A Stag in the Shadows

by S E Turner

  Tion laughed. 'I shall make myself a hammock and stay there while I recover. And my comrades will have to make one each and join me, so I am not alone.'

  Eryk laughed. 'I think my son will enjoy sleeping outside with me, it will be our new adventure.'

  'He will be pleased to see you Eryk.' said Philipe.

  'Yes he will, and my dear wife. I will leave for home tomorrow, so I can be reunited with my family.'

  'Yes, I will have to see what is left of my yard, my men will be busy for a while yet.'

  'We have horses,' said Philip. 'and carts, take what you need.'

  'Thank you dear friend. Your hospitality is most appreciated.'

  'We are lifelong friends Eryk—we will always be there for each other. '

  They all shook hands to seal the pact.

  Squire Dom brought out a tray of honeyed chicken legs, duck eggs, some hunks of fresh bread, and three glasses of warm goats milk.

  'A stew is being prepared right now for everyone, but the mistress thought you might need this for now.'

  'Thank you Dom,' said Eryk graciously. 'But you should know that we leave tomorrow morning. Best ask your new lady friend if she wants to come with us?' He winked at his Squire.

  The three men smiled and then tucked in, but they had to be careful. They hadn't eaten very much solid food during their time in captivity. So they nibbled slowly from the eggs and tore thin strips from the chicken. The warm milk was hugely appreciated. But now Squire Dom had something even more urgent to attend to, and went off to find Asher to ask her a very important question.

  'But my Mistress is here Dom, this is my home. I have to stay here.'

  'Asher, we will be married at Condor Vale, that will be your home now, with me. I have a lodge in the grounds with a garden, and a stream running at the end of it. There is an allotment where you can grow vegetables and herbs. We will have children—lots of them—as many as you want. You will take care of our home, we will spend time together in our peaceful, private lodge. Please say you will come with me.'

  'This is not easy for me, my dearest Dom. I thought you might stay here, with me. Master Philipe would find you a position as a groundsman.'

  'My sweet, kind girl. That is so humble, and a groundsman would be a truly valuable position; but I already have an important position with his Lordship. I am a Squire at Condor Vale, that's why I have my own property and am paid a good wage for my services.'

  She saw the agony in his voice. He saw the sorrow in hers. He took her hands and kissed them.

  'I am asking you to marry me. I love you Asher. I have loved you since the first day I set eyes on you and have grown to love you more with each passing day. Please will you say yes.'

  Moira had taken herself off to a quiet place. She had just spoken with Master Philipe about Coben's position at Aiden Hall. And Coben had been right; he had been offered work. Troubadour followed her to an old discarded log and sat down at her feet while she looked out yonder.

  'Dearest Troubadour, are you happy now that everyone is reunited?'

  The dog looked up at her with big soulful eyes. Moira stroked his head.

  'Look at everyone Troubadour, see how happy they all are. The Mistress and the Master are together again, and look at Tiller and Winta, they are planning a Yuletide wedding. How wonderful that will be. I will bake a cake and there will be so much merriment in the house again. But alas, our Asher will be gone soon to live a life as a squire's wife at Condor Vale.'

  She chuckled to herself. 'Who'd have thought it eh Trouby? Our Asher going to live at Condor Vale with His Lordship and Her Ladyship.'

  She was lost in thought as she smiled on the reunited couples, and then returned to her conversation with Troubadour.

  'But I have a secret Trouby. Do you want to know what it is?'

  The dog looked up at her and pawed at her hand.

  'I'll tell you my secret, if you really want to know.' She leaned in closer to the dog and almost whispered. 'I have also found love.' She looked around to make sure no one was listening. 'Do you believe me Trouby? Of course you do. I fell in love as well. During those darkest hours, those most frightening of times, through truly difficult days—I found love in the most unlikeliest of places.'

  She smiled at the thought and remembered the way Coben looked at her, the way he had brushed her face and touched her hand. She let out a breathy laugh. 'And he will come back to me. I know he will. He's just got to find a way home with Saskia, because he is strong and brave, courageous and loyal. And when he returns to me, we will be together; like the Mistress and the Master, like Tiller and Winta, like Squire Dom and Asher. It will be Coben and Moira—and it will be us walking down the aisle to a new life together.'

  She looked down at the dog and stroked his head. 'Shall I tell you something else Trouby?'

  The dog seemed to understand every word she was saying. 'This is the first time I have ever been in love—truly in love.' She took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. 'And he loves me Trouby, he does, he really does—and for the first time in my life—I am truly happy.'

  She looked out yonder, hoping to see him come round the corner as he did so often at Hezekiah Hall. She missed him so much and felt a warm tear run down her face. She wiped it away, knowing that he would be okay. He was a man of high standing; a soldier, a guard—of course he would be okay.

  Then her thoughts turned to Atilus. Where was he, she wondered? Tiller was the hot-headed one, liable to something impulsive. Atilus was the more sensible of the two and wouldn't do anything stupid. She puffed out her cheeks in frustration and shook her head.

  'I hope he hasn't done anything foolish Troubadour—I don't know what he could have done— but really—he should be here by now.'

  She looked into the woeful eyes again. ' Do you know where he is Trouby? Has he taken a wrong turning? Has he lost his way?' She let out a big sigh. 'Well this isn't going to get me anywhere is it? All this toing and froing, deliberating and assuming. All will be revealed soon, and I will have them both back with me in no time.' She stood up with renewed vigour and brushed herself down. 'Come on Trouby, before I start to cry. Let's go and join in all the fun.'

  The women of Aiden Hall had burned their clothes in an act of freedom and celebration. Their rooms had been left exactly the same as before; so after a wash and a change of clothes, they felt more normal again. The men of Aiden Hall returned to their quarters for a few hours and supplied all the captives with better clothes. Everything was shared, exchanged, or borrowed.

  An evening of merriment followed, with singing, music, dancing, eating. Some slept peacefully under the stars, others took themselves off to sit by the trees. Philipe sat by Vlavos' grave for a while, and thanked his son for everything he had done for him and Saskia, and apologised for everything, that he, as a father, hadn't done. Tiller and Winta sat by the brook, with the gurgle of slow moving water for company. Dom and Asher leaned against the timbers of the waterwheel, planning their future together at Condor Vale.

  And as the crescent moon hung high in a star studded sky, all thoughts were on Saskia and her rescuers, for no one knew where they were—or if they were even alive.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Her hair hung wet and heavy, her dress was even more so. She could not imagine how dirty and wild she must look. Even when she played with her brother, she had never gotten so wretchedly filthy as this. She undid her bindle and put on her breeches and doublet, the embroidered stag was concealed in a shadow as she carefully laid them out. Cornelius watched her as she wriggled out of the cumbersome dress and climbed into a more comfortable attire.

  She felt him watching her, and found his lingering gaze uncomfortable. 'Are you going to watch me while I get changed?'

  He arched an eyebrow and turned away. Though he really enjoyed watching her.

  'What do you think?' She asked as she twirled before him.

  His eyes rested on her form. 'I think you are beautiful.'

  He fe
lt his muscles tense. He couldn't understand how she only had to look at him a certain way to turn his insides into panic mode. He was startled at his own reaction, but had nowhere to turn to right now. He had been so consumed with self gratification and following the path of self destruction, that he couldn't actually remember feeling anything like this for a woman before.

  She saw him looking at her in a way she hadn't been accustomed too. She was a girl when she went into the mine, and now she was a woman. A strong woman, a formidable warrior; but he reminded her of her dancing partner. Her imaginary man who looked like Cornelius, and certainly looked at her the way he did.

  'What's your name?'

  'Cornelius.'

  'Do you dance Cornelius?' she asked.

  'Kind of,' he said.

  'Dance with me,' she requested.

  'Right now?'

  'Yes.'

  He moved closer to her and put one arm round her waist, and took her hand in his. His body was warm against hers, and her fingers soft around his. She leaned into him and started to dance. There were no instruments playing, no sounds to hear, just the soft rhythms of their own breathing, and the pulse from their beating hearts.

  But he suddenly felt dizzy; he stood there fighting the sensations, trying to keep the energy of the dance and the gaiety of their natural rhythms. His body was in chaos, fuelled with elation and sadness, fury and fear. He relived the battles he had fought, the feeling he had of watching Saskia undress. He remembered his father banishing him from the palace, and even further back when he watched his mother and his younger sister being escorted from their home by the armed guards. What a dreadful day that was, the day he felt completely alone, and that day soon became years. He remembered going hunting and hating it; stabbing at freshly killed carcasses and being sick. Then Gya came into his life and stood by him, the first person since his mother to truly love him. He felt all these emotions and more, all at the same time. He let out a wail, but no sound came out. His breathing slowed down, but he had no control. He felt weak... and collapsed in her arms.

  She laid him down gently.

  'Poor man, he has been through so much. You sleep now dear friend. I will take care of you now.'

  Saskia used the knife to strip the bark from a beech tree and then scrape the wood shavings from the dryer wood inside. She rolled fresh moss between her hands to use as kindling. By twisting a fire crudity a spark ignited. She blew on it, the hole deepened, and sawdust from the soft wood accumulated. She smelled the woodsmoke and saw the notch blacken, and then she saw a wisp of smoke. With more smoke pluming, she held her head parallel to the hearth and began to blow on it; she watched it grow with each breath she exhaled, and die down as she inhaled. She added tiny bits of shaved curls and continued to blow. Then a spark grew from out of the hearth which turned into a small flame. She blew harder, fed it more fuel, and when it had taken hold, she added a few splints of kindling wood, adding larger pieces of driftwood when it had established itself. When the fire was under control, and Cornelius was in a deep sleep, she went out to hunt for food.

  His dreams were wild and disturbed. He felt as if he was half awake as his body clung on to sleep, but his mind wanted to wake up and free itself from the terrible nightmare that wouldn't end.

  The shore line was jagged with nooks and crannies, and a snarl of rocks tried to disengage them as they sought out the deepest cavern. Inside a deep hollow, the air was cold and damp with a strong smell of sea salt and littered with its debris. Some squabbling gulls had followed them from the town but soon disappeared when the two men settled on an appropriate cave. The mouth was a hole in the rock barely wide enough for a man to get through, but Beauchamp had a nose for these things; they would be hidden from view, and as it opened to the north, would not get too hot during the summer months. As Beauchamp had suspected, the small passage opened up into a huge cavity with an underground stream and a wealth of natural carvings. Though when the sun filtered through, these rocks resembled mythical creatures that only appeared in the fragments of one's nightmares, and as the shadows played tricks on their eyes, the disfigured gargoyles took on life enhancing characteristics, and appeared to move silently around them.

  His eyelids twitched frantically as the past year flashed before his eyes. He remembered the witch. He tried to wake up, but he couldn't. He was stuck in this frightening, semi lucid dimension.

  All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing; loud, anxious, agitated. He calmed himself. The light returned, and out of the flames stepped a life-form, he didn't know what it was. He backed away, stumbling, slipping, falling. Hot coals ignited the being, and the black charcoaled image stood there burning as ashes around its feet lifted in a frenzy, and swirled around the body, before disappearing into the orifice of a throat. The blackened skin became young and even skin-toned. Long golden hair grew from the crown of the head. Though shrouded in a fine gossamer, he could see that the face was beautiful, and beneath, the body was perfect. A naked woman stood before him, veiled in circling plumes of smoke. Fiery amber eyes pierced his own and didn't stray from their focus.

  'Cornelius, I have watched you grow into a man. I have seen the change in you. But I know you are about to leave this place and go on a journey.'

  Cornelius pinched himself, he shook his head, not quite believing what was in front of him or what he head just heard.

  'You are not the frightened little boy anymore, you are strong and you are courageous. I can help you become even stronger.'

  'How?' his voice was pathetic and weak .

  'The gods of darkness protect you and I can give you immortality.'

  And he remembered what she wanted from him. To father a child. So that's why he survived the fall, that's why he didn't die at the tip of one hundred hungry swords. That's why he was still alive.

  He woke up with a start. He could see the fire in front of him, glimmering against the sides of the cave like a prowling dragon. It glowed with tongues of red and gold; the smell was pungent and made his stomach growl. Saskia was cooking a rabbit over a wood pit. She had collected herbs and wild mushrooms with a sprinkling of wild sorrel. She was humming a tune contentedly. His stomach rumbled with hunger. At least it was his stomach, and not a witch or a monster to haunt him. He sank back again, and events of the last year filled every crevasse of his troubled mind.

  He picked up the book for a distraction. He didn't know what had made him take it in the first placebut he had it in his possession now.

  He thumbed through the weathered pages. They looked like smoothed calfskin, so transparent were they. Each page had been restored at some point; the text was darker and fresher, each heading was scored in gold and silver. Even the intricate illustrations had a vibrant clarity about them. The leather had been dried out and sealed with a wax of some description though the water marks were still visible. So it was with extra care that he handled the book. Another memory flooded back. A conversation had taken place.

  'One morning I awoke and he had gone. Nothing remained of him except the dent in the matted leaves where he had slept, and the book that he always carried with him and referenced. I was distraught, I didn't even know his name, but he taught me everything I knew. I looked for him for hours, hoping he had just gone for a walk, or gone to see someone else for a few days. I stayed in the same place and waited, hoping he would come back. But he didn't. All I had of him were my memories and the book.

  'So what did you do?'

  'I didn't look at the book for days; I felt that it was his personal possession, so I didn't have any right to it. But when I realised that he wasn't coming back and he had left the book for me as a parting gift; I opened it and read it from page to page with amazement.'

  'What was inside?'

  'Its pages were of the finest calf vellum, and the intricate lettering was penned in iron gall ink, with detailed drawings illuminated with such colours that could only have come from a far superior kingdom.' He breathed in deeply at the memory. 'Page aft
er page of amazing information; mostly fighting skills, protective stances, defence moves, how to disarm someone; as well as nature's harvest that would help me along my way; such as herbs, plants, wines, foods.

  It had texts and tables that took me months to decipher, with passages and graphs that would always be alien to me. But right at the back of the book, was a whole section on the meaning of cards and how to play them.'

  Cornelius saw himself ask the question. 'How to play cards?'

  'The king and the queen of kingdoms, the knave is evil and the ace is the god we worship. There are fifty two cards in a deck of cards, the same as the weeks in a year. Four suits which symbolise the seasons in a year. Diamonds and hearts illustrate life, clubs and spades portray the after life. The two colours interpret the red blood of life and the black darkness in death. The ten numbered cards are a family. Do you see the importance of them now Master Cornelius?'

  He remembered it now; this was the book, the book of knowledge. The very same treasure that belonged to his friend. This was the manual that had been used as a guide to teach the art of self protection, to demonstrate the skill of the sword and the discipline of combat. It was from this very same manuscript that he himself had been taught. No doubt how Coben had been trained and been able to instruct Saskia to fight the way that she did. No wonder it was under guard and not allowed out of Hezekiah's sight. He didn't want anyone becoming that powerful. But how had Hezekiah got it in the first place? He remembered that his friend had lost it in Ataxata. In the sea. So how come it was up here? It must have been washed up somewhere in the floods. Or found by someone else and Hezekiah stole it from them .

  Then he remembered the conversation with Philipe.

  'Tell me about the book Philipe,' he said one evening.

  'Oh, the book that is guarded by his pet falcon?'