Company of Liars (47 page)

Zophiel had been in a buoyant mood ever since we had returned with the wine and sheep. He recounted the tale of Voluptas with self-deprecating modesty, which from him always sounded more arrogant than a man who openly boasted. But as the moon began to rise, filling the gully with pale light and long shadows, his unease returned and he began to dart anxious glances about him, his hand straying to the knife in his belt. We all of us had drawn our knives and staves close to hand as the sky darkened. We had good reason to. Night was the domain of the wolf.

I stared up at the top of the ridge above the gully. The moonlight brushed the brow of the hill with a silver sheen, but nothing up there was stirring. I could hear nothing except the crackle of the fires and the water in the river rushing over the stones and boulders. As I sat in the stillness of that valley, listening to the babbling of that river, I suddenly felt as if I was back in the hills of home. I could almost see the sleek otters hunting in the streams, the water so cold and clear it numbed your fingers. I could almost taste the sweet purple bilberries crammed into my mouth, staining my lips and fingers blue. And the wind, the clean, pure wind that in winter snatched your breath away and in summer tasted like white wine. I knew it was impossible, but that night I'd have given anything just to stand there and drink in the solitary peace of it, just one last time.

I started as something huge and pale glided silently down the gully just beyond the light of the fires. Glimpsing it only out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't make out what it was. Then I heard the deep sonorous ‘oohu-oohu-oohu’: an eagle owl out hunting for his supper.

Cygnus shivered at the eerie sound and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. ‘What if the wolf smells the sheep carcass on the wagon?’

‘It'll be drawn to the spot where we slaughtered and skinned the sheep,’ Osmond said. ‘The smell of blood there will be stronger.’

They had deliberately butchered the animal a good way off from the camp, so as not to attract any scavengers, but now that it was night, it seemed uncomfortably close. The next valley would have been too near. Cygnus glanced in the direction of the spot, but it lay in the shadow of the hill, too dark to see anything moving there.

‘But what if it follows the scent back to the camp?’

‘It will not,’ Zophiel said. ‘It'll find all it needs there.’

‘But there is nothing except some blood-soaked grass. That'll only whet its appetite.’ Cygnus's voice shook slightly.

‘There's meat there. I returned to the place and left some.’

I drew my stave closer. ‘That will divert it tonight, for which I am profoundly grateful, Zophiel,’ I added hastily.

‘But aren't we in danger of encouraging it to continue to follow us for food?’

‘I assure you, Camelot, that if it takes the meat tonight it will be its last meal. The meat is laced with wolfsbane. Come now, you didn't think I would simply leave it as a gift? Whatever or whoever takes that meat will not live to see dawn and then we shall be rid of it for good.’

‘Whoever?’

‘Was it not you, Camelot, who first told us the tale of the werewolf? Surely you don't dismiss the idea? After all, you have the scar to prove it.’

Rodrigo broke in as if he had only just realized what Zophiel said. ‘Wolfsbane? You carry this poison with you?’

Zophiel laughed softly. ‘You take me for an assassin? No, I suspected the healer would have some. It grows well near water and it is, I'm told, effective when applied to the bites of venomous creatures, even the bite of a werewolf.’

‘The healer gave it to you?’ I couldn't imagine her handing over a quantity of deadly poison to anyone, especially a man like Zophiel.

‘Let us say, she was persuaded to do so.’

Osmond was on his feet in instant. ‘What did you do to her, Zophiel?’

Zophiel flinched backwards, but quickly recovered himself. ‘Nothing, my friend, a little bargaining, that is all.’

‘What could you have that she would want?’ Osmond asked suspiciously.

‘It is more a question of what she has. It's well known that witches use blackthorn rods to procure abortions. If they are caught with such a rod, I believe the punishment is to burn them on blackthorn pyres. She has a blackthorn hedge big enough to set a whole coven alight.’

‘You threatened her, after all she's done for us?’ Osmond shouted.

Rodrigo too was on his feet. Faced with the fury of both Osmond and Rodrigo, Zophiel tried to scramble up, but all three froze as the unmistakable sound of the wolf's howl echoed along the gully, reverberating through the darkness. We stared around frantically, but none of us could tell where the sound came from. Again and again the wolf howled and each time the sound seemed to surround us. First we heard it on one side, then on the other. Osmond and Cygnus ran to the fires, poking them and piling more wood on to them until the flames roared up and golden sparks exploded into the darkness. Rodrigo, his stave firmly grasped in both hands, peered this way and that, trying to see where the attack might come from. Adela crouched on the ground, bending over the baby in her arms, trying to shield him with her own body. Zophiel wheeled around wildly, his knife raised and his lips moving soundlessly as if he was praying.
The only one who did not seem to comprehend the danger was Narigorm. She stood motionless, silhouetted by the fire, one hand extended as if she was reaching out to touch the sound. Then it was gone and silence rolled back from the hills, a silence that blotted out the crackling fire and dark rushing water, a silence more unnerving than the howl. We held our breath and listened.

I don't know if the others got any sleep that night. We took it in turns to keep watch and stoke the fires, but even when I knew others were on watch, I couldn't sleep. Finally I saw, with relief, the thin edge of light come creeping over the distant hill. I must have slept then for when I woke, the sun was up and Adela was stirring a pot over the embers of one of the fires. A thin plume of smoke rose vertically into the pale pink sky. My cloak was so stiff with frost it crackled as I tried to rise.

I glanced up at the healer's cottage. No smoke rose from her hearth. Perhaps she had not yet risen. I didn't blame her. If I'd spent the night in a warm bed I wouldn't hasten to get out of it. Zophiel and Rodrigo still lay asleep recovering from their last watch, but Osmond and Cygnus had already gone to search for wood and Narigorm was drawing water from the river.

I was finishing a second bowl of broth when I saw Cygnus and Osmond striding back to the camp, their breath hanging white in the air as they hurried along. Both had bundles slung over their backs. It appeared their forage for firewood had been successful. But as Cygnus strode past me I could see that something was wrong. Zophiel had just risen and was crouching by the river, splashing water on his face. Cygnus strode up to him and pulled at the knot in the thong round his neck, letting his bundle drop with a dull thump
on to the frozen ground. It wasn't firewood he carried, but the lifeless body of an owl, a large one. The black beak was wide open as if it had been gasping for air.

‘This is what you killed with your wolfsbane last night, Zophiel. No wolf, just this poor creature.’

Zophiel straightened up and turned, shaking sparkling droplets of water from the tips of his long fingers. He barely glanced at the owl lying on the ground at his feet.

‘Any signs the meat had been gnawed?’

‘A few strips torn from it, but they were probably taken by the owl.’

Zophiel prodded the feathers with the toe of his boot. ‘Eagle owl. Valuable hunting bird. It might be wild, but most likely some careless falconer lost it. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes; they'll take the price of it from his hide. Still, it's worthless now, you may as well throw it away.’

Cygnus was trying to keep his temper in check, but he was losing the battle.

‘Never mind the value of the bird, Zophiel,’ he shouted. ‘What about the meat you left out? A few scraps of raw meat laced with poison would have been enough to kill a hungry wolf. But you put out a whole leg and part of the side too. Adela and the baby need that meat. It would have fed all of us for at least a day. You took it without even consulting us. Now, because you've poisoned it, we can't even use the bone for broth. I know you're terrified of the wolf, Zophiel, but this was a stupid and needless waste.’

Zophiel's expression had grown increasingly venomous as Cygnus spoke. At the mention of his terror of the wolf, his eyes flashed dangerously, but unlike Cygnus, his voice was controlled and quiet.

‘May I remind you that it was my skill and my gold that
bought that sheep and the wine, therefore the sheep and wine were mine. The fact that I chose to share them with you, as I have also shared my wagon and my provisions, is something you should be thanking me for on your knees. Had I not chosen to be generous, you, like Adela, would have gone hungry yesterday. What I chose to do with the remains of the carcass was entirely up to me.’

‘We all share what we have, Zophiel,’ Osmond protested. ‘There's many a night you've dined on what I hunted or what Camelot bartered for one of his relics.’

Zophiel ignored the interruption and continued to stare malevolently at Cygnus.

‘I sacrificed the meat, meat which I also could have eaten, in an attempt to keep all of us from the fate of our headstrong young friend. I trust you will allow that it is worth the sacrifice of a day's food. I hope you've not forgotten what Jofre's body looked like when it was recovered. It's hard to eat a slice of mutton without a throat. I suggest you keep that in mind before you venture to criticize me again. And as for wasting the meat, we'll lay it out again tomorrow night and the night after if we have to. Who knows, if we're lucky, we may succeed in ridding the world of another of your feathered cousins.’

He kicked the body of the owl out of his way and began to walk away from the riverbank. As he brushed past Cygnus, he knocked hard against him with his shoulder. Cygnus slipped on the frosty grass and staggered backwards, teetering on the edge of the river bank. Unable to regain his balance, he fell backwards into the water. The river was not deep, but it was icy. The shock made him gasp, just as the wave caused by his splash broke over his face. He choked as the water filled his mouth and lungs. Unable to get a foothold on the slippery boulders and weighed down by his
heavy, waterlogged cloak, he panicked, his eyes bulging, thrashing wildly with his one arm.

Rodrigo ran across the grass and splashed into the river. He grabbed Cygnus, just as his head was going under again. He pulled him upright, dragged him to the bank and hauled him out.

Cygnus sank to his knees on the grass, coughing and spluttering. Rodrigo thumped him on the back as he fought for air. He remained where he was on the ground, breathing in painful shallow pants and shivering uncontrollably.

Rodrigo put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Take off your wet clothes and come to the fire. Narigorm, fetch a blanket.’

But Cygnus was unable to move. Rodrigo crouched down and began to peel the sodden cloak from his back. As he helped the shivering boy out of his wet clothes, Rodrigo looked up at Zophiel who was watching the proceedings with amusement.

‘You deliberately pushed him in, Zophiel. I saw you.’

‘His temper needed cooling.’

‘You know he cannot swim.’

‘Then it's time he learned. Isn't that what swans do, swim? Surely that is the point of being a swan, that and making a fine roast for the table. After all, they're no use for anything else.’

He paused, stared and suddenly threw his head back, roaring with laughter.

‘But what have we here? It seems I was mistaken. Our little prince is not a swan after all.’

We turned and followed Zophiel's mocking gaze. Cygnus still knelt on the grass. But he was stripped to the waist now and we saw at once what Zophiel meant. There was no wing, no feathers, just a soft pink fleshy stump, about the length of his foot, with six tiny protuberances ranged along
the bottom, buds of flesh, no bigger than a woman's nipples.

Zophiel was grinning broadly. ‘Naturally, if I had known he was just a poor cripple, I would never –’

Cygnus flinched at the word
cripple
, but Zophiel did not get the chance to finish his sentence. In one swift movement, Rodrigo had crossed over to him and struck him hard across the mouth with the back of his hand. Zophiel fell backwards on to the grass, but he recovered swiftly. Holding his left hand to his mouth, he struggled to his feet. I glimpsed a flash of sunlight reflecting off something in Zophiel's right hand. I tried to shout a warning, but Osmond reached Zophiel first. He grabbed Zophiel's wrist and twisted. The knife fell to the frozen ground.

Osmond kicked it away. ‘Oh no you don't, Zophiel, you asked for that.’

For a moment Zophiel stood glaring at Rodrigo, then he wiped away the blood trickling down his chin from a rapidly swelling lip.

‘Have a care, Rodrigo,’ he said quietly. ‘This is the second time you've raised your hand against me. I will not tolerate a third.’

21. The Standing Stones