The Buried Giant (11 page)

“Oh, Axl! What memory was that?”

“I was remembering a time we were walking through a market or a festival. We were in a village, but not our own, and you were wearing that light green cloak with the hood.”

“This must be a dream or else a long time ago, husband. I have no green cloak.”

“I’m talking of long ago, right enough, princess. A summer’s day, but there was a chill wind in this place where we were, and you’d placed the green cloak around you, though you kept the hood from your head. A market or perhaps some festival. It was a village on a slope with goats in a pen where you first set foot in it.”

“And what was it we were doing there, Axl?”

“We were just walking arm in arm, and then there was a stranger, a man from the village, suddenly in our path. And taking one glance at you, he stared like he was beholding a goddess. Do you remember it, princess? A young man, though I suppose we too were young then. And he was exclaiming he’d never set eyes on a woman so beautiful. Then he reached forward and touched your arm. Do you have a memory of it, princess?”

“There’s something comes back to me, but not clearly. I’m thinking this was a drunken man you’re talking of.”

“A little drunk perhaps, I don’t know, princess. It was a day of festivities, as I say. All the same, he saw you and was amazed. Said you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.”

“Then this must be a long time ago right enough! Isn’t this the day you grew jealous and quarrelled with the man, the way we were almost run out of the village?”

“I recall nothing like that, princess. The time I’m thinking of, you
had on the green cloak, and it was some festival day, and this same stranger, seeing I was your protector, turned to me and said, she’s the loveliest vision I’ve seen so you be sure to take very good care of her my friend. That’s what he said.”

“It comes back to me somewhat, but I’m sure you then had a jealous quarrel with him.”

“How could I have done such a thing when even now I feel the pride rising through me at the stranger’s words? The most beautiful vision he’d seen. And he was telling me to take the very best care of you.”

“If you felt proud, Axl, you were jealous also. Didn’t you stand up to the man even though he was drunk?”

“It’s not how I remember it, princess. Perhaps I just made a show of being jealous as a sort of jest. But I would have known the fellow meant no harm. It’s what I woke with this morning, though it’s been many years.”

“If that’s how you’ve remembered it, Axl, let it be the way it was. With this mist upon us, any memory’s a precious thing and we’d best hold tight to it.”

“I wonder what became of that cloak. You always took good care of it.”

“It was a cloak, Axl, and like any cloak it must have worn thin with the years.”

“Didn’t we lose it somewhere? Left on a sunny rock perhaps?”

“Now that comes back to me. And I blamed you bitterly for its loss.”

“I believe you did, princess, though I can’t think now what justice there was in that.”

“Oh, Axl, it’s a relief we can remember a few things still, mist or no mist. It could be God’s already heard us and is hastening to help us remember.”

“And we’ll remember plenty more, princess, when we set our
minds to it. There’ll be no sly boatman able to trick us then, even if there ever comes a day we care at all for his foolish chatter. But let’s eat up now. The sun’s high and we’re late for that steep path.”

They were walking back to Ivor’s house, and had just passed the spot where they were nearly assaulted the previous night, when they heard a voice calling from above. Glancing around, they spotted Wistan high up on the rampart, perched on a lookout’s platform.

“Glad to see you still here, friends,” the warrior called down.

“Still here,” Axl called in reply, taking a few paces towards the fence. “But hastening on our way. And you, sir? Will you rest here for the day?”

“I too must leave shortly. But if I may impose on you, sir, for a short conversation, I’d be most thankful. I promise not to detain you long.”

Axl and Beatrice exchanged looks, and she said quietly: “Speak with him if you will, Axl. I’ll return to Ivor’s and prepare provisions for our journey.”

Axl nodded, then turning to Wistan, called: “Very well, sir. Do you wish me to come up?”

“As you will, sir. I’ll happily come down, but it’s a splendid morning and the view is such as to lift the spirits. If the ladder’s no trouble to you, I urge you to join me up here.”

“Go see what he wants, Axl,” Beatrice said quietly. “But be careful, and it’s not just the ladder I’m speaking of.”

He took each rung with care until he reached the warrior, waiting with an extended hand. Axl steadied himself on the narrow platform, then looked down to see Beatrice watching from below. Only after he had waved cheerfully did she move off somewhat reluctantly towards Ivor’s house—now clearly visible from his high vantage
point. He kept watching her for a further moment, then turned and gazed out over the top of the fence.

“You see I didn’t lie, sir,” Wistan said, as they stood there side by side, the wind on their faces. “It’s quite splendid as far as the eye will reach.”

The view before them that morning may not have differed so greatly from one to be had from the high windows of an English country house today. The two men would have seen, to their right, the valleyside coming down in regular green ridges, while far to their left, the opposite slope, covered with pine trees, would have appeared hazier, because more distant, as it merged with the outlines of the mountains on the horizon. Directly before them was a clear view along the valley floor; of the river curving gently as it followed the corridor out of view; of the expanses of marshland broken by patches of pond and lake further in the distance. There would have been elms and willows near the water, as well as dense woodland, which in those days would have stirred a sense of foreboding. And just where the sunlight went into shadow on the left bank of the river could be seen some remnants of a long-abandoned village.

“Yesterday I rode down that hillside,” Wistan said, “and my mare with hardly any prompting set into a gallop as though for sheer joy. We raced across fields, past lake and river, and my spirit soared. A strange thing, as if I were returning to scenes from an early life, though to my knowledge I’ve never before visited this country. Can it be I passed this way as a small boy too young to know my whereabouts, yet old enough to retain these sights? The trees and moorland here, the sky itself seem to tug at some lost memory.”

“It’s possible,” Axl said, “this country and the one further west where you were born share many likenesses.”

“That must be it, sir. In the fenlands we have no hills to speak of, and the trees and grass lack the colour before us now. But it was on that joyful gallop my mare broke her shoe, and though this morning
the good people here have given her another, I will have to ride gently for one hoof is bruised. The truth is, sir, I brought you up here not simply to admire the country, but to be away from unwelcome ears. I take it you’ve by now heard what’s occurred to the boy Edwin?”

“Master Ivor told us of it, and we thought it poor news to succeed your brave intervention.”

“You may know also how the elders, despairing of what would happen to the boy here, begged I take him away today. They ask I leave the boy in some distant village, telling some story of how I found him lost and hungry on the road. This I’d do gladly enough, except I fear such a plan can hardly save him. Word will easily travel across the country and next month, next year, the boy could find himself in the very plight he is in today, yet all the worse for being lately arrived and his people unknown. You see how it is, sir?”

“You’re wise to fear such an outcome, Master Wistan.”

The warrior, who had been speaking while gazing out at the scenery, pushed back a tangled lock of hair the wind had blown across his face. As he did so, he seemed suddenly to see something in Axl’s own features and, for a small moment, to forget what he had been saying. He gazed intently at Axl, angling his head. Then he gave a small laugh, saying:

“Forgive me, sir. I was just now reminded of something. But to return to my point. I knew nothing of this boy before last night, but I’ve been impressed by the steady way he has faced each new terror set before him. My comrades last night, brave though they were when setting out, were overcome with fear as we approached the fiends’ camp. The boy, however, even though left at the fiends’ mercy for many hours, held himself with a calm I could only wonder at. It would pain me greatly to think his fate’s now all but sealed. So I’ve been thinking of a way out, and if you and your good wife were to consent to lend a hand, all may yet be well.”

“We’re keen to do what we can, sir. Let me hear what you propose.”

“When the elders asked me to take the boy to a distant village, they meant no doubt a
Saxon
village. But it’s precisely in a Saxon village the boy will never be safe, for it is Saxons who share this superstition about the bite he carries. If he were to be left with Britons, however, who see such nonsense for what it is, there can be no danger, even if the story were to pursue him. He’s strong, and as I’ve said, has remarkable courage, even if he speaks little. He’ll be a useful pair of hands for any community from the day he arrives. Now, sir, you said earlier you’re on your way east to your son’s village. I take it this will be just such a Christian village as we seek. If you and your wife were to plead for him, with perhaps the support of your son, that would surely secure a good outcome. Of course, it may be the same good people would accept the boy from me, but then I’ll be a stranger to them, and one to arouse fear and suspicion. What’s more, the errand which has brought me to this country will prevent my travelling so far east.”

“You’re suggesting then,” Axl said, “that my wife and I be the ones to take the boy from here.”

“That is indeed my suggestion, sir. However, my errand will permit me to travel at least part of the same road. You said you would take the path through the mountains. I’d happily accompany you and the boy, at least to the other side. My company will be a tedious imposition, but then the mountains are known to contain dangers, and my sword may yet prove of service to you. And your bags too could be carried by the horse, for even if her foot’s tender, she’ll not complain of it. What do you say, sir?”

“I think it an excellent plan. My wife and I were distressed to hear of the boy’s plight, and we’ll be happy if we can aid some resolution. And what you say is wise, sir. It’s among Britons, surely, he’s safest now. I’ve no doubt he’ll be received with kindness at my son’s
village, for my son himself is a respected figure there, practically an elder in all but his years. He’ll speak for the boy, I know, and ensure his welcome.”

“I’m much relieved. I’ll let Master Ivor know our plan and seek a way to remove the boy quietly from the barn. Are you and your wife ready to leave shortly?”

“My wife is even now packing provisions for the journey.”

“Then please wait by the south gate. I’ll come by presently with the mare and the boy Edwin. I’m grateful to you, sir, for the sharing of this trouble. And glad we’re to be companions for a day or two.”

Chapter Four

Never in his life had he seen his village from such a height and distance, and it amazed him. It was like an object he could pick up in his hand, and he flexed his fingers experimentally over the view in the afternoon haze. The old woman, who had watched his ascent with anxiety, was still at the foot of the tree, calling up to him to climb no further. But Edwin ignored her, for he knew trees better than anyone. When the warrior had ordered him to keep watch, he had selected the elm with care, knowing that for all its sickly appearance, it would possess its own subtle strength and welcome him. It commanded, moreover, the best view of the bridge, and of the mountain road leading up to it, and he could see clearly the three soldiers talking to the rider. The latter had now dismounted, and holding his restless horse by the bridle, was arguing fiercely with the soldiers.

He knew his trees—and this elm was just like Steffa. “Let him be carried off and left to rot in the forest.” That was what the older boys always said about Steffa. “Isn’t that what happens to old cripples unable to work?” But Edwin had seen Steffa for what he was: an ancient warrior, still secretly strong, and with an understanding that went beyond even that of the elders. Steffa, alone in the village, had
once known battlefields—it was the battlefields that had taken his legs—and that was why, in turn, Steffa had been able to recognise Edwin for what he was. There were other boys stronger, who might amuse themselves pinning Edwin to the ground and beating him. But it was Edwin, not any of them, who possessed a warrior’s soul.

“I’ve watched you, boy,” old Steffa had once said to him. “Under a storm of fists, your eyes still calm, as if memorising each blow. Eyes I’ve seen only on the finest warriors moving coldly through the rage of battle. Some day soon you’ll become one to fear.”

And now it was starting. It was coming true, just as Steffa had predicted.