Song for a Scarlet Runner

by Julie Hunt

  ‘No,’ said Eadie. ‘We’ll hold the Welcoming on one of the floating islands.’

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t deliver the message.’ The woman sat down on the floor. ‘Hazel’s in a shocking mood already.’ She leaned out the door and called down, ‘Eadie wants to have the Welcoming on one of the islands.’

  ‘Hazel won’t be pleased,’ came the reply.

  The marsh auntie turned to me and looked me up and down, then she picked up one of my hands and studied it critically.

  ‘Hmm. Working hands. Can you tie knots?’ she asked. I nodded.

  ‘This is Ebb,’ Eadie said to me. ‘She’s your auntie.’

  No, she’s not, I thought.

  ‘I make the nets,’ Ebb said. ‘I also make rope and twine and string. And I do most of the fishing.’

  ‘There are people called Ebb who live on the edge of the marshes,’ I said.

  ‘Shut up,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t want to hear of them. It’s enough that I’ve got the name!’

  ‘They drove her out,’ said Eadie. ‘Most of us have been driven out of somewhere.’

  Something about the angry little woman made me angry as well. ‘You’ve got the wrong name!’ I blurted out. I didn’t know why I’d said it or why the thought had come into my head.

  The marsh auntie turned and glared at me. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong name. It’s making you wild. You should change it.’

  ‘To what?’ she demanded.

  I looked at her stringy hair and the knotty muscles in her neck, and her hands, which were small and strong and callused. She was the sort of person who could put things together and fix them, but she could also tear them apart.

  ‘Nettie,’ I said. ‘Nettie would be a good name for you.’

  ‘Nettie.’ She repeated it with a bitter look on her face, as if she was tasting something sour.

  Eadie looked at me in surprise. ‘Very good,’ she said.

  ‘Nettie.’ Ebb tried the word again, looking at me warily. She leaned out the door. ‘Come and see the swamp waif,’ she yelled. ‘She’s got a mouth on her like razor-vine.’

  Another marsh auntie clambered up the ladder. She was a large, soft-looking woman with wavy grey hair, and she wore a tunic made of woven reeds. She was carrying a big teapot and a plate of cakes.

  ‘This is Flo,’ Eadie said.

  Flo devoured me with her eyes. ‘You’ll be useful,’ she murmured.

  Eadie laid out four small bowls and Flo filled them with green tea.

  ‘Marsh cake?’ Flo asked, holding out the plate.

  The cakes looked like small green parcels. A trail of steam rose from each one and settled above the plate in a little cloud of mist. ‘You can eat the wrapping. It’s seaweed.’

  I took a bite of the cake. Oh, so spicy and sweet! I had never tasted anything so marvellous.

  ‘Like it? Plenty more where that came from.’ Flo lowered herself to the floor. ‘If you come with me you can have marsh cake for breakfast, dinner and tea.’

  ‘She’s not going with you,’ Eadie said.

  Flo ignored her. She leaned close to me and said, ‘Little swamp waif, I make the skiffs. If you come with me I will make one especially for you, and I will teach you the art of making them. You will be my apprentice, and you’ll live on marsh cakes and sweet tea.’

  I sipped my drink. It was as delicious as the cake.

  ‘She’s staying with me,’ Eadie said. ‘I need to heal her.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t bring up a waif in these conditions.’ Flo swept her hand around, gesturing to the hut’s clutter. ‘Besides, any one of us can fix that leg.’

  ‘No,’ Eadie insisted. ‘She’s mine. I found her and I’m keeping her. I’ll teach her the stories.’

  ‘She’s too young for the stories and you know it, Eadie. We’ll see what Hazel has to say.’

  How many marsh aunties are there? I wondered.

  ‘Seven,’ Eadie answered. ‘And that’s six too many. Me, Lily, Ebb, Flo, Olive, Myriad and Hazel. You’ll meet them tonight.’

  ‘There could be more in other parts of the marshes,’ Flo remarked. ‘There have been sightings . . .’

  ‘But seven is enough,’ Ebb said. ‘We don’t want more competition.’

  Competition for what? I thought.

  ‘For you,’ said Eadie.

  Flo began rocking back and forth. It took me a while to realise that she was trying to heave herself up from the floor. She was a big lady and it took her several goes.

  When she was upright she leaned down and touched me lightly on the cheek. Her fingers were smooth and cool, like reeds. ‘Goodbye, little swamp waif,’ she said. ‘Think about my offer. I’ll see you at the Welcoming.’

  The other auntie left without saying a word. They climbed down the ladder and I heard them paddling away. ‘Ha!’ Eadie cried. ‘Did you see the look on Ebb’s face? You’re game, Peat. I’ll grant you that. Nettie! Ha!’

  She poured herself a jar of some frothy black liquid that looked like brackish water but had a rich, sweet smell.

  ‘Marsh ale,’ she said. ‘Builds your blood and makes your coat shine.’ She gulped it down and licked the foam from her moustache. ‘I’d give you some, but you’re too young for this strong brew.’

  ‘Is the Welcoming for me?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course. Hazel will give the speech and tell you the rules.’

  ‘Who’s Hazel?’

  ‘Hazel is the Great Aunt.’

  ‘Is she the boss?’

  ‘She thinks she is. She lives in the Reed House.’ Eadie spat out the doorway. ‘I’m going out now. I have plants to collect. Can I trust you to stay here and rest?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer before she disappeared down the ladder.

  EADIE’S HIDE

  With Eadie gone I had the chance to have a look around.

  Apart from the herbs, there wasn’t so much in her hut – the stove and little table, a bed made of bundled reeds, a woven mat, a box with sheets of fine bark stacked on top of it, and a few pots and pans.

  The bed had an old blanket strewn over one end and a sack-pillow at the other. The pillow had a hole in it and was leaking feathers. If I had a needle I could stitch it up, I thought.

  A fishing net hung from a hook on the wall, along with a leather bag and an assortment of woven baskets. The floor was covered with lumps of dried mud and seeds that had fallen from a bunch of pods that was hanging above. There were fur balls as big as your fist under the table. Probably from Eadie’s coat, I thought. Maybe it moults in summer.

  The hide reminded me of the Overhang, except for the mess. Marlie and I had kept the Overhang in order. Our things had been stored neatly on the shelves, and we’d swept the floor every day with a broom my mother had made from split corn stalks. I decided to tidy up for Eadie.

  There was a bucket of water near the door, so I rinsed out the bowls we had drunk the tea from and put them away on a shelf, along with the knife and the grinding stone. Then I scraped the remains of the soup into a clean dish and filled the pot with water. I would have liked to take the pot outside and clean it properly, but I didn’t think I could manage the ladder with my leg bound up. I washed the chopping board, and then I swept the floor and wrapped the sweepings in a sheet of bark. All this I did without standing up.

  Next I began to explore the jars on the lower shelves. Most were so covered in dust that I couldn’t see what was inside. I took some of them down, wiped them and put them back. The labels were peeling off and the writing was so faded I could barely read it: Holdfast, Hushweed, Samphire, Eyebright.

  When I opened the lid of the box I found hundreds of small packages inside. Each package was wrapped in bark, tied up with string and labelled. There was Hare’s Breath, Walkwell, Heart’s Ease, Bladderwrack, Glibwort, Delirium and lots more.

  There was also a jar in the box that was full of handy things: nails, wire, fishing hooks, a bag needle, twin
e, thread and buttons. I sewed up Eadie’s pillow, then I shook the mat and blanket out the door. A reed-boat floated past with nobody in it. Further out, I saw a flock of wildfowl landing on the water.

  Eadie’s ladder was even more rickety than the one on the hut where I’d stayed with the sleek. The rungs looked rotten, and the two top ones were broken. I picked some better sticks from the pile next to the stove and replaced the top rungs, wiring them firmly into place. Then, because the bag over the door was flapping in the breeze, I sewed a stick along the bottom to weigh it down.

  If she doesn’t like it she can take it off, I thought.

  Once I had finished, I sat on the bed and considered my situation. I had somewhere to live, food to eat and people who wanted me. I wasn’t quite sure why they wanted me, though, and was about to think more on that when Eadie returned.

  ‘Had a good old poke around, have you?’ she called out.

  I lifted the door flap to see Eadie tying a reed-boat to the walkway. It was laden with dried branches and piles of rushes.

  ‘They’re for tonight,’ she said, hoisting herself up the ladder, bunches of herbs tucked under her arm. When she reached the top she stared at the floor.

  ‘Where are the bean seeds?’ she demanded. ‘They were right here.’

  I unwrapped the bark bundle of floor-sweepings, picked out the seeds and gave them to her. She stuffed them into one of her pockets, muttering, ‘I wish people wouldn’t touch things they know nothing about. I hope you haven’t put any weight on that leg.’

  She looked cautiously around the hide, and when her eyes fell on the bed I thought what a good job I’d done. I had folded the blanket and set the pillow straight. Eadie picked up the pillow and turned it over.

  ‘I hope you put that needle back,’ she said. ‘I need that for mending my coat.’

  She began tying the herbs into bundles and hanging them up, mumbling to herself. I was tired after cleaning the hut, so I sat on the bed and watched.

  After a while I closed my eyes and thought my own thoughts. I went over everything that had happened to me since I’d left the Overhang. I remembered what the stranger had said – Life’s short and the world is larger than you think. How right he was!

  ‘He came here, you know,’ Eadie said.

  I opened my eyes with a start.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. He was sick. I cured him. He had the catching disease. Who knows how many people caught it from him along the way. You and Marlie didn’t get it because of the cattle.’

  I stared at her. How did she know about Marlie and the cattle? I might have snooped around in Eadie’s hut, but she had been snooping in my mind!

  ‘I don’t mean to eavesdrop,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I can’t help hearing everything that goes through your head – yours and everyone else’s. That’s why I need to live alone – to get some peace.’

  ‘What do you mean about the cattle?’ I asked.

  ‘People who work with cows are immune to the catching disease. It’s a medical fact.’ She let out a honking laugh. ‘It’s a pity the aunties didn’t come snooping around while that fellow was here – I could have got rid of them; wiped them all out with the pox in one fell swoop.’

  ‘Why didn’t you catch the disease?’

  ‘Me!’ She seemed to think the idea was hilarious. Her honking laughter sounded a bit like the shag. ‘I don’t catch diseases. I never get sick. I would have died decades ago if I was delicate!’

  She finished what she was doing and turned to me. ‘He left me this,’ she said, holding out a thread. It was the one the stranger had worn around his neck. It was fine and shot through with silver.

  ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Silk, plygrass, cotton, and I think the silver is hair, probably from a horse’s tail, although it could be some sort of web. Have it, if you like.’

  ‘Thank you, Eadie.’

  I held the thread up to the light. There was no knot in it. It was made all in one piece.

  ‘Where did he go?’ I asked.

  She shrugged. ‘Hub, I suppose. Wherever you’re going, you have to go to Hub first.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Hub?’

  ‘Many times. In the old days I was always travelling.’

  I put the thread around my neck along with the cow charm.

  ‘Enough chattering,’ Eadie said. ‘You’ll be late for your own Welcoming. I’ll have to do the poultice later. No time now.’

  She picked me up, threw me over her shoulder, and climbed down the ladder without wasting another moment.

  I was surprised by how strong she was. My face was pushed into a pocket of herbs on her back. They crackled under my nose and the herby smell made me sneeze.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s only snoop grass,’ she said. ‘A sniff of that will do you good.’

  THE ISLANDS OF FLOATWEED

  ‘Some days the marsh is all water and other times it’s mainly land.’ Eadie scanned the horizon. ‘This is one of the water days.’

  We had travelled a long way from the hide. The reed-boat sat low in the water with the weight of the load of rushes, and paddling was hard work. I was panting and sweat ran down my face.

  ‘Aren’t I meant to be resting?’ I asked.

  Eadie ignored me. ‘Usually I would have caught a current by now,’ she muttered. ‘Ah, there it is!’

  She pointed to some greenery that had appeared ahead and I recognised the island from the night before.

  ‘Is this where the Welcoming will be held?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘I just need to check my snares before we go any further. I won’t be long.’ She stepped out of the boat and sloshed through the water, then she disappeared up the bank.

  ‘Nothing,’ she called. ‘Lily can count herself lucky.’

  I wondered why Eadie wanted to snare Lily.

  ‘She annoys me,’ Eadie said when she returned. ‘She’s always snooping around, and when I’m practising I like to be alone.’

  ‘What are you practising?’

  ‘The stories. For the competition.’

  ‘What stories? What competition?’

  Eadie sighed and cast her eyes skywards. ‘Swamp save me from the endless questions of the waif!’ She took a deep breath and began paddling. ‘The marsh aunties hold competitions,’ she explained. ‘To see who’s the best. My stories usually win.’

  ‘Does Lily tell stories, too?’

  ‘Lily? She couldn’t tell a story to save herself! She just creeps up and listens in. She wants to check to see if my stories are better than her perfumes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Mother of Marsh Aunties, is there anything else you want to know!’ Eadie looked at me over her shoulder. ‘We’re not moving very fast. Put in some effort, will you?’

  When the boat was far out on the water, Eadie paused and looked around. The island had disappeared behind us and there was no land anywhere.

  ‘See anything?’ she asked.

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Islands,’ she replied. ‘Floating islands.’

  I put down my paddle and shielded my eyes. The sun was setting, and the water was blood-red and glittering. In the distance, I saw a dot.

  ‘There’s something.’

  ‘Ah! The sharp eyes of a waif!’ Eadie looked to where I pointed. ‘It’s the shag,’ she said. ‘The shag means land.’

  We paddled towards the dot and arrived near the burnt-out hut I’d first seen the shag nesting in just before dark.

  ‘We’re back at the edge of the marshes,’ I said.

  Eadie snorted. ‘Yesterday this was at the edge of the marshes. Today it could be anywhere.’

  The shag circled overhead and landed awkwardly on the side of the boat, making it tilt. He stared at Eadie.

  ‘Get your own,’ she said. ‘I’m not feeding the likes of you.’

  The bird blinked and glared. Eadie stared back.

  Any minute now he’ll go for her head and pull out
some hair, I thought.

  ‘Shhh!’ Eadie snapped. ‘I’m trying to hear.’ She leaned towards the shag. ‘He thinks there’s floatweed to the south,’ she said, taking up her paddle. ‘Shoo. Off you go!’

  The bird squawked and flapped away. It seemed that she could read the minds of birds like she’d read mine.

  ‘Bird brains are worse than humans’,’ she said under her breath. ‘But sometimes they’re good for advice.’

  Once we’d paddled a short distance from the shag’s ruined hide, the boat started moving easily by itself. I put down my paddle and lay back on the branches, trailing my hand in the water. The boat skimmed along, despite the weight.

  ‘Ah, that’s better,’ Eadie sighed.

  ‘Once you find the island, how will the other aunties find it?’ I asked.

  ‘By the smoke. We’ll light a fire and they’ll head towards it.’

  We travelled for a long time across the dark water. The stars came out, and when a big moon rose over the horizon Eadie gave a sharp cry. She reached over the side and pulled up a glistening heap of green stuff.

  ‘Floatweed! Ha! We’re nearly there.’

  The boat slowed down and wove in and out of the floatweed. Soon we came to rest in still water. Eadie stood up in the boat and looked around.

  ‘We need a decent-sized island,’ she said. ‘And one that will hold our weight.’ She pointed to a mass of heaped weed. ‘That one will do.’

  The island wasn’t much bigger than the craft, and it didn’t look very solid. When she stepped on it, it dipped low in the water and made a sucking sound.

  The noise and movement seemed to attract more weed, though. Stray clumps floated towards the island Eadie had chosen and attached to the edges. The island was growing. Soon it was large enough to hold several people. More floatweed must have gathered underneath, too, because it began to rise out of the water like a small hill.

  Eadie lifted me out of the boat and put me on the floating island. Then she unloaded the wood and the reeds.

  ‘Tie these in bundles, Peat, and put them around the edge for seating,’ she said. ‘I’ll make the fire.’

  Soon a long pillar of smoke rose from the island. Eadie sat down and gazed out over the water.