The Buried Giant (29 page)

“God be with you, sir,” Axl said. “We’re sorry if we brought you from your sleep. We’re just two weary travellers wishing to go downriver to our son’s village.”

A broad, bearded man of middle years, clad in layers of animal skins, emerged into the light and scrutinised them. Eventually he asked, not unkindly:

“Is the lady there unwell?”

“She’s only tired, sir, but unable to walk the remaining way. We hoped you might spare a barge or small boat to carry us. We depend on your kindness, for some misfortune lately took the bundles we carried, and with them the tin to recompense you. I can see, sir, you have but one boat now in the water. I can at least promise you safe passage for any cargo you’d entrust should you allow us to use it.”

The boatkeeper looked out at the boat rocking gently under the roof, then back at Axl. “It’ll be a while yet, friend, till this boat goes downstream, for I’m waiting for my companion to return with barley to fill it. But I see you’re both weary and lately suffered some misfortune. So let me make this suggestion. Look there, friends. You see those baskets.”

“Baskets, sir?”

“They may look flimsy, but float well and will bear your weight, though you’ll have to go one in each. We’re accustomed to filling them with full sacks of corn, or even at times a slaughtered pig, and tethered behind a boat they’ll travel even a rough river without jeopardy. And today, as you see, the water’s steady, so you’ll travel without worry.”

“You’re kind, sir. But have you no basket large enough for the two of us?”

“You must go one to each basket, friends, or else fear drowning. But I’ll gladly tether two together so you’ll go almost as good as one. When you see the lower boathouse on this same side, your journey will be over, and I’ll ask you to leave the baskets there well tied.”

“Axl,” Beatrice whispered, “let’s not separate. Let’s go together on foot, slow though it may be.”

“Walking’s beyond us now, princess. We both need warmth and food, and this river will carry us swiftly to our son’s welcome.”

“Please, Axl. I don’t want us to separate.”

“But this good man says he’ll truss our two baskets together, and
it’ll be as good as we’re arm in arm.” Then turning to the boatkeeper, he said: “I’m grateful to you, sir. We’ll do as you suggest. Please tie the baskets tightly, so there’s no chance a swift tide will move us apart.”

“The danger isn’t the river’s speed, friend, but its slowness. It’s easy to get caught in the weeds near the bank and move no further. Yet I’ll lend you a strong staff to push with, so you’ll have little to fear.”

As the boatkeeper went to the edge of his jetty and began to busy himself with rope, Beatrice whispered:

“Axl, please let’s not be parted.”

“We’re not to be parted, princess. Look how he makes his knots to keep us together.”

“The tide may part us, Axl, never mind what this man tells us.”

“We’ll be fine, princess, and soon at our son’s village.”

Then the boatkeeper was calling them, and they stepped carefully down the little stones to where he was steadying with a long pole two baskets bobbing in the water. “They’re well lined with hide,” he said. “You’ll hardly feel the river’s cold.”

Though he found it painful to crouch, Axl kept both hands on Beatrice until she had safely lowered herself into the first basket. “Don’t try and rise, princess, or you’ll endanger the vessel.”

“Won’t you get in yourself, Axl?”

“I’m getting in right beside you. Look, this good man’s fastened us tight together.”

“Don’t leave me here alone, Axl.”

But even as she said this, she appeared reassured, and lay down in the basket like a child going to sleep.

“Good sir,” Axl said. “See how my wife trembles from the cold. Is there something you might lend to cover her?”

The boatkeeper too was looking at Beatrice, who had now curled up on her side and closed her eyes. Suddenly he removed one of the
furs he was wearing, and bending forward, laid it on top of her. She seemed not to notice—her eyes remained closed—so it was Axl who thanked him.

“Welcome, friend. Leave everything at the lower boathouse for me.” The man pushed them into the tide with his pole. “Sit low and keep the staff handy for the weeds.”

It was bitingly cold on the river. Broken ice drifted here and there in sheets, but their baskets moved past them with ease, sometimes bumping gently one against the other. The baskets were shaped almost like boats, with a bow and stern, but had a tendency to rotate, so that at times Axl found himself gazing back up the river to the boathouse still visible on the bank.

The dawn was pouring through the waving grass beside them, and as the boatkeeper had promised, the river moved at an easy pace. Even so, Axl found himself glancing continuously over at Beatrice’s basket, which appeared to be filled entirely by the animal skin, with only a small portion of her hair visible to betray her presence. Once he called out: “We’ll be there in no time, princess,” and when there was no response, reached over to tug her basket closer.

“Princess, are you sleeping?”

“Axl, are you still there?”

“Of course I’m still here.”

“Axl. I thought maybe you’d left me again.”

“Why would I leave you, princess? And the man’s tied our vessels so carefully together.”

“I don’t know if it’s a thing dreamt or remembered. But I saw myself just then, standing in our chamber in the dead of night. It was long ago and I had tight around me that cloak of badger hides you made once as a tender gift to me. I was standing like that, and in our former chamber too, not the one we have now, for the wall had branches of beech crossing left to right, and I was watching a caterpillar
crawling slowly along it, and asking why a caterpillar wouldn’t be asleep so late at night.”

“Never mind caterpillars, what were you doing yourself awake and staring at a wall in the pit of the night?”

“I think I was standing that way because you’d gone and left me, Axl. Maybe this fur the man’s put over me reminds me of that one then, for I was holding it to myself while I stood there, the one you’d made for me from badger skins, which later we lost in that fire. I was watching the caterpillar and asking why it didn’t sleep and if a creature like that even knew night from day. Yet I believe the reason was that you’d gone away, Axl.”

“A wild dream, princess, and maybe a fever coming too. But we’ll be beside a warm fire before long.”

“Are you still there, Axl?”

“Of course I’m here, and the boathouse long out of sight now.”

“You’d left me that night, Axl. And our precious son too. He’d left a day or two before, saying he’d no wish to be at home when you returned. So it was just me alone, in our former chamber, the dead of night. But we had a candle in those days, and I was able to see that caterpillar.”

“That’s a strange dream you speak of, princess, no doubt brought on by your fever and this cold. I wish the sun would rise with less patience.”

“You’re right, Axl. It’s cold here, even under this rug.”

“I’d warm you in my arms but the river won’t allow it.”

“Axl. Can it be our own son left us in anger one day and we closed our door to him, telling him never to return?”

“Princess, I see something before us in the water, maybe a boat stuck in the reeds.”

“You’re drifting further away, Axl. I can hardly hear you.”

“I’m here beside you, princess.”

He had been sitting low in his basket, his legs spread before him, but now shifted carefully into a crouching posture, holding the rim to either side.

“I see it better now. A small rowing boat, stuck in the reeds where the bank turns ahead. It’s in our path and we’ll have to take care or we’ll be stuck the same way.”

“Axl, don’t go away from me.”

“I’m here beside you, princess. But let me take this staff and keep us clear of the rushes.”

The baskets were moving ever more slowly now, pulling inwards towards the sludge-like water where the bank made its turn. Thrusting the staff into the water, Axl found he could touch the bottom easily, but when he tried to push off back into the tide, the river floor sucked at the stick, allowing him no purchase. He could see too, in the morning light breaking over the long-grassed fields, how weeds had woven thickly around both baskets, as though to bind them further to this stagnant spot. The boat was almost before them, and as they drifted lethargically towards it, Axl held out the staff to touch against its stern and brought them to a halt.

“Is it the other boathouse, husband?”

“Not yet.” Axl glanced over to that part of the river still gliding downstream. “I’m sorry, princess. We’re caught in the reeds. But here’s a rowing boat before us, and if it’s worthy, we’ll use it ourselves to complete the journey.” Pushing the staff once more into the water, Axl manoeuvred them slowly to a position alongside the vessel.

From their low vantage point, the boat loomed large, and Axl could see in fine detail the damaged, coarsened wood, and the underside of the gunwale, where a row of tiny icicles hung like candlewax. Planting the staff in the water, he now rose carefully to his full height within his basket and peered into the boat.

The bow end was bathed in an orange light and it took him a
moment to see that the pile of rags heaped there on the boards was in fact an elderly woman. The unusual nature of her garment—a patchwork of numerous small dark rags—and the sooty grime smeared over her face had momentarily deceived him. Moreover, she was seated in a peculiar posture, her head tilted heavily to one side, so that it was almost touching the boat’s floor. Something about the old woman’s clothes tugged at his memory, but now she opened her eyes and stared at him.

“Help me, stranger,” she said quietly, not altering her posture.

“Are you sick, mistress?”

“My arm won’t obey me, or I’d by now be up and taken the oar. Help me, stranger.”

“Who do you speak to, Axl?” Beatrice’s voice came from behind him. “Take care it’s not some demon.”

“It’s just a poor woman of our years or more, injured in her boat.”

“Don’t forget me, Axl.”

“Forget you? Why would I ever forget you, princess?”

“This mist makes us forget so much. Why should it not make us forget each other?”

“Such a thing can’t ever happen, princess. Now I must help this poor woman, and perhaps with luck we’ll all three use her boat to journey downstream.”

“Stranger, I hear what you say. You’ll be most welcome to share my boat. But help me now for I’m fallen and hurt.”

“Axl, don’t leave me here. Don’t forget me.”

“I’m just stepping onto this boat beside us, princess. I must attend to this poor stranger.”

The cold had stiffened his limbs, and he almost lost his balance as he climbed into the larger vessel. But he steadied himself, then looked around him.

The boat seemed simple and sturdy, with no obvious signs of
leakage. There was cargo piled near the stern, but Axl paid this little attention, for the woman was saying something again. The morning sun was still fully upon her, and he could see how her gaze was fixed with some intensity on his feet—so much so that he could not help looking down at them himself. Noticing nothing remarkable, he continued towards her, stepping carefully over the boat’s bracing.

“Stranger. I see you’re not young, but you’ve strength left. Show them a fierce face. A fierce face to make them flee.”

“Come, mistress. Are you able to sit up?” He had said this for he was troubled by her strange posture—her loose grey hair was hanging down and touching the damp boards. “Here, I’ll help you. Try to sit higher.”

As he leant forward and touched her, a rusted knife she had been holding fell from her grasp onto the boards. In the same instant, some small creature scampered out from her rags and away into the shadows.

“Do the rats bother you, mistress?”

“They’re over there, stranger. Show them a fierce face, I say.”

It now occurred to him she had not been staring at his feet, but beyond him, to something at the back of the boat. He turned, but the low sun dazzled him and he could not discern clearly whatever was moving there.

“Are they rats, mistress?”

“They fear you, stranger. They feared me too for a little while, but they sapped me little by little as they will. Had you not come they’d be covering me even now.”

“Wait a moment, mistress.”

He stepped towards the stern, a hand raised against the low sun, and gazed down at the objects piled in the shadows. He could make out tangled nets, a soaked-through blanket left in a heap, a long-handled tool, like a hoe, lying across it. And there was a wooden, lidless box—the sort fishermen used to keep fresh the dying fish
they had caught. But when he peered into it, he saw not fish but skinned rabbits—a considerable number of them, pressed so closely one against the other their tiny limbs appeared to be locked together. Then, as he watched, the whole mass of sinews, elbows and ankles began to shift. Axl took a step back even as he saw an eye open, and then another. A sound made him turn, and he saw at the other end of the boat, still bathed in orange light, the old woman slumped against the bow with pixies—too many to count—swarming over her. At first glance she looked contented, as if being smothered in affection, while the small, scrawny creatures ran through her rags and over her face and shoulders. And now there came more and more out of the river, climbing over the rim of the boat.

Axl reached down for the long-handled tool before him, but he too had become enveloped by a sense of tranquillity, and he found himself extracting the pole from the tangled netting in a strangely leisurely manner. He knew more and more creatures were rising from the water—how many might have boarded now? Thirty? Sixty?—and their collective voices seemed to him to resemble the sound of children playing in the distance. He had the presence of mind to raise the long tool—a hoe, surely, for was that not a rusted blade on the end rising into the sky, or yet another creature clinging to it?—and bring it crashing down onto the tiny knuckles and knees mounting the side of the boat. Then a second swing, this time towards the box with the skinned rabbits from which more pixies were running out. But then he had never been much of a swordsman, his skill being for diplomacy and, when required, intrigue, though who could claim he had ever betrayed the trust his skills had won? On the contrary, it was he who had been betrayed, but he could still wield a weapon in some fashion, and now he would bring it down this way and that, for had he not to defend Beatrice from these swarming creatures? But here they came, more and more—were they still coming from that box, or from the shallow waters? Were they even now gathering around
Beatrice asleep in her basket? The last blow of the hoe had had some effect, for several creatures had fallen back into the water, and then another blow had sent two, even three, flying through the air, and the old woman was a stranger, what obligation did he have to her before his own wife? But there she was, the strange woman, hardly visible now beneath the writhing creatures, and Axl crossed the length of the boat, hoe raised, and made another arc in the air to sweep off as many as possible without injury to the stranger. Yet how they clung on! And now they even dared to speak to him—or was that the old woman herself from beneath them?