Firebird

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Authors: Iris Gower

BOOK: Firebird
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Table of Contents
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Iris Gower was born in Swansea to an army family. Married early, she was a mother of four and a well-published author by the time she was in her mid-twenties. She lives in Swansea with her husband, in a house on top of a Welsh hill facing the sea she loves. Iris Gower wrote the libretto and lyrics for a new musical,
Copper Kingdom
, which was first staged in 1995. She is the author of the highly successful
Sweyn's Eye
and
Cordwainers
series.
Firebird
is the first novel in her exciting new series and the second novel in the series,
Dream Catcher
, is now available from Bantam Press.
Also by Iris Gower
COPPER KINGDOM
PROUD MARY
SPINNERS' WHARF
BLACK GOLD
THE LOVES OF CATRIN
THE SHOEMAKER'S DAUGHTER
THE OYSTER CATCHERS
HONEY'S FARM
ARIAN
SEA MISTRESS
THE WILD SEED
and published by Corgi Books
FIREBIRD
Iris Gower
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Epub ISBN: 9781407083438
Version 1.0
  
FIREBIRD
A CORGI BOOK: 0 552 14447 9
Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press,
a division of Transworld Publishers Ltd
PRINTING HISTORY
Bantam Press edition published 1997
Corgi edition published 1998
Copyright © Iris Gower 1997
The right of Iris Gower to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All of the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Condition of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than
that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Set in 11/12pt Plantin by Falcon Oast Graphic Art
Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd,
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA,
in Australia by Transworld Publishers (Australia) Pty Ltd,
15–25 Helles Avenue, Moorebank, NSW 2170,
and in New Zealand by Transworld Publishers (NZ) Ltd,
3 William Pickering Drive, Albany, Auckland.
Reproduced, printed and bound in Great Britain by
Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berks.
To my parents, William and
Wilhelmina, with love
CHAPTER ONE
Her legs ached. Her feet had been turning the wheel for hours, fashioning the large jugs and bowls for which the Savage Pottery had become known.
Llinos Savage rubbed her eyes and listened to the cheerful voices of the young boys outside the bottle kilns. The apprentices were stacking pots ready to be biscuit fired. She envied them, they were so carefree.
The row of pots on the table before her wavered in the waning light. The smell of oxide, mingled with the metallic aroma of black lead, lay heavy on the air.
Llinos climbed down from her seat, running her hands over the pitted wood of the wheel. It had been specially designed for her by her father when he had last been home on leave. A few months later came the devastating news that he was missing believed killed. Llinos had never quite believed it to be true. He was such a big man in every way and the memory of him was still sharp.
She sighed. The fortunes of the Savage Pottery had gone downhill since then. Jeremiah, the man her father had left in charge, had quarrelled with her mother over wages. He had quit his job and Gwen had decided to save money by not looking for a replacement.
Llinos watched as Binnie Dundee lifted a jug and dipped it into a bowl of brownish liquid, the warm red of the earthenware vessel gradually changing to black. Binnie caught her eye and frowned.
‘You look tired, better call it a day.'
One of the candles on a shelf above Llinos's head flickered and died and the aroma of tallow momentarily overrode the other smells.
‘I suppose so.' Llinos swallowed the fear that the thought of returning home aroused in her.
He
would be there, the man who thought he could take her father's place.
Llinos shivered as she placed some pots in the saggar ready for the final firing.
‘Take these over to the ovens, Binnie,' she said. He rubbed at his hands with a rag and sighed heavily; his eyes were shadowed and Llinos felt a warm rush of gratitude for his loyalty.
Binnie was older than she by several years. He had been taken on at the pottery when he was little more than a child. And he had stayed when most of the more experienced workers began to drift away to find more secure employment.
He opened the door and stepped outside and a cold draught wrapped itself around Llinos's ankles. She snuffed out the rest of the candles and darkness folded in on her. She did not like the dark. Even though she was growing into womanhood, she was still afraid of shadows.
She left the shed and as she crossed the yard, she felt the crispness of frost in the grass beneath her feet. She rubbed at her arms, suddenly aware that she was aching.
‘
Darro
, Llinos, come as yourself! I thought you was a little ghost there.' Ben Carpenter was just leaving the yard. He stood in the gateway and looked back at her. She smiled at him, he was an old man now but like Binnie he had remained loyal to her.
‘Sorry, Ben, did I startle you?'
‘Too royal you did. Look, Miss Llinos, you shouldn't be working like this, it's too much for you.'
‘Anything's better than being in the house with
him
,' Llinos said softly.
‘I know what you mean.' Ben retraced his steps and rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Young you may be but you're a good judge of character. Pity Mrs Savage didn't have some of your good sense.'
Llinos watched as Ben left the yard. ‘Yes, a great pity,' she said. Behind her, she could hear the voices of the apprentices. They were laughing and she felt suddenly lonely. Now the boys lodged in a small outbuilding at the far end of the yard. In the past, they had shared a room in the Pottery House but the arrival of Mr Cimla had put a stop to that.
Llinos turned as she heard a light footfall behind her.
‘Wonder if your mam will make us supper tonight?' Watt Bevan was the youngest of the apprentices. His job was to clear away the rubbish, the bits of clay left from the potting. Watt rubbed at his thin stomach. ‘I'm starving.'
‘I'll see what I can do,' Llinos said. ‘It will be all right if Mr Cimla's in a good mood.'
Watt sighed. ‘Why did your mam have to take up with 'im, we was all right on our own.'
‘What we can't change we have to put up with.' Llinos rubbed Watt's hair, which was thick with clay dust.
Binnie came out of the shadows and stood beside her.
‘Speaking for myself, I'd like to kill the bastard,' he said quietly. ‘And if he lays a hand on any of us again, I might just well let him have it.'
Llinos tried to assess Binnie's chances against Mr Cimla and shook her head. Bert Cimla was big of shoulder, a handsome man but going to seed now that he was enjoying an idle life. He indulged himself in food and ale that he never thought to pay for.
‘I'm going indoors. If I can, I'll bring you some bread and cheese.'
‘Look out for the rats.' Binnie's smile did not reach his eyes. ‘Especially one that goes by the name of Mr Cimla.'
Pottery Row stood on the flat lands beside the river Tawe. As its name suggested, it comprised a short row of houses that ended in a high wall. Behind the wall huddled a group of pottery buildings. A mill house with the wheel turning rose above a trio of pot-bellied kilns. And on a clear night, the glow of the fires lit up the sky.
A little lower on the river bank stood the more flourishing Tawe Pottery belonging to Philip Morton-Edwards. The family were rich, influential, solid citizens of Swansea. At the Tawe Pottery, experiments were being made into the production of a fine porcelain body. If the experiments were successful, the Tawe porcelain would grace the finest homes throughout England and Wales.
Llinos began to walk resolutely towards the house. It was pointless trying to delay the moment when she would come face to face with Bert Cimla. Gwen Savage had met the man only a few short weeks before. She was besotted by him and had allowed him to come calling on her almost at once. Tongues had not stopped wagging ever since.
The doorway of the house was ajar and Llinos stood for a moment silhouetted in the light of the moon. The hallway was in darkness. One candle gleamed high up on the curve of the stairs, shedding a dim light. Llinos made her way towards the sitting-room; with luck there would be a good fire burning in the grate. She rubbed her chilled hands together anticipating the warmth. She paused as she heard a sound from the dining-room.
Reluctantly, Llinos made her way along the passage. The smell of ale grew stronger as she approached the dining-room door and her heart sank. Mr Cimla had been drinking. As she opened the door, Llinos saw her mother's face, smiling as she leant towards Mr Cimla, hanging on his every word. She glanced at her daughter and frowned.
‘Llinos, have you finished work already?'
‘It's very late, Mother.' She sat down at the table, avoiding looking at Mr Cimla, who was sprawled in her father's chair, a tankard of ale marking the polished oak of the table.
‘Well, Miss Savage, what have you been up to then?' His tone was honeyed. Llinos did not look at him and she delayed replying to his question for as long as she dared.

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