Chapter 10
Miralda
A raging torrent echoed between dark cliffs, drowning out the steady beat of a drum. On one side, a line of frightened people struggled up the narrow path that clung to the sheer rock. They carried their meagre possessions with them. The women had small children on their backs. The bigger children carried baskets and the men had swords.
They were the mountain people. In way of life and appearance they were totally different from the lowland tribes. The men wore rawhide breeches and cloaks. Their faces were plucked clean and heavily tattooed. The little hair that remained on their heads was layered with lime and stuck up like a horse's main. The women's hair was greased and tied in long plaits. Their garments were of coarsely spun wool. Images of the mother goddess hung about their necks.
At a point where the gorge narrowed, a tree had been felled to form a bridge. They reached it and began to cross. Women and children struggled along the trunk. Others climbed into the gorge and tried to jump from boulder to boulder. Many fell and were swept away.
Back down the track, three wild-eyed women stood on a jutting rock, screaming curses. Below them a group of men had stripped naked. They were chewing dried toadstools and rubbing themselves with the juice of mistletoe.
The tattoos, which covered their faces, extended over their entire bodies: great swirls of line and colour which mingled with their body parts. They looked like creatures from another world. As the drumbeat quickened they left their station and took up a blocking position on the track below.
A shining metal object advanced along the track towards them. The naked men saw it through the trees and began to chant. A deep resonant hum flowed from their lips: more like the wind than words.
The shining object took shape. A golden disc on a black pole. It had a smiling face and the man carrying it was on horseback. Heavily armed soldiers marched in front and behind, dressed in grey and carrying shields.
One of the naked men pranced forward screaming defiance. The soldiers in grey remained stony faced. Only the standard bearer's expression changed. He stared down contemptuously from his mount and leered at the advancing savage.
The man hurled himself forward, slashing the air with his sword. A shield shot out and he struck it. The blade buckled and a short sword stabbed his naked belly. He collapsed and the advancing column marched over him.
Two more naked men met the same fate. Their companions retreated to the fallen tree and tried to push it into the gorge. A hail of arrows cut them down.
The soldiers reached the tree. The first was hit by a rock but the rest got across. They locked shields and sheltered from the missiles. More were hit but the outcome was never in doubt. As soon as enough men had been assembled, they broke ranks and dashed up the slope. The warriors were swiftly overwhelmed. The women and children struggled on and were soon captured.
***
The early morning light streamed through the trees and shone on the brambles. Dying wasps crawled amongst the clusters of blackberries and fought to get a hold on the trailing vines. Alison watched the struggling insects then returned her attention to Fury who was making his way through the wet grass.
It still seemed like a dream. She remembered how they had left the village and travelled along a narrow track that led to a thickly wooded valley. After that her memory was patchy. She remembered the moonlight on Fury's hair. She remembered crossing a stream ... and she remembered the bear.
The huge animal had loomed up causing the horse to shy. For a few terrifying moments it seemed that it would attack. But Fury knew how to handle the situation. Remaining calm, he took a small earthenware pot from one of the saddlebags and walked towards the huge animal, calling it brother. Then he poured the contents of the pot onto the ground and watched as the bear licked up the sticky liquid.
He was everything she'd ever dreamed of. When they had consummated their love, he'd not disappointed her. He'd been tender and gentle. There was nothing pushy or macho about him. There were occasions when she'd almost had to guide him.
Now, in the light of day, the warm glow, which had sustained her during the night, lost much of its force. She felt cold, damp and very tired. She pulled the hood of her cloak down about her head and waited for Fury to return.
He'd told her they'd committed a great sin to be together. They had transgressed the sacred pathways, which led between their two realms. They now had a burden to carry. She had it beneath her cloak. It was wrapped in red cloth and was the shape of a rugby ball. She didn't know what was inside. All she knew was that they had to deliver it to an old woman who lived in the marshes. They would then be free of sin and able to live together for the rest of their lives.
***
Tom picked up his brooch of office. It was made of silver and inlaid with gold. The motif was a double-headed eagle holding a shield in its talons. The smiths had worked all night to produce the magnificent object and he was proud of the honour bestowed on him.
He had a set of new clothes, fashioned from the finest cloth and put together by the queen's own seamstress. He swept his cloak about his shoulders and fastened it with the brooch. While its main emblem was an eagle, a ring of skulls around the border identified him as the new Head Master of the Catti.
The office was of a mainly ceremonial nature. The queen had been at pains to explain that his real role was to act as adviser to the council of chieftains on military matters, drawing on his experience in his former realm.
He left his room in the royal apartments and headed for the council chamber. The Chariot Master was waiting for him on the steps, ready to introduce him to the clan chieftains. A dozen or so flamboyantly dressed individuals returned his salute when he entered and stared at him suspiciously.
Their coolness contrasted with the enthusiastic reception he received from the ordinary people. Tom guessed that they felt threatened by him. He looked from one heavily moustached personage to another and decided to adopt a low posture. A dimly lit corner beckoned. He retreated into it, forced his huge bulk onto a narrow bench and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.
A girl of the guard thumped her spear on the flagstones. The chieftains rose and the queen hobbled in. The old woman looked more pained than usual. She bade them return to their seats and announced the convening of a war council. Holding her head high, she gave a summary of events: starting with Morgon's appointment as War Master of Gorm and ending with the Augury Master's prediction that Morgon was planning a major offensive against her people.
From the looks on the chieftains' faces, Tom concluded that most believed the information came from intelligence operations and had nothing to do with sticking swords into criminals and watching their death throes.
She turned to Tom.
'For the benefit of our new Head Master, I must explain that Morgon is an officer in the Imperial army. He is commander of the thirteenth legion. He is a southerner whose real name is Morgio DeBolino.'
Tom rose and bowed.
'I believe, Majesty, that I met some of Morgon's men when I visited the sanctuary of the Duideth. I killed two before I was able to make my escape, using the Grand Master to protect my rear.'
A chuckle spread through the chamber and Tom felt he had done something to make himself more acceptable to the chieftains. The old woman nodded in his direction.
'Aye. Morgon has men stationed in the sanctuary. They're there to protect the priests.'
Tom sat back. The present company intrigued him. He'd developed various theories about the warrior societies of his old realm. He guessed that, at one stage, social status was fluid. A certain sort of young man became a warrior just like a certain sort of young man joined football teams or bikie gangs. Success depended on the individual. That was why you had so many ancient sagas about heroes and monumental punch-ups. His new realm wasn't like that. An aristocratic class had developed.
The clan chieftains rode chariots into battle and flaunted their lineage. One after the other, they rose to express an opinion, reciting their ancestors. It wasn't sufficient to say you were Cronin son of Maldur. You had to go on and on saying who your grandfather was and his father before him. It was the sort of pompous behaviour Tom had met before. His new realm seemed so appealing at first. He was beginning to have doubts.
***
Alison hid in the tall reeds at the edge of the marsh and waited. Fury had gone to find his sister, Adrina, who had arranged to meet them with a boat. It was a long wait and she grew anxious. She was in a strange land amongst strange people and felt vulnerable without Fury. If he didn't come back, her position would be desperate.
Marsh birds flew overhead and fish rose to take insects on the surface of the water. It looked a very rich place: one where villagers could hunt and cast their nets. Fury said it had been like that but these were troubled times. The marsh was now a place where outlaws went to escape justice. His mother's people used to hunt them down but their forces were now directed at a more dangerous enemy. They were at war with a neighbouring tribe and didn't have time to chase criminals.
The sound of a paddle put her nerves on edge. Fury had told her to keep in hiding until she was certain who was coming. He said the outlaws were rapists and murderers and would do awful things to her. She kept her head down and peered through the reeds into a narrow channel. A shape appeared. At first she thought it was part of a large vessel. Then she saw it was a coracle. Fury was paddling and he had a girl with him.
She wasn't as Alison expected. Fury had spoken of his sister as some sort of fierce amazon. The young woman beside him wasn't armed. Her skin was pale. She wore an embroidered dress and her jet-black hair hung lazily about her shoulders. She looked like a rich girl on a picnic, not a warrior on a dangerous mission.
Alison took an immediate dislike to Adrina. She knew her sort instinctively. Adrina was the kind of girl who grew up quickly and made other girls feel inferior. She was the sort who went out with older guys in smart cars ... or whatever they had in this realm.
The coracle reached shore and Fury held it steady while Alison clambered on board. She expected his sister to greet her. Instead, the dark-eyed girl sat back and examined her in silence. When at last she spoke, it wasn't to ask about her health or where she came from. Adrina's sole concern was for the bundle of red cloth that Alison carried beneath her cloak. She wanted to know if it was safe ... had it been kept dry?
They entered a channel. Alison sat opposite Adrina and nursed the red bundle. Fury paddled quietly. No one spoke. Alison sensed a strong feeling of animosity. Fury was the older of the two siblings but not much older. In manner and appearance they were totally different. Fury was mild and gentle. Adrina was arrogant and overbearing. His face was windswept. Hers was smooth and she used make-up to enhance her already striking features.
The reeds slipped by and Alison tried to relax. Her mind turned to Tom. Her mother thought he was trying to seduce her. Nothing could be further from the truth. Tom was twice her age. He was like a big bother to her. He'd never made any sexual advances. She'd gone to him for advice. Now Tom was somewhere else and she'd have to face the challenges of her new world without him.
'Look out.'
A shout jolted Alison from her thoughts.
'Get away from it.'
Adrina yelled and Alison wondered what all the fuss was about. An animal with tusks and flippers was lying on a mud bank a short distance ahead. The current carried them towards it then took them away. Everything was going smoothly. The animal didn't look threatening.
'You should look where you're going.'
Adrina yelled at her brother.
'That monster could have killed us.'
'Nay,' Fury shook his head. 'Brother Walrus knows we come in peace.'
'Oh, does he ... Little Bear?'
Adrina spat out Fury's totem name.
Alison thought it was beautiful. Adrina said it with contempt. Alison saw the image of the goddess that Adrina wore about her neck and guessed she followed a different religion. Religious strife was nothing new to Alison. Some of the worse conflicts in her former realm were based on religion. The realisation that everything was not perfect in her new realm came as a shock.
Alison slipped her hand over the side of the coracle and tasted brine. She guessed the marsh was tidal. That made sense. The landscape of her new realm was similar to that of her old. In the language of her old realm, they had entered the marshes near Gloucester and were travelling downstream towards the Severn estuary. Alison remembered that the ancient name for the Severn was Sabrina, which was one of the many names of the mother goddess.
The tide had turned and was flowing out to sea. Fury left the marsh and took the coracle into open water to take advantage of the current. The small craft was thrown around in the swiftly flowing water. Alison felt exhilarated. Adrina looked frightened. Her face was ashen and the kohl around her eyes had begun to smudge. Alison no longer felt inferior to her. Adrina could put on superior airs but she couldn't cope in a situation like this.
Towards dusk, the tide slackened and waves came up the estuary. Fury said something about Brother Ocean. Earlier, when he'd talked about Brother Wind, Adrina had accused him of being an ignorant savage. Now, she was in no fit state to mock him. Her hand was over her mouth and she looked as if she was about to puke.
Alison didn't feel seasick. She had spent many hours in a small boat with her father and Tom. Both had been in the army. They said small boats were the best way to explore. Alison had been in waters like this and knew what to expect. The surface could be calm one moment and violent the next. There was nothing to worry about. Fury had everything under control.
Nothing flustered him. He kept going as waves splashed around. He said their destination was a small island and a message had been sent ahead by drum. Alison had heard the drums. The sound was part of life in her new realm. They spoke to one another like phones did in her old realm.
She squinted into the setting sun and saw a mud bank beside a clump of trees. A figure was visible in the fading light. No more than a vague shape at first, it took form and Alison saw an old woman. She trudged out and threw a rope to them. Fury grabbed the end and pulled the coracle to shore.
The old woman reached out a bony hand.
'You will be Little Cat.'
To Alison, she looked timeless rather than old.
'Little Cat is the name I use here,' she replied.
'Then it is the name I shall use.'
She led her onto dry land. A fire burned beside a small hut and a cauldron hung above it. Alison sat down on a stool and adjusted her cloak.
'What name shall I call you by?'
'I have many names,' the old woman said. 'Some people call me The Witch. Some say I'm The Enlightened One. Others call me Balduur's Daughter. I like to be known by the name my mother gave me when I suckled at her breast ... I like to be called Miralda.'
She bent over and examined Alison closely.
'You made a strange journey, Little Cat.'
'I made the journey between realms.'
'Aye,' the old woman nodded. 'You found a chink in the door and slipped through.'
'Fury says we committed a great sin.'
'In what way?'
'I shouldn't be here in this realm. The path was opened for my friend. I shouldn't have come with him.'
'Miralda laughed. 'You slipped through when no one was looking. It might have been foolish but it was not sinful. A lot of young people do foolish things for love.'
'Fury says we must carry a burden.'
'Aye. That is how the world works. If you make a mistake you have to live with it and overcome it.'
Alison reached inside her cloak and removed the bundle. She folded the red cloth neatly into place and handed it to Miralda.
'Fury says this is the burden.'
The old woman took the bundle and placed it in a sealskin bag. Alison watched expectantly.
'Fury says that when I have given it to you, we shall be free of sin and can live together for the rest of our lives.'
Miralda added some water to the cauldron and stirred it thoughtfully. 'It is not the burden but the bearing of the burden that counts, Little Cat. So far you have borne it for just a short time.'
'I don't understand.'
'You will,' she put down her spoon. 'In time you will come to understand. And, when you do, you will be able to set down your burden. Until then three precious destinies are entwined ... those of Balduur, yourself and our dear brother Fury.'
'Who is Balduur?'
'He is my dear father,' Miralda said softly.
She would have said more but Adrina pushed herself into their company. Fury's sister had overcome seasickness and was her old confident self again. For a moment, Alison was overawed by her. Adrina had combed her hair and applied fresh make-up. Then Alison remembered that, underneath, she was still the frightened girl who had hung onto the sides of the coracle and screamed when she saw a walrus.
Miralda ignored her.
'Are you hungry, Little Cat?'
Alison said she'd not eaten anything warm that day.'
Miralda reached for a wooden bowl. 'Then you must try some of this gruel.' She ladled a portion for Alison and filled the other bowls. There was an air of solemnity about the proceedings. Miralda looked from face to face and settled on Fury.
'Brother, you are of the bear totem. Our new sister is of the cat totem and Adrina does not have a totem. Since I am of the owl totem we may proceed, there being neither bear, cat nor owl in this gruel ... only brother rabbit.'
It seemed to Alison an odd rule. She could eat Peter Rabbit but not Felix the Cat. She spooned up the gruel, pleased she had not claimed affinities with any of the ingredients. As its warmth took hold, she began to recapture some of the magic she'd felt when she first arrived in her new realm.
Miralda recalled how, when she was a girl, her father, Balduur of Gorm, was killed in battle by Adrina's grandfather. She and her brother, Pius, fled into the wild country to the west. There they had lived amongst the mountain people, who were the descendants of the original inhabitants of the land.
'People in these parts call them savages,' Miralda said. 'Yet they are the custodians of ancient knowledge. They know that all things are sacred. They know about the sacred pathways between the realms. They know that all things are blessed by a soul light, whether they be animal or plant, mountain or stream.'
Suddenly, Adrina burst into life.
'By the Great Poof's Arse. Do you really think those painted savages can teach us anything?'
Miralda stared back over the flames.
'You should learn to be humble, my child. I was once arrogant like you. I thought the mountain people were little better than wild beasts. Then, at the Battle of Baddon Marsh, your grandfather cut the head from my father's living body and that one stroke changed my life. One day I was a rich princess with fine clothes and a bodyguard of handsome young men ... the next I was a fugitive.'
Adrina's dark eyes flashed.
'Are you saying I've had an easy life?..Have you ever stopped to think what it is like to live in Brother Pius' household?..He might be a good and saintly man but he does not rule. He is king only in name. When I go to bed at night I need my bodyguard of handsome young men. Do you think I shut my eyes, secure in the knowledge I shall ever open them again?'