Thimblewinter (14 page)

That night I dreamed again; a fever dream of faces, voices calling. I could not distinguish one from the other, Richards or Joshua, the pitiless boys and girls of the gang that Nes had saved me from, all of them whirled around inside my head like ashes floating up from a fire; there one moment then gone on the breeze. But then another more insistent voice sounded and someone was shaking me, followed by a hand clamped over my mouth. I struggled against it, as it stifled me, but I then caught that scent on it, that forest smell of leaf-mould and wild garlic and knew who it was.

The bright, but somehow feral, eyes of Rowena looked down at me. I had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the fire in the living room again and there was no sign of Cal or Rachel. The door had been latched, but somehow Rowena had got in. At first I was unsure what she intended, as she fixed me with a look so blank I could read nothing in it.

“You’re hard to wake,” she said. “Come with me, I need your help.”

She wasn’t asking, more stating a fact.

“Wrap up warm,” she said, “and take that.” She nodded down at the automatic that Nes had left me. I did what she said, though I was of a mind to shout out or scream even, so that someone would come running. But truth be told, I was somewhat flattered and pleased to be called on by her in such a way.

When I got out into the atrocious weather, I felt more sober and my spirit nearly failed me, but she pushed me on, insistent and none too gentle with it.

“I need your help,” she repeated, “so I’m relying on you to be a big girl and shut up and come with me.”

I was somewhat taken aback by being referred to as a big girl, but I did as she asked, for though she fascinated me, she also scared me.

We passed by one of the watch fires, where a small group of men were talking in low voices, huddled together around a fire against the snow, which fell heavily now, the flakes hissing as they met the flame. One of them was Dai.

“Corporal,” Rowena said, the soldier giving her a quizzical look, which had an edge of contempt in it, “there’s a gap in the wall guard.”

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying, but then he acted.

“Two of you with me,” he said, “the rest of you back to your posts.”

“Lead on,” he said to Rowena and she took us down an alley to a quieter section of the wall on the south side away from the main gate and most of the fighting.

“What happened to the guards?” Dai asked.

“They went over the wall,” Rowena answered, not really explaining herself.

Then she turned to me.

“Come on,” she said motioning me towards the ditch, where I could see that someone had laid some planking over the sharpened stakes that had been placed there.

“Out there?” I said, my voice sounding weak and small as it came out.

“There’s been something going on, some strange stuff that the Constable doesn’t know about and I mean to find out. I need you for that.”

She was behind me and insistent, so I climbed the fence, though my legs shook and every flurry of snow seemed to contain its own little terror.

“I’ll be back,” she said to Dai. “I’ll be coming back this way, so don’t shoot me.”

The Corporal smiled: “What’s the password?”

“Just watch for me,” the woman answered.

It was the old railway line she was looking for and she needed me to guide her to it. The railway had run from the pit head and down the valley, paralleling the road in a deep cutting that had originally been made by hollowing out an existing stream bed. The railway cutting was so overgrown now, that it was hard for even an experienced scout like her to find, without spending time she didn’t have. So that’s why she had come for me.

For some reason she was fixed on getting to the old mine heading and the railway line was a direct and covered way, reasonably safe unless the blood tribe had put sentries down there somewhere. She told me this in snatches of conversation, pausing often to listen and look around. It was dark though, and so much snow was swirling that there was nothing to be seen and every noise was deadened. I struck out south west in a circuitous route to cut the line, mindful of the fact that we were more likely to run into their pickets if we took a direct route.

It didn’t take me long, knowing the land as I did. I fixed on the old, blasted oak tree, that had once been lightning struck, on the ridge ahead of us and led us past it down a slope into the cutting. The ground was so slippery that we did the last few yards on our rear ends.

“You can stay here until I come back,” Rowena said, but I declined the offer. I would not take the chance that she wouldn’t return and I was fearful of staying alone in the dark.

The cutting was like a tunnel, so hedged in by trees that even in broad daylight it was dark, and on a night like this, with the snow falling that heavily, there was no residue of light. I could feel the panic welling up in me, as we stood at the bottom of the cut, dark as the depths of the ocean. And Rowena must have felt it too, as she took a hold on one of my arms and shook me, whispering at me to calm myself. This sobered me, as I knew that Rowena was capable of sterner measures and was probably inclined towards slapping me calmer. So I quieted myself, as best as I could, and tried to ignore the fact that I was shaking with fear.

She seemed like a cat in the darkness, unperturbed by it. I thought she had keener eyes than me, but soon realised that she was feeling her way along, using her ears more than her eyes to get by. We took what seemed like an age. The track that had been laid here, was either long overgrown or had been torn up, but there was still a way of sorts. Water coursed through the place in the winter and spring, turning the cutting back into the stream it once was, though it was dry tonight, excepting of course the dampness of the snow underfoot. The flow of water had scoured out a track that we followed.

Ordinarily, the cutting held some fascination for me; it was like a secret way that no-one, except the children, used. It did not really lead anywhere and was a relic of time gone by and, for all the effort that people had taken to build it, had no use or relevance to anyone anymore. The banks had become undermined in places and the skeletal remains of walls and other brickwork could be seen, shoring up the earth and leading up the slopes, their original purpose a mystery.

The enemy had set a guard, where the cutting widened out as it approached the mine head and the old loading yard. There was a derelict brick building here, just to our left side, and above this, where the side of the cut rose up to a small hill, the brotherhood had built a sentry post, where a fire was burning to keep the guards warm.

Rowena paid it no heed, just giving a low sigh of contempt. There was no way they would have seen us, even if they had been looking in our direction, but, as it was, they were too intent on their fire to keep a good watch.

The loading yard itself was a mass of obstacles and a maze of paths and alleys. The carcasses of rotting wagons were all around and piles of brick and other debris. Anything really that hadn’t or couldn’t be salvaged, had been left here. There was more light now though, as a large bonfire had been built over by the pithead buildings and we could hear voices from that direction, that sort of crowd murmur you get when people are assembled in any number.

At this, I hung back, but Rowena was on her way forward, so I followed. My clothes were sodden now from the snow and I was beginning to feel very chilled; a bad sign I knew. The automatic in my pocket seemed too heavy, as if it was an anchor pulling me down.

As she moved forward Rowena seemed reckless to me; I followed her by inches, keeping myself as hidden as I could. But I could then see why the woman was being so rash; there were many other figures standing around the yard, clinging to what shelter they could, and nobody took much notice of two extra shadows.

All eyes were fixed on the old mine-head, where once the shaft had been capped by the wheel and the other gear that raised and lowered the cage the miners went down in and the coal came out. There were still old people in our village who remembered those times, so it was no mystery to me, though I wondered what they did in those days with such a vast amount of coal that was carried down from all these valleys.

The mine-shaft was open now; the cage had gone, its parts having been borne away, or fallen into the pit itself. The space around the shaft was still partially roofed in, though open to us on this side, so we could see the crowd that had gathered around the dark mouth of the hole and I recognised Great Coat standing a little apart from the rest. Rowena had spotted him too and, at that, she finally stopped and we crouched down in the shadows of a ruined building to watch the scene before us.

Great Coat was standing between the bonfire and the shaft and, with the flicker of both shadow and flame playing over the people gathered there, it was hard to see what was going on. At first it brought to my mind some sort of religious gathering, him as the preacher with his congregation; literally a captive audience, for I could see that some of them were under guard.

This little group stood huddled together in the open, like a flock of errant sheep, guarded by some of the blood tribe’s soldiers and watched from the shadows of the mine buildings by an audience of people, many of them men, but also some women and children. Great Coat was speaking again, his voice rising up with the cinders and embers which rose from the fire before him.

Rowena was shaking her head and I knew what she was thinking, that the man had an inordinate affection for his own voice. His congregation, though, seemed curiously disengaged; all, that is, except the captives who, like the sheep they resembled, seemed restless and unsure, but loath to break out of the circle of their fellows.

I was scanning this little group, watching the vagrant light playing on the upturned faces, when I suddenly realised the truth of the matter. I let out a gasp, which seemed loud to me - loud enough anyway to draw Rowena’s attention - but not loud enough to betray us. As the woman glared at me, my heart raced as I recognised the prisoners for who they were. They were our people. I could see Edgar among them and Cyril and some of the other men. And with them standing a little off to the side were the two brothers, the sailors.

I looked hard at Rowena. She didn’t seem in the least surprised, though her face was always difficult to read as she gave no hint of her feelings. She motioned for me to stay put and slipped off forward into the shadows. I was, anyway, rooted to the spot; a sour, metallic taste of fear in my mouth and a feeling of dizziness welling up in me, threatening to overwhelm me and send me into a faint. I fought it and watched the events unfolding in front of me.

I could not hear all of Great Coat’s words, but I caught something about him being disappointed and then he raised his voice as if he was angry and said something about treachery. Next thing, two of his men were dragging forward the ex-mayor of Pont-y-Brenin, he who had addressed us the day before from outside the walls. The man looked even more dishevelled and forlorn than he had looked the previous day. His skin was grey, matching his hair and he couldn’t walk, whether through fear or injury I couldn’t tell.

They dragged him before Great Coat and then there was a brief moment of silence, in which I could hear the mayor groaning or sobbing in an almost animal way. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not what came next. They took the man up again, this time picking him up by legs and arms and bore him past Great Coat. Now, he suddenly became alive and started to struggle, but just as he had this last rush of vigour, it was too late, and the two guards pitched him like a sack of turnips into the shaft. He let out a cry that should not have issued from a human mouth as he fell, like that of a dying animal.

The guards looked unperturbed and stepped back from the edge, just as the other guards closed in on the captives and started to drag the two brothers forward. Great Coat was now saying something about “those who bear arms against us”, but the two men, younger and stronger than the mayor, were not going quietly. The older brother fought like a wild beast, but they bludgeoned him quiet and then rolled him into the shaft, letting his brother watch. He, in turn, gave out a scream so chilling, it stopped everyone in their tracks for a moment.

And before this moment had passed, the bonfire exploded, shooting flames out all around, followed by billows of black smoke. There was the sound of screaming and I could see lots of little fires burning away, where the flames had licked at the debris lying around. Suddenly, Rowena was back and pulling me upwards, running towards the cutting. Most of the captives were running too, but in all directions, though some still stayed huddled there on the ground, either too frightened to move or injured by the blast.

As we ran towards the cutting, the guards on the hill above the slope starting firing, but they had so many targets and were so inaccurate, it gave us little cause for concern. This time the tunnel wasn’t so dark, the fire was lighting up the sky. And by the light of the flames, I could see the sheer joy on Rowena’s face, which didn’t hearten me, but scared me. 

We ran as fast as we could in the cutting, but even with more light it was still treacherous underfoot and soon Rowena pulled me off to the side, where the bank had been undercut and formed a low cave, and clapped her hand over my mouth. She had heard sounds of pursuit. I forced her hand away from my face, as it was none too clean, and though she glared at me, I glared back. She had a sawn-off shotgun in her hands, better than a bow at close quarters in the dark and I disentangled the automatic from my clothes and fumbled with cold fingers to turn the safety off and cock it.