by S E Turner
'You don't mind if I sleep on the deck, do you?' he asked poignantly one evening .
'Not at all, Cornelius,' she had said kindly, thankful for the peace and quiet and privacy without his lecherous eyes.
After a week, she had the place to herself.
Their cabin was very large, quite airy, and handsomely furnished, which was forward thinking by Gya, as a three-month journey on a ship was particularly arduous, and even more so in confined cabins. The journey outbound had been exceptionally difficult. Sleeping in a narrow shipboard bunk or a swaying hammock alongside twenty other men, snoring, farting and belching had been one of the worst times of her life. So this time, Gya had made sure that their accommodation was much more comfortable and a lot more adequate.
She spent a lot of time in her cabin, reading the selection of books from the shelves and scanning the numerous maps about the surrounding continents. From her porthole, she used a telescope to view the giant turtles, humpback whales, and schools of dolphins swimming alongside them, while at night, she followed the stars in a moonlit sky from the deck.
Occasionally she would accompany Cornelius up on the bow or the stern, but he was so engrossed with the elements around him that he was not very good company most of the time. So, she took a few turns round the perimeter of the boat, went back down to her books and maps, and enjoyed the evening sipping on the finest wines.
One evening, several weeks into the trip, she stumbled across an entry in a diary that fascinated her. It spoke of an island, unknown to many, that had been kept hidden from the outside world for thousands of years. Ships would pass its sandy shores, but few would ever stop there, for the island offered nothing for them. Little grew there, only tufts of yellow weeds and small clumps of trees. The inhabitants lived in scattered pods around the island—these were people who could talk with animals, who could summon storms, and make men think they could fly. Seafarers kept well away from this place.
Now, an old woman lives there with her three daughters. She is easily recognisable because of her long woollen robe. She walks barefooted. Her grey hair ends at her waist, her face is slightly wrinkled, and yet her body is lithe and firm. Her three daughters are beautiful, tall, sculpted—the very epitome of a goddess. They have smooth olive skin, their hair is plaited with delicate orchids, and they speak with the wind and are told things by the elements. They see cruelty spreading, they see cities burning, and people running. They see the hatred in young men’s hearts and know the killing will go on until the winds can change things. They hear a girl calling to them, a boy cries out for help, and a mother weeps for her dead baby. They feel their anger, their weakness, their danger. The old woman talks to the storms and sends it with full force to eradicate the poison while the teeth of a gale tries desperately to swallow the evil, to clean the slate and pave the way for love and light. But all it does is delay things for a while, and the hatred and the burning and the running continues. The women don't like intrusion, and they don't like visitors. Until the day the wind tells them of a change, bad things will happen to those who come to their island uninvited… apart from the giant, that is.
Once a year, when the weather is warm and the conditions are right, a giant oval emerges from the ocean, and its wet flippers soon become covered in pebbled sand. Slowly, the hulking sea beast pulls herself up the beach's crest, She is not used to handling a four-hundred-pound frame on dry land; she is accustomed to the protection from the women though, and she drags herself up on to the beach. Once in a safe place, she begins to dig deeper and deeper into the sand. Soon a massive hole has emerged, and this gentle sea creature begins to lay her eggs. When the duty is done, she covers the precious cargo and lumbers back towards the sea, into the quiet depths, into the safety of her vast home.
Gya closed the book and shut her eyes. She dreamed of such a place with such incredible powers. The wind and its offspring: gales, hurricanes, tornados. Were they really sent by some outside force to fight evil? Could they ever be that strong?
Into the second month of sailing, a battering storm hurled them into unknown waters. A caravan of black clouds had piled up against each other, and by dusk, the crew could see lightning flickering to the west followed by the distant crash of thunder. As the sea grew rougher, the angry waves rose up like serpents to smash their heads against the hull, splitting the crest with such force that the hundred oarsmen struggled to keep the ship on course. This storm was big. The winds began to howl, forcing the ship high on its stern and then sent it crashing down again. Tossing every beating heart to the port and then to the starboard in quick succession. The galley boys tended to the shrieking animals while Cornelius stayed up on deck, helping in the worst gale imaginable and the relentless driving rain. By the time the storm broke, morning was upon them, the weather had settled, and the skies cleared. It was as though nothing had happened at all. The sea was calm and glistening again while small white clouds drifted nonchalantly by and the gulls had dutifully returned to escort the ship.
Those who had fought the sea all night were now standing or sitting in puddles of sea water, for that was all that remained of the storm. They would dry soon enough. But for now, the tall masts swayed and the weathered decks creaked as the battered ship made its way slowly to a remote bay that led to a wide stretch of land. The captain had decided to dock here to give the crew and passengers a few hours of shore leave and some well-earned rest. The animals had to stay on board for fear of never getting them back on again, but the young boys stayed below; settling them, talking to them, and feeding and cleaning up.
For the others, this idyllic tranquil beach led to a beautiful glade of palm trees where pods of stones and driftwood greeted them. Although sparse with nothing more to do than when they were on the ship, it gave everyone time to rest and take in some much-needed succulent fruit and fresh water from the nearby spring. The sand seemed to sway underfoot as the seafarers found their land legs again, and the masses who descended on this remote, quiet island were soon treating it as their own. Cornelius was the first to spot a huge leatherback turtle to the right of him. An outstretched arm stopped him going over. The appendage belonged to an old woman who spoke in a strange language, but her manner and expression told Cornelius that she was not happy.
He pulled his arm away sharply and snarled at her even though he knew she couldn't understand him. 'The turtles are for everyone to enjoy, not just you.' And he rushed over to get a closer look.
Gya looked at the old woman, her long grey hair reaching to her waist and the long woollen robe skirted her ankles. She spun around looking at everything that was described exactly in the diary entry.
She noticed the woman's face becoming fervent with anger as more people went over to pester the turtle. She witnessed the animal trying to get away from them bellowing in fear. Her roar was like a powerful stag during the rutting season, but it did little to thwart the masses. The old woman rushed over to get them away, spilling out words to pacify the frightened turtle, but her words and actions meant nothing to the unruly mob.
Gya ran and tried to appeal to Cornelius. 'Please, Cornelius, I have read about this place and I know what will happen. This is unwise and you must stop. '
'What are you talking about now?' he laughed.
'This place, it is not good. Please come away, we can't meddle with things here.'
'Have you been drinking again, Gya. I thought you have been knocking back rather a lot of that vintage claret.'
'No, I haven't been drinking. I have read about this place in a book. This is not our home. Remember we are guests here and have to respect that.'
'What?' he spat back. 'These mud huts and stolen seashells make this place their land? I think not.'
'Cornelius, please have you not learned anything from what I told you about my own experience and what I have recently read? No good can come of this.'
When that didn't work, she went to the captain who was lounging in a worn grey hammock, his hands behind his head, his eye
s closed.
'Please, Captain, call the men back. I have read about this place in your book. I know that bad things will happen.'
Lazy eyes and furrowed brows looked up at her.
'The book in my cabin,' she continued. 'The one with entries about destinations and different islands.'
'I haven't got a clue what you are on about.'
She sighed heavily. 'All right, so you don't know about the book, but you can see that we are upsetting the islanders and disturbing the turtle.'
But he wasn't interested in that, either. 'Men will be men and boys will be boys. They've been at sea for months now and want to enjoy themselves. And it's only a dammed turtle. '
She still pleaded with him. 'That's what I am afraid of, Captain. They are out of control.'
The man was losing his temper now and spoke out abruptly. 'This is exactly why I don't bring women on my ship—they interfere and get in the way. You must have paid a fine price for this voyage, young lady; otherwise, you wouldn't even be here. Now leave me be and leave my men be.' He closed his eyes, folded his arms and went back to swinging in the hammock.
She hung her head in despair and noticed Cornelius sitting with his knees under his chin, perched high up on a rock. 'Run away, why don't you,' she said under her breath. 'You start all this trouble when you could so easily have ended it, and then just take yourself off and hide.'
It was only when a group of three younger women came out with trays of fresh oysters, crab, lobster and other shellfish that the men were lured away. The crowd eventually dispersed, and the old woman tried to encourage the turtle back to her breeding ground. The giant beast slipped quietly back into the safety of the water as the woman covered her eggs again with sand. But with the turtle gone, the men were now looking for other entertainment. While most of them fell asleep in the sun after the banquet, others tried to grope the younger women. Some were becoming quite violent and aggressive. The girls launched everything they could find, pleading and begging them to leave them alone. Gya was appalled at the outrageous behaviour, fearful that only one or two had the ability to destroy a peaceful environment. She looked at the three sisters and the old woman. The sisters were exactly how they had been described in the book: tall, beautiful, graceful. But how could that be? The conundrum went round and round in her mind as the mother tried to comfort her daughters.
Gya went up to them, knowing her words would not be understood, but hopeful that her tone would resonate. 'I'm so sorry. We shouldn't have come here.'
'No, you should not have come. Not while greed, lust, and evil runs in the blood of men. And now, all but a few will perish from this curse.' The old woman looked around with malevolence and led her daughters away.
Gya was shocked. 'The woman speaks my tongue and her words sit like an omen.' She slid down against a tree and pondered. A discarded plate of lobster was at her side and she began to pick at it slowly. She couldn't eat very much—she was still recoiling in shame at being associated with such barbaric behaviour. Instead, she tried to unravel the prophecy.
By late afternoon, the captain ushered the crew and passengers back on to the boat. Cornelius was still perched high on his cliff, taking in the view. He hadn't eaten anything at all. The ship moved out and left the bruised and battered island in its wake... but a scar remained, and things would never be the same again.
Chapter Twenty
The attack on Castle Dru by the General and his legions left Lyall no choice but to drastically secure the defensive measures of the grounds. The first task was to strategically place cannons around the perimeter and gun emplacements in the guard rooms. A drum tower was built with look-out posts and a warning bell. Spy holes and archer wells were built into a crenelated wall, and a secure parapet walk was raised within it. And since the entrance to the castle was likely to be the obvious target for an attacking force, it had to be fortified as heavily as possible. Lyall decided to put an iron portcullis in straight away for extra protection as well as a barrage of crossbow bolts. He put in a narrow-roofed passage with arrow slits to either side in addition to the murder holes that would allow disarming debris and boiling hot liquid to be poured through. At the end of the passage sat another set of iron doors with another set of murder holes and another set of arrow slits to maim or kill .
With an abundance of stone and timber in the surrounding forests, the main structure was the next section to undergo a radical change. Strong new fences had already gone up to replace those that had been burned. The collapsed roof of the main building had been cleared away and a new one raised hurriedly in its place. The huge doors into the Great Hall were even more impressive than the ones before, with detailed engravings of leopards, wolves and hares in panels and blooms of aconitum, laburnum and hemlock embossed in the frames. Stained glass windows were even more elaborate, with an image of every clan member's totem in each segment of glass, and the chimneys and towers rose higher than ever before.
The refurbishment of the interior began as soon as the defence building was complete. No expense was spared with a resplendent and lavish style throughout. A magnificent new dining room was added to the state rooms, whilst the Great Hall itself had been restored to an even grander magnitude than what Lyall could ever remember. Beaten silver mirrors backed every niche, so the solid gold candelabras burned twice as bright and looked three times as impressive. The walls were panelled in richly carved wood, and solid oak boards replaced the once-fragmented floors. A sumptuous carpet covered the planks and woven into each corner was the wolf and hare totem of Lyall and Arneb while running along the sides was the leopard totem of his brother. A magnificent fire surround stood staunch and proud inlaid with exotic semi-precious stones of jasper, agate and lapis lazuli. On either side of the fireplace stood two perfectly sculpted bronze heads carved in the image of a wolf and a hare while portraits of the family hung on adjacent walls. An elaborately carved ceiling was made up of octagonal sunken panels, each one bearing a central motif of an animal, while the exquisite Durundal crystal chandelier took pride of place in the centre. The minstrels’ gallery allowed an ensemble of the finest musicians to blow, pluck, and thrum the most delicate of notes on any occasion. Outside, the estate was also given a makeover. Arneb had redesigned the gardens including restocking the beehives and replacing the shrubbery with an extensive herb and apothecary garden. Lyall had created his very own aviary that housed a stock of well-trained homing pigeons—an added resource in these desperate times.
'Quicker than a horse,' he said to Arneb. 'These are messengers like no other.'
The summer had been long, and the harvests had been fruitful. And the people of Castle Dru had worked tirelessly to provide a rich and opulent lifestyle that would see them through the winter and beyond. By autumn, the storerooms were full to the brim. The granaries housed sacks of oats, corn, wheat, and barley with kegs of milled flour and ground white salt. In the cellars hung the ripened looms of onions and garlic while bags of carrots, parsnips, potatoes and swedes were stacked high on top of each other. Another storeroom contained rounds of goats’ cheese, while another housed iron hooks of rabbits, pheasant, woodcock, grouse and snipe, bound and hung to reach their peak. Racks of venison and pork were salted and layered in rafters. Crates of wild apples, wild pears, plums, damsons and cranberries were packed away in boxes. Churns of mead were fermenting nicely, and pitchers of shallots, cabbage, and beetroot were pickling. Arneb's bees had worked hard all summer, and their honey had been collected and poured into labelled jars. In the stable storerooms, bales of hay had been collected, and buckets of oats were stored with lids carefully sealed. There was enough food for a small army for a whole year… and more than enough for a royal wedding.
Chapter Twenty-One
The ship's crew went back to their duties, and the passengers watched from the decks as the ship surfed towards its final destination. The sea was incredibly calm with a smoothness that just rocked the boat gently. Though by the time the island had disappeared from
view, Gya had already begun to feel unwell. She grabbed onto Cornelius.
'What's the matter with you?' He spun round with a startled reaction.
'I'm not well, Cornelius. Could you help me down to the cabin?'
Her legs buckled as he took her weight. 'Everything all right there, Master Cornelius?' asked the captain from the helm.
'Yes, just a bit of sea sickness, that's all,' he replied.
'Take that bucket for her,' the captain pointed to a wooden pail by the galley doors.
Gya was now sweating profusely with a pallid tone to her skin. 'I have never felt like this, Cornelius. What is wrong with me?'
'Too long at sea is my guess. Come on, let's get you into bed.'
She had vomited into the bucket twice before she had reached the cabin and fell onto the bed completely dressed. Cornelius took off her jerkin and boots and covered her with a blanket.
'Get some rest, I need to empty this bucket. I will be back soon.'
But she couldn't respond. She twisted in her bed for hours, holding on to her stomach, slipping in and out of sleep. She found a commode under the bed and vomited into that. Cornelius returned and sat with her. He kept the fever down with sponges of cool water. She was still angry with him for not taking control on the island when he had the chance. Too many times, she had witnessed destruction through lack of empathy and morality, but she was too weak to do or say anything to him now. She couldn't even think past the pain.
In and out of consciousness, her dreams were full of grey walls, stone stairs, and hands reaching out to her. Was this her family, she thought, or was she becoming delirious? She didn't know. All she knew for certain was the incredibly severe abdominal pain that caused her to vomit every hour and by the second day, she thought she was going to die. She sent Cornelius to get help.
