by Julie Hunt
She turned to Siltboy. ‘And who are you, my little friend?’
Siltboy pushed out his chest so that his breastplate gleamed in the sunlight. ‘Not so little,’ he said. ‘I is warrior son of Pike. I come from the Ever, and I fight and never give up.’
‘Goodness,’ Mother Moss said. ‘I hope you’re not going to fight me.’
He gave a shy smile. ‘Is that a forge?’ he asked.
‘It’s an oven. That’s where I bake my bread. Would you like some?’
Siltboy nodded.
‘Go into my hut and help yourselves,’ she said. When Siltboy looked towards Shadow she added, ‘Don’t worry about your hound. I’ll tend to him.’
Siltboy had never tasted honey before. He scooped out spoonfuls and poured it over his bread.
‘Running gold,’ he said. ‘I never seen the likes of it.’
When we went back outside we found Shadow sitting with his paw neatly bandaged. He was eating a side of bacon. Mother Moss was sitting beside him.
‘I was keeping that for winter,’ she said. ‘But one isn’t blessed with a visit from a noble hound every day. My word, he has a good appetite!’
Shadow gulped down the bacon, then he walked over to the oven and lay next to it. He was no longer limping.
‘Did you children have enough to eat?’ Mother Moss asked. ‘Are you full?’
‘To the hilt,’ Siltboy replied. ‘Thank you, Mother. And thank you for helping my hound.’
‘You must have been starving. I can’t imagine how far you young ones must have come.’
‘Far,’ said Siltboy. ‘Through darkness and dazzlement. Over river, grassland, hummock, forest and hilltop. Over mountain wall, then down by winding ways into the Wheel-of-the-World.’
‘He means Hub,’ I said.
‘Full-folked and teeming, it was. A lofty hall, high-vaulted, hung with flares and packed to the brink with throngs, marvels and all manner of wares. I seen gems and mirrors like fifty eyes of the battlebird, and everywhere the voice-clamour of traders, stealthmen, truth-tellers . . .’
‘Siltboy, you’re a sweet child, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Mother Moss interrupted.
‘He’s telling you about the night markets,’ I said.
‘I am full to burst with the sights,’ Siltboy cried. ‘More things I seen in three days with Peat than in three hundred years in the Ever.’
He was about to say more when Cara bellowed.
‘Goodness!’ Mother Moss jumped to her feet. ‘With all this excitement I’ve lost track of time. I haven’t milked Cara yet.’
‘I’ll do it, Mother Moss.’
‘Thank you, Peat. If there’s one thing I need around here, it’s help.’ Mother Moss handed me a bucket.
‘I can help, too.’ Siltboy saw an axe leaning against the wall of the hut. He raced to it and ran his finger along the blade. ‘Have you a whetstone, Mother? I’ll sharpen him up for you.’
‘It’s sharp enough, young lad. But you might like to split those logs and stack them next to the oven. Have you wielded an axe before?’
‘It comes natural to me,’ he said.
Siltboy set to work with gusto. Chips went flying and the wood fell apart on the chopping block.
I had trouble bringing Cara because she baulked as soon as she caught sight of Shadow. Mother Moss had to coax her along with handfuls of oats.
‘He’s a gentle hound, Cara. Big, but gentle,’ she said. ‘Don’t be nervous.’
Cara mooed a couple of times, then she settled down and the milk began to flow. I pressed my head against her warm flank and squirted the milk into the bucket. I hoped I would soon be milking my own cows – Bella and Pem and Skye and the others.
‘What’s next, Mother?’ Siltboy asked when he had finished stacking the wood.
‘Next we clean up the bread bench and wipe out the tins. What a wonderful worker you are, little pikelet!’
Siltboy helped Mother Moss while I finished milking and took Cara back to her paddock. When I returned, Mother Moss made us all a cup of tea and we sat around the fire.
‘Now, I want to hear everything, from the beginning,’ she said. ‘Tell me about this wit-battle business. I don’t even know much about the Siltman, except that he never forgets what’s owed to him.’
‘Siltman is older than time,’ Siltboy explained. ‘He is full of powers, and we are not yet safe.’
‘What?’ Mother Moss cried. ‘Is he after you?’
‘We reckon,’ Siltboy said. ‘He might not want Peat back, but he will want me.’
‘Were you payment for a bargain?’ Mother Moss took Siltboy’s hand and her soft face grew even softer.
‘I was,’ said Siltboy.
‘And is the person who traded you still living?’
‘No. It were Pike, and he’s been dead nine hundred years.’
‘Then I’d say that bargain is over, wouldn’t you?’
She stood up and folded her arms – strong arms from years of kneading dough. She looked as sturdy as the men who stirred the giant cooking pots in the night markets.
‘If the Siltman comes this way, he’ll be sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘He’ll take you over my dead body.’
Shadow looked from Mother Moss to Siltboy, concerned and ready to help if he was given a command.
‘But you already stood up to him, did you, Siltboy?’ Mother Moss asked. ‘Was that the wit-battle?’
‘It were just the workings of it, Mother. Peat was the one that braved him. She lulled him with a tale, and when the sleek broke the smell bottle he were felled.’
Mother Moss sat down again, looking slightly bewildered. ‘It were a kind of magic mist,’ Siltboy told her.
‘It wasn’t really magic mist, Siltboy. It was perfume – a scent called Swoon.’
‘Not one of Lily’s creations?’ Mother Moss asked.
‘Yes. Lily gave it to me. Do you know her?’
‘I knew her when I was a marsh auntie. Her perfumes were always going wrong.’
‘When were you a marsh auntie, Mother?’
‘Many years ago, Peat. That’s how I knew Eadie. She rescued me from a bad situation and took me to the marshes to recover. I stayed there for a long time. Eadie was my friend. She was a good healer and always tried to make people’s lives better, but she made some big mistakes.’
Mother Moss sighed and poked the fire. ‘Her first mistake was making a bargain with the Siltman, and her second terrible mistake was using you as payment. But, dear Peat, she regretted it almost as soon as she’d done it. She’d thought she would be free to live the old travelling life again when she’d paid her debt, but she was too troubled. She spent a while in Hub, then she came back here. She wanted to go after you but she lost her strength. I don’t know why.’
I opened Siltboy’s bag and took out the flower.
‘An everlasting daisy,’ Mother Moss said. ‘That’s Eadie’s favourite flower. It looks worse for the wear. Where did you get it?’
‘It’s from the Ever. And it’s not any everlasting daisy. Eadie’s spirit is in this plant.’
Mother Moss stared hard at the flower.
‘I’m going to reverse the bargain, Mother. I’m taking the flower back to Eadie.’
Mother Moss put her hand to her heart, this time softly, so no cloud of flour rose into the air.
‘Do something for me, Siltboy dear. There’s a tree that hangs over the river just past those rocks. Please bring me some of its bark.’
Shadow lay down next to the old lady with his head on her feet. He looked up at her and nudged her arm with his nose. Mother Moss stroked his ears and he put his great head in her lap.
When Siltboy returned with the bark, Mother Moss added some to her cup.
‘For sadness,’ she said. ‘Eadie and I have been friends for a long time. You’re brave and clever, Peat, but you don’t understand everything.’ She sipped the tea. ‘What you’re holding in your hands is not Eadie’s life, but her death,’ she said. ‘How l
ong ago did you dig it up?’
‘I don’t know, Mother Moss. I thought it was a few days ago, but I seem to have lost track of time. The fortune teller at the night markets said she hadn’t seen me for over a year. I think I’ve been in a land where time stands still.’
I cupped my hands around the everlasting daisy.
‘This flower stood out from the others, Mother Moss. It was bright and beautiful, and when all the other flowers closed up for the night, it stayed wide open. But now the leaves are faded and I’ve broken some of the petals.’
I fiddled with the cloth around the roots, then I put down the flower and ran my fingers through my hair. I was confused. My only thought until now had been to reverse the bargain.
‘I could throw the flower away,’ I said. ‘I could throw it in the river.’
Mother Moss shook her head.
‘Take it to Eadie,’ she said. ‘It belongs to her. She’s had her time, and life will not be easy for her now. None of her herbs will make her young again. You were right to fight for your life, Peat. Try to forgive Eadie for holding too tight to her own.’ She gulped down the rest of her tea and upended the cup.
There was a long silence. The river rushed past, full of its own conversation, but ours had stopped. Siltboy stared at Mother Moss with the same look on his face as Shadow.
‘Can I help you, Mother?’ he asked. ‘I is strong. I can fight . . .’
‘There’s no fighting to be done.’ Mother Moss gave a sad smile. ‘Look at Shadow. The greatest strength is in gentleness.’ She seemed to be talking to herself more than to Siltboy, and after a while she sighed and got to her feet.
‘Give me the flower, Peat. I will keep it safe until you go.’
Mother Moss went into her hut. When she came out she looked cheerful again. She was carrying a pumpkin and a large knife.
‘We haven’t got much time together,’ she said. ‘Why waste it with sadness? I’m going to cook lunch – soup and seedcake and pumpkin pie. Stoke up the oven for me, will you, Siltboy?’ She began chopping the pumpkin on the bread bench. ‘Tell me, Peat, what was it like in the Ever?’
I was about to answer when Mother Moss let out a cry. ‘Bad little sleek!’ she shouted.
‘I’m sorry, Mother. I should have put the milk inside.’
The sleek was perched on the edge of the bucket, helping himself. He took no notice of Mother Moss yelling, but when she charged towards him he leapt away, knocking the bucket over and splashing her legs with milk. He ran into the hut and Mother Moss followed.
‘Out!’ she cried. ‘I’ll not have creatures taking over my dwelling!’
The sleek shot out of the hut with an oatcake in his mouth and disappeared under some pumpkin vines that were trailing over the wall.
‘I’m so sorry, Mother.’
‘It’s not your fault, Peat. That creature needs to learn some manners. Last time he was here three loaves of bread went missing. The bread-boat boys discovered it when they were unloading their delivery in Hub. He’s a real pest.’
‘He is, Mother,’ I agreed. ‘But he’s a good sleek, too. He showed us the way back from the Ever, and he’s still leading us.’
‘Come here, you little rat.’ Mother Moss peered into the vines and the sleek jumped into the open and crouched before her, his eyes narrow and his tail beginning to flare.
‘No, Sleek. No. Please!’ I yelled.
Mother Moss was strong, but she was an old lady and her skin was thin. I couldn’t have stood it if the sleek had scratched her.
They stared at each other for a long moment, then the sleek surprised me by lowering his head and coming to sit beside me.
‘That’s better,’ said Mother Moss, as if this was the behaviour she expected. She picked up the overturned bucket. ‘Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk,’ she said. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
SONG FOR A SCARLET RUNNER
‘I don’t normally have animals at my table,’ Mother Moss said, ‘especially thieves, but today we will let bygones be bygones.’
The sleek sat on one end of the bread bench, while Shadow sat on the ground at the other. Siltboy helped Mother Moss lay out the bowls.
‘Broth and bread! A fine feast!’ he declared.
‘What did you eat in the Ever, my boy?’ Mother Moss asked.
‘Not much. Just that which I found – fish, seaweed, grubs; sometimes berries and roots.’
‘Well, you have some catching up to do.’
She gave him two helpings of soup with bread, then she served pumpkin pie and seedcakes followed by a big plate of honey buns with lots of whipped cream. I watched Siltboy eat five, six, seven buns before I lost count.
I kept a close eye on the sleek, expecting he would dart across and pinch someone else’s food, but for once he didn’t. He seemed to sense that this meal was an important occasion.
After we finished our lunch, Mother Moss filled our cups with warm milk and honey.
‘To good company!’ she said, raising her cup to her lips. ‘And fine food!’
She poured Shadow’s milk into a bowl and he lapped it up with big loud slurps. Milk splashed all over the bread bench but Mother Moss didn’t seem to mind.
Siltboy wiped his hands on his trousers and stood up to make a speech. ‘You mended my hound, Mother. You fed me running gold and fodder like I never tasted before, and now I make you a gift.’
He took off my vest, then he undid the webbing straps that held his breastplate in place and, slipping it over his head, he passed it to the old lady.
‘For you,’ he said.
‘Why, Siltboy, thank you.’ Mother Moss took the breastplate in her hands. ‘We’ll polish it up and it will make a lovely platter. I could serve a grand banquet on this. Are you sure you want me to have it?’
‘Certain,’ said Siltboy.
‘Then I hope you will eat with me often.’
‘I will, Mother Moss.’ A strange look passed over Siltboy’s face, and he hung his head.
‘What is it, Siltboy?’ Mother Moss asked. ‘Speak your mind.’
Siltboy stared at the ground. ‘I’m braving myself,’ he mumbled. ‘I have a question. A great request.’
‘Ask away, my young friend.’
When Siltboy looked up, his eyes seemed big in his head. ‘Will you be my mother?’ he asked.
‘My dear, I’m a little old for that!’ Mother Moss laughed. ‘How about I be your grandmother instead?’
‘Would you?’
‘I’d be proud to have a grandson like you.’
Siltboy beamed. He cupped Mother Moss’s face in his hands and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Grandmother Moss!’ he cried. ‘I leave my battleways behind. I grow up now in the new world. So many marvels I seen on my travels, but you is the most marvellous.’
Shadow sat up, barking and thumping his tail on the ground.
‘Well,’ said Mother Moss. ‘This calls for a celebration!’ She refilled our cups. ‘To grandmothers,’ she cried. ‘And to friendship, health and long life!’
We drank to that, then Siltboy stood up once more.
‘I make gift to my grandmother,’ he said. ‘And now, with banquet and merry-making, I have present for Peat.’
He began to sing in a high sweet voice, and Mother Moss closed her eyes to listen.
Joy to the treasure-giver!
Bold-brave with hair like fire
She runs with the sleek
And shares the wealth of the world!
The sleek blinked and flicked his ears. Shadow sat up and barked his approval, and I missed the next bit of the song – something about ‘Siltboy’s sorrow’.
. . . nine hundred bitter winters
Friendless, except for my Shadow
I wandered the Ever . . .
Siltboy’s sweet voice grew mournful and Shadow picked up the mood, accompanying him with a sorrowful howl. He paused until the Great Hound had finished, then he went on, beating out a rhythm on an upturned bread tin.
Wit-wise and fleet of foot
She gives me the greatest of gifts –
Courage, freedom and friendship forever!
‘It’s a true song,’ Siltboy said when he’d finished. ‘I call it Song for a Scarlet Runner.’
The sleek leapt onto Siltboy’s shoulder and I held my breath, but the creature didn’t scratch or bite – he rubbed his sharp little face under Siltboy’s chin.
‘Thank you, Siltboy,’ I said. ‘No one ever made a song for me before.’
My face felt hot and my eyes stung with tears. Mother Moss put her arm around me.
‘Well worded,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a beautiful song.’
‘But Siltboy,’ I said, ‘you gave those things to me. You gave me courage. I would have given up on getting out of the Ever. And it was you who won the wit-battle.’
‘No, Peat. You braved me. Before you came, I always did the Siltman’s bidding. I was a poor boy. My hoard was a shell-heap with a broken buckle.’
He took my hand, and he took Mother Moss’s as well. ‘Now I am true rich,’ he said.
I wished that day could have gone forever, but I knew we had to keep going. The sleek was getting jittery. He had behaved himself well right through lunch, but now he was pacing the length of the bread bench and looking towards the river.
‘If only you could stay,’ Mother Moss said, handing me the everlasting daisy, which she had wrapped in new cloth and carefully tied up with string.
She gave Siltboy a flourbag full of food. ‘There’s enough bread and cheese in this, and enough honey cakes, to last for days,’ she said. ‘Take the craft, and keep near this side of the river. The current will do the rest.’
I turned the reed-boat the right way up and found paddles underneath. The sleek leapt onto the prow and sat there waiting, but Shadow stayed on the riverbank, ponderous, with his head on his paws. I couldn’t see how the boat would take his weight, and maybe he felt the same way, because when I pulled it into the water he stood back and howled.
‘Come, Shadow,’ I said.
He gave a long sad look, as if to say he wanted to help but it wasn’t possible, then he sat down next to Mother Moss.
‘I’ll look after him while you’re gone.’ She reached up and put her hand on the giant dog.
