第三章_被掩埋的巨人

That would have been the picture Axl and Beatrice saw below them as they paused to catch their breaths during their descent down the hill. The sun was setting over the valley now, and Beatrice, who had the better sight, was once more leaning forward, a step or two in front of Axl, the grass and dandelions around her as tall as her waist.

"Don't worry, Axl, they know me well enough by now. Besides, one of their elders here is a Briton, regarded by all as a wise leader even if he's not of their blood. He'll see to it we have a safe roof tonight. Even so, Axl, I think something's happened and I'm uneasy. Now here's another man with a spear arrived, and that's a pack of fierce dogs with him."

"Who knows what goes on with Saxons," said Axl. "We may be better seeking shelter elsewhere tonight."

"Are you sure there'll be a welcome here for us, princess?"

"I can see four, no five men guarding the gate," she was saying. "And I think they're holding spears. When I was last here with the women, it was nothing more than one gate-keeper with a pair of dogs."

"A small discomfort I feel from time to time. This woman might know of something to soothe it."

"It hasn't slowed you one bit, princess, and I've been the one having to beg we stop and rest."

Axl waited for her to say something further, and when she went on peering into the distance, he asked: "And why would you be after medicines, princess?"

"The dark will be soon on us, Axl, and those spears are not intended for us. Besides, there's a woman in this village I was wanting to visit, one who knows her medicines beyond anyone in our own."

"What sort of discomfort, princess? Where does it trouble you?"

"But where does it lie, princess? This pain?"

"Oh…" Without turning to him, she pressed a hand to her side, just below the ribcage, then laughed. "It's nothing to speak of. You can see, it hasn't slowed me walking here today."

"It's nothing. It's only because we're needing to shelter here I'm thinking of it at all."

"It hasn't slowed you down at all. In fact, princess, you must be as strong as any woman half your age. Still, if there's someone here to help with your pain, what's the harm in going to her?"

"That's what I'm saying, Axl. So it's nothing to worry about."

"That's all I was saying, Axl. I've brought a little tin to trade for medicines."

"Wait a moment, Axl," Beatrice said quietly. "I'll go alone to speak with them."

It was nearly dark by the time they crossed the bridge over the trench, and torches had been lit on either side of the gate. The guards were large and burly but looked panicked by their approach.

"Don't go near their spears, princess. The dogs look calm but those Saxons look foolish with fear."

She walked towards them boldly. The men gathered around her and as she addressed them they threw suspicious glances towards Axl. Then one of them called to him, in the Saxon language, to step closer to the torches, presumably so they could see he was not a younger man in disguise. Then after a few more exchanges with Beatrice the men allowed them through.

"Who wants these little pains? We all have them, and we'd all be rid of them if we could. By all means, let's go to this woman if she's here, and those guards let us pass."

"If it's you they fear, Axl, old man that you are, I'll soon show them their great error."

Axl was puzzled that a village which from a distance looked to be two orderly rings of houses could turn out to be such a chaotic labyrinth now they were walking through its narrow lanes. Admittedly the light was fading, but as he followed Beatrice, he could discern no logic or pattern to the place. Buildings would loom unexpectedly in front of them, blocking their way and forcing them down baffling side alleys. They were obliged, moreover, to walk with even more caution than out on the roads: not only was the ground pitted and full of puddles from the earlier storm, the Saxons seemed to find it acceptable to leave random objects, even pieces of rubble, lying in the middle of the path. But what troubled Axl most was the odour that grew stronger and fainter as they walked, but never went away. Like anyone of his time, he was well reconciled to the smell of excrement, human or animal, but this was something altogether more offensive. Before long he had determined its source: all over the village people had left out, on the fronts of houses or on the side of the street, piles of putrefying meat as offerings to their various gods. At one point, startled by a particularly strong assault, Axl had turned to see, suspended from the eaves of a hut, a dark object whose shape changed before his eyes as the colony of flies perched on it dispersed. A moment later they encountered a pig being dragged by its ears by a group of children; dogs, cows and donkeys under no one's supervision. The few people they met stared silently at them, or else quickly vanished behind a door or shutter.

"I'd been thinking we'd visit first the woman about the medicines. But with things the way they are, we may be better going straight to the old longhouse and keeping out of harm's way."

"There's something strange here tonight," Beatrice whispered as they walked. "Usually they'd be sitting in front of their houses or perhaps gathered in circles laughing and talking. And the children would be following us by now asking a hundred questions and wondering if to call us names or be our friends. Everything's eerily still and it makes me uneasy."

"Then let's see if she's there. Even if your pain's a trivial thing, as we know it to be, there's no sense in feeling it at all if it can be taken away."

"Are we lost, princess, or are we still going toward the place they'll be sheltering us?"

"As I remember it, not far at all now."

"It can wait till the morning, Axl. It's not even a pain I notice till we're speaking of it."

"Even so, princess, now we're here, why not go and see the wise woman?"

"Are we far from the medicine lady's house?"

"Who knows what concerns them here, Axl," Beatrice said. "I'd walk away except the medicine woman's house is somewhere near. Let me see if I can still find my way to it."

"We'll do so if you particularly wish it, Axl. Though I'd have happily left it for the morning or maybe the next time I'm passing through this place."

Even as they were talking, they turned a corner into what appeared to be the village square. There was a bonfire blazing at its centre, and all around it, illuminated by its light, a large crowd. There were Saxons of all ages, even tiny children in their parents' arms, and Axl's first thought was that they had stumbled upon a pagan ceremony. But as they stopped to consider the scene before them, he saw there was no focus to the crowd's attention. The faces he could see were solemn, perhaps frightened. Voices were lowered, and collectively came through the air as a worried murmur. A dog barked at Axl and Beatrice and was promptly chased away by shadowy figures. Those among the crowd who noticed the visitors stared their way blankly before losing interest.

"Let me speak with her alone, Axl. Help me take off this bundle and wait out here for me."

"Can't I be with you, princess, even if I hardly understand this Saxon tongue?"

As they moved towards a row of huts to their right, they became aware of many more people in the shadows, silently watching the crowd around the fire. Beatrice stopped to talk to one of them, a woman standing in front of her own door, and after a while Axl realised this was the medicine woman herself. He could not see her well in the near-darkness, but made out the straight-backed figure of a tall woman, probably in her middle years, clutching a shawl around her arms and shoulders. She and Beatrice went on conferring in low voices, sometimes glancing towards the crowd, sometimes at Axl. Eventually the woman gestured for them to enter her hut, but Beatrice, coming up to him, said softly:

"These are women's matters, husband. Let me talk with her alone, and she's saying she'll examine my old body carefully."

"I'm sorry, princess, I wasn't thinking clearly. Let me take your bundle from you and I'll be waiting here as long as you wish."

After the two women had gone inside, Axl felt a great weariness, especially in his shoulders and legs. Removing his own burden, he leaned against the turf wall behind him and gazed over at the crowd. There was now a growing restlessness: people would stride from the darkness around him to join the crowd while others hurried away from the fire, only to return a moment later. The blaze illuminated some faces sharply, while leaving others in shadow, but after a time, Axl came to the conclusion these people were all waiting, in a state of some anxiety, for someone or something to emerge from the timber hall to the left of the fire. This building, probably some meeting place for the Saxons, must have had a fire of its own burning inside, for its windows flickered between blackness and light.

He was on the verge of nodding off, his back to the wall, the muffled voices of Beatrice and the medicine woman somewhere behind him, when the crowd surged and shifted, letting out a soft collective growl. Several men had emerged from the timber hall and were walking towards the fire. The crowd parted and quietened for them, as though in expectation of an announcement, but none came, and soon people were pressing around the newcomers, their voices building again. Axl noticed that attention was focused almost entirely on the man who had come out last from the hall. He was probably no more than thirty but had about him a natural authority. Although he was dressed simply, as a farmer might be, he did not look like anyone else in the village. It was not just the way he had swept his cloak over one shoulder, revealing his belt and the handle of his sword. Nor was it simply that his hair was longer than any of the villagers'-- it hung almost down to his shoulders and he had tied some of it with a thong to prevent it swaying over his eyes. In fact the actual thought that crossed Axl's mind was that this man had tied his hair to stop it falling across his vision during combat. This thought had come to Axl quite naturally, and only on reflection did it startle him, for it had carried with it an element of recognition. Moreover, when the stranger, striding into the midst of the crowd, allowed his hand to fall and rest on the sword handle, Axl had felt, almost tangibly, the peculiar mix of comfort, excitement and fear such a movement could bring. Telling himself he would return to these curious sensations at some later point, he shut them out of his mind and concentrated on the scene unfolding before him.

It was the bearing of the man, the way he moved and held himself, that so set him apart from those around him. "No matter that he tries to pass himself off as an ordinary Saxon," Axl thought, "this man is a warrior. And perhaps one capable of wreaking great devastation when he wishes it."

"The long-haired fellow is a stranger arrived only an hour or two before us," Beatrice's voice said close to his ear. "A Saxon, but one from a distant country. The fenlands in the east, so he says, where he's lately been fighting sea raiders."

Two of the other men who had emerged from the hall were hovering nervously behind him, and whenever the warrior drifted further into the crowd, both men tried their best to stay near him, like children anxious not to be left behind by a parent. The two men, who were both young, also wore swords, and in addition, each was clutching a spear, but it was evident they were quite unaccustomed to such weapons. They were, moreover, stiff with fear and seemed unable to respond to the words of encouragement their fellow villagers were giving them. Their gazes darted about in panic even as hands patted their backs or squeezed their shoulders.

"It seems earlier today one of the village men came back out of breath and his shoulder wounded, and when prevailed upon to calm himself told of how he and his brother, together with his nephew, a boy of twelve, were fishing at their usual spot by the river and were set upon by two ogres. Except according to this wounded man these were no ordinary ogres. Monstrous and able to move faster and with greater cunning than any ogre he'd ever seen. The fiends -- for it's by that name these villagers are talking of them -- the fiends killed his brother outright and carried off the boy, who was alive and struggling. The wounded man himself got away only after a long chase along the river path, the foul grunts coming closer behind him all the while, but he outran them in the end. That would be him there now, Axl, with the splint on his arm, talking to the stranger. Wounded though he was, he was anxious enough for his nephew to lead a party of this village's strongest men back to the spot, and they saw smoke from a campfire near the bank, and as they were creeping up to it, their weapons at the ready, the bushes opened and it seems these same two fiends had set a trap. The medicine woman says three men were killed even before the others thought to run for their lives, and though they returned unhurt, most of them are now shivering and muttering to themselves in their beds, too shaken to come out and wish well these brave men willing to go out now, even with the darkness coming and the mist setting in, to do what couldn't be done by twelve strong men in broad daylight."

Axl had been aware for some time that the voices of the women had grown more distinct, and turning, saw that Beatrice and her hostess had come out of the house and were standing at the door just behind him. The medicine woman now spoke softly, for some time, in Saxon, after which Beatrice said into his ear:

"They know nothing, but they'll go out to the river even so. After the first party returned in terror, for all the urging of the elders, there was not a single man brave enough to join a further expedition. Then as fortune would have it, here's this stranger come into the village seeking a night's shelter after his horse has hurt a foot. And though he knows nothing of this boy or his family before today, he's declared himself willing to come to the village's aid. Those others going out with him are two more of the boy's uncles, and by the look of them, I'd say they're more likely to hinder that warrior than be of help. Look, Axl, they're sick with fear."

"I see that right enough, princess. But they're brave men all the same, to go out when they're so afraid. We chose a bad night to ask this village's hospitality. There's weeping somewhere even now, and there may be a great deal more before the night's passed."

The medicine woman seemed to understand something of what Axl had said, for she spoke again, in her own language, then Beatrice said: "She says to go straight to the old longhouse now and not show ourselves again till morning. If we choose to wander the village, she says there's no telling how we may be greeted on a night like this."

"Do they know the boy is still alive?"

But just at that moment the crowd made a sudden noise, then the noise became cheering, and the crowd shifted again, as if struggling to change shape. Then it began to move, the warrior and his two companions near its centre. A low chanting started up, and soon the spectators in the shadows -- the medicine woman included -- joined in. The procession came towards them, and though the brightness of the fire had been left behind, several torches were moving within it, so that Axl could catch glimpses of faces, some frightened, some excited. Whenever a torch illuminated the warrior, his expression was calm, gazing to left and right to acknowledge words of encouragement, his hand once more on the handle of his sword. They went past Axl and Beatrice, continued between a row of huts and out of view, though the muted chanting remained audible for some time.

Perhaps daunted by the atmosphere, neither Axl nor Beatrice moved for a while. Then Beatrice began to question the medicine woman on the best way to reach the longhouse, and it seemed to Axl the two women were soon discussing directions to some other destination altogether, for they pointed and gestured into the distance towards the hills above the village.

"My own thoughts exactly, princess. Then let's be taking the good lady's advice, if you can still remember the way."

"Walk slowly, princess," Axl said softly. "If either of us takes a bad tumble on this ground, I'm not certain there'll be a soul coming out to help us."

They finally set off for their lodgings only when quiet had descended over the village. It was harder than ever to find one's way in the darkness, and the occasional torches burning on corners seemed only to increase the confusion with their shadows. They were proceeding in the opposite direction to that in which the crowd had gone, and the houses they passed were dark with no obvious signs of life.

In time the path straightened and they found themselves walking beside the perimeter fence they had seen from the hill. Its sharpened poles loomed above them a shade darker than the night sky, and as they went on, Axl could hear murmured voices somewhere above them. Then he saw they were no longer alone: high up along the ramparts, at regular intervals, were shapes he realised were people gazing out over the fence into the dark wilderness beyond. He had barely time to share this observation with Beatrice before they heard footsteps gathering behind them. They quickened their pace, but now a torch was moving nearby and shadows swung rapidly before them. At first Axl thought they had stumbled upon a group of villagers coming in the other direction, but then saw that he and Beatrice were entirely surrounded. Saxon men of varying ages and builds, some with spears, others wielding hoes, scythes and other tools, were jostling around them. Several voices addressed them at once, and ever more people seemed to be arriving. Axl felt the heat of the torches thrust at their faces, and holding Beatrice close to him, tried to locate with his gaze the leader of this group, but could find no such figure. Every face, moreover, was filled with panic, and he realised any careless move could bring disaster. He pulled Beatrice out of the reach of a particularly wild-eyed young man who had raised a trembling knife in the air, and searched his memory for some Saxon phrases. When nothing came to him, he made do with a few soothing noises, such as he might have made to an unruly horse.

"Axl, I think we've lost our way again. Let's go back to the last corner and this time I'll be sure to find it."

"Stop that, Axl," Beatrice whispered. "They won't thank you for singing lullabies to them." She addressed one, then another of the men in Saxon, but the mood did not improve. Shouted arguments were breaking out, and a dog, tugging on a rope, broke through the ranks to snarl at them.

Then the tense figures around them seemed all at once to sag. Their voices quietened till there was only the one, shouting angrily, somewhere still a little way off. The voice came closer and the crowd parted to let through a squat, misshapen man who shuffled into the pool of light leaning on a thick staff.

He was quite elderly, and though his back was relatively straight, his neck and head protruded from his shoulders at a grotesque angle. Nonetheless all present appeared to yield to his authority -- the dog too ceased barking and vanished into the shadows. Even with his limited Saxon, Axl could tell the misshapen man's fury had only partly to do with the villagers' treatment of strangers: they were being reprimanded for abandoning their sentry posts, and the faces caught in the torchlight became crestfallen, though filled with confusion. Then as the elder's voice rose to a new level of anger, the men seemed slowly to remember something, and one by one slipped back into the night. But even when the last of them had gone, and there were sounds of feet clambering up ladders, the misshapen man went on hurling insults after them.

"My apologies, Mistress Beatrice. And to you too, sir. It's not the welcome you would usually get here, but as you see, you've arrived on a night filled with dread."

"They're fearful right enough, Ivor," Beatrice said. "Just now a spider falling beside them could set them tearing at one another. A sorry crew you sent out to greet us."

"I'd like to promise you a kind welcome at the longhouse, friends, but on this night there's no telling what my neighbours may see fit to do. I'd be easier if you and your good husband agreed to spend the night under my own roof, where I know you'll remain undisturbed."

Finally he turned to Axl and Beatrice, and switching to their language, said with no trace of an accent: "How can it be they forget even this, and so soon after watching the warrior leave with two of their own cousins to do what none of them had the courage for? Is it shame makes their memories so weak or simply fear?"

"We've lost our way to the old longhouse, Ivor," Beatrice said. "If you'd point us to it we'd be much beholden to you. Especially after that greeting, my husband and I are eager to be indoors and resting."

"We accept your kindness gladly, sir," Axl broke in. "My wife and I are much in need of rest."

"The treatment you received just now," he said, "I shudder with shame to think of it."

"Then follow me, friends. Stay close behind me and keep your voices low till we arrive."

They followed Ivor through the dark until they reached a house which, though in structure much like the others, was larger and stood apart by itself. When they entered under the low arch, the air was thick with woodsmoke, which, even as it made Axl's chest tighten, felt warm and welcoming. The fire was smouldering in the centre of the room, surrounded by woven rugs, animal skins and furniture crafted from oak and ash. As Axl went about extricating blankets from their bundles, Beatrice sank gratefully into a rocking chair. Ivor, though, remained standing by the doorway, a preoccupied look on his face.

"Please let's think no more of it, sir," Axl said. "You've shown us more kindness than we could deserve. And we arrived this evening in time to see the brave men set off on their dangerous mission. So we understand all too well the dread that hangs in the air, and it's no wonder some should behave foolishly."

"It's the same in our own country, sir," Axl said. "My wife and I have witnessed many incidents of such forgetfulness among our own neighbours."

"Interesting to hear that, sir. And I was fearing this a kind of plague spreading through our country only. And is it because I'm old, or that I'm a Briton living here among Saxons, that I'm often left alone holding some memory when all around me have let it slip?"

"If you strangers remember our troubles well enough, how is it those fools are forgetting them already? They were told in terms a child would understand to hold their positions on the fence at all costs, the safety of the whole community depending on it, to say nothing of the need to aid our heroes should they appear at the gates pursued by monsters. So what do they do? Two strangers go by, and remembering nothing of their orders or even the reasons for them, they set on you like crazed wolves. I'd be doubting my own senses if such strange forgetfulness didn't occur so often in this place."

"We've found it just the same, sir. Though we suffer enough from the mist -- for that's how my wife and I have come to call it -- we seem to do so less than the younger ones. Can you see an explanation for it, sir?"

"Just a rumour he heard once. By all means let's ask him to speak more on it. An admirable man. Has he always lived among Saxons?"

"I've heard many things spoken about it, friend, and mostly Saxon superstition. But last winter a stranger came this way who had something to say on this matter to which I find myself giving more credence the more I think on it. Now what's this?" Ivor, who had remained by the door, his staff in his hand, turned with surprising agility for one so twisted. "Excuse your host, friends. This may be our brave men already returned. It's best for now you remain in here and not show yourselves."

"About what, princess?"

Once he had left, Axl and Beatrice remained silent for some time, their eyes closed, grateful, in their respective chairs, for the chance to rest. Then Beatrice said quietly:

"What do you suppose Ivor was going to say then, Axl?"

"Ever since he married a Saxon woman a long time ago, so I'm told. What became of her I never heard. Axl, wouldn't it be a fine thing to know the cause of the mist?"

"He was talking of the mist and the reason for it."

"If there's even a chance of understanding the mist, it could make such a difference to us. How can you speak so lightly of it, Axl?"

"A fine thing indeed, but what good it will do, I don't know."

"What is it, princess? What's the matter?" Axl sat up in his chair and looked over to his wife. "I only meant knowing its cause wouldn't make it go away, here or in our own country."

"How can you say so, Axl? How can you say such a heartless thing?"

"How can you be thinking of other things, and we only today heard what we did from that boatman?"

"Other things, princess, such as if those brave men have come back and with the child unharmed. Or if this village with its frightened guards and flimsy gate is to be invaded this night by monstrous fiends wishing revenge for the rude attention paid them. There's plenty for a mind to dwell on, never mind the mist or the superstitious talk of strange boatmen."

"No need for harsh words, Axl. I never wished a quarrel."

"I'm sorry, princess, I didn't mean to do so. My mind was on other things."

But Beatrice had become tearful. "No need to talk so harshly," she muttered almost to herself.

"Forgive me, princess. It must be this mood here is affecting me."

"I was wondering what the medicine woman said to you about your pain."

Rising, Axl made his way to her rocking chair and crouching slightly, held her closely to his chest. "I'm sorry, princess," he said. "We'll be sure to talk to Ivor about the mist before we leave this place." Then after a moment, during which they continued to hold each other, he said: "To be frank, princess, there was a particular thing on my mind just now."

"What was that, Axl?"

"I wasn't the one worrying, husband. It was you insisting we go see the woman tonight."

"She said it was nothing but what's to be expected with the years."

She gently freed herself from his embrace and allowed her chair to rock back. "Axl," she said. "The medicine woman mentioned an old monk she says is even wiser than her. He's helped many from this village, a monk called Jonus. His monastery's a day from here, up on the mountain road east."

"Just what I always said, princess. Didn't I tell you there was no need for worry?"

"It's as well we did, for now we needn't worry about your pain, if ever we did before."

"That's a hard road, Axl. A lot of climbing. It will add at least a day to our journey and there's our own son anxious for our arrival."

"The mountain road east." Axl wandered towards the door, which Ivor had left ajar, and looked out into the darkness. "I'm thinking, princess, we could as easily take the higher road tomorrow as the low one through the woods."

"It was only something the medicine woman said, thinking we were travelling that way. I told her our son's village was more easily reached by the low road, and she agreed herself then it was hardly worth our while, there being nothing troubling me but the usual aches that come with the years."

Axl went on gazing through the doorway into the dark. "Even so, princess, we might think about it yet. But here's Ivor returning, and not looking happy."

Ivor came striding in, breathing heavily, and sitting down in a wide chair piled with skins, allowed his staff to fall with a clatter at his feet. "A young fool swears he sees a fiend scaled the outside of our fence and now peeking at us over the top of it. A mighty commotion, I needn't tell you, and it's all I can do to raise a party to go and see if it's true. Of course, there's nothing where he points but the night sky, but he goes on saying the fiend's there looking at us, and the rest of them cowering behind me like children with their hoes and spears. Then the fool confesses he fell asleep on his watch and saw the fiend in his dream, and even then do they hasten back to their posts? They're so terrified, I have to swear to beat them till their own kin mistake them for mutton." He looked around him, still taking heavy breaths. "Excuse your host, friends. I'll be sleeping in that inner room if I'm to sleep at all tonight, so do what you can to find comfort here, though there's little on offer."

"That's all true. But it seems a pity, having come this far, not to visit this wise monk."

"On the contrary, sir," Axl said, "you've offered us wondrously comfortable lodgings and we're grateful for it. I'm sorry it wasn't better news called you out just now."

"We must wait, perhaps well into the night and the morning too. To where do you travel, friends?"

"Jonus certainly has a revered name, though I've never met the man face to face. Go to him by all means, but be warned, the journey to the monastery's no easy one. The path will climb steeply for much of your day. And when at last it levels you must take care not to lose your way, for you'll be in Querig country."

"We'll set off east tomorrow, sir, to our son's village, where he anxiously awaits us. But on this matter you may be of help, for my wife and I were just arguing the best road to take. We hear of a wise monk by the name of Jonus at a monastery up on the mountain road whom we might consult on a small matter."

"She rarely leaves the mountains now," Ivor said. "Though she may on a whim attack a passing traveller, it's likely she's often blamed for the work of wild animals or bandits. In my view Querig's menace comes less from her own actions than from the fact of her continuing presence. So long as she's left at liberty, all manner of evil can't help but breed across our land like a pestilence. Take these fiends which curse us tonight. Where did they come from? They're no mere ogres. No one here has seen their like before. Why did they journey here, to make camp on our riverbank? Querig may rarely show herself, but many a dark force stems from her and it's a disgrace she remains unslain all these years."

"Querig, the she-dragon? I've not heard talk of her in a long time. Is she still feared in this country?"

Ivor began to move to the inner room, but Beatrice quickly sat up and said:

"You're right, Mistress Beatrice, it's a daunting task. It happens there's an aged knight left from Arthur's days, charged by that great king many years ago to slay Querig. You may come across him should you take the mountain road. He's not easily missed, dressed in rusted chainmail and mounted on a weary steed, always eager to proclaim his sacred mission, though I'd guess the old fool has never given that she-dragon a single moment of anxiety. We'll reach a great age waiting for the day he fulfils his duty. By all means, friends, travel to the monastery, but go with caution and be sure to reach safe shelter by nightfall."

"But Ivor," Beatrice said, "who'd wish to challenge such a beast? By all accounts Querig's a dragon of great fierceness, and hidden in difficult terrain."

"You were talking earlier, Ivor, about the mist. How you heard something of the cause for it, but then were called away before you could say more. We're anxious now to hear you speak on this matter."

"Ah, the mist. A good name for it. Who knows how much truth there is in what we hear, Mistress Beatrice? I suppose I was speaking of the stranger riding through our country last year and sheltered here. He was from the fens, much like our brave visitor tonight, though speaking a dialect often hard to understand. I offered him use of this poor house, as I've done you, and we talked on many matters through the evening, among them this mist, as you so aptly call it. Our strange affliction interested him greatly, and he questioned me again and again on the matter. And then he ventured something I dismissed at the time, but have since much pondered. The stranger thought it might be God himself had forgotten much from our pasts, events far distant, events of the same day. And if a thing is not in God's mind, then what chance of it remaining in those of mortal men?"

Beatrice stared at him. "Can such a thing be possible, Ivor? We're each of us his dear child. Would God really forget what we have done and what's happened to us?"

Bleary with sleep, he slipped his arm through his wife's and together they stumbled out into the night. There were many more torches lit now, some blazing from the ramparts, making it much easier than before to see one's way. People were moving everywhere, dogs barking and children crying. Then some order seemed to impose itself, and Axl and Beatrice found themselves in a procession hurrying in a single direction. They came to an abrupt halt, and Axl was surprised to see they were already at the central square -- there was obviously a more direct route from Ivor's house than the one they had taken earlier. The bonfire was blazing more fiercely than ever, so much so that Axl thought for an instant it was its heat that had caused the villagers to stop. But looking past the rows of heads, he saw the warrior had returned. He was standing there quite calmly, to the left of the fire, one side of his figure illuminated, the other in shadow. The visible part of his face was covered in what Axl recognised as tiny spots of blood, as if he had just come walking through a fine mist of the stuff. His long hair, though still tied, had come loose and looked wet. His clothes were covered in mud and perhaps blood, and the cloak he had nonchalantly flung over his shoulder at his departure was now torn in several places. But the man himself appeared uninjured, and he was now talking quietly to three of the village elders, Ivor among them. Axl could see too that the warrior was holding some object in the crook of his arm.

"My question exactly, Mistress Beatrice, and the stranger could offer no answer. But since that time, I've found myself thinking more and more of his words. Perhaps it's as good an explanation as any for what you name the mist. Now forgive me, friends, I must take some rest while I can."

Axl became aware that Beatrice was shaking his shoulder. He had no idea how long they had slept: it was still dark, but there were noises outside, and he heard Ivor say somewhere above him: "Let's pray it's good news and not our end." When Axl sat up, however, their host had already gone, and Beatrice said: "Hurry, Axl, and we'll see which it is."

Meanwhile, chanting had started, softly at first, then gathering momentum, till eventually the warrior turned to acknowledge it. His manner was devoid of any crude swagger. And when he began to address the crowd, his voice, though loud enough for all to hear, somehow gave the impression he was speaking in a low, intimate tone appropriate to solemn subject matter.

His listeners hushed to catch each word, and soon he was drawing from them gasps of approval or of horror. At one point he gestured to a spot behind him and Axl noticed for the first time, sitting on the ground just within the circle of light, the two men who had gone out with the warrior. They looked as if they had fallen there from a height and were too dazed to get up. The crowd started up a chant for them, but the pair seemed not to notice, continuing instead to stare at the air before them.

The warrior then turned back to the crowd and said something which caused the chanting to fade. He stepped closer to the fire, and grasping in one hand the object he had been carrying, raised it into the air.

Axl saw what appeared to be the head of a thick-necked creature severed just below the throat. Dark curls of hair hung down from the crown to frame an eerily featureless face: where the eyes, nose and mouth should have been there was only pimpled flesh, like that of a goose, with a few tufts of down-like hair on the cheeks. A growl escaped the crowd and Axl felt it cower back. Only then did he realise that what they were looking at was not a head at all, but a section of the shoulder and upper arm of some abnormally large, human-like creature. The warrior was, in fact, holding up his trophy by the stump close to the bicep with the shoulder end uppermost, and in that moment Axl saw that what he had taken for strands of hair were entrails dangling out of the cut by which the segment had been separated from the body.

After only a short time, the warrior lowered his trophy and let it fall at his feet, as though he could now barely work up sufficient contempt for the creature's remains. For a second time, the crowd recoiled, before edging forward again, and then the chanting started up once more. But this time it died almost instantly for the warrior was speaking again, and though Axl could understand none of it, he could sense palpably the nervous excitement around him. Beatrice said in his ear:

"Our hero has killed both monsters. One took its mortal wound into the forest, and will not live through the night. The other stood and fought and for its sins the warrior has brought of it what you see on the ground there. The rest of the fiend crawled to the lake to numb its pain and sank there beneath the black waters. The child, Axl, you see there the child?"

Almost beyond the light of the fire a small group of women had huddled around a thin, dark-haired youth seated on a stone. He was already close to a man's height, but one sensed that beneath the blanket now wrapped around him, he still had the gangly frame of a boy. One woman had brought out a bucket and was washing off the grime from his face and neck, but he seemed oblivious. His eyes were fixed on the warrior's back just in front of him, though intermittently he would angle his head to one side, as though trying to peer around the warrior's legs at the thing on the ground.

Axl was surprised that the sight of the rescued child, alive and evidently without serious injury, provoked in him neither relief nor joy, but a vague unease. He supposed at first this was to do with the odd manner of the boy himself, but then it occurred to him what was really wrong: there was something amiss in the way this boy, whose safety had until so recently been at the centre of the community's concerns, was now being received. There was a reserve, almost a coldness, that reminded Axl of that incident involving the girl Marta in his own village, and he wondered if this boy, like her, was in the process of being forgotten. But surely this could not be the case here. People were even now pointing at the boy, and the women attending him were staring back defensively.

"I can't catch what they're saying, Axl," Beatrice said in his ear. "Some quarrel about the child, though a great mercy he's been brought back safe and he himself showing surprising calm after what his young eyes have beheld."

The warrior was still addressing the crowd, and a tone of entreaty had entered his voice. It was almost as if he was making an accusation, and Axl could feel the mood of the crowd changing. The sense of awe and gratitude was giving way to some other emotion, and there was confusion, even fear in the rumble of voices swelling around him. The warrior spoke again, his voice stern, gesturing behind him towards the boy. Then Ivor came within the light of the fire and standing beside the warrior said something which drew a less inhibited growl of protest from parts of his audience. A voice behind Axl shouted something, then arguments were breaking out on all sides. Ivor raised his voice and for a small moment there was quiet, but almost straight away the shouting resumed, and now there was jostling in the shadows.

"Oh, Axl, please, let's hurry away!" Beatrice cried into his ear. "This is no place for us."

The entire village must have been at the square, for they encountered no one on their way back to Ivor's house. Only as it came into view did Axl ask: "What was being said just now, princess?"

Axl put his arm around her shoulders and began to push their way through, but something made him glance back one more time. The boy had not changed his position, and was still staring at the warrior's back, apparently unaware of the commotion before him. But the woman who had been tending to him had stepped away, and was glancing uncertainly from the boy to the crowd. Beatrice tugged his arm. "Axl, please, take us away from here. I'm afraid we'll be hurt."

"I'm not at all sure, Axl. There was too much of it at once for my weak understanding. A quarrel about the boy who was saved, and tempers being lost. It's well we're away and we'll find out in time what's occurred."

When Axl awoke the next morning there were shafts of sunlight crossing the room. He was on the floor, but he had been sleeping on a bed of soft rugs beneath warm blankets -- an arrangement more luxurious than he was accustomed to -- and his limbs felt well rested. He was in good spirits, moreover, because he had awoken with a pleasant memory drifting through his head.

Beatrice stirred beside him but her eyes remained closed and her breathing unbroken. Axl watched her, as he often did at such moments, waiting for a sense of tender joy to fill his breast. It soon did so, just as he expected, but today was mingled with a trace of sadness. The feeling surprised him, and he ran his hand lightly along his wife's shoulder, as though such an action would chase away the shadow.

He could hear noises outside, but unlike those that had woken them in the night, these were of people going about their business of an ordinary morning. It occurred to him he and Beatrice had slept unwisely late, but he still refrained from waking Beatrice and went on gazing at her. Eventually he rose carefully, stepped over to the timber door and pushed it open a little way. This door -- it would have been a "proper" door on wooden hinges -- made a creaking noise and the sun entered powerfully through the gap, but still Beatrice slept on. Now somewhat concerned, Axl returned to where she lay and crouched down beside her, feeling the stiffness in his knees as he did so. At last his wife opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Time we were rising, princess," he said, hiding his relief. "The village is alive and our host long gone."

"Then you should have roused me earlier, Axl."

"You looked so peaceful, and after that long day I imagined sleep would be welcome to you. And I was right for now you're looking as fresh as a young maid."

"Talking your nonsense already and we don't even know what happened in the night. From the sound of things out there, they haven't beaten each other to bloody pulp. That's children I hear and the dogs sound fed and happy. Axl, is there water to wash with here?"

A little later, having made themselves presentable as best they could -- and with Ivor still not returned -- they wandered out into the crisp, bright air in search of something to eat. The village now appeared to Axl a far more benevolent place. The round huts which in the dark had seemed so haphazardly positioned now stood before them in neat rows, their matching shadows forming an orderly avenue through the village. There was a bustle of men and women moving about with tools or washing tubs, groups of children following in their wake. The dogs, though numerous as ever, seemed docile. Only a donkey contentedly defecating in the sun right in front of a well reminded Axl of the unruly place he had entered the night before. There were even nods and subdued greetings from villagers as they passed, though no one went so far as to speak to them.

Axl turned to the warrior and bowed his head. "My wife and I are honoured to meet a man of such courage, generosity and skill. Your deeds last night were remarkable."

"I wished not to wake you prematurely," he said to them. "But I'm a poor host and you both must be famished. Follow me to the old longhouse and I'll see you're given your fill. But first, friends, greet our hero of last night. You'll find Master Wistan understands our tongue with ease."

They had not gone far when they spotted the contrasting figures of Ivor and the warrior standing ahead of them in the street, heads close together in discussion. As Axl and Beatrice approached, Ivor took a step back and smiled self-consciously.

"My deeds were nothing extraordinary, sir, no more my skills." The warrior's voice, as before, was gentle and a smile hovered about his eyes. "I had good fortune last night, and besides, was ably helped by brave comrades."

"The comrades he speaks of," Ivor said, "were too busy soiling themselves to join the battle. It's this man alone destroyed the fiends."

"You speak our language well, sir," Axl said, taken aback by the scrutiny.

"Really, sir, no more on this matter." The warrior had addressed Ivor, but was now gazing intently at Axl, as though some mark on the latter's face greatly fascinated him.

The warrior went on studying Axl, then caught himself and laughed. "Forgive me, sir. I thought for a moment… But forgive me. My blood is Saxon through and through, but I was brought up in a country not far from here and was often among Britons. So I learnt to speak your tongue alongside my own. These days I'm less accustomed to it, living as I do far away in the fenlands, where one hears many strange tongues but not yours. So you must excuse my errors."

"Far from it, sir," Axl said. "One can hardly tell you aren't a native speaker. In fact, I couldn't help notice last night your way of wearing your sword, closer and higher on the waist than Saxons are accustomed to do, your hand falling easily on the handle as you walk. I hope you won't be offended when I say it's a manner much like a Briton's."

Again Wistan laughed. "My Saxon comrades ceaselessly jest not only on my wearing of the sword, but my wielding of it. But you see, my skills were taught to me by Britons, and I've never wished for better teaching. It has preserved me well through many dangers, and did so again last night. Excuse my impertinence, sir, but I see you're not from these parts yourself. Can it be your native country is to the west?"

"We're from the neighbouring country, sir. A day's walk away, no more."

"Yet perhaps in distant days you lived further west?"

"As I say, sir, I'm from the neighbouring country."

"Actually, sir, we mean to take the high road through the mountains, there being a wise man in the monastery there we hope will grant us an audience."

"Ah. The road through the forest then."

"Forgive my poor manners. Travelling this far west, I find myself nostalgic for the country of my childhood, though I know it's some distance yet. I find myself seeing everywhere shadows of half-remembered faces. Are you and your good wife returning home this morning?"

"No, sir, we go east to our son's village, which we hope to reach within two days."

"Is that so?" Wistan nodded thoughtfully, and once more looked carefully at Axl. "I'm told that's a steep climb."

"My guests have not yet breakfasted," Ivor said, breaking in. "Excuse us, Master Wistan, while I walk them to the longhouse. Then if we may, sir, I'd like to resume our discussion of just now." He lowered his voice and continued in Saxon, to which Wistan replied with a nod. Then turning to Axl and Beatrice, Ivor shook his head and said gravely: "Despite this man's great efforts last night, our problems are far from over. But follow me, friends, you must be famished."

There was no time to say more, for Ivor, at last noticing he was in danger of losing them, had stopped at a corner.

"No doubt," she replied quietly. "But that was a strange way he had of staring at you, Axl."

Ivor marched off with his lurching gait, prodding the earth at each step with his staff. He seemed too distracted to notice his guests falling behind in the crowded alleys. At one point, when Ivor was several paces ahead, Axl said to Beatrice: "That warrior's an admirable fellow, didn't you think so, princess?"

Once inside it, you would not have thought this longhouse so different from the sort of rustic canteen many of you will have experienced in one institution or another. There were rows of long tables and benches, and towards one end, a kitchen and serving area. Its main difference from a modern facility would have been the dominating presence of hay: there was hay above one's head, and beneath one's feet, and though not by design, all over the surface of the tables, blown around by the gusts that regularly swept through the place. On a morning such as this, as our travellers sat down to breakfast, the sun breaking in through the porthole-like windows would have revealed the air itself to be filled with drifting specks of hay.

Before long they came to a sunny courtyard. There were roaming geese, and the yard itself was bisected by an artificial stream -- a shallow channel cut into the earth -- along which the water trickled with urgency. At its broadest point the stream was forded by a simple little bridge of two flat rocks, and at that moment an older child was squatting on one of them, washing clothes. It was a scene that struck Axl as almost idyllic, and he would have paused to take it in further had Ivor not kept striding firmly on towards the low, heavily thatched building whose length ran the entire far edge of the yard.

At first they ate without speaking, only now conscious of how hungry they had been. Ivor, facing them across the table, continued to brood, his eyes far away in thought, and it was only after some time that Beatrice said:

The old longhouse was deserted when they arrived, but Ivor went into the kitchen area, and a moment later two elderly women appeared with bread, honey, biscuits and jugs of milk and water. Then Ivor himself came back with a tray of poultry cuts which Axl and Beatrice proceeded to devour gratefully.

"Those were no ogres, mistress, nor any creatures seen before in these parts. It's a great fear removed they no longer roam outside our gates. The boy though is another matter. Returned he may be, but far from safe." Ivor leaned across the table towards them and lowered his voice, even though they were once more alone. "You're right, Mistress Beatrice, I wonder at myself to live among such savages. Better dwell in a pit of rats. What can that brave stranger think of us, and after all he did last night?"

"These Saxons are a great burden to you, Ivor. Perhaps you're wishing to be back with your own kind, even with the boy returned safe and the ogres slain."

"Why, sir, what has occurred?" Axl asked. "We were there at the fire last night, but sensing a fierce quarrel, took our leave and remain ignorant of what went on."

"You did well to hide yourselves, friends. These pagans were sufficiently aroused last night to tear out each other's eyes. How they might have treated a pair of strange Britons found in their midst I dread to think. The boy Edwin was safely returned, but even as the village began to rejoice, the women found on him a small wound. I inspected it myself as did the other elders. A mark just below his chest, no worse than what a child receives after a tumble. But the women, his own kin at that, declared it a bite, and that's what the village is calling it this morning. I've had to have the boy locked in a shed for his safety, and even so, his companions, his very family members, throwing stones at the door and calling for him to be brought out and slaughtered."

"But how can this be, Ivor?" Beatrice asked. "Is it the mist's work again that they've lost all memory of the horrors the child so lately suffered?"

"Surely, sir," Axl said, "there are those here wise enough to argue better sense."

"If only it were, mistress. But this time they appear to remember all too well. The pagans will not look beyond their superstitions. It's their conviction that once bitten by a fiend, the boy will before long turn fiend himself and wreak horror here within our walls. They fear him and should he remain here, he'll suffer a fate as terrible as any from which Master Wistan saved him last night."

"Then what's to be done, sir?"

"The warrior's as horrified as you are, and we two have been in discussion all morning. I've proposed he take the boy with him when he rides out, imposition though this is, and leave him at some village sufficiently distant where he may have a chance of a new life. I felt shame to the depths of my heart to ask such a thing of a man so soon after he has risked his life for us, but I could see little else to do. Wistan is now considering my proposal, though he has an errand for his king and already delayed on account of his horse and last night's troubles. In fact, I must check the boy's still safe now, then go see if the warrior has made his decision." Ivor rose and picked up his staff. "Come and say farewell before you leave, friends. Though after what you've heard I'll understand your wish to hurry from here without a backward glance."

"If there are, we're outnumbered, and even if we may command restraint for a day or two, it won't be long before the ignorant have their way."

Axl watched Ivor's figure through the doorway striding off across the sunny courtyard. "Dismal news, princess," he said.

"It is, Axl, but it's not to do with us. Let's not dally further in this place. Our path today's a steep one."

"I didn't know what to think of it, princess."

The food and milk were very fresh, and they ate on for a while in silence. Then Beatrice said:

"It was just a thought. That perhaps God is angry about something we've done. Or maybe he's not angry, but ashamed."

"Axl, a thought came to me about it this morning, just as I was waking."

"Perhaps God's so deeply ashamed of us, of something we did, that he's wishing himself to forget. And as the stranger told Ivor, when God won't remember, it's no wonder we're unable to do so."

"What thought was that, princess?"

"A curious thought, princess. But if it's as you say, why doesn't he punish us? Why make us forget like fools even things that happened the hour before?"

"Do you suppose there's any truth in it, Axl? What Ivor was saying last night about the mist, that it was God himself making us forget."

"Who's to say, princess," he said. "Perhaps the wise monk in the mountains will explain it to us. But now we're speaking of waking this morning, there's something came to me also, perhaps the same moment you were having these thoughts. It was a memory, a simple one, but I was pleased enough with it."

There was a burst of laughter outside. Tilting his head a little, Axl was able to see out in the yard a group of children balancing on the flat rocks over the little stream. As he watched, one of them fell into the water with a squeal.

"I don't know, Axl. But it's surely not anything you and I ever did, for he's always loved us well. If we were to pray to him, pray and ask for him to remember at least a few of the things most precious to us, who knows, he may hear and grant us our wish."

"Oh, Axl! What memory was that?"

"What on this earth could we have done to make God so ashamed?"

"I was remembering a time we were walking through a market or a festival. We were in a village, but not our own, and you were wearing that light green cloak with the hood."

"I'm talking of long ago, right enough, princess. A summer's day, but there was a chill wind in this place where we were, and you'd placed the green cloak around you, though you kept the hood from your head. A market or perhaps some festival. It was a village on a slope with goats in a pen where you first set foot in it."

"This must be a dream or else a long time ago, husband. I have no green cloak."

"And what was it we were doing there, Axl?"

"There's something comes back to me, but not clearly. I'm thinking this was a drunken man you're talking of."

"We were just walking arm in arm, and then there was a stranger, a man from the village, suddenly in our path. And taking one glance at you, he stared like he was beholding a goddess. Do you remember it, princess? A young man, though I suppose we too were young then. And he was exclaiming he'd never set eyes on a woman so beautiful. Then he reached forward and touched your arm. Do you have a memory of it, princess?"

"A little drunk perhaps, I don't know, princess. It was a day of festivities, as I say. All the same, he saw you and was amazed. Said you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen."

"Then this must be a long time ago right enough! Isn't this the day you grew jealous and quarrelled with the man, the way we were almost run out of the village?"

"It comes back to me somewhat, but I'm sure you then had a jealous quarrel with him."

"I recall nothing like that, princess. The time I'm thinking of, you had on the green cloak, and it was some festival day, and this same stranger, seeing I was your protector, turned to me and said, she's the loveliest vision I've seen so you be sure to take very good care of her my friend. That's what he said."

"If you felt proud, Axl, you were jealous also. Didn't you stand up to the man even though he was drunk?"

"It's not how I remember it, princess. Perhaps I just made a show of being jealous as a sort of jest. But I would have known the fellow meant no harm. It's what I woke with this morning, though it's been many years."

"How could I have done such a thing when even now I feel the pride rising through me at the stranger's words? The most beautiful vision he'd seen. And he was telling me to take the very best care of you."

"It was a cloak, Axl, and like any cloak it must have worn thin with the years."

"I wonder what became of that cloak. You always took good care of it."

"Now that comes back to me. And I blamed you bitterly for its loss."

"Didn't we lose it somewhere? Left on a sunny rock perhaps?"

"I believe you did, princess, though I can't think now what justice there was in that."

"Oh, Axl, it's a relief we can remember a few things still, mist or no mist. It could be God's already heard us and is hastening to help us remember."

"And we'll remember plenty more, princess, when we set our minds to it. There'll be no sly boatman able to trick us then, even if there ever comes a day we care at all for his foolish chatter. But let's eat up now. The sun's high and we're late for that steep path."

They were walking back to Ivor's house, and had just passed the spot where they were nearly assaulted the previous night, when they heard a voice calling from above. Glancing around, they spotted Wistan high up on the rampart, perched on a lookout's platform.

"If that's how you've remembered it, Axl, let it be the way it was. With this mist upon us, any memory's a precious thing and we'd best hold tight to it."

"Glad to see you still here, friends," the warrior called down.

"Still here," Axl called in reply, taking a few paces towards the fence. "But hastening on our way. And you, sir? Will you rest here for the day?"

Axl nodded, then turning to Wistan, called: "Very well, sir. Do you wish me to come up?"

Axl and Beatrice exchanged looks, and she said quietly: "Speak with him if you will, Axl. I'll return to Ivor's and prepare provisions for our journey."

"Go see what he wants, Axl," Beatrice said quietly. "But be careful, and it's not just the ladder I'm speaking of."

"As you will, sir. I'll happily come down, but it's a splendid morning and the view is such as to lift the spirits. If the ladder's no trouble to you, I urge you to join me up here."

"I too must leave shortly. But if I may impose on you, sir, for a short conversation, I'd be most thankful. I promise not to detain you long."

He took each rung with care until he reached the warrior, waiting with an extended hand. Axl steadied himself on the narrow platform, then looked down to see Beatrice watching from below. Only after he had waved cheerfully did she move off somewhat reluctantly towards Ivor's house -- now clearly visible from his high vantage point. He kept watching her for a further moment, then turned and gazed out over the top of the fence.

"You see I didn't lie, sir," Wistan said, as they stood there side by side, the wind on their faces. "It's quite splendid as far as the eye will reach."

The view before them that morning may not have differed so greatly from one to be had from the high windows of an English country house today. The two men would have seen, to their right, the valleyside coming down in regular green ridges, while far to their left, the opposite slope, covered with pine trees, would have appeared hazier, because more distant, as it merged with the outlines of the mountains on the horizon. Directly before them was a clear view along the valley floor; of the river curving gently as it followed the corridor out of view; of the expanses of marshland broken by patches of pond and lake further in the distance. There would have been elms and willows near the water, as well as dense woodland, which in those days would have stirred a sense of foreboding. And just where the sunlight went into shadow on the left bank of the river could be seen some remnants of a long-abandoned village.

"That must be it, sir. In the fenlands we have no hills to speak of, and the trees and grass lack the colour before us now. But it was on that joyful gallop my mare broke her shoe, and though this morning the good people here have given her another, I will have to ride gently for one hoof is bruised. The truth is, sir, I brought you up here not simply to admire the country, but to be away from unwelcome ears. I take it you've by now heard what's occurred to the boy Edwin?"

"It's possible," Axl said, "this country and the one further west where you were born share many likenesses."

"Yesterday I rode down that hillside," Wistan said, "and my mare with hardly any prompting set into a gallop as though for sheer joy. We raced across fields, past lake and river, and my spirit soared. A strange thing, as if I were returning to scenes from an early life, though to my knowledge I've never before visited this country. Can it be I passed this way as a small boy too young to know my whereabouts, yet old enough to retain these sights? The trees and moorland here, the sky itself seem to tug at some lost memory."

"You may know also how the elders, despairing of what would happen to the boy here, begged I take him away today. They ask I leave the boy in some distant village, telling some story of how I found him lost and hungry on the road. This I'd do gladly enough, except I fear such a plan can hardly save him. Word will easily travel across the country and next month, next year, the boy could find himself in the very plight he is in today, yet all the worse for being lately arrived and his people unknown. You see how it is, sir?"

"Master Ivor told us of it, and we thought it poor news to succeed your brave intervention."

"You're wise to fear such an outcome, Master Wistan."

The warrior, who had been speaking while gazing out at the scenery, pushed back a tangled lock of hair the wind had blown across his face. As he did so, he seemed suddenly to see something in Axl's own features and, for a small moment, to forget what he had been saying. He gazed intently at Axl, angling his head. Then he gave a small laugh, saying:

"We're keen to do what we can, sir. Let me hear what you propose."

"Forgive me, sir. I was just now reminded of something. But to return to my point. I knew nothing of this boy before last night, but I've been impressed by the steady way he has faced each new terror set before him. My comrades last night, brave though they were when setting out, were overcome with fear as we approached the fiends' camp. The boy, however, even though left at the fiends' mercy for many hours, held himself with a calm I could only wonder at. It would pain me greatly to think his fate's now all but sealed. So I've been thinking of a way out, and if you and your good wife were to consent to lend a hand, all may yet be well."

"When the elders asked me to take the boy to a distant village, they meant no doubt a Saxon village. But it's precisely in a Saxon village the boy will never be safe, for it is Saxons who share this superstition about the bite he carries. If he were to be left with Britons, however, who see such nonsense for what it is, there can be no danger, even if the story were to pursue him. He's strong, and as I've said, has remarkable courage, even if he speaks little. He'll be a useful pair of hands for any community from the day he arrives. Now, sir, you said earlier you're on your way east to your son's village. I take it this will be just such a Christian village as we seek. If you and your wife were to plead for him, with perhaps the support of your son, that would surely secure a good outcome. Of course, it may be the same good people would accept the boy from me, but then I'll be a stranger to them, and one to arouse fear and suspicion. What's more, the errand which has brought me to this country will prevent my travelling so far east."

"That is indeed my suggestion, sir. However, my errand will permit me to travel at least part of the same road. You said you would take the path through the mountains. I'd happily accompany you and the boy, at least to the other side. My company will be a tedious imposition, but then the mountains are known to contain dangers, and my sword may yet prove of service to you. And your bags too could be carried by the horse, for even if her foot's tender, she'll not complain of it. What do you say, sir?"

"You're suggesting then," Axl said, "that my wife and I be the ones to take the boy from here."

"I think it an excellent plan. My wife and I were distressed to hear of the boy's plight, and we'll be happy if we can aid some resolution. And what you say is wise, sir. It's among Britons, surely, he's safest now. I've no doubt he'll be received with kindness at my son's village, for my son himself is a respected figure there, practically an elder in all but his years. He'll speak for the boy, I know, and ensure his welcome."

"Then please wait by the south gate. I'll come by presently with the mare and the boy Edwin. I'm grateful to you, sir, for the sharing of this trouble. And glad we're to be companions for a day or two."

"I'm much relieved. I'll let Master Ivor know our plan and seek a way to remove the boy quietly from the barn. Are you and your wife ready to leave shortly?"

"My wife is even now packing provisions for the journey."