Daughters of Fire

by Barbara Erskine

  With a furious bark Sun launched himself at Venutios’s throat. With a yell of fury he dragged a knife from his belt and thrusting it into the dog’s side he pushed the animal away from him and stood panting as with a scream of pain Sun fell to the floor, twitching, then lay still.

  Carta let out a cry of agony, reaching in despair for the dog as he drew back his foot and aimed another kick at the animal’s body.

  ‘My lord! Stop!’ Mairghread was screaming. ‘The queen was with child before you left. Before the Roman came. It is your child, King Venutios. I swear it. May I be cast beyond the ninth wave if I tell a lie! Stop, my lord, please … !’

  It was too late. Already the first blood was seeping through onto the skirt of Carta’s gown. Collapsing back onto the ground, she lost consciousness as Moon sniffed at her brother’s body and raised her head in a howl of misery.

  Mairghread and two of her slaves carried Carta to her bed and called Gruoch to attend her. Venutios had gone and by dusk the Carvetians had packed their tents and vanished into the rolling mists. Carta was unaware of anything around her, lost in a swirling sea of pain. As Gruoch bent over her sweating, contorted body she tossed and twisted and screamed in her agony.

  Twice she awoke briefly, staring up at the roof above her bed. Putting her hand down to the bedside she felt Moon’s cold muzzle touch her fingers. The dog had refused to leave her and no one had the heart to force her out of the room. Hugging the animal in despair, Carta closed her eyes and wept. Then she opened them and screamed at Venutios in her anger and her pain, calling down the curses of the gods against him. Then she wept again. Hands tended her gently and changed her linen as she bled, and sponged her forehead. Through the haze she dimly recognised Gruoch’s gentle face bending over her. Another woman was there with her, helping, holding the silver bowl of rose water. Tossing and turning in her pain, Carta caught sight of the woman’s face in the dim light, as her veil slipped from her hair. She tensed, a shaft of terror cutting through the pain as the woman reached forward with the damp wash cloth and Carta cried out in fear. It was Medb.

  ‘You?’ She groaned as her body went into spasm again.

  Medb smiled. ‘I am here to help, great queen.’ A touch of sarcasm tainted the words. ‘The lady Gruoch is my teacher.’ She lowered her eyes meekly, then rinsed the cloth once more in the silver basin of fragrant water and pressed it on Carta’s brow. ‘It is so sad, is it not, lady, that you can never bear a child,’ she whispered. ‘Never!’ For an instant the gentle smile was replaced by a look of utter hatred. As Carta struggled to sit up, the woman pushed her back against the pillow. ‘There is nothing you can do, Cartimandua,’ Medb whispered again. ‘Nothing you can do at all.’

  When Carta awoke Gruoch was alone, with Mairghread to help her. By moonset she had been delivered of a tiny female foetus. By sun up Gruoch had given the child’s body to the gods.

  III

  ‘Are you OK now?’ Pat had been watching her closely as Viv went on with the story. She was clutching the microphone after rescuing it from the rocks where it had fallen as Viv leaped to her feet.

  Viv nodded, rubbing the tears from her eyes. ‘That was too real; too close! Childbirth is not something I know anything about!’ She shuddered. ‘And Medb. There, in the room.’ She looked up. ‘Did you know this was going to happen?’ She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘I don’t think I can do this any more. It was -’ She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

  ‘It was awful.’ Pat did it for her. She was as much in shock as Viv. ‘No, I didn’t know that was going to happen. Do you think Gaius was the father?’ She perched on a flat piece of rock, her arms around her knees. Nearby a patch of bog cotton nodded in the breeze.

  ‘She swore he wasn’t.’

  ‘Of course she swore it, but do you think he could have been?’ Pat leaned forward and tucked the voice recorder into the small rucksack at her feet.

  ‘She had morning sickness before he arrived.’

  ‘She said it was food poisoning,’ Pat sighed. ‘Maybe she was lying. I suppose we’ll never know.’

  Viv stood up. ‘Medb was there. You did know that was going to happen, didn’t you! She was there, as Gruoch’s helper.’

  Pat shrugged. She smiled. ‘I told you this was Medb’s story as well.’

  Viv rubbed her face with her hands. ‘Did she make Carta lose the baby?’

  ‘I think Venutios did that.’

  Viv shuddered.

  ‘Every time you do this -’ Pat gave a wry smile, ‘- describing it all, the experience gets more vivid and more violent doesn’t it? Does it frighten you?’ She glanced up.

  ‘Yes, it does.’ Viv nodded.

  ‘But it’s exciting?’ Pat went on thoughtfully. ‘And you’re not going to stop, are you.’

  Viv shook her head. Her misgivings were returning.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid of what might happen if Venutios gets too angry?’ Pat went on after a pause. ‘Supposing he hurts her. Supposing he kills her.’ There was a long silence.

  ‘He doesn’t,’ Viv said slowly. She wrapped her arms around herself miserably. ‘He doesn’t kill her and to my amazement she didn’t kill him! We know what happens. It’s all there, in the Roman histories.’

  ‘Is it?’ Pat raised an eyebrow. ‘But did they know the truth?’

  ‘Of course they did. Something important like this.’ Viv’s uncertainty was deepening.

  ‘Then why don’t we go on.’ Pat looked at her watch. ‘Peggy’s not expecting us back until supper. Why don’t we go on and find out what happened next.’

  Viv hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you do. I think you want to know really badly. I think you want to know what happened to Medb.’ Pat smiled. She reached in her bag again. ‘And I think you’re going to tell me.’

  Cartimandua had walked into the forest with Gruoch at her side, Mairghread following a few paces a behind, carrying a basket. It was nearly dusk. Two months had passed since her miscarriage, two months without a word or sign from Venutios, and the royal household had moved back to Dun Righ. For the first time in her life Carta had allowed Fergal to drive her almost all of the way. Her ponies were led at the back of the long train of horses and wagons as, sore and exhausted and still weak from loss of blood, she huddled in the chariot, Moon at her side, and for some of the journey even lay on a bed of rugs and furs in one of the wagons as it jostled over the rough mountain tracks.

  Of Medb there had been no sign. She had vanished into the mists as though she had never been, and Gruoch, questioned about her assistant, had shrugged and admitted only that the woman had been knowledgeable, studious and keen to please.

  Now, still tired and in pain, Carta moved slowly, her head held high by sheer willpower. The place of offering and sacrifice was shadowy in the mist which rose over the river and the falls. In the bushes clinging to the sides of the ravine, a blackbird let out its ringing alarm call. The women stopped.

  ‘Druidh dubh, the black watcher is guarding the entrance to other worlds. That is a good sign,’ Gruoch whispered. ‘He has announced you, and left the gateway open.’

  Carta turned to Mairghread and held out her hands for the basket. Inside were two golden bangles, a bag of Roman coins and a carved wooden doll, the representation of a baby.

  Taking them out, Carta gave the basket back and stepped forward to the edge of the falls alone, feeling the cold spray clinging to her skirts. She was at the sacred meeting place of the gods, between earth and water, between night and day, between forest and river, the place of nowhere and of no time. Behind her Mairghread and Gruoch withdrew along the bank of the river where the birch and ash, hazel and wych elm grew right down to the edge of the water, clustering thickly at the very edge of the torrent. Above them on the cliffs clung sacred yew trees, dark in the shadow of the rocks. Glancing at each other the two women stopped to wait.

  Carta was alone.

  ‘Vivienne?’ Her voice was tr
embling. ‘Why did you take my baby from me? What must I do to bear a child?’ She stood staring out into the spray, the crude wooden baby cradled in her arms. ‘Sweet Lady, take this offering. Do not ask of me another child of my body. Save me from Medb’s curse, I implore you.’ Tears were pouring down her cheeks. ‘Bless me with fertility and strength.’ She stood for a long time without moving, waiting in silence. In the distance a bird cried once upon the moor high above her head. It was growing darker.

  ‘Vivienne? Why don’t you answer?’

  Pat was smiling.

  Viv swallowed. ‘Carta, I hear you,’ she said softly in her own voice. ‘This child was not meant to be. Say farewell, and leave her to the gods.’ She paused. ‘Go back. Become strong and well again. More babies will come in due time,’ Viv went on. ‘I can help you. I will see the curse is lifted.’

  Pat frowned and shook her head. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’re not really a goddess!’ she mouthed.

  Viv ignored her. ‘Farewell, Cartimandua, Queen of Brigantia. Tend your kingdom. Leave the rest to the gods.’

  There was a long silence, then at last Viv’s voice resumed, speaking into the microphone. ‘She has kissed the doll’s head, pressed two fingers against its mouth in the sign of blessing and farewell and now she has thrown it into the waterfall where it disappears, sucked into the curtain of water. It bobs out for a moment on its torrential journey down the long fall then it is lost in the great whirlpool at the bottom. Now she has thrown in the bracelets and the bag of coins. They too are dragged out of sight. There is no chance the goddess is going to reject these. Her maw is ever greedy for gold. Carta watches the distant pool at the bottom for a long time, then she turns and walks slowly back along the bank towards the spot where her women are waiting amongst the trees.’

  IV

  The Reverend James Oakley lay back in his chair and surveyed his visitor with a certain smug pleasure as the two men sipped his best brandy. At his own suggestion Hugh had eaten with him and his wife Margaret, and now that Margaret had retired to her own little sitting room to watch TV, the two men had settled down to a comfortable gossip. Now that he was here Hugh found himself in no hurry to contact Viv. Venutios seemed a million miles away, a figment of his imagination, and the whole sorry episode was best forgotten. The rector had taken a while to fathom the fact that this Hugh Graham was THE Hugh Graham, the Celtic scholar. He had, it appeared, all of Hugh’s books in his library. He had also bought a copy of Cartimandua, Queen of the North.

  ‘Have you read it?’ Hugh raised a quizzical eyebrow. He was not going to allow anything to spoil the evening.

  ‘Not yet, I must confess.’ James Oakley took a sip from his glass. ‘I read your review, of course.’ He glanced up cautiously.

  Hugh smiled. ‘I feel now that I was a bit hard on her but then I’m a purist.’ He crossed his legs, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off his knee. ‘Tell me,’ he changed the subject hastily, ‘do you know the Steadmans? Their son is one of my graduate students.’

  ‘Peg and Gordon?’ James nodded. ‘Salt of the earth. Gordon’s family have farmed around here for hundreds of years.’

  ‘They run a B&B, I gather?’

  James laughed. ‘Indeed. Much more elaborate than this, I fear. Margaret and I have only the one room. Well, one and a half, perhaps. I think they have about six. It’s a rambling old place.’

  Nodding, Hugh thought for a few seconds. ‘I believe that Dr Lloyd Rees is staying there. To research a new enterprise. She believes Cartimandua lived upon Ingleborough.’ He paused, waiting for a reaction, his eyes on the golden liquid in his glass.

  James shrugged. ‘Who knows. She must have come from somewhere. It is frustrating, you must admit, to know we may never be able to find out more about our more distant past. If only they had written something down!’

  ‘Of course forensic archaeology improves all the time.’ Was it Viv who had pointed out that very fact to him? Hugh took another small sip, unsure if he would be offered a top up, and so making the glorious experience last. ‘I would like to stroll up there while I’m here. This is not an area I know at all, I’m sorry to say.’

  ‘A bit more than a stroll, old boy.’ James smiled. ‘But you look fit and dapper. You could do it all right. The forecast is good for tomorrow. Perhaps you should take the opportunity while it’s nice. And do please feel free to use the phone if you want to ring the Steadmans. I’m afraid most people’s mobiles don’t work around here.’

  Hugh gave a small smile by way of acknowledgement. ‘Perhaps I’ll just surprise them,’ he said.

  30

  I

  Viv looked up at the quiet knock on the door. She had come upstairs after supper and was sitting on her bed, deep in thought.

  ‘Come on, we’re going out again.’ Pat pushed the door open and stood there, silhouetted against the hall light.

  ‘Tonight?’ Viv glanced at the window. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Pat nodded. ‘We needn’t go far. Just out onto the hillside to get the right ambiance to the sound; so it matches up.’

  Viv shook her head. ‘Not now, Pat,’ she said uneasily.

  ‘You’re not losing interest?’

  ‘Of course not! It’s just it’s late. I’m tired. I don’t want to.’

  ‘I think you do.’ Pat’s eyes were strange. Unfocussed. Viv felt a bolt of fear go through her. ‘No, Pat. Not tonight. I’m sorry.’

  Medb. Medb was there in the room with them. All over Pat. Viv could feel her skin crawling. ‘Pat,’ she whispered. ‘Go away. Please.’

  Pat merely smiled some more. ‘Find your shoes, Viv. We want to know what happened next. You do, as much as me, don’t you.’

  For a moment Viv said nothing. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Pat’s. Something strange was happening. Desperately she tried to fight it but she felt herself sigh. She was agreeing. Every part of her screamed in protest, but she was agreeing.

  ‘OK. I suppose you’re right.’ It was as though someone else was speaking for her. She was powerless to resist. In two minutes they were making their way along the passage and down the stairs.

  The evening was clear and cool, the sky luminous; a mass of purple clouds hung on the horizon but above them they could see the evening star as they let themselves out into the lane. They were heading for what Pat had dubbed Base Camp One - an outcrop of rocks a few hundred yards up the track once they were over the dry stone wall and up onto the open hillside.

  In the distance a curlew cried mournfully at the cloud-striped moon. ‘A bit spooky,’ Pat said. She laughed. ‘I hope we can get that on disc.’ She sounded quite normal again now they were outside.

  Viv glanced over her shoulder nervously. The cloud moved on and the moon shone more brightly casting deep shadows behind them.

  Ten minutes later the cloud was back, more thickly this time. The moon vanished.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Viv was finding it difficult to keepup as Pat scrambled ahead of her. They had passed base camp and turned off the track.

  ‘Not much further.’ Pat was heading towards the limestone pavement.

  Viv stopped, suddenly suspicious. ‘I’m not sure we should go any further.’ She shivered. ‘We can’t afford to lose our way. It could be really dangerous up here in the dark. It would be so easy to fall and break a leg.’

  Pat was gazing into the distance. ‘I agree. ‘ She turned to look up towards the summit, barely visible in the darkness. Wisps of mist were clinging to the northern cliffs. She was staring up at the hill. The half-moon had appeared again, through trails of cloud streaming towards the east. The wind was strengthening as they watched, dispersing the mist, rustling the grasses.

  ‘Why don’t we go back?’ Viv said.

  ‘No. No, that would be such a waste. Now we’ve come this far, let’s do it. We can sit here, out of the wind behind this stone wall. We needn’t stay long. All I need to know is where you’ve put the brooch.’ Pat’s voice was harsh
suddenly. ‘Medb wants it back.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘It’s not silly.’ Pat sighed. ‘Medb is quite anxious about it.’

  ‘Right, that’s it. I’m going!’ Viv turned away.

  ‘No.’ Pat caught her arm. ‘No! Sit down!’ She gave her a sharp push and Viv found herself falling. Frantically she tried to regain her balance. When she recovered Pat was standing over her, the recorder in her hand.

  They waited for five minutes. Nothing happened. Now that they were sitting still and Viv seemed to have acquiesced, Pat relaxed. Around them the grasses rustled faintly. Down in the valley an owl hooted. Pat closed her eyes. ‘Lady Brighid, goddess of the silver stars, comfort our queen, Cartimandua,’ she whispered. ‘Goddess of the land, keeper of the rocks, sacred spirit of the waters, grant her the blessing of another child.’

  She lapsed once more into silence.

  Viv glanced at her. ‘You don’t mean that.’ Her skin was crawling.

  ‘Oh but I do!’ Pat smiled. ‘Cartimandua, Queen of the North, We are here. Speak to us,’ she said softly.

  Viv bit her lip, fighting the urge to reply but it was overwhelming. When at last she spoke into the deepening silence, it was with the voice of the queen.

  Vivienne. I gave you gold. I gave you blessings. I gave you the body of my child. What more can I give?

  When Viv said nothing, Pat leaned towards her. ‘Go on. Answer.’

  Viv hesitated, her mouth dry with fear. ‘Your prayers and blessings, lady, are all that I require.’

  She glanced at Pat. She remained unmoving as the wind rose round them, lifting their hair. Then at last Carta began to speak again.

  ‘Venutios has gone, lady.’ Mairghread helped Carta on with her mantle. ‘It’s for the best.’ She knew it was not her place to speak so, but she could not stand silently and watch them tear themselves and the whole of Brigantia apart in their fury and their mutual distrust. By the fire, in the fields, in the kitchens, on the training grounds since they had both returned at last to Dinas Dwr, people were beginning to align, some for her, some for him. If they stayed apart, matters could lie quietly and healing begin.