Company of Liars (63 page)

I've spun many stories in my time for food and for shelter, but never before for our lives. There was silence in the inn as I finished my tale.

‘So you see, she has destroyed many villages just like yours. If you don't act now, then she'll destroy you too. The others in my company are under her spell and I'm an old man. I can't act alone, but I can help you deal with her.’

Finally, the eel-man spoke. ‘Camelot's right about the girl. You all know I've not caught a thing since she gave me the evil eye, and my little'un fell and broke her leg in that very hour she looked at me. With that hair of hers she could whip up such a storm as to destroy all the villages on this coast. I remember my father telling of the great storm fifty years back that took whole villages. Not a soul left alive. Cottages, churches, fields, all still out there under the sea. That witch'll destroy us all if we give her half a chance. We've got to get rid of her.’

‘That's all very well,’ said the innkeeper's wife, ‘but if she's as powerful as you say, how are we to do that?’

All eyes turned expectantly to me.

I'd had plenty of time to think this through during my long walk. ‘Tonight, after dark, come by boat to the spur. I'll make sure my companions are asleep, the child too. You seize her, cover her head and tie her up, so she can't look at you. But you must stuff your ears before you reach the spur. She can conjure up sounds that can make you run mad. Whatever you think you hear – wolves, swans, a storm – take no notice. They're just sounds and can't hurt you, but don't unplug your ears till her hands are tightly bound. She uses her hands for the Sending.’

They nodded.

‘Wax ought to do it,’ the eel-man said. ‘That'll stop our ears, but what do we do with her when we've taken her?’

I hesitated. I wanted to say, just lock her up, keep her away from us, until I've got Rodrigo and the others so far away she can never find us. But I knew that would not be enough to protect us.

The blacksmith shifted his massive backside on the bench. ‘Seems plain enough to me: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”. Can't see as we have a choice. We have to kill her. It'll be the only way to lift the evil eye from Gunter here and stop her from harming the rest of us.’

There was silence as they digested this, but not even the innkeeper's wife protested.

‘We'll have to do it so she can't curse us as she dies,’ the innkeeper said.

Gunter nodded. ‘And so her spirit can't rise to wreak vengeance.’

‘First catch your fish before you argue about how to cook it,’ the innkeeper's wife said tartly.

The innkeeper adopted the brisk tone of one who considers it his duty to take charge. ‘Bring her trussed and gagged and lock her in the church tower. The church is holy
ground and will keep her spirit bound. Then we'll hold a meeting to decide how the killing's to be done.’

I didn't want to know how they would do it. I thought if I did, my nerve would fail me. I rose. ‘I have to get back before they become suspicious. You'll come tonight then?’

They looked at each other, then one by one they nodded.

Gunter said, ‘You'll see to it your companions don't interfere? Those men you've got with you look as if they'd be handy with a quarterstaff and I've got enough troubles without getting my head cracked.’

‘I'll set a light at the foot of the cross at the end of the spur when it's safe,’ I promised.

‘We'll wait for the light, then.’

It wasn't so easy to use the poppy juice a second time. I knew I would have to be seen to eat, so I couldn't risk putting it in the pottage itself, which would have been simple in the dark. It would have to go into the bowls, all of them except mine, but Adela usually ladled out the pottage. However, a surreptitious pinch on Carwyn's thigh made him cry and brought Adela running to comfort him, grateful for my offer to ladle out the pottage. I handed the bowls to Osmond and Rodrigo, who tucked in straight away, ravenous after a day's hunting, but as Narigorm carried her bowl back to her place she appeared to trip and the contents of the bowl landed upside down on the grass.

‘Never mind, I'll get you some more,’ I said, as calmly as I could.

She smiled sweetly. ‘Oh no, you rest, Camelot. I'll get it.’

There was nothing I could do. Did she know I had drugged her the night before? She was clever enough to have worked that out.

Adela took a long time settling Carwyn and by the time
she came to eat, the bowl I had placed in front of her was cold. Before I could stop her, she tipped it back into the steaming pot, stirred it and ladled out a fresh bowl. No matter, I told myself, as long as Rodrigo and Osmond were asleep, I could deal with Adela, and maybe she had taken enough for she seemed sleepy anyway, which was more than could be said for Narigorm.

Osmond and Rodrigo quickly became drowsy and Osmond was happy to accept that I took first watch, in fact he could scarcely keep his eyes open long enough to murmur his agreement. I hoped that I hadn't administered too much. One by one I watched them curl up, until only Narigorm remained awake. She sat on the other side of the fire, her back to the marsh, her pale eyes glittering in the firelight and her hair turned to a mass of dancing flame as it blew in the wind.

As casually as I could, I went to the cross and set a lantern beneath it, so that the cross was lit up against the dark sky. It was bitterly cold and the wind was gathering strength. Was Gunter right? Was Narigorm capable of raising a storm with the shaking of her hair? I'd encouraged them to believe it. I prayed it was a lie that would not turn out to be the truth. I crossed back to the fire.

Narigorm was watching me. ‘Why have you set a lantern there? Do you think the cross will protect you from the wolf?’

I nodded. I didn't trust myself to speak. My ears were straining to hear the sound of oars over the roar of the wind. The flames in the fire pit blew this way and that. I moved a stone to shelter the top a little more.

‘You put something in my food last night to make me sleep.’

I didn't answer.

‘You think if I sleep the wolf won't come. But you know she will come tonight, don't you?’ There was a note of pleasure in her voice. ‘That's why you made the others sleep. You think that if they sleep they can't hear the wolf. But they can. Cygnus heard the swans in his sleep. It is worse if you hear the wolf in your sleep, because then you have to face her alone. In your dreams she can do anything.’

‘Why do you do this, Narigorm?’

‘Because I can.’

There was no moon tonight, thick, heavy clouds blotted out the stars. The pale light reflecting from the cross seemed to penetrate no more than a hand's breadth into the darkness. Would they even see it?

‘You spoke before of Morrigan. She's an ancient goddess, a savage goddess. Do you do this to serve her?’

I wanted to keep her talking, keep her occupied, but she wasn't listening.

She had taken the runes out of her bag and scattered them in front her. Then I saw her place something else in the centre of them. It was a clipping of coarse hair. I recognized it by the white bindings around it. I had tied it. It was hair I used to sell as the beard of St Uncumber. I'd given a piece of it to the bride at the Cripples' Wedding. My stomach tightened. I knew what Narigorm was doing, she wanted to use something of mine, but why had she chosen that? She could not know the significance of it to me. I prayed she did not.

She turned over one rune. ‘
Othel
reversed.
Othel
, the home. You think of your home long ago, but reversed means you are alone. You will be alone.’

Did that mean they wouldn't come? I tried not to think about the villagers, afraid that if I let my thoughts turn to them, somehow she'd see them in the runes.

‘Now I'll ask them what you fear.’ She picked up a second rune. ‘This isn't a wolf rune. You don't fear a wolf. This is
Hagall
– hail. Threat and destruction. A battle.’ She looked up at me. ‘That's it, isn't it, a battle? Now what is the lie?’

I wanted her to stop. I knew if I scattered the runes I could stop her for tonight, but that would not finish it. There'd be other nights. Only if I let her continue did I stand any chance of ending this for good.

‘
Beoro
reversed – the birch tree. The mother, but reversed. Your family dead, is that it? No… no, that's not the lie.’

She stared at me, her eyes widening in surprise, then she threw back her head and laughed. She picked up the tiny lock of beard and, pulling the binding loose, she held the hairs up in the wind, her other hand covering the runes.

She lifted her head and closed her eyes. ‘
Hagall
, Morrigan.
Hagall,
Hagall
,
Hagall
.’

I heard the screams of women and children, the sounds of swords clashing, shouting and cursing. And above all the noise, I heard my own children crying out, begging me to help them. I turned this way and that looking for them. The night was too dark to see anything. I thrust a branch into the fire and pulled it out, but the wind immediately snuffed out the flame. The wind was roaring, but above its shrieking I could hear my little sons screaming from beyond the cross. They were crying for me, calling out to me over and over again, fear and desperation in every sob. They were out there on the marsh. They were in danger and they needed me. I had to get to them. I ran past the cross, towards the end of the spur. I could see their dark shapes in the marsh, their arms held out to me. They were sinking before my eyes. If I could stretch out to them, grab an arm, a hand, anything. I began to scramble down the edge of the island, slipping and sliding on the wet grass towards the marsh. My
foot sank into the cold, dark, oily water. I felt myself falling. I tried to grab a tussock to stop myself, but the wet grass slid through my hands. I was sinking.

30. Truth

My leg had slipped up to the thigh into the cold, muddy water, before something heavy collided with me. Hands caught hold of me, yanked me upwards and thrust me aside and by the light of the lantern on the cross I saw two shapes dart past me. I turned just in time to see one of the figures slide up behind Narigorm and thrust a sack over her head. At once the sound of battle and screaming ceased. I could hear only Narigorm's muffled cries as she struggled. William – I could see it was him from his massive outline – was trying to stuff something under the sack into her mouth and cursing loudly as she bit him. Gunter was trying to bind her hands behind her. But before he could secure her another figure leaped at him.

‘Leave her, leave her alone.’

It was Adela. She had woken. She was beating Gunter with her stave. He dropped Narigorm's rope and tried to protect his head, cowering under the blows that Adela rained down on his back. I moved swiftly, grabbing Adela's upraised arm and jerking her backwards. She fell awkwardly, crying out in pain. I pinned her to the ground from behind.

Narigorm was fighting for her life. She had thrown off the ropes and it was all William could do to hold her. Two
other men came running up the spur from beyond the cross. They grabbed Narigorm and held her as William and Gunter struggled to tie the ropes round the thrashing girl.

Behind the men, I saw Rodrigo stirring. He tried to roll to his knees, still drugged by the poppy juice.

‘Get the girl out of here,’ I shouted to William, then realized none of them could hear me. They had taken me at my word and stuffed their ears. If Rodrigo found his feet and his stave… I took a gamble. I let Adela go and, snatching up her stave, covered the few yards to Rodrigo. I brought the end of her stave down hard across his shoulders; he groaned and slumped back down into the grass.

William slung Narigorm over his shoulder and all four men hurried down the spur and disappeared below the cross. In the darkness I heard the splashing of the oars before the sound was borne away on the wind.

I walked to the cross and crouched down with my back to it, staring out into the impenetrable darkness of the marsh beyond. Behind me I could hear Adela sobbing, trying to rouse Osmond and Rodrigo. Little Carwyn was wailing, but even the sounds of the wind tearing at the rushes seemed muffled as if my ears too were stuffed with wax.

What had I become? Was I that demon which stared out at me from the mirror? Had I truly become that foul thing? I thought of a child lying bound and gagged in the icy water at the bottom of a boat, being tossed up and down, unable to see where she was going or who had taken her. I imagined her terror, wondering what these strangers were going to do to her. And I knew they were going to kill her. I didn't know how, but I knew it would not be gentle. They had to do it thoroughly. What would they choose? Drowning? Hanging? Burning? I shuddered. What had Rodrigo said? ‘You should not take the name of death in vain.’

She'd asked the runes, ‘What was the lie?’ There were so many and I had meant them well. My lies had brought hope where there was none. I'd believed mine was the greatest of all the arts, the noblest of all the lies, the creation of hope. I thought hope could overcome everything, but I was wrong. Hope cannot overcome truth. They cannot coexist. Truth destroys hope. The most savage cruelties man inflicts on man are committed in the pursuit of truth. My last lie had been the most honest, the most honourable of them all, for there is an art greater even than the creation of hope. The greatest art of all is the destruction of truth.