised, resolving never to walk under a bridge again.
‘This way then,’ he said, and we set off through the beech wood again. Back the way we’d come. The woods smelled green and moist and his footsteps made no sound.
Back on the towpath, we paused. He held out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you today … Elizabeth Cage.’
I took it. ‘And you too, Mr Iblis. And please don’t be too hard on …our friend. It wasn’t his fault I wandered into his lovely home.’
He smiled that smile again. ‘Take
care,’ and before I could say anything else, he disappeared back towards the bridge.
I turned to go and then had a sudden thought. He was living up there in the woods, all alone. That must be tough, even in this good weather, which wouldn’t last long, because this was England. I had a picture of him sitting under dripping branches, the sound of rainfall pattering all around him, cold, wet, and hungry. He’d saved me from being eaten. I owed him.
I set off back to his little camp, moving quickly because I wanted to be gone before he came back. I pulled out the sandwiches, fruit, crisps, chocolate and water and laid it all out neatly on his rock. Then, embarrassed at what I’d done, I grabbed my backpack and ran away.
Chapter Twelve
I refused to race back to Rushford in a panic. Besides, I was too tired, so I took my time getting back. Standing on the towpath, I looked down river. The Rush flowed placidly under the bridge. As I watched, two adults, a small boy and a very large, muddy dog passed beneath it with no ill effects whatsoever. I sighed and turned to go home.
The sun was still shining and there were enough people around, sitting on the bank, fishing, or walking their dogs for me to feel quite safe, but I was tired. I stopped frequently to rest, staring out at the silent river flowing past on its way to the sea. People nodded as they walked by because there’s something shared about walking for pleasure. People greet each other. It’s nice. I walked quietly along the sunny bank and memories of a dark place and its sad and lonely occupant began, slowly, to seem unreal.
The sun was just above the horizon as I made my way back up the hill to Castle Close. Long purple shadows stretched across my path. I crossed under the archway – not without a little trepidation, it should be said, but it seemed to be peril free. Sadly, the same could not be said of my front steps. A figure was sitting there, waiting for me. For one moment, I thought it was Michael Jones and my heart leaped. But only for one moment. It was Iblis. How could he know where I lived?
He stood up as I approached and came down to meet me. He looked so serious that I began to panic all over again. ‘What is it? Why are you here? Is it Þhurs?’ I remembered the family with the small boy and the big dog. ‘Did he eat someone?’
He said heavily, ‘You left me an offering.’
I couldn’t think what he was talking about. ‘I … what?’
‘You left me an offering.’
‘No, I didn’t. I left you my lunch.’
‘Same thing. You laid an offering on my altar.’
‘No, I laid my lunch on a rock.’
‘For me.’
‘Of course for you. You’re homeless.’
‘I said I lived in the woods, not that I was homeless.’
‘All right, so you’re not homeless and I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t understand. You left me an offering. I am bound to you.’
‘No, you’re not,’ I said, wishing he wasn’t between me and my house.
‘The Lore is very clear on this point.’
‘What Law?’
‘Not Law. Lore.’
‘All right – what Lore?’
‘The Lore that says offerings must be paid for.’
‘You don’t have to pay me.’
‘I have no choice.’
I thought quickly. ‘All right. Fifty pence.’
‘What?’
‘My lunch. The offering you say I left you. Give me fifty pence and all debts are cancelled.’ I held out my hand.
‘I don’t have fifty pence.’
‘Well, give me what you do have.’
‘My service. It’s all I have.’
‘I don’t want your service.’
‘You don’t have any choice in the matter. Any more than I have any choice. We’re bound to each other.’
I didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘For how long?’
‘Until the debt is repaid.’
‘How long will that be?’ My voice began to rise in frustration.
‘How should I know?’
I was tired and I just wanted a bath. ‘Why don’t you know? You’re the one standing on my doorstep spouting about debts and Lore.’
‘Mrs Cage, is everything all right?’
I’d been so busy trying to get rid of the handsome young man standing outside my house that I hadn’t heard Colonel Barton’s front door open. He stood on his top step, his face concerned, clutching his phone in case of emergencies.
I made myself relax and smile. ‘No, everything’s fine, Colonel.’
‘Yes,’ said Iblis, smiling that smile of his. ‘No need for alarm, Venerable One.’
The colonel blinked and I decided I’d had enough for one day.
‘Get inside,’ I said, pushing Iblis up the steps.
It was only as I was ushering him through the door that I wondered whether he had to be invited inside. Like a vampire. In which case, I’d just done something stupid. I mentioned this to him.
He frowned. ‘I’m not a vampire. Why would you think I’m a vampire?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said hastily, since he seemed very offended. ‘If you’re not a vampire, what are you?’
‘I’m Iblis,’ he said simply. His silver colour boiled around him, restless and never still. But he meant me no harm – I was sure of it.
‘Look, it’s been a long day. Why don’t you just go home and we’ll pretend all this never happened.’
He threw himself onto the sofa and looked around. ‘Nice. But small.’
I said pointedly, ‘Big enough for one.’
He linked his hands behind his head. ‘But where would you live?’
‘Look,’ I said, politely and reasonably, because that was how
I’d been brought up. ‘Am I in any danger?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Then you don’t need to be here in my home, surely.’
‘But I am bound to your service.’
‘Then suppose I ask you to leave me. To return to your own home.’
‘How can I serve you from there?’
‘What exactly does this service entail?’
‘Anything you want.’
I waved my arms in exasperation. ‘But I don’t want anything.’
We were going round in circles.
‘Look Mr Iblis, whatever it takes to release you – consider it done. I release you.’
‘You can’t,’ he said.
‘I just have.’
‘Not that simple.’
‘You can’t just move in with me.’
‘Why not?’
I struggled for words. This day was getting on top of me. I’d met a troll, nearly been eaten, and now a handsome young man was proposing to live with me. I waved my arms in exasperation at his failure to see my point of view.
‘Why not? Because I live alone. Because people would talk. Because I don’t want you here.’
I’d lost him. He was prowling around the kitchen, his movements sharp and fast. He reminded me of quicksilver. ‘Shall I cook for you?’
He lived in the woods. Off the land. I wasn’t yet ready for squirrel or hedgehog in my diet. ‘Thank you, no. I’m very tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to have a bath and go to bed.’
He was already heading towards the door to the stairs. ‘I will prepare a bath fit for a queen. With unguents.’
And then I got it. ‘You’re winding me up, aren’t you?’
‘Well … duh … you should have seen your face. When did you twig?’
‘The unguents were a step too far.’
He was very close, smiling down at me. ‘They needn’t be.’
I slapped his arm. ‘Pack it in. Why are you here?’
‘To serve you.’ He held up a hand. ‘Before you begin fibrillating again – I can do that from a distance. You have only to call.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, resolving never to call. I had a very strong impression this young man could be more trouble than he was worth.
‘A
nd if I’m to be in Rushford then I need to pay my respects.’
‘To whom?’
He didn’t answer directly. ‘This is not my place. This place belongs to another. I must pay my respects as a courtesy. And you must come with me.’
I said warily, ‘Why?’
‘She will want to see you.’
‘Why?’
He smiled that smile. ‘Who wouldn’t?’
I always thought I wasn’t susceptible to flattery but, apparently, I needed to work on that because instead of ushering him firmly to the door, I said, ‘When?’
‘Now,’ he said, seizing my hand.
I tried to pull away. ‘But I’m hot and dirty …’
‘She won’t mind.’
‘She – whoever she is – might not, but I do. And it’s not very respectful to turn up dripping with troll snot, is it?’
‘Good point,’ he said, settling back on the sofa and picking up the remote. ‘Fifteen minutes.’
I made him wait twenty. I could see he meant me no harm but he was definitely someone I needed to stay on top of. If you see what I mean.
We left the house together. I no longer dripped with troll snot. In fact, as he informed me, I smelled quite nice.
‘It’s the unguents,’ I said, locking the door behind me.
‘You don’t need to do that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Your house is warded. No one can get in unless you want them to.’
‘Does that include you?’
‘You have only to tell me to go.’
‘I did tell you to go. Many times.’
He laughed at me. ‘Yes, but you have to mean it.’
‘I can’t believe no one has ever brained you with a brick.’
He laughed again. ‘Once or twice … This way.’
There’s an area around the back of the castle known as The Prospect. It’s a flat tongue of land where, in the old days, the beacon stood, ready to be lit at the first sight of the French, the Scots, the Roundheads, the Yorkists, the Lancastrians, the Dutch, the Jacobites, the Luddites, the Welsh, the Nazis – I don’t know why they didn’t keep it permanently lit.
There’s still a brazier there, mounted on a high pole and it’s occasionally lit for jubilees, coronations or a bit of mischievous arson on a Saturday night. There are also wonderful views out over the Rush as it curls its way through lush meadows on its way to the sea. The council has put half a dozen seats there for everyone to enjoy this pleasant spot.
