‘Corruption of that law is the only sin.’
I feel keen sorrow then and I speak without pause or measure. ‘I have broken the eternal return, the endless renewal of the Uroborus. Sol is poorer for my actions and Mab’s tears were wasted.’
‘Arrogant Meat Sack! Pus is too weak to break the cycle of the Uroborus.’
And then it comes to me, floating to the surface of my mind. ‘Gwirdrych.’
‘……That is what green things call me. Where is your sword, Little Flesh? Are you come to cut my thick root and leave me dead again?’
‘It pains me that I lost you.’
‘Pretty word that: lost. Rent and stolen is better. Foolish Weed.’ He uses my name at last. I take that as a good sign. ‘And why do you pain? Pain and fear are Red, not Green. Why have you come here?’
‘That I might replant your seed.’
‘Wrong answer! Trunkless!’
‘At Medcaut, they told me that I must come and speak with you. They said that no-one had ever seen your seed or flower.’
‘Oh I have a seed Weed. But it’s no good for growing in the soil. I don’t need a seed for that messy business. Mab sews me straight from the everlasting root and that but rarely. What have you come for?’
Under Strychnine’s poisons I can barely order my thoughts. I feel desperate. ‘I don’t know. To atone for my theft. To atone for letting Malina steal your root.’
‘Aha! Nasty thieving creature deserves what she gets.’
‘What will she get from eating the root?’
‘My root is a heady medicine. It will show her what she’s looking for.’
‘What is she looking for?’
‘That is a better question. We have felt her, Weed. She burns on the roots under the earth. She has a great desire, a wish to cheat death and ape the Green world’s endless life. She hopes to corrupt the taboo that sunders sap from blood. But she is flawed and cannot understand the conclusion of that course. She is blood: kill or be killed. That is their way.’
‘Help me prevent her from doing such harm.’
‘We don’t fear her, Weed. Balance will always return to the cycle. And we can wait. We take our lives from the eternal earth and limitless sun. Time is meaningless for us.’
‘But you said she will corrupt the law that separates the Green from the Red. That corruption is the only sin.’
Gwirdrych’s voice remains imperious but its tone softens. ‘Strange fruit, Weed. Do you not break that law by your own existence?’
‘Gwirdrych. If I am to blame for this then let me try to make it right. I implore you.’
‘To do harm is in the Blood things’ nature. She might do much harm with a little knowledge and she does not see the whole truth.’
‘Then grant me truth to match her.’
‘Why do you wish to fight this cause and risk death? It would be wiser to hide and wait.’
‘I have made my choice.’
‘Strange fruit, Weed. Neither Red nor Green nor both. My poisons will burn you worse than Strychnine but they can show you what you want to see.’
‘Then give them to me.’
‘In Mab’s Green chamber you harvested my root without asking. Not very nice, Weed. Not very nice at all. It has shown Malina a path to follow and she lights her way with sacrifices and other divinations. Revolting to feel her shed blood wherever she goes.’ The resolve of Gwirdrych’s anger points away from me. It is a great relief. ‘I will grow for you my seed. Three seeds for you. They do not plant in the soil but they plant in the mind of man. Even a dull mind such as yourself. One to show the prize, two to inflame the desire and three for the painful truth. They will manifest her dark purpose and perhaps show you how to stop it.’
‘Thank you, Gwirdrych.’
‘Don’t thank me yet Weed. There is a battle coming on the bright horizon.’ One of Gwirdrych’s feathered leaves rises as if blown by the wind. It reveals a long thin pod and I feel it with my fingers. ‘Cut the pod from my stalk. It is quite ripe in this garden.’
Three seeds are encased within and I tear it from the stem, placing it in my pocket belt. ‘I regret that you are robbed of your seat in Mab’s Green chamber.’
‘Throw away regrets and pain. They are unseemly in the renewing cycle. Oh Weed, you are still learning your nature. I will not root at Medcaut again but I grow strong in this garden of men. There are deep veins that pass through here too. I can still feel Mab if I try. She sent me to watch over you and if she calls me back I will follow. Perhaps she saw your destructive path and sought to find for me a new home. With seeds to grant men visions I have left her chamber almost never. Yet now I live here. A Green thing to live amongst men? To me it is a strange thing.’
‘I’ve felt just so about myself all my life.’
‘Ha! Then perhaps we are not so different after all. Strychnine did not end your life, Weed. Whether they run with sap or blood, your veins are strong enough. Remember, eat the seeds but not at once or they will prove too much for you: I give them to you willingly.’
Gwirdrych’s feathered leaf drops again and my senses slowly return to me. Without Strychnine’s poisons to numb my mind I feel a shudder at the thought of what is to come. More struggles and more fighting; I said yes to it all. To be under Strychnine’s influence was not an entirely unpleasant sensation, if rather incapacitating. I bend and pick a single yellow fruit, placing it in my pocket belt for later; one never knows when it may come in useful.
‘Here! You!’ A mundane jolt assails my ears. I turn to see a short man dressed in tightly fitting silks and linen; white cuffs and ruffs of rich material almost obscure his hands and neck. At his side run the two sickly looking guards from the portcullis and he shrieks at me: ‘Stop him! Grab him! Hold him!’
Chapter 22
The guards seize one of my broad shoulders each. Although they are mere boys and weak for the fight, I allow it: ‘Hello.’
The ruffled man’s face is flushed and I can see anger brimming, barely contained in his eyes. ‘What business have you in this garden of the Duke. Ay? What’s your name? I charge you!’
‘Men have called me Weed.’ I reply evenly.
‘And a nasty insinuating low-born common thing you do look. You were named well! How came you upon the Duke’s sword sir? I charge you!’
‘In fact he gave it me in this very castle.’
‘Liar! And the liar is brother to the thief!’ Although he attempts to threaten I cannot help but find his manner amusing. He looks so out of place in his delicate raiment out here in the solid greenery of nature.
‘I have not lied.’ The man’s mouth opens and shuts like a fish breathing water. ‘And so I ask you. Who are you?’
‘Who am I? Who am I? I run this place!’ He puffs himself up absurdly.
‘You are no Duke.’
‘Such effrontery. I am the steward of the castle. I should have you whipped with oiled whips.’
‘Would you like to try?’ At this his face turns beetroot red.
One of the guards holds his blade to my neck, shouting hoarsely. ‘You keep a civil tongue in your head. Unlicked cub!’ His breath is vile.
A blush of bloody triumph bleeds across the steward’s face. ‘Your knees had better start knocking, knave. The Duke has asked to speak to you personally. He will cut you down with the sword you stole! Now come with me.’
Even as I am led by rough hands, the slanting afternoon sunlight feels good on my back. The castle is magnificently lit with every turret and tower shining in stone. The odious little man walks ahead of us arrogantly; his tiny shoes sparkle with polished lacquer but I am pleased to see a healthy dose of mud begin to rub away some of the sheen and splash up his white tights.
Approaching the grand entrance of the Keep, the steward scurries ahead of us and begins furiously scraping the earth from his shoes. When we near, he looks up at the guards and me with one raised eyebrow, as if appreciating a side of rotten beef for the table. ‘By God, it will take more than
a foot scrape to make you presentable to the Duke. Let you enter the castle as you are then. One filthy thatch-gallows and two paper-skulls to lead him.’ He smiles at his own taunts. ‘How you ended up in possession of the Duke’s ancestral blade I’ll never know.’
‘It has seen good use.’ I say in as threatening a manner as possible and take satisfaction in the pause it gives him. I do not like this man with his too-black hair greased to his forehead.
As we delve into the Keep, the steward cannot help but run his mouth and he prattles as we walk. ‘The Duke is very busy at the moment. His sons are in attendance at the castle. Lord knows I hardly have time for you.’ He leads us up the familiar grand staircase to the rooms wherein the Duke keeps his private quarters. I know the way as well as the steward but I let him lead me nonetheless. We finally come to a great set of wooden doors and after knocking firmly, he throws them open. And there, waiting beside his ornate writing desk, stands the good Duke. A wave of emotion hits me that takes me quite by surprise. I have missed him. The steward looks sternly at his master and then back at me.
‘Weed!’ The Duke’s face lights up and he bounds over to embrace me, throwing the guards off my shoulders in a single forceful gesture. The steward’s face is a comical mixture of horror and confusion. His eyes bug out like a frog mid-croak and his mouth hangs in disbelief. ‘You’ve come at last! I knew you would! How wonderful. Marvellous even.’ He kisses me on both cheeks before standing back to look at my face. ‘You seem different, Weed. Something fair about the eyes has gone. Perhaps you have seen much in these weeks.’
‘You look different too, good Duke.’
‘Ha! Well, the last time I saw you my linens were getting a little musty. Though I was clad in fine robes of the mind; on a voyage of self-discovery you led me! However clothes can be mended and cleaned. The difference you wrought upon my cognition and cogitation is a deal more permanent and a good thing too!’ The man looks at me with eyes as sharp as polished stars. ‘Stetson. Please leave us and take your guards with you.’ The steward is visibly crestfallen. I think he is about to say something but instead, he turns on his heels and, ushering the guards before him, he leaves the room, slamming the door quite hard behind him.
‘Please accept my apologies that I failed to return your sword directly. I was compelled to visit Soutra Aisle to start a new green garden.’
‘Soutra Aisle! That fine place is wonderfully changed. You know of course that it was once the grandest hospital in the north. Many years it lay dormant, but now? The midwives are in attendance. Working hard for mothers in labour! Those wisewomen are sent to from far and wide. Even to Alnwick Castle they come. And we are expecting a birth! My first grandson or granddaughter is to be born before midsummer!’
‘That pleases me greatly.’
‘And perhaps you’ve seen that I have begun a garden of my own? My children think me quite mad for the expense but just wait: people will come from the four corners of the earth to see it. And ahem! I have had built a special cloister to the sun. A green house where some of those wonderful herbs you used to give me grow.’
‘I’m impressed at the transformation within the grounds.’
‘You have green fingers and toes, Weed. Wherever you tread you bring healing life. How’s that then? Before you first came here I was often unsure of myself. But now I feel that I can do anything and I thank you for that.’ The Duke strides towards his great bed and delves into a hidden compartment in the wall. He pulls a rope that rings a distant bell. ‘You must stay with us for a night at least! One moment. Watch Stetson scurry to the door. That’s a laugh.’
When the steward arrives at the chamber, his eyes are full of hope that perhaps I have been brought low. But instead: ‘Stetson. Give Master Weed a chamber for the night and let it be known that he has free reign of the castle. You are to make sure that all of his needs are attended to.’
‘I really require very little, Duke.’
‘But, Sir Duke.’ Stetson squirms. ‘With your two sons in attendance and the good lady with child all of our efforts have been to make them comfortable. Really there are very few other rooms prepared. Perhaps an inn at town would be more suitable.’
‘Nonsense. The hour is not yet late. Please be sure to have something befitting an honoured guest prepared upon the instant. Anything less will meet with my severest displeasure.’ The Duke commands as one who is not used to argument.
‘Forthwith, sir.’ Stetson hurries away as if afraid of hearing another edict made for my benefit.
‘I’ll not ask you to sup with us. I remember your habits, Weed. You never were a sociable fellow to chitchat with your fellows. But if you would like to survey the grounds and castle, they are at your disposal.’ The Duke gently leads me to the door and, our meeting concluded, I exit in a more dignified manner than I entered.
Blessed by the twin lords of garden and Keep, I repair outside in the gathering dusk and take a moment to watch the stream of people leaving through the castle gates. Carriages that littered the driveway and gatehouse have harnessed their horses and are trotting back to the public thoroughfare. One vehicle alone bucks the trend. I watch as a horse and trap come violently careening around the corner and screech to a halt scant yards from me. A great shock of red hair flies out of the buggy. It wheels from its perch and bundles a bag towards Stetson, who has emerged from the Keep and stands impatiently at its entrance.
A pert, pretty face brushes red locks aside and immediately I recognise it. ‘Hannah!’ I call out, waving my hands above my head. She looks at me and a knotted frown gives way to a bright smile of recognition.
‘Weed!’ She rushes towards me, ready to embrace, but she stops just short, almost tripping over her own feet. She raises her hand to the back of her hair, nervously composing herself. ‘What are you doing here?’ and then she smiles again. ‘It’s wonderful to see you. I mean, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Weed. It’s good to.…’ A bright blush blooms from her hair into her forehead and cheeks.
I hold my hands out to hers and I am happy when she takes them. ‘I am visiting the Duke. And you are here for what reason?’
‘Oh, well, I’m here to tend to the Duke’s daughter-in-law. I’m a midwife. Well, more of a midwife in training. Sister Agie is the real midwife. She’s teaching me all sorts.’ She trails off and then brightens again. ‘We’re using Soutra Aisle, Weed. The garden at least. That you planted. After what happened with Pol, Sister Agie and I returned but found you gone.… and then Agie said “waste not, want not” and set about the garden. You know what she’s like. Oh well, not really, I suppose you don’t. She knows ever so much. Gosh! Your eyes. I’d forgotten how green they are!’ She looks away shyly and talks down to her feet. ‘But I know it’s your home. Soutra Aisle I mean. If you want to come back we’ll leave. Although that would be a shame since we’re doing such good.’
As Hannah babbles sweetly, I remember our first meeting at Fala and the kiss we shared that evening. I think foolishly of how hesitant and chary I was back then, virtually unknown to women. Those were my very first days at Soutra Aisle, making a home for myself and my poison garden. It seems like such a long time ago; an innocent kiss stolen in a careless moment. I feel that if I laid my lips against hers again I would be transported back to that breezy night. A life lived before Malina came and bought sin and obligation. I would kiss her again without hesitation but Hannah’s mouth does not stop moving long enough for me to make the attempt.
‘Sister!’ The steward’s impatience breaks the spell of our meeting like an unwelcome fart. ‘The Lady is waiting.’
‘Is something wrong with the Duke’s daughter-in-law?’ I ask.
‘Oh no. At least not that I know of. It’s an examination to set the lady’s mind at rest, little more.’ I am still holding Hannah’s hands in mine when she blurts out. ‘Oh, Weed! And there is something else. Something marvellous. You won’t believe it. Child! Come!’
From out of the buggy steps a thin leg and then anot
her. I follow with my eye until, dressed in a new white smock and standing bashful and unmoving by the cart, a little girl emerges and looks shyly up at me.
‘Great God! Ruth! I never thought I would see you again!’ My immediate impulse is to run to the child but I check myself. There is something haunting in her mien that is so innocent and so guilty all at once. My heart bleeds for her. Here in Hannah’s cheerful company, I recognise Ruth as my companion of the garden at Soutra Aisle, the bright little girl that saved Polly and Boone. Yet we have both shared the nightmare of Malina. Hard use at the hands of that manipulative witch led me to commit acts of brutality and question my own nature; I can only imagine the scars the child bears.
I approach carefully and crouch down on my haunches to look Ruth directly in her eyes. They are wet with silent tears. I hold my arms out to her and gesture for her safe approach. Hesitantly, she comes to within my fingers reach and when her hand touches mine it is as if a dam breaks between us. A great river of emotion is unpent and Ruth collapses into me, sobbing. ‘I’m so sorry, Weed!’ she whispers into my neck. I hold her away from my body, astonished.
‘Your voice, Ruth!’ It has a deep timbre for a little girl but it is a pleasure to finally hear it. ‘You can talk!’
I look at Hannah in amazement. ‘Aye, Weed. Though she’s not the expert gabber like me, she has quite the tale to tell. Hum! Oh, Ruth. We’re only here for a short visit and I doubt that I’ll need you very much. Why don’t you stay here with Weed and get reacquainted until we have to leave?’
Weed: The Poison Diaries Page 14
