The Enchanter's Forest (49 page)

     The tall man knelt down beside his kinsman, first putting fingers to his throat, then bending over the long, inert body, putting his cheek right over the partly open lips, one hand on the breast above the heart. He crouched like that for some moments and then, straightening to his full height, he said, ‘It is over.’

     The Domina gave a bow. Then, turning, she called out softly and the grey-haired woman appeared out of the darkness. The Domina nodded and the woman, with a quick glance at the tall man, unfastened the leather bag at her waist and set about her task. The Domina, after watching for a short time, moved away across the bottom of the chalk pit, up its lower far side and on down the hill, only stopping when she was out of sight of the grave.

     The tall man had come with her, as had Joanna and the two bards. The man who had accompanied the Long Men must have stayed at the graveside, for Joanna could not see him. Perhaps it was he who would put his kinsman in the grave and shovel the chalky soil on top of him.

     The Domina was speaking; Joanna turned her attention to the words.

     ‘Your brother is blessed,’ she said to the tall man, ‘for he died in the service of his people, carrying out the sacred task entrusted to him. He acted in accordance with what he believed to be the truth, and not a one of us can do better. There is no resentment among my people for the harm that your brother would have inflicted on one of ours, for we understand and we forgive. We have come here on this sacred night of the autumn equinox to observe your kinsman’s death, to honour his passing and to speak the words that will speed his worthy warrior soul to the halls of his forefathers.’ She held out her right hand, palm uppermost, and, after a moment, the tall man put his hand palm down upon it.

     ‘Let there be trust, understanding and peace between the Long Men and the forest people,’ the Domina intoned, her low voice thrumming on the air.

     And the Long Man, his eyes bright with what might have been tears, echoed the words: ‘Trust, understanding and peace.’

     The two of them stood thus, palm to palm, for some time. Then the Domina relaxed and seemed to diminish until she was no longer a figure of power but simply an old woman in a silvery cloak on a dark hillside. With the change in her something went out of the atmosphere – something strange and very powerful that had held the night in stillness and utter silence all around them – and slowly the ordinary sounds came back.

     Joanna, stretching muscles that had cramped from the intensity with which she had maintained her tense pose, heard the sound of earth being shovelled. And she knew that her guess had been right: the grey-haired woman had finished her ministrations, the dead man had been laid in the Earth and now the third of the strange men was filling in the grave.

     The Domina looked at the tall man, eyebrows raised, and he said, ‘Yes.’

     Side by side the two of them led the way back over the lip of the chalk pit and down to the grave. It had been about half-filled and now the two bards picked up implements – they looked like the shoulder blades of deer – and helped the third tall man complete his task.

     Even with three of them, it took some time.

     There was something very familiar about the third tall man  . . .

     Once again the Domina read Joanna’s mind. Touching her arm, she said softly, ‘Did you not recognise him until this moment?’

     ‘No,’ Joanna admitted.
Why not? What’s the matter with me?

     The Domina smiled. ‘I am pleased to hear it,’ she murmured. Then, as if sensing Joanna’s incomprehension: ‘I told you to be watchful and you obeyed, bending all your concentratation to the matter in hand to the exclusion of everything else. Even’ – the smile deepened – ‘to the presence on this hillside of someone who is very special to you.’

     ‘How could I not have noticed
him
?’ Joanna muttered. Eyes fixed on the broad back, an urgent thought occurred to her. ‘Has
he
noticed
me
?’

     ‘Of course not,’ the Domina said. ‘But then, as you have seen, it is relatively easy for us to hide from unsuspecting men things that we do not wish them to see.’

     ‘Why is he here?’ Joanna felt she ought to be able to work it out but the shock of seeing him had unnerved her.

     ‘He belongs here,’ the Domina said simply. ‘Do you not recall?’

     Beside her the tall man, roused from his deep silence, stirred. ‘He is one of us,’ he confirmed. ‘We chose him for this task so that he should be recognised by the few of us that remain on this Earth.’

     Slowly Joanna nodded.

For some time they stayed there in the chalk pit. Finally the task was done and Joanna watched as both the tall man and the Domina stood beside the new grave and together chanted long strings of words that seemed to weave through the dark night like two threads of gold and silver.

     When they were done, each stepped back from the grave, bowed to the other and then turned and walked away. Behind the Domina the two bards and the grey-haired woman fell into their places; the Long Man walked away alone.

     Leaving just the two of them alone in the chalk pit.

     He came towards her, his expression tentative. She opened her arms to him and his smile broke out like the first rays of the dawn sun, still some hours away. She hugged him tightly, pulling him close, and felt her body mould itself to his. He put a strong hand on her chin then bent to kiss her.

     There was no need for words; as one they slowly climbed out of the chalk pit and set off along the track that would take them back to the forest. But not yet; after only half a mile or so, they found a place where a narrow trail led into a copse and, there on the woodland floor soft with newly fallen leaves, they made love.

     Afterwards, waking soon after dawn from their brief but intense sleep, at last he spoke. He said, taking her quite by surprise, ‘I knew you’d be there.’

     ‘
Did
you?’ Her voice fully reflected her amazement. ‘But the Domina said she’d hidden me from you so you didn’t see me!’

     ‘She may have
said
she’d hidden you’ – he bent his head to kiss her and she snuggled into his shoulder – ‘but it doesn’t necessarily mean she did so. She’s not always right, you know,’ he added.

     ‘So you—’

     He stopped her words with another kiss. ‘Sweeting, it wasn’t exactly that I saw you,’ he admitted, ‘more that I expected we’d meet each other, sooner or later and somehow or other. They sought me out to ask if I would be prepared to do this thing, you know.’ His face creased in a frown. ‘They said that there was a rift that must be healed. Harmful intent had been directed at me and by doing my bit this night I could indicate my forgiveness.’

     ‘You came willingly?’ she asked.

     He looked down at her, right into her eyes. ‘Oh, aye. I came willingly all right.’

     ‘But—’ She was struggling to understand. ‘These things surely do not concern you? Rifts needing healing and all that?’

     He grinned. ‘No, I can’t say that they do.’

     ‘Then why were you so keen to come?’

     ‘Because they said I wasn’t the only one who had been threatened – you had been too. Then I knew you’d be there and after that there was no holding me.’

     ‘You – you went off into the wild lands with the Long Men and you spent half the night digging and filling in the grave of a man who tried to kill you, just because you reckoned you and I might get the chance to be together?’

     ‘Aye,’ he said softly. Then: ‘You promised, Joanna, that we would meet at the year’s festivals, and last night was the equinox.’ He was holding her close, his large, warm hand moving across her shoulder and down towards her breast, and already she felt herself begin to open to him again. Sensing her response he kissed her, deeply, long. Pausing briefly for air, he added, ‘And you were always a woman who kept her promises.’

     Then they were making love again and there was no time for another word.

About the Author

Alys Clare is a history enthusiast and full time author. She lives in Kent, where the Hawkenlye mysteries are set. The most recent include
Whiter than the Lily
,
Girl in a Red Tunic
and
Heart of Ice
. To find out more, you can reach her on her website:
www.alysclare.com