The Witch of Glenaster (16 page)

As the day wore on, and the
hour crawled towards midday, the sky outside became grey and dull, and we could
not see the sun. The large woman served us bowls of potage, sour but hot, and
tasting of kale and the sea. One by one, Thomas’s companions arrived at the
house. First was Fyn Blackwood, a young-looking man with a face as thin as an
arrowhead, and a beard already going
grey.
He smiled
when he saw us, and ruffled Magnus’s hair. Then there was Lukas Broad, a
dark-eyed, older man, dressed in a green greatcoat, with fraying epaulettes,
and an upturned collar. He barely registered our presence, but quickly fell
into whispered conversation with Thomas and the others. After him came the twin
brothers, Joseph and Samuel Hollis, tall and loud, and full of hope and spirit.
They seemed delighted to see us, and were soon about playing with Magnus, and
gently pestering us with good-natured questions. They seemed more children than
men.

After we had eaten our fill, we
were ushered upstairs, to a small, sparsely furnished bedroom, where Thomas
told us to wait. We trusted him, and he had more than earned that trust, but
there was also a change come over him since the night before; a sense of
distance, like the distance between a captain and his men.

With precious little to do, I
quickly became bored sat upstairs, though Thomas had set a fire, and Magnus
seemed happy enough for a while, playing with some wooden blocks Joseph had
given him, and peering out of the window at the street below. There was the
Dragon’s Head, vast and pointless, a monument to some long-dead dignitary’s
vanity, dwarfing the people around it, and blocking out the light. I already
hated it, even before I knew what it was for.

Voices thrummed in the kitchen
below, and rumours of conversation reached us every now and again. Pacing the
floorboards, I noticed one had a hole in it big enough to see through, and,
pressing my eye to it, I was pleased to discover that it looked straight down
on to the kitchen table.

There was a map spread there,
so large it spilled over the edges, and the men were gathered around it. I
watched the movement of their heads as they swung around and about, swaying
like the sea with the flow of their talk.

Turning my head and placing my
ear against the gap, I found I could hear some of what was being said, though I
could not make out all the voices. They seemed to be arguing about the journey
ahead.

“…fifty miles at least to the
village of Sorrow. Then another fifty to Harbinger…”

“More…”

“We can re-shoe the horses at
Larrock
, then take the Salt Road through Fairburn. That’ll
take a week at least, but we can cut through the Eastern Downs to just south of
the Meer. From there we would be crossing into the southern reaches of the
Green Cities…”

“There are warlocks on the
Downs, they say. They’ve made their home near Fierce, hard by the River
Claire…”

“I was told they’d long gone…”

“Like the
drooj
we saw at
Upcombe
had ‘long gone’, Fyn…? You have
been wrong before, you know…”

“Not as often as you, Hollis…”

“All right, all right…! That’s
enough. We’ll give the land round Fierce a wide berth, just in case. It’ll cost
us a good few miles, but I suppose that can’t be helped. From there onwards,
though, our original route still stands. We go by the Salt Road, and then the
Sorrowing Way, through Salem Forest.”

Here there was a long pause. I
could hear my breath. Magnus had pushed his face near mine, and I pushed it
away again, and put my finger to my lips. He scowled at me, and sat and sulked,
pulling angrily at the laces on his shoes. Then, from below, one of the other
men spoke. It was Thomas. He had talked little up until now.

“Are you sure about Salem,
Griff
? Watchers have been seen there, and in great number.”

His friend sighed, and I heard
a dull drumming, as someone beat the devil’s tattoo on the table.

“If there were another way,
Captain, I would take it. But
Will
scouted it last
summer…” And here they all stopped at the sudden reminder of their loss. “He
was the best tracker I’ve ever seen. If that is the way he would have us
follow, then that is the way we should go, in my opinion, though he no longer
be here to guide us.”

A pause, and then somebody
coughed, and another stamped his boot on the floor.

“It seems sensible, Tom. We
could go through
Handpool
, and along the paths of the
Froster
folk, but it would add a good week to our
journey. And
Redburn
and the Sweepers is no
straighter. That would leave
Sourburgh
, and the
Western turnpike; but
Sourburgh
is a garrison town,
and there are men there who know Marcus Strange, and know of us; if we are recognized,
we will be hanged as deserters.”

I gasped at this. So there was
no doubt, they
were
soldiers, and Thomas, it seemed, their commander.
But why would they be hanged? From whom, or what, had they deserted?

“All that you say is true, of
course,” said Thomas, after many moments had passed. “And yet I fear the Dark
Forest, and I am no coward. I have seen many things in my time. But the name of
Salem was one to conjure with, even when I was a boy. There is evil there, they
say, unequalled in all the world, save
Glenaster
itself. But we will do as you say, and hope the Watchers have joined their
brethren on the Eastern Downs. Will Bowyer risked his life more than once to
save mine, and his advice was always good; I will not offend him now by
ignoring it. We will take the Sorrowing Way.”

There was another, long pause,
as if the men were digesting what had been said, and all that it meant; and
then they seemed to break up their meeting, for the talk became looser and
louder, and when I put my eye to the floorboards I saw they had moved away from
the table.

As the day wilted into evening,
Thomas came upstairs to bring us food, and sweet, cloudy lemonade. There were
oatcakes and slices of granary bread, apples, and two small pieces of rich
chocolate cake, so thick that it squelched as you pulled it away from the
plate. He sat and watched us eat, and then spoke.

“How are you feeling?”

I did not know how to respond
to this, so I said:

“I’m a bit cold.” Magnus simply
looked at him dumbly, his mouth glued with chocolate cake.

He walked over to a cupboard
set in the wall, and withdrew a couple of blankets, which he put round us.

“We will stay here tonight, and
then leave early tomorrow,” he said. “Our destination is the Green Cities,
beyond the wooded lands of Fairburn, and north of Salem Forest. Have you heard
of them?”

I nodded.

“I have friends there, good
friends, people who can protect you and look after you. My men and I travel on,
further north. We have a duty to perform, an important one, though it should
not take us long. When we have returned, I will take you back to your home in
the south, and find somewhere you can both be safe. And I give you my word, I
will not rest until I discover the fate of your parents. If they are still alive,
I will bring them back to you.” I saw Magnus was searching his face, ever
hopeful; and Thomas nodded at him, the kind of nod one would give an equal,
rather than a child. He got up from the chair where he sat, and seemed
uncertain what to do for a moment. “In the meantime, you are well guarded.” He
gestured to the door. “These men are fully armed, and no strangers to battle. I
will see you safe to the Green Cities; I swear it.” And then he said again, so
soft it was hardly a whisper: “I swear it.” And he bent down and kissed our
foreheads, and his eyes seemed to shiver for a moment with the promise of
tears.

“Now get yourselves ready for
bed,” he said, opening the door. “Tomorrow will be a long day: the first of
many. I’ll get some more wood for the fire.” And he left us, and the door
sighed to a close behind him.

We slept there in the bedroom
that night, and huddled close together for warmth, for despite the fire it was
cold in the room, and the wind blew fierce till the morning. Magnus fidgeted
beside me, sleeping fitfully, and crying out, sometimes for our mother, and
sometimes for me.

Thomas woke us early, as the
first light was bullying its way in from the east, and gave us towels, and led
us across the landing to a small room, where a bathtub had been filled with
warm water, the window above it misted with steam.

“Now have a good wash, both of
you, and get dressed. There may not be much chance of a good bath for a while
after this morning. I will meet you downstairs when you are ready: but do not
take long. Your belongings have already been put into the waggon.” And he left
us.

I washed my brother, and then
myself, and we did not need much encouragement to hurry, for though the bath
was warm, the room was not, and we were glad to get dry and into our clothes.
Magnus shivered, his bright hair sticking up
allwaywards
from his head after I had dried it, and his eyes gazing loosely into space. I
grabbed his hand, and we went downstairs.

The house, and the mews
outside, were busy with people and animals, and Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
But then Samuel Hollis, who sat rubbing his eyes at the table, told us he had
gone into the city to fetch some more supplies, and would return soon. He had
said we were to wait for him, and eat some breakfast.

The woman from the previous
night was still there, and as before she did not speak, but sang to herself as
she prepared us porridge in neat wooden bowls, and then a plate of scrambled
eggs and hot buttered toast. The porridge was thick with salt and cream, and we
hardly needed the eggs as well; but mindful of Thomas’s warning that we had a
long journey ahead, we ate them anyway, Magnus dipping the toast in them, and
flecking his coat with yellow.

“Sticks to your ribs,” said
Samuel with a wink, as he polished off his own breakfast, before wandering into
the yard for a cigar.

Thomas came in a good half an
hour later, and, on seeing us, said:

“Good. You’re all ready.” He
put a large, heavy-looking bag down on the table, and turned to Samuel,
standing sentry by the door. “We’ll be leaving at eight. Nice and quiet out of
the city gates. The waggon’s all pulled up at the back. Has Lukas gone to the
smithy?”

The other man nodded.

“Swords needed sharpening. Some
of the knives, too. And Joseph’s horse cast a shoe this morning, so he’s taken
her in.” Samuel pulled his coat closer about him. “Cold this morning.”

Thomas looked out at the city’s
skyline, now silhouetted sharply against the blossom of the morning sun. The
Bridge of
Socus
was a faint, grey line across the
heavens, slowly coming into view as the day grew in strength.

“It will get colder.” And the
two men exchanged the briefest of glances, before Thomas turned back to look at
me and my brother, who was yawning theatrically.

“I know you’re tired. You can
get plenty of sleep on the journey. I wish I had better to offer you. I know
you wanted to see the emperor.”

Magnus looked at me, obviously
expecting me to say something. I felt a sharp pricking in my nose, and behind
my eyes.

“You have already done more
than enough, sir,” I said. “I do not think we would have survived long without
you.” Thomas smiled at this, a broad grin that split his face.

“No, I’m sure you would have
found a way, Esther Lanark,” he said. “You’re braver than many others your age,
and many much older, too. You too, Master Lanark.” And he smiled again, and
went outside.

It was a little after eight
that we set out, the seven of us, past the Dragon’s Head, and out into the
streets of the city’s northern suburbs, towards the Barrow Bridge, that crosses
the Fern, and from there leads to the rich fields of
Fernshire
,
below the hills of Thyme, and, beyond, the wooded valleys of Fairburn. The
waggon Thomas had spoken of was large, and covered by a canvas roof stretched
across a hooped frame of six bows, evenly spaced. Inside, there were bags and
supplies, and rugs for sleeping; and it was underneath one of these that Magnus
and I crouched, building a nest for ourselves near the front, just behind the
perch where Joseph and Samuel sat, driving the two horses that pulled us along.

Around about, and on either
side of us, the others rode their own mounts: Lukas up ahead, Griffin on one
side and Fyn on the other, and Thomas at the rear. In this way the waggon was
guarded at each corner, and we felt, for a while, very safe and cosy, as if we
were royalty travelling through the capital, rather than two orphaned children.

For the first mile or so the
journey went well, Joseph remarking that we would soon be at the river. But
then, as we moved slowly towards the narrow pass that approaches the bridge, we
came to a stop, as did all the carriages and horses and people round about us.
For away to the east, and shouldering the bend of the August Road that leads up
to the embankment of the river, sounded the trumpets and hooves of the
emperor’s procession.

I heard Thomas ride up behind,
to speak to Griffin, and the men sounded tense, their horses pawing the earth.
Samuel looked to see we were all right, and gave us a tight smile; but I could
tell he was nervous too, and the silence outside, broken only by the approach
of the emperor and his retinue, felt heavy and unwelcome.

“God save His Majesty!” shouted
a woman, and then another: “May His days be long and blessed!” A few cheered,
and there were cries of “Hooray!” and “Long live the emperor!” But all of this
sounded to my ears like so much empty thunder. We would have to wait for the
emperor to pass.

“We could be here all day…”
muttered Fyn, though no one replied. I had heard that, in the capital, a man
had to be careful what he said about His Majesty Emperor Marcus
Dulthummon
III, for the crows carried him his messages, and
the smallest ants whispered the most precious of secrets into his ears.

The time dragged like a knife,
and Magnus and I put our faces up to the back of the waggon, where we peeped
carefully through the narrow space where the canvas had been tied taut.

We had come to rest at such an
angle that we could see the procession approaching, about a hundred yards down
the street. Trumpeters in richly brocaded tunics were at the front, marching in
rhythm, their instruments held tightly against their chests, and flashing like
fire as they caught the glare of the new day’s sun. Behind them came a whole
company of soldiers, perhaps an entire regiment: row upon row of guardsmen,
their uniforms crisp as frosted leaves, their buckles so highly polished they
hurt your eyes, and their pikes carried high on their shoulders, sweeping up
into the air, a whole sea of them, rolling and swaying as the men advanced.

Behind them came the emperor’s
own party: a vast carriage, big as a house, encrusted with gold and set on a
high frame, so that it reared up over the heads of the crowd. There were great
red-and-white plumes sailing from its roof, and from the heads of the horses
that pulled it, and, on either side, mounted cavalrymen, flanking the enormous,
gold-painted wheels, whose movement sent a tremble through the earth as they
rolled. Footmen in red-and-gold livery stood along the carriage’s
running-board, clinging on with faces grimly set, and as they made their slow progress
towards us, I saw there were men and women, dressed in harlequin costumes,
flinging confetti from small porcelain bowls, so that it showered hopefully
down upon the emperor and his people, before quickly turning into a mucky
morass under the horses’ feet.

Courtiers in black gowns, and
wigs so heavy I thought their heads might drop off, kept pace, just behind the
carriage, and some beat an angry tempo as they walked, stunning the ground with
silver-topped canes, their noses held aloft as if avoiding a bad smell. Perhaps
they were: there were enough horses about. Still, the crowd whooped and cheered
as if their lives depended on it – which maybe they did – and even the sight of
a children’s choir, hymning the emperor’s praises and dressed in uniforms that
looked about three centuries out of date, could not break the spell:

Our emperor is our Guiding
Hand!

He brings us peace throughout
the land;

His rule is fair, his laws are
just:

In him all peoples place their
trust…

I, for one, could not help
laughing: a ticklish giggle that started in the back of my throat, and spread
to my belly, till I shook with the effort, and had to retreat back into the
waggon to hide my face. I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever
seen.

Suddenly there was a gasp, near
at hand, and climbing back to the rear of the waggon I saw, behind the imperial
carriage, a group of black-covered heads, bobbing silently in motion, the
elation of the crowd evaporating like steam: mothers pulling their children
closer, men averting their gaze, a sorrowful hush rippling out across the
people gathered there, as they recognized who it was.

The
Shadowfighters
.

They were clad in cloaks of
black and grey, swept over their shoulders and held in place by bronze clasps.
Their faces were nearly all covered by short hoods, beneath which they wore
scarves about their noses and mouths, so that only their eyes could be seen;
and these were dark with menace. Even from where I sat, I could see the air
around them shift and change, filling with an invisible charge, a familiar
challenge, and I knew it for what it was.

Fear.

It was all around now, men and
animals swallowed by it, the houses and squares about us hollowed out by it.
Some said the emperor’s
Shadowfighters
were
drooj
; others that they were ghosts, phantoms
conjured by the imperial magi. Braver folk insisted they were only men, and
that their fearsome reputation was undeserved. But still, no one dared say any
of these things to their faces.

They trooped past without a
word, as if we were not there, and children cried with relief when they had
gone. Bringing up the rear of the column were more of them on horseback, and
the beasts they rode snorted their contempt. Gradually they moved out of sight,
till they were only a rumour, following the rest of the long procession across
the Barrow Bridge, and through the northern outskirts of the city.

I heard Thomas speaking to
Griffin.

“They’ll be going to the Storm
House.”

“The emperor will be holding
court there for the rest of the month, then. They say there have been riots in
some of the outer districts: people refusing to pay their taxes.”

“Is it any wonder, when the
taxes are so harsh? And so much of the money is wasted?”

Griffin nodded.

“They would be less harsh if
the rich men who set them actually paid their share. Anyway, they say he is a
desperate man now. No heir, and no prospect of one. And he fears the Witch.”

“In that he is not alone. But
his greatest enemies probably lie closer to home.”

“The
Shadowfighters
…?”

“And others…”

“You know he has promised his
throne to whoever kills the Witch?” said Griffin. My skin prickled when I heard
this; I remembered the talk of the men in my village. “Messengers have been
sent to every corner of the realm.”

Thomas did not reply at first,
but then said, quietly:

“I do not care for the
emperor’s good favour. I want only justice.”

There was a pause, and then
Griffin laughed.

“For a moment there, I almost
believed you…!” And Thomas laughed also; but there was a hollow ring to it.

With the emperor and his train
departed, the noise and clamour of the embankment gradually returned, and,
after a short while, I felt the waggon begin to move, and Magnus and I settled
back down near the front.

We crossed over the Barrow
Bridge, the Fern swimming lazily beneath us; and our progress was slow, as the
bridge in those days was full of houses and shops, and the road between them
was narrow. Eventually, though, we arrived on the other side, and were picking
our way through the streets north of the river, the cobbles and dirt grumbling
beneath the wheels of the waggon, and Samuel whistling a half-remembered tune
as we drove along. The guards at the North Gate were nervous and unfriendly,
and they peered into the waggon with lazy curiosity; but they had more
important things to worry about, and waved us through without further incident.
We made our way through Jericho, the Town
Outside
the
Wall, and, after another mile, the streets became villages, and the villages
hamlets, and the hamlets fields, and the city disappeared. We struck off
northward, along a quiet lane, leaving the aimless busyness of men behind.