The Walrus Mutterer

by Mandy Haggith

  Dmm, the drum demanded.

  ‘The story ends.’

  Dmm. The drum sounded greedy.

  Manigan paused.

  Rian could tell he was struggling with an old vow, revealing what he must not say to anyone else except the next Mutterer. He took a deep breath.

  ‘I wrote his name in sand with the point of my spike. It is a simple name, just one letter. But Old Gentlemen like him do not read well, so he had to study it for a while. And then he blinked again and I wrote it on his heart.’

  ‘The name?’

  ‘His name.’ He nodded.

  ‘What is his name?’ Shadow’s voice was a cold stone.

  Rian closed her eyes. Surely they shouldn’t force him to reveal such a magic secret? But she couldn’t keep herself from watching Manigan for long.

  He sighed. ‘Old man.’ He patted the walrus gently on the head and its whiskers seemed to move as if it would speak. ‘I promised you would be remembered. Here are my witnesses. The name I gave you is the only name I have to give. His name is I.’

  He bent down and wrote a symbol in the dust on the floor with his finger, a line with 5 perpendicular slashes across it, a yew leaf, the second letter of Rian’s own name. She looked at the walrus. Its name was part of her own.

  ‘Death,’ said Shadow. ‘Iadh, last letter of the alphabet, the tree of death.’

  ‘Aye,’ Manigan smiled wryly. ‘Now you know.’

  Rian felt her stomach churn. This was unpalatable food and she knew she must carry it inside her forever.

  Dmm, the drum said suddenly.

  ‘The story has ended,’ Manigan said to it, softly. ‘Iadh, the great and noble walrus, will be remembered.’

  Dmm, the drum agreed, and then for a while only it spoke, a slow pulse, as everything in the chamber absorbed and ruminated on what they had heard. Its slowing heart beat ebbed into the stones.

  Duh Dum.

  Duh Dum.

  Duh Dum.

  The fire was dying, hungry for food. When the drum stopped, Rian looked at Shadow and Manigan to try to gauge what she should do about it, but she couldn’t make out what they might want. Shadow seemed locked in a drum-induced trance. Manigan just looked miserable, his hands now taken off the head and hanging limp beside him, his head drooping. She took it upon herself to feed the fire. It was the one thing in the world she could do. Some small sticks first, which she coaxed to life with her breath. Flames flickered and darted and seemed to stir Manigan. He rubbed his face and smiled at her. He looked so young in the firelight she wanted to stroke him. She put three bigger sticks onto the little blaze and sat back while the fire tasted them.

  ‘I ask the sea spirits for advice. I ask the Old Gentleman for forgiveness. I ask the Death Stone for mercy.’ He touched the three-faced stone lightly, then put his hands back on top of the walrus head. ‘The old Gentleman’s friends had left him to his naming ceremony, because they are polite and perhaps also a little scared of me. Bonxie and his men slaughtered them. I had told them not to. There was blood in the sea. Spears. It was wrong. I shouted at them to stop. There was nothing else I could do. They made a sacrilege of the muttering. I am ashamed to be a man among such men.’ His voice was cracking, thick with emotion.

  Rian hung her head. She had thought only of Jan Bonxie and the other men. Now she saw that Manigan carried the weight of this tradition and that what they had witnessed was a desecration of it. To survive combat with the walrus, great ocean spirits must be appeased and willing. This was his life. What Jan Bonxie and the others had done jeopardised everything.

  Shadow was still trancelike, but something in the tilt of her head showed she was listening.

  ‘Tell me what to do to make amends. If I must avenge his dead friends I will do it.’

  ‘You have made the great sacrifice of your story. It is enough.’

  Rian breathed out with relief.

  Shadow beat the drum. ‘The ocean has avenged itself.’

  ‘And what about the Old Gentleman?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I should make his heart mine.’

  ‘So do so.’

  ‘I have no knife.’

  ‘You have teeth.’

  So Manigan hunkered down beside the animal, lifted the hide, inside which the inner organs lay, took the gory heart out with one hand and let the skin fall back. Grasping the bloody flesh in both hands, he chewed into it like a dog, worrying it until a piece tore off. As he swallowed, a trickle of red juice ran down his chin. He bit again.

  After his third bite, he thrust the heart, unceremoniously, towards Rian. Her first instinct was to refuse but there seemed no option for rejecting it and the bloody flesh was oddly compelling. Manigan’s hands were stretched out to her, so she leaned in towards the fire and took the dripping organ from him. He grinned, wiping his chin. She put the heart to her mouth.

  She had eaten raw flesh before, even heart once, when Danuta killed the old cow at the winter solstice. But that had been hot from the body, and soft. This was cold and hardening. She had to tear at it with her teeth like a fox and she found herself smiling, a toothy predatory grimace, as the blood squirted into her mouth. It was the bloodiest meat she had ever encountered, as if all the walrus’s blood was stored there in his heart. She chewed and swallowed and bit again. And then again. It bit back: her mouth was shocked with the nettle-sharpness of the flavour, but it was an exultant moment, to feast on the core of the great animal, to share its blood with Manigan, to put her mouth where his had been and taste the full red flesh.

  She couldn’t pass it directly to Shadow without crossing the fire, so she got up and stepped around. She held her bloodied hands out but instead of taking it, Shadow bent and licked it. Rian stood with the heart as big as a baby’s head in her hands, while Shadow tore a shred of meat off with her teeth, then licked again, three symbolic bites, as if the blood disgusted her.

  Rian wondered if she should be ashamed of her greed, the beast-like way she had chomped, but she couldn’t rid herself of the satisfaction it had given her. She looked at Manigan, to see what he wanted next. He beckoned and she reached over to hand the heart back to him. Their hands touched as the organ slithered from her fingers. He leaned towards her and smeared blood across her forehead and in a stripe down each cheek. His finger lingered at the corner of her mouth. His eyes were pools, tempting her. Her head swam as she returned to her stool.

  Shadow said, ‘It is good that a child has been nourished by the Old Gentleman.’

  Rian stared at her, head up, back stiffening. How could she know?

  Manigan frowned, not seeming to comprehend.

  ‘And it is good that you have marked its mother as a warrior. She will need that power.’

  Rian blushed with shame but the moment passed. Manigan was intent on dribbling blood into the hollow on top of the three-faced stone.

  When he had finished, Shadow banged the drum again. ‘We have brought his spirit to the fire and sung the peace of our ancestors with him. We have brought his flesh to our bodies and given him a home into the future. What else does the Old Gentleman require of us?’

  ‘He will be content now, I think. We should enjoy the rest of the delicacies, if you’d be willing to let us cook them?’ He opened the skin and began laying the organs back onto the wooden trencher.

  ‘You’re welcome in my home.’

  ‘Thank you. There are three more things I must do. The skin is for the water. I will take it, cure it, use it on the boat. The little old man, I cannot share with women what I do with that.’ He set the penis aside. ‘I’ll take off the tusks tomorrow and the head is yours.’

  ‘I want only some whiskers.’ Shadow leaned over and tickled the walrus’s whiskery lips.

  ‘Then let the birds have the head, so his mind flies free over the ocean. His brains are powerful medicine
, I’m sure you know.’

  Shadow nodded. ‘Given what has happened, the birds can have them. And what about you?’ She turned to Rian. ‘What do you want from him?’

  ‘Nothing. I just want to go home.’

  ‘Home.’ Shadow nodded. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’ She tilted her head towards Manigan. ‘You can stay another day?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘And so…’ Shadow brought her beater down on her drum with a boom and let it resound.

  ‘We thank the sea spirits.’

  They murmured thanks.

  The drum boomed again.

  ‘We thank you, Old Gentleman of the Sea.’

  They murmured again. Shadow dipped a little cup in a copper bowl of powder and handed it around the side of the fire to Rian, nodding for her to sprinkle it. She scattered it into the embers and it sparkled, then smoked. Little flames flickered and the smoke had a scent of such pungent sweetness that it made Rian close her eyes as she breathed it in. She remembered honeysuckle and the taste of clover flowers and the feel of sunshine on her skin.

  Then the sound of water made her open her eyes, but there was no water, only Shadow with a bundle of sticks that had a trickling waterfall held by some magic inside.

  ‘Now we bid you goodnight.’

  The drum boomed for the last time and its long vowel reverberated around the chamber and into their bodies. Rian felt it fill her and subside.

  Shadow put down the beater, got slowly to her feet and bowed to the walrus and the fire. Manigan and Rian did the same. Then Rian gathered up her fire box and followed Shadow out, aware of the heft of Manigan close behind her, as if the drum and the blood had opened up a sense of touch in her that could reach beyond physical contact and absorb the presence of his body into hers.

  Outside it was night and cool sea air greeted them. Pebbles hushed and gave gentle applause as waves alternately washed them and let them settle. A few stars poked out from between clouds. A dog barked twice to their left and Shadow said, ‘Aye, aye, dog. We’re coming.’ The dog fell quiet.

  She took the trencher from Manigan and led the way up to her house. Rian followed. The path was narrow and he was silent behind her. When they reached the hut, she felt his touch on her arm.

  ‘Thank you. Are you still angry with me?’

  She thought about it but her fury had dissolved. She put her hand on his. ‘No.’

  Dolphins

  They feasted on walrus meat which Badger and Kino had already started cooking with Gessan, Shadow’s man. There was ale and bread. Rian managed only a little before a wave of tiredness hit her and she accepted Shadow’s offer of a corner to sleep in.

  She woke in the night, her bladder tight, and lay listening to the snuffles and snores of the others, and the stamp and snort of the cow. She needed to go out and relieve herself if she would ever get back to sleep. She crept up from her bed. The dog, silent, followed her to the door, but did not go out. She stepped around to the back of the house. Beside the peat stack she squatted, looking up at the stars. The clouds had broken up and the Star Hunter strode the horizon.

  As she came back round the side of the house she stopped. One of the men was there. She hung back in the shadow, feeling herself vulnerable and exposed. But instead of turning back into the house, as she had hoped, he came towards her.

  ‘Rian?’ It was Manigan.

  She didn’t speak, but took a step towards him. It seemed to be all that was needed to close the distance between them to nothing at all, to allow him to wrap his arms around her and draw her even closer. She clasped her arms around his waist, pushed her body into his and lifted her head to seek his kiss. He was as greedy for her as she was for him. It was so simple, like running down a slope after hauling a heavy back-basket up a hill. All her burdens slid from her and scattered among the stones. She kissed him, at first experimentally, tasting him. Beyond the beery flavour he was richer than mushrooms, a new taste she loved instantly. Somewhere in it must be the taste of the walrus blood they had shared. He pulled her even tighter and they broke off the kiss to laugh in delight at each other. He started to speak, but she stopped his mouth with hers. She had no desire to speak, no need for words, wanted only for them to be quiet enough to be undiscovered and undisturbed.

  His hands started to explore her body. A fire inside her needed to be fed and the fuel was his body. Her hands sought his skin under his jerkin. He was warm on her cold palms, smooth as birch bark, supple as salmon. She kissed him more deeply, their tongues like seals, rolling together in shallows.

  His hands were on her, his touch on her nipple as sharp and hot as bronze.

  Then they were stripping away clothes, fumbling with each other’s belts. She helped with a button on her skirt. When they stood naked, bare flesh to bare flesh, their skins talked love to one another.

  Only touch remained, only the language of stroking. She pushed, to see if it was possible to be closer and he pulled her into him again. There was an ocean of intimacy to explore and she dived into it, wanting to lose even the sense of herself as skin, separate from him. She pulled him down onto the peat stack and abandoned herself to the muscled wave of him. They rode the storm that possessed them, bucking until they crashed to foam, soaked with sweat, panting and kissing.

  But it was impossible for them to stop. The waves soon had them away again, but this time it was a gentler sea and Rian could see him as well as feel him. His eyes shone in the starlight as their bodies writhed like dolphins at play. They kissed a lifetime’s longing into being, then let it wash them away into frenzy.

  When they stilled, waves were still breaking on the shore. The cold air lapped them, evaporating sweat. He kissed her face, her eyes, her forehead, then lifted himself off her and started to dress. They giggled as they hunted for discarded garments and belts in the dark, stopping over and over to let their mouths fall together and to hold themselves against each other.

  Once dressed, Manigan said, ‘Let’s go down to the sea.’

  They walked down the path, arms around each other where they could, hand in hand on even the steepest sections, to the stony beach where the sea clapped at them with every wave and chased them away when they ventured too close. As the dawn opened out the world, Rian knew that the rest of her life would always be different now, that they had woken something between them that was surely unparalleled.

  They sat on a ledge of rock, watching. No morning had ever been lovelier. Manigan spoke to her of the ocean, and she told him what it was like to be a slave.

  ‘Never, never let me hurt you.’ He held her shoulders, staring at her, insistent that she promise him.

  Ivory

  A drum beat drew them back to the Whale House. The door of the great temple was open and Rian said, ‘Shadow is back with the…’ She nearly said ‘walrus’, but checked herself, ‘Old Gentleman.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Manigan jumped to his feet. ‘There’s ivory to salvage and a sea to sail on.’

  He tugged her to her feet and they scampered up the path to the cliff top and across the narrow land bridge to the temple. Shadow was at the doorway with a small drum, beating in time with the waves on the shore as the sun rose over the sea. She gave a wry, knowing lift of her eyebrows at their beaming smiles.

  Inside, everything smelled different: musty. Manigan wiped the hollow on the three-faced stone and returned it to its bag. Shadow helped them carry the Old Gentleman’s head out and down to a big flat rock overlooking the sea.

  ‘Rian and I need to talk today,’ Shadow said. ‘You are all welcome to stay here. There is no hurry to leave, is there?’

  Manigan and Rian tried not to smile too widely, but Shadow looked between them and though her face was inscrutable, Rian knew there was no secret from her of what had happened in the darkness.

  ‘We can stay another night.’ Manigan patted the walrus head and ran his hand down on
e tusk. ‘These’ll take a while.’

  ‘Come with me then.’ Shadow led away back up the slope to the house.

  Rian tore her gaze from Manigan, then turned her back and followed Shadow, conscious of his eyes on her. She walked tall, feeling her body move as smoothly as a cat.

  The house was tucked into a hollow above the cliff. Its back entrance was covered in ivy that sheltered a honeysuckle, humming with bees. Shadow stopped to fill the dog’s water bowl from a stream that trickled, glittering, down to the edge of the crag via a fern-fringed pool. Rian stood, feeling the sunshine’s warmth on her skin.

  Inside it was dark and full of sleep-smells. Kino, Badger and Gessan were groping their way into the day. Shadow chivvied them outside with oatcakes and crowdie cheese and told them to take some down to Manigan. They went off, talking about fishing.

  Shadow left the door open. ‘Let’s have some breakfast now.’

  She poured some water from a barrel into a pot, which she hung from a hook above the fire and lowered it down so it almost sat on the peats. She patted a low stool near her.

  Rian said, ‘Should I fetch some more water?’ The barrel had seemed low.

  ‘No, no, we’ll do it later. You need to eat.’

  But Rian felt queasy and didn’t like even the thought of crowdie cheese. She sat down cautiously on the stool.

  As if reading her mind, Shadow said, ‘No doubt you’re feeling a bit sick. It’s normal. If we get that water hot, a cup of raspberry leaf tea will work wonders for you. And I’ve some honey bannock that’ll maybe go down a bit easier than fishermen’s food.’ From a cupboard in the wall she produced a pottery jar of blaeberries and some honeycomb. She unwrapped bannocks from a cloth. ‘I saved you this after you went to bed last night.’ Some sorrel leaves, dandelion and a bowl of pignuts, curd and a jelly completed the spread.

  Rian really did not feel like it but Shadow was insistent. ‘You must eat. Let’s get that kettle boiling.’ She passed Rian some sticks from a bundle of driftwood against one wall and Rian chivvied the fire into flame with a few breaths and encouraging words.