Shadowland (5 page)

‘How did you come by it?’ Cal asked, in a hushed voice. ‘Are you a
warrior?’ Meryn sighed and returned the sword to its place by the door, then
stooped down to tend the fire.

‘I once fought with a warrior band, yes, and soon
I’ll probably do so again. Unfortunately, I don’t think my destiny lays in
farming as I had hoped. There’s an air of change about our land, causing many a
man to pick up his sword. A king of the Britons has risen and like many others,
I will join his army and fight the Saxon invaders. Fact is, I’ve already
delayed here too long.’

As the light of the day began to fade they helped Meryn
gather in his animals and then watched with stomachs grumbling as he prepared a
meal over the fire. While he worked, Usher described what had happened back in
their village and that they were now in pursuit of the Picts and Cal’s sister,
Clarise.

Meryn had been slowly chopping a turnip while Usher
was speaking. Once the tale had come to an end, he put the knife down and
sighed. ‘I’m sorry for the girl’s plight. Truly I am, but you don’t want to go
chasing them Picts. They’re a cruel people, and a raiding party this far south
would spare little time in killing you both before moving on. ‘
Tis
a sign of the age we live in, now that our Roman
masters are leaving us.’ He spat into the fire as if the mention of the Romans
had left a bad taste in his mouth. It hissed briefly in the hot embers, drawing
their attention until he spoke again.

‘They ruled here for a long time and brought much to
this land, including some measure of peace; but that doesn’t mean we had to
like them. No man should be the slave of another, and we were all slaves to the
Romans. They stole our lands, they stole hearts and they stole our identity.
Well anyhow, now they’ve all but gone, and that means there’s going to be a
struggle for control. So beware of the Picts and any other warrior band you
see. For there’ll be more of them in the next short while, you mark my words.’
He picked up the knife and continued his chopping, throwing the turnip pieces
into a large iron pot suspended over the fire. It was bubbling and beginning to
give off a tantalising aroma.

‘We mean to catch them, and when we do, we’ll free
Clarise,’ muttered Usher defiantly. ‘We don’t plan to attack the Picts. We’re
not fools, but we will get Clarise away... somehow.’

Meryn smiled. ‘I like your attitude, boy. Maybe you will
get her away, but then what? Where will you go? What will you do? Your village
is no more, your... ’

‘We can only live one day at a time,’ broke in
Usher, ‘and trust in the spirits to guide us. The one thing we still have at
this moment is hope, hope that Clarise is alive. When we find her and free her,
we’ll seek a new direction. The spirits will guide us.’ He glared defiantly at
Meryn as if challenging him to find fault in his logic, but the old archer
merely continued to smile, which Usher was beginning to find annoying.

‘Well spoken, lad. It would seem you have a
determination and strength beyond your years.’

They sat quietly, staring into the flickering flames
for some time; each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Meryn broke the silence.
‘Do you know why they were after the children?’ The boys shook their heads.
‘Well, I was planning to leave for the west in another week or two, but maybe
I’ll leave a little earlier.’ He stabbed the knife down into a log. ‘A Pict
warrior party did move through here late yesterday.’ Usher glanced across to
see Cal sit
up and offer him the flicker of a smile before staring at the old man, willing
him to go on.

‘Did a horseman lead them? Tall? Dressed in black?’ Cal asked, barely able
to suppress his eagerness. Meryn looked up and seemed to study them both before
answering.

‘Aye, I believe there was a horseman.’ He leaned
forward and threw another log on the fire as he gathered his thoughts. ‘They
were keeping to the edge of the forest, but I saw them and marked their progress
around the west side of the valley. Maybe we can help each other. I’ll help you
with your quest; maybe stop you from getting yourselves killed…but in turn you
will be beholden to me. Do we have an agreement?’

‘Yes!’ agreed Cal
readily, but Usher held up his hand and frowned at Meryn.

‘What do you mean by beholden? What would you have
of us?’

The old man’s smile returned. ‘Good question, young
friend, a good question that deserves a good answer, and as soon as I have one
to give, it shall be yours.’

****

‘Meryn
was a good man,’ said Calvador Craen breaking into the story. ‘Was it really
luck that we met him? He trained us well.’ He looked at the villagers as if
only just noticing them again, and then back to the seated figure of the
storyteller. ‘I seem to remember getting a few cracks on the head when we
travelled with Meryn. We learned the sword, the spear, and the bow; and none of
them were easy lessons.’

Usher nodded, and then searched the faces around
him. ‘May I get another of your excellent ales?’ he asked, finding the face he
was looking for and passing his empty tankard towards the innkeeper. The man
beckoned for one of the serving girls to come and take it.

‘Did you rescue Clarise?’ asked a girl sitting close
to his side.

‘We may well have done, you shall have to wait and
see,’ he smiled ‘... you know, she would have been about your age at that time.
Can you imagine how she must have felt? A poor broken thing; seeing her family
murdered, her village burned, and then she was dragged away by the Picts, they
were all terrified out of their wits when we finally tracked them down.’ He
turned to Calvador Craen. ‘My friend Calvador here was very brave that day, as
I remember; risking his life more than once trying to spirit his sister away.’
He looked at Cal
but his old friend had returned to staring at the fire, content to sup his
mulled wine and allow the memories to wash over him. ‘We’d been on their trail
for almost a month, Meryn, Cal and I, and had practised weapons with Meryn
almost every step of the way, not that we were very proficient at that point, but
we knew which end of the sword to hold, and how to pull a longbow. We hunted
and fished on the way and scavenged some food when we came across a settlement
or village. I remember always feeling cold and wet, and of course hungry. It
was a miserable time.

‘It was raining the night we caught up with them. A
full moon was breaking through the clouds, and I remember how it was turning
bitterly cold and we were so hungry… ’

Chapter Three – The shadows of the night

Usher
shivered, sneezed and then wiped a long smear of snot on the grass beside him
before returning his attention to the hawthorn branch.

‘It’s going to rain again,’ observed Cal, gloomily. ‘Do you
think we have enough dry wood for the fire later?’

‘Wood we have. All we need is to catch something to
cook over it and we’ll be sorted for tonight.’ Meryn pulled his line in,
inspected the offered worm, and then cast it out into the pond again. Thunder
rumbled in the distance and a chill breeze chased ripples across the surface of
the pond.

‘I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t miserable,’
sniffed Cal,
‘my fingers are too cold to tie this stupid thing. Usher... ’

‘In a minute, I’m nearly done.’ Usher sneezed again then
dragged his sleeve across his nose.

‘What are you messing about with, boy, didn’t you
ever fish before?’

Usher glanced up at the grinning face of Meryn Link
and decided to ignore him. The knack of tying a hawthorn hook was firstly to
cut it from the branch properly, which he had now carefully done, and then to make
sure that you tied not one, but two parts of the thorn securely, that way the
fish wouldn’t be able to pull free of the line when it was snagged. It wasn’t
easy, especially when the line you were using was a strip of thin bark plaited
patiently by the light of a campfire. Of course, Meryn had produced a carefully
rolled line of plaited horsehair for his own use, along with some well-carved
bone hooks, which was the reason he was putting on that superior air. It was really
beginning to annoy Usher.

‘Pass me a worm,’ he said, still concentrating on
flattening his final knot.

Cal
poked about in the muddy
bowl and produced a fat worm that curled and rolled lazily in his fingers.

Usher glanced over. ‘Do you have a smaller one, one
of those red ones? They move a lot better.’

Cal
sorted through; inspecting
the various worms they had found and finally saw what Usher was looking for. He
passed it over then returned to setting up his own line. The hawthorn kept
pricking his fingers as he tried to tie it but his hands were so cold he
couldn’t feel a thing, anyway.

‘You two really think you’ll catch anything? I would
have leant you one of my good bone hooks, but... ’

‘We’ll be fine,’ interrupted Usher. ‘Why don’t you
just concentrate on your own line?’ Satisfied the worm was firmly lodged on his
thorn; he hefted the rolled line and swung the wriggling offering close to a
patch of ragged lily pads, close to where a stream of bubbles had just broken
the surface.

‘You’ll be into a tench if you put your worm there.
Nasty taste, all mud ’n slime they are.’
 

Usher glanced across at Meryn, and then back at
where his line was slowly disappearing below the cold green surface of the
pond. He was too cold and miserable to answer.

‘I’m so hungry,’ muttered Cal, ‘I’m sick of porridge and dry old oat
cakes. We have to catch a fish.’ He shivered and blew on his hands trying to
revive some feeling so he could tie his line round the fiddly thorn.

‘Don’t eat them worms, boy.’

‘I won’t eat the worms, Meryn, but I’ll eat a tench
if Usher catches one.’

‘Nasty muddy things, tench. They’re a summer fish, sit
at the bottom eating all the stuff other fish drop or can’t get hold of... and
they eat the stuff the other fish... ’

‘Well then catch something else. We’ve not eaten
anything decent in days. If we catch a tench then Usher and I can... ’ Cal jumped up. ‘Usher,
your line!’

Usher’s line pulled tight against his fingers and
quickly began moving round to the left. He yanked it hard and felt the
satisfying pumping of a fish fighting for its life on the other end. It was
trying to get back into the lilies and he knew he had to turn it. Ignoring the
pain as the line bit into his hand, he concentrated on trying to coax it out
into open water.

‘Don’t let it get caught up.’ Cal flung himself down flat in the mud and
hung over the edge of the pond ready to help get the fish out.

‘It’ll only be a tench,’ muttered Meryn. Usher
continued to ignore him.

‘Here it comes, Cal, get it,’ cried Usher. He stood, careful
not to slip down the bank into the icy water and drew more line in. With a flap
that sent a spray of water up onto Meryn, the fish broke surface and rolled on
its side, exhausted, one beady red eye looking up at him.

‘Get it, Cal.’

Braving the cold water, Cal scooped the slippery green fish up and it
flopped and flapped in his hands. For a moment, it looked like he was going to
drop it, but then he turned away from the water hugging it to his chest and
grinned up at Usher. Meryn peered across and shook his head. ‘
Tis
a tench’

‘We eat!’ exclaimed Cal, smiling up at Usher.

‘We eat, but maybe Meryn would rather eat more stone-hard
oatcakes? Come on, Meryn, catch us something else.’

‘I Will, boy, I’m not beaten yet.’

Sometime later, as the setting sun was making a brief
appearance below gathering clouds, a tench stew was cooking over the fire.
Three tench had been caught, two by Usher, the other by Cal. They had washed them of slime and then
cleaned the flesh thoroughly before putting them in the pot. No other fish had been
caught, and for once, Meryn had to grudgingly admit defeat, the stew was
delicious.

It rained in the night but beneath a shelter of
reeds, Usher slept with a full stomach and woke with enough energy to meet the
day, even if it was a day that started with weapons training.

****

‘Ouch!’
Usher dropped the spear and brought his hands up, covering the sudden pain that
had exploded on his head.

‘Well
look at
me
then, not the
spear, you stupid boy.’ Meryn tapped the spot between his eyes. ‘Here. Keep
your attention here and watch all of me at the same time. If you keep staring
at the end of the spear, I’ll just thump you on the head with the other end
again! Your eyes are floating about like a bee searching for honey flowers.’

Usher
stopped rubbing his head and picked up the spear, studying the archer intently
as he did, lest the old man try to trick him as he had done several times
before.
Still
glowering, he carefully assumed the guard position and watched as Meryn
narrowed his eyes and smiled through his scraggy beard. Breathing deeply to
calm his emotions, he fixed his attention on the spot between Meryn’s eyes, and
tried to anticipate any movement his opponent might make. With only the
slightest of warnings, the spear slashed round with a
whoosh
that Usher blocked successfully, the heavy clunk jarring
through his arms.