‘She can’t read, nor write. Nor speak. We don’t even know if she can hear so don’t talk to her.’ Malina grabs Ruth to her protectively.
‘Insensible, I think not. Whatever she is, she read of my coming before you.’ We have reached the Barbican now. It is split into a northern and southern wing by the portcullis and gate. Connell approaches the northern side; a small entranceway stands ahead of us and he says with a thin smile: ‘Are you coming now, Lords and Ladies? I invite you inside according to the rites of hospitality. Violence within these walls is taboo.’
‘Tsch!’ Malina’s face curls as if she has tasted something quite bitter; she pushes past us to enter the stone battlement and we follow behind.
Chapter 15
The space we enter seems impossibly large, stretching two stories up and filled from floor to ceiling with wooden shelves haphazardly bearing books, tomes and papers. Ruth goes to the nearest shelf and runs her fingers across the rough leaves and bindings. I join her and the air, thick with motes of dust, swirls and eddies as I pass. Windows, thin and tall as the room itself, line the west-facing wall, but the light issuing from them seems somehow solid and still, frozen by the torpid atmosphere.
‘There is paper here, and papyrus and parchment brought from across the world, written in tongues of men and older languages as well.’ Connell speaks with some pride.
‘Did you collect these volumes here?’ The sheer number of works displayed is astonishing.
‘No. Centuries of men and women have brought them to this place. Lindisfarne has been a site of pilgrimage for those who seek knowledge for time out of mind. There are gifts here bought from the House of Wisdom in old Baghdad. You will find palm leaf manuscripts from the Carnatic kingdoms of India, gilt tomes from Imperial Constantinople and salvaged scrolls from Alexandria’s great library, where the Nile rolls its water.’
‘I thought the library of Alexandria was lost beneath the sea.’ I remember reading in old Luxton’s papers of pristine white marble columns and the bare feet that walked between them.
‘What do you know, Weed?’ Malina is standing by the entranceway as if readying a quick escape. ‘Alexandria was part of the Roman Empire when it fell. Caesar himself was an Augur-Priest. The Imperium practised the art of the Haruspex first. They invented it. Don’t you think they saw the Mohammedans coming?’
‘How do you reach the topmost shelves?’ I ask.
‘You climb.’ Connell laughs.
Malina ignores us and strides to the middle of the great chamber where a pool of water is laid into the floor. I join her at its edge. At my approach the waters pulse and come to life with brightly coloured fish surging and dashing across one another. At the bottom of the pool there is a curious symbol carved into the stone: an equilateral cross with arms bent at ninety degrees.
‘What is that, Connell?’ I say, pointing into the pool.
‘They are Tilapia. Sometimes called St Peter’s Fish.’ Connell replies.
‘He means the symbol at the bottom.’ Malina spits into the waters. I watch as the fish cease their frenzied movement and the waves calm to stillness.
‘You seem to have quieted the fish.’ Connell is looking intently at Malina. ‘The symbol you speak of is the Sol Invictus or Svastika. It is a powerful sign of the endless sun.’
‘That which gives eternal life and no death.’ Malina says quietly. I peer more closely at the glyph with its four crooked arms, emblematic of the sun’s rays spun on its axis.
‘We Druids say that upon death our spirits move to the otherworld, not so very different from this one. But there are some who fear death, for whom the very thought is hateful, loathsome and monstrous.’ At his words Malina shudders visibly.
She sniffs the air and then, as if settling on a course of action, she scurries to a nearby shelf, ascending with insect swiftness to its topmost bracket. In the strange solid light shining through the window she looks like a spider in a web. From her perch Malina observes us and calls down to Connell. ‘Then! So what now, Priest? The root that men do not name. The root that frees the mind. Where is it? By the blood spilled on the path I adjure you.’
‘We have come seeking the plant to save this child. Will you help us, Connell?’ The bearded man looks at me and stares hard at Malina for a moment.
‘Don’t ask him, Weed. Tell him. Threaten him! There are ways that I can get to you, Connell, without laying a finger on you. I could call the beasts of the field to your door to bay for your blood the moment you step outside. I could summon the birds of the air to break your tall windows and eat your eyes.’
‘You entered here freely and of your own will. You are bound to commit no violence here.’ His eyes are shining. There is a game at play between Connell and Malina, a game with rules I don’t understand.
‘Bugger your hospitality. I could get you and you know it. One way or another. So answer us!’
‘The root of which you speak is here but I will not yield it. It might help the child but it would do more for you, witch, if you ate it. The root that frees the mind in the hands of a Haruspex. That’s a bad idea. If you can see the future what does it tell you? Eat that root yourself and it would leave you crisped and ashen. You don’t want that.’
‘I challenge you nevertheless. Name the feat and you will be bested. I challenge you by your order and your otherworld. I have told you what denial means.’
‘You challenge me here? You reject my hospitality? These are foolish choices, Malina.’
‘Bluffing bastard. The challenge remains.’
‘Riddles, then.’
‘Accepted.’
‘So, Weed, Ruth and Malina. Give me the proper answer to my riddling tale and you shall have your prize and be damned for it.’ Connell smiles a hard smile. ‘Many years ago there lived a princess of great beauty in the far Isles to the north. Ina was her name and at her court there was a Priest who spent many long nights instructing Ina on the ways of wisdom; such is the path to power among people everywhere.
‘When it came time for Ina to leave her father’s house and be wed to her betrothed, she asked the Priest what he would like from her as a parting gift.
‘“There is only one thing that I desire from you,” replied the holy man. “You must sleep with me, for I am dying for your love.”
‘To which Ina said, “I cannot come to your bed. I am to be married and I must be a virgin on my wedding night.”
‘The Priest thought about this and declared, “So be it. Be married as a maid but once you have lain with your husband then come to me. That is my desire. I have named your gift thus.”
‘Then Ina left for the ceremony. She was to be married to a prince as fine as any who lived before or since. On their wedding night Ina confessed to her husband what had transpired with the Priest.
‘“Wife. Though it brings shame and dishonour upon our marriage, you must keep your promise. Lie with me tonight and tomorrow travel back to the Priest in your father’s house. When you return to me you will still be my wife.” This is what the Prince said.
‘And so the next day Ina set out upon the road. Before very long she came upon a bandit who said to her. “You there! Woman! I am a thief. Give me your clothes and all of your jewels.”
‘But Ina replied, “Thief. I cannot give you my clothes and my jewels because I am going to fulfil a promise to a great Priest and I cannot arrive all naked to dishonour him. However, if you wait upon the road for my return, then you can have my clothes and my jewels.” The thief agreed and on her way she went.
‘Soon enough Ina came upon a black bear who said to her. “Woman born of woman. I am a bear and I am hungry. Be my lunch today. And what do you say to that?”
‘Ina replied, “Bear, I am bound to a promise at my father’s house and so you cannot eat me here and now on this road. However if you can wait for me patiently then on my return you can have me for supper.” The bear agreed and she went on her way.
‘A short while later Ina came upon a deadly s
erpent who said to her, “Your foot has crushed me and mine since the time of Eve. Present to me your ankle to bite deadly for today I take my revenge.”
‘But Ina replied, “You cannot bite me with your poison. For I am bound to a promise. But if you have time to wait, then I will meet you on my return and then you may bite my ankle deadly.” And the serpent agreed.
‘Along the road only a little further was the house of Ina’s father and she went to the Priest and presented herself to him. But he said “You have honoured me by fulfilling your promise and coming here. Furthermore you have risked your life by travelling alone on the perilous path and so moved am I by your behaviour that I send you back to your husband untouched. Go in peace, Ina.”
‘And on the road she came upon the serpent once again and declared to it “Here I am. It is I, Ina. Bite my ankle here and let me die on the path.”
‘To which the serpent replied, “Dear Ina, just after you left I came upon a nest of creamy, tasty eggs to feed myself and my children. You bought me good luck, Ina, and I thank you for it, so go on your way untroubled by me.”
‘And then not much further along the path did Ina see the Bear: “Here I am, Bear. It is I, Ina. Eat me up on the road here and now.”
‘To which the Bear replied, “Dear Ina, just after you left I came upon a fat boar. It was good fortune that brought me such a choice luncheon and you brought me that luck. So go on your way untouched by me.”
‘Next of course did Ina meet the thief: “Here I am, Thief. It is I, Ina. Take my clothes and my jewels.”
‘To which the Thief replied, “Sweet Ina. Just after you left I came upon a rich troupe of travellers lightly guarded and from them stole clothes and jewels. It was you who bought me such rare luck and so go on your way, unharried by me.”
‘And so lastly Ina found herself at home again with her husband who asked her nothing of her journey and treated her as tenderly as ever before. Together they lived in perfect happiness for all of their days.
‘And so I have concluded the riddle tale,’ says Connell.
‘Alright. But what is the point of all of this?’ The atmosphere in the room feels thick and portentous. I think of the Green courtyard without these walls and the simple plants therein. I wish to be out of this dire company.
‘The question is this: who had the most nobility? The Husband or the Priest, the Thief, the Bear or the Serpent? Answer me properly and you shall have your prize. Give the wrong answer and I’ll kill you where you stand.’
I move in front of Ruth instinctively. ‘You invited us into your home; you never said anything about killing. I didn’t ask for a role in this game and I don’t want one, mute child or no.’ The girl looks up at me with guileless eyes and it is too easy to think of her as an innocent despite all I’ve seen.
‘Those are the rules. You should be wary of travelling with one who gambles with the severest consequences.’ Connell gestures up at Malina. ‘That is my challenge and so answer it.’
Malina laughs from her perch above us, ‘So what do you think, good Weed? Is it the nobleness of her husband to ask no questions of his wife and let her go to a cracked-bone Priest for his pleasure? Do you call that nobility?’
I feel like a puppet caught up in strings. I look at Connell’s smiling face and try to calculate how quickly I could fell him with my sword if pressed. ‘I suppose that it may be the Priest himself that has nobility to turn the girl away untouched.’
‘Not the Bear, who resists his urge to eat Ina? A very natural urge to forgo. More natural than lust is hunger. And a more difficult one to set aside.’
‘The Bear’s hunger is stronger than the Serpent’s desire for revenge or the Thief’s avarice. So yes then it must be the Bear who is more noble.’ In the shadow and light of the top-most shelves, Malina seems to hang unnaturally. Her tongue is once more dancing outside her lips and her limbs are taut strength clinging to their purchase.
She drops very suddenly to the floor, catching herself on all fours before bending back up into the shape of a woman. She approaches us. ‘You’re a fool, Weed. And you’re a liar, Priest. You have broken the rules of the riddling game and you will have to deal with that in due course.’ Connell’s face is utterly still, his thin smile fixed. ‘You ask who is the most noble. The Husband or the Priest, the Thief, the Bear or the Serpent. The answer is obvious, though you attempt to conceal it: it is the Woman. It is Ina who has the most nobility. There is your answer, slave. Now where is the root? Tell us now or compound your crime.’
Connell’s smile dies but he says nothing, biting his lips tightly shut. His eyes dance in his head and I watch his limbs tremble and jerk. A struggle seems to be at play within him, as if he tries to stop his own heart from pumping, his ears from hearing, his eyes from seeing and his mouth from speaking. Finally his body slackens, defeated, and a hoarse, reedy voice issues from his throat. ‘The root lives, Malina. It grows in the opposite wing of the Barbican. Its roots are plaited like a knot of Mayday ribbon around the pole on Beltane.’ His eyes open wide as the last of Connell’s breath rattles from his chest and his body collapses to the ground, inert.
Malina leans down to our host where he lies on the stone floor and she says almost tenderly, ‘Well, to do no violence is the glamour of your invitation but to deal a plain hand in the riddling game and to receive a plain answer is the law. Wasn’t a proper riddle anyway: too long, for one thing. You broke a stronger taboo, man. So bugger your protections. They are invalid.’ She grabs his shoulders through his robe, drags him over to the pool and thrusts Connell’s head into the waters. She holds it there fast, steam and smoke rising off the frothing surface, and I can see Malina’s arms burn and blister as if caught in a flame. Connell’s strength has ebbed and he seems lifeless until the last moment when spasms of desperation seize his limbs and his body cries out to save itself. But it is all too late and soon he lies still again. Malina pulls her red raw hands from the water and folds them into her dress quickly. ‘Well now it’s over and done with.’ She looks up at my shocked face. ‘Let’s not burst into tears over that one.’
Chapter 16
‘If you are going to try and kill me, do it now. But I warn you, I am strong for the fight.’ I speak plainly to Malina as we step from the vast library back into the camp outside with Ruth trailing behind us.
‘No, Weed.’ She looks at me thoughtfully. ‘I never wished you any harm. Pay the Druid’s death no mind. You cannot know how many men, women and children have met their end at his hand. Blood sacrifice is their currency.’ Malina is already marching across the portcullis avenue towards the opposite wing of the barbican.
‘But that’s the same as you. You sacrifice too.’ Two days ago I declared my love for this woman. Now there is nothing that I want from her.
‘Animals and entrails aren’t the same. And those others I killed directly threatened us.’
‘But Connell wasn’t threatening us. He had already told us where to find the root.’ I want to leave this place and never to return.
‘He wouldn’t have let us off his island. He didn’t want to tell us where to look for this damned root. He was forced to do so by threat and challenge. Kill or be killed is the whole of our law. Older laws than you know.’ She turns to me then. ‘Or perhaps you do know of them.’ She touches my face then and I feel for a moment an echo of my love for her. ‘It’s so hard for me to understand you, Weed. Your Green pulse is unlike the pulse of other men. I don’t know your Gods. Who knows? They may be older than mine and Connell’s. Kill or be killed. You said in the woods that is not the way of plants. But you still don’t know what is. Until you figure that out, you’re useless to me.’ She takes her hand away again.
In the end it is Ruth who finds a concealed entrance, almost imperceptible against the stone walls of the southern barbican. We enter silently and when the door closes behind us I am startled by what I see. The chamber is vast like the library but that is where the comparison ends. There are no windows here
but the room is illuminated by green and blue luminescence emanating from lichens that cling to the damp stone interior. Bathed in eerie half-light I see life and growing things everywhere. Fungal outcroppings thrust up from the slippery moss-covered ground and hang from the dripping ceiling. A landscape of ferns and toadstools bigger than Ruth grows throughout the hollow cavern. But more arresting than all are the roots. They sprout upwards from the earth in abundance, growing thickly through the air and penetrating into the high roof above us. The long, hairy strands are innumerable; they hang so densely that it is as though a heavy, rich curtain has been drawn over this strange grotto.
The gleaming enclosure is more alien than any I have beheld before. A song of trickling water echoes between the rocky walls. The atmosphere is warm and wet, heavy in my lungs and bears a sickly sweet tinge. The remains of Lindisfarne priory are far to the west of this chamber but it is here that I can feel true holiness. A mighty Green heart that beats to its own rhythm. Malina, who dealt with Connell and his impressive library as if it were nothing, stands in silent awe.
‘Weed!’ She says. ‘If you can speak to the growing things here then do it. But be polite – and, Weed? Be careful.’
Malina’s commands are hateful to my ear; I have been asleep under her sway for too long. Yet there is fear in her voice and I heed her warning. I open myself to the lichens, fungi and roots around me, uttering a tentative greeting. But there is no reply. No voice. No hum as there was outside on the island’s plain. No murmur as in the forest. Just a silence so profound that I can hear the blood in my veins.
‘I don’t get anything from this place. Nothing at all.’
Malina is frozen to the spot but her eyes are pin pricks, her head jerking on her shoulders like a bird’s as she scours the room, hunting for the root among its fellows. One might as easily hunt a single rain drop in a storm; it would take me days to find our prize and I sense that a minute in this chamber would be too long. ‘There!’ She hisses. ‘The root; three strands braided together like the hair of an idle maid.’ She points to the middle of the cavern and I can just make out an odd twisted thickness standing out from its mates. It is unlike the others. Three broad roots plaited around each other, crossing and uncrossing from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. It reminds me of something I have seen elsewhere but before I can think Malina speaks plaintively. ‘Weed. I cannot go any further into this place. There is something here, Weed. Something weird and old and not alive to me. Please. We have journeyed so far. Take your sword and cut the root.’
Weed: The Poison Diaries Page 10
