Second Night (58 page)

‘You won't have to. Remember what Charles said at lunch. The manor will go on.'

‘I don't trust that man. Sara likes him and so does Ma, but I don't. He's too smooth. He kept looking at you and me like he was weighing us up.'

Caz laughed outright. ‘That's what I thought too, when I first met him. He's not so bad when you get to know him.'

‘I don't want to get to know him. He's creepy.'

‘Don't worry. The old man won't die yet. You'll do a good ritual and everything will be okay.'

‘Do you promise?'

‘I promise. We won't have to leave the horses, and don't forget, this time break the ice and use the spring water for the ritual. No more blood. Okay?'

‘Okay.'

The broad track beyond the gate bore due north before it veered away west around the copses. Caz pressed forward, eager to find any sign of the wild ride through the storm.
We burned whole trees. I can't believe nothing has changed.

‘Why won't they let us see Sir Jonas?' asked Jemima. ‘After all, we're his family and I still could talk to him even if he is asleep. It's good for unconscious people to have someone talking to them. It helps bring them round.'

I should have left her to ride on her own,
Caz thought wearily. ‘Just give them a couple of days to get him sorted out.'

‘Have you talked to him?'

‘No,' he said flatly.

Jemima picked up on the change in tone. ‘Don't you care at all about Sir Jonas any more?'

‘Not much.'

Jemima was shocked. ‘Even when he's massively not well?'

‘You reap what you sow.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘He's reaping.'

The track turned westward. Immediately in front of them, a clear, lightly covered path continued north into the shrouded forest. Jemima frowned, looking around and trying to get her bearings. ‘I'm sure I don't remember seeing this path before. Where does it come out?'

‘It goes direct to Thunderslea. It's called the Hound Trail.'

‘Why?'

‘Because a hound goes direct when it can.' Caz smiled. ‘This one does.'

All traces of the spear-burned boughs and shattered undergrowth had vanished under the snow, but the forest was stirring, already shaking off its short-lived, winter winding sheet. The first signs of the thaw were underway… the sound of running water under the snow… the occasional crash of a heavily laden bough in a copse… mini-avalanches dropping without warning along the path.

Jemima brushed the flakes off her jacket and reached up to scoop them out of the folds of her scarf before they melted and ran down her neck. She studied the tall, silent figure in front of her sat easily astride his mare – a dark figure on a pale horse in a white and black world.

He
is
different,
she thought.
He's changed again. The problem is, I don't know if I like this one as much as the one I knew yesterday.

He didn't encourage her to ride alongside when they came to the Beech Walk. Soon Alan must persuade bending tree and twisted foliage to disguise where the Hound Trail left the Walk and plunged without pretence straight into the heart of the woodland. She broke the silence at the bridge between the giant holly hedges.

‘You could come back for me later if you want. I'll only be about half an hour.'

‘You'll be okay. Let Nanna bring you home. She'll find the way.'

He waited until they had disappeared into the labyrinth before he unwrapped the spear and swung the cloak around his shoulders, and rode Kyri thundering towards the hills.

A late sprinkling of snow had returned Thunderslea to the pristine white of the afternoon before. The crow settled among the upper branches of the great oak. A bright eye followed the ritual at the fire. The sky was crimson when Jemima poured the last drops of mead over the charred wood. A red sunray raced over the clearing, dipping radiant fingers into the spring and firing up the countless crystals caught glittering on the great balls of mistletoe clinging into the gnarled bark of the old tree. She pushed back the starry hood and clapped her hands, gazing up into the sparkling branches.

‘Look Nanna!' she cried triumphantly. ‘The tree's covered in lights! The Goddess has heard me. Everything will be okay now.'

The setting sun blooded the snowy landscape. The first gripping pangs of hunger had begun, but Caz knew there was food and shelter on the Path to the Mead Hall, and fire and rest at the Halfway House set aside and secret from the troubles of the Shadowed World. He held up the spear. The first tiny pinpoint of the light of a rich yellow star flickered into view as it rose over the woodlands to the north and east. Kyri reared. Under the expanse of the fiery sky, they were a remote figure, a horse and rider raised up on the stony plateau where the four winds meet under the wide heavens on the hills.

‘Seee…gr!' he shouted.

Sigr, sigr, sigr,
whispered the hills, ice-burned under blazing snow.

Sing our names in the Hall, my brothers. We'll be back.

Appendix

Permission to reproduce the following documents has been generously
granted by the Trustees of
The Northern Pantheon Foundation for
Academic Research

Principal and Trustee: Sir Jonas Pring
Treasurer and Trustee: Charles Fordham-Marshall, Esq.

The Wylde Family Tree is reproduced courtesy of Caspar Wylde, Esq.

The Oath of Allegiance

As this blade brings forth my blood,
So do I swear and dedicate my life,
To guard and defend that which the High One,
All-Father, All-Seeing, All-Knowing, Mightiest of Æsir,
Has declared sacred unto Himself;

May I be fearless and faithful,
Praiseworthy and true-souled,
That the Runes of the Deathless
Shall be carved upon the heavens,
On the day foretold of the sun devoured,
The moon swallowed up,
The stars fallen from the sky;
So shall the seed of life spring forth from the fire.

May I see and be silent,
May life fail me and death defeated claim me,
And the lives of my sons and their sons,
Should I foreswear this oath.

The Rune Lore of Sir Saxon Pring

The Realms of Covenant and the Subdivisions of the Runes Extract from
Lecture in Council, August 2
^nd
Year 78

Master Sir Saxon Pring:
Guardians, our practical knowledge concerning the application of the runes is greatly enhanced by our understanding something of the values and the ideals of the society in which they were developed.

These were a hardy, adventurous people whose blood runs in our veins, whose memory is imprinted on every stick and stone around us, who trusted in their own strength and courage, and valued their oaths. They were fearless and capable of strong self-discipline, and yet they had no sense of nationhood as we know it. They fought for their individual community and family groups without concern for their own lives in the hope that they would achieve renown and be remembered with honour. The brave man who could laugh in the face of certain death was greatly revered.

Most of all they valued their freedom of thought and self-expression, qualities that may have led in part to their eventual downfall. Individual thinkers are not easy to structure in an expanding society. The respect commanded by their women-folk was something quite unusual in the world of their time. Women could claim and work land in their own right and the strength of their relationship with their men allowed for the possibility of real partnership in marriage.

It is not generally understood that, like their Christian counterparts, they too were monotheistic in their beliefs. Their supreme deity was the High One, All-Father, the All-Wise and All-Knowing, around whom rotate the satellite deities – a useful parallel here being the Christian saints and angels. These less lofty gods and goddesses were more immediately accessible as patrons to their mortal devotees, those seafarers and farmers, men, women and children engaged in the everyday struggle for survival. But it was the God who decided the fate of the individual in battle, who commanded the seas and the heavens, who was Master of the Runes, those symbols of power that were etched on weapons and armour to invoke victory and renown, and carved on wood and stone to protect hearth and home.

Our late teacher and mentor, Master Walfried, devoted much time and consideration to the runes. It was he who advised that the twenty-nine be further divided and reclassified in order to gain greater insight as to their interpretation within the four Realms of Covenant in the casting circle.

The Realms of Covenant should be read anti-clockwise beginning with the Realm of the Day Dawning, dedicated to Freyr, and completing at the top of the circle within the Realm of All-Father. The first Realm is where the seeds of new ideas, the undertaking of a new venture or the assumption of a new identity may be stimulated into germination and growth according to the will of the candidate. The rune of
Thorn,
as a rune of initiation, would suggest that the candidate may experience great difficulties in the pursuit of a new undertaking. The favour rune of
Iar
, the brotherhood rune cast in this first realm, would indicate that the venture would be best undertaken as a group project.