Part 6 (1/2)
I backed away a step or two and Moglet backed with me, her fur anxious. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Corby hopping up and down, luckily undamaged, and the movement of gra.s.s as Puddy crawled closer.
”Keep back,” I thought-ordered them. ”I don't like the look of this fellow . . .”
”You'd like him even less if you'd had a ruddy great rock up your a.r.s.e,” was Corby's succinct reply. ”And we're not abandoning you in a dangerous situation,” he added. ”Fellow like that means business. Where's your knife?”
”Words first,” said Puddy. ”Action second if necessary. You've never used that knife in anger . . .” No. It was the one I used for vegetables, peeling and slicing. But it was very sharp.
The swineherd had moved forward as I moved back, and now he was the same distance away as before. ”No-harm-meant,” he said ingratiatingly, and stretched out his free hand to my still half-covered chest. ”Pretty-little-bubs- them. Shame-to-hide-them. Like-to-touch-them-I-would . . .”
I backed away again, looking away past him to where I had left our belongings, with Pisky's bowl in the shade of the wicker carrier. I received his anxiety and sent back a rea.s.surance, but inside I was panicking. I did not know what this man intended: did he mean to kill us for our paltry belongings? He could not know I had our remaining coins hidden away in a pouch in my breeches. Perhaps if I offered them to him he would let us go . . .
Frantically I dug down and his eyes followed my hand, his tongue pa.s.sing slowly over his lips.
”Getting-them-off-for-me-then?” the voice was suggestive, nasty.
I held out the coins. ”That's all I have. Please take them and leave us alone . .
His eyes lit up and he s.n.a.t.c.hed the coins away from me and bit them. ”Good- good . . .” He took another pull from the flask, pulling the cork with his teeth and spitting it to the gra.s.s. ”Why-don't-you-speak-proper? Why-the-mask?
And-what-you-got-over-there?” and he gestured in the direction of our belongings.
He wasn't going to leave us in peace, he wanted everything. ”Take it all,” I said despairingly. ”Except my little fish. Then please let us alone . . .”
He put down the flask and placed the coins atop, where they winked in the suns.h.i.+ne. ”Don't-hear-you-right-girl. Ain't-answered-my-questions. Let's-see- what-else-you-got-in-there-” and he made a grab for me but I jumped back, and this time my knife leapt to my hand, glinting to match the coins.
”Let us alone, or I'll-I'll kill you!”
He couldn't reach me but unfortunately Moglet had not moved fast enough and he grabbed her and held her high by the scruff of the neck, his other hand flas.h.i.+ng to his own knife. He made as if to strike her and I screamed, a scream that was echoed by a strangled wail from Moglet.
”Help me, Thing dear, help me!”
”No, no!” I yelled. ”Anything you want, anything!”
Apparently this time he understood, for he lowered my kitten, but his knife was still at the ready.
”Don't-want-me-to-harm-your-pet? All-right-put-your-knife-down-over- there-and-I'll-let-it-go. That's-right . . .” For a moment longer he held her, then opened his hand and she dropped, choking and gasping, to crawl back to my side. I bent to stroke her, but a moment later a hand was at my throat and I was forced backwards to the ground and his other hand tore at my belt.
”Get-'em-down, get-'em-down,” he muttered and pulled my trews past my knees. In hideous shame I tried to cover my red-pebbled belly with my hands and roll over, but he slapped my face till my head rang. ”Lie-still-curse-you- or-it'll-be-the-worse-for-you-”
At that moment he broke off with a yell for all at once he was attacked by the spitting fury of Puddy, whose venom shot up into his face, the claws of an enraged Moglet, scratching blood from his hands, and the beak of an angry Corby, who tore at his rear.
”Run, Thing, run!” they yelled, but with a fist the swineherd punched Moglet from him, with a foot he kicked Puddy away and his knife flashed within an inch of Corby. I knew it was no use and called on them to stop.
”Go away, go away, my dear ones: you cannot help me now. Go into the forest where he cannot find you, and drag Pisky's bowl with you. I'll be all right, only please, please go!” But still they hesitated, crying and cursing, till I used the words of command. ”Go, and do not disobey. I command you by all that holds the Earth, the Waters, the Sky in their accustomed places; the Now, the Then, the Hereafter . . .”
I heard them leave me, and the desolation of the abandoned tied my stomach in knots, spilt the tears from my eyes and cut at my heart as keen as any knife.
The sun went behind cloud and the figure standing over me a.s.sumed the proportions of a giant. Why doesn't he kill me, I thought, and get it over with?
And I sent a hope-call for my dear ones, to be left to fend for themselves. Let them be brave and resourceful, I prayed, let them find their own peace . . .
The swineherd unb.u.t.toned his trousers. Staring upwards, all at once I realized what he intended: he meant to use me as Broom used to punish our Mistress, for the great thing that poked out from his groin was smooth- k.n.o.bbed, and ridged and gnarled along its length like Broom, and it throbbed and pulsed and swelled like Broom, and like Broom it had a great bush of furze at its base the colour of dead heather, and it waved and nodded and beckoned just like Broom and any moment now it was going to thrust into my stomach where the pebble hurt and bring forth great gouts of blood and pain, and I began to whimper and cry.
”Oh, do not hurt me! Do not hurt me-I cannot stand more pain! Please, please!” I did not want to writhe and curse and bleed as she had done- The sun came out from behind the clouds, there was a thudding noise on the turf, a wild neighing, and all at once the swineherd was gone, clear over the top of the knoll, and soft horse-breath was sweet on my face.
”Come up, youngling, come up! He is gone and you are safe, for the moment.
Gather your things quickly, for he will be back . . .”
I stared up in bewilderment at the tattered, ragged-maned horse that stood over me.
”Gather your things quickly, before he returns,” he repeated. ”The others are safe: I will take you to them. Come!”
That night we had a fire, and ate at our leisure, and slept in the open. No looking for a tree to climb up, a hole to crawl into; that night we slept at peace for the first time since we had left on our great adventure. It is difficult to explain just why we all felt this sense of security-and we all felt it, not just me-except that the finding of the white horse, or rather his finding of us, was at the root of it all. Not then nor after did we ever question his unerring sense of direction, his knowledge, his warm benignity: we just accepted them, and him as something special.
Not that he was a splendid white stallion of some eighteen hands, like the great chargers I seemed to recall from some other time, some other place; he was small, perhaps a little larger than pony-size, with cloven hooves and tatty feathers, a long tail and mane, curly and tangled, and large, soft, brown eyes.
It was probably those eyes that set the seal on it: they seemed brown most of the time, but in sunlight they were blue-green, in shade brown-green and they beamed-there is no other word for it. Rea.s.surance, comfort and a strange other-worldliness shone from those eyes, and yet they were not happy . . .
He promised us nothing that first day, except that he would take us to a place of safety: he had carried us all smoothly and swiftly through the forest, stopping as twilight fell in a particularly pleasant glade to let us down. After gazing at us rea.s.suringly for a moment or two he went to lie down a little distance away, leaving us, as I said, feeling so calm and confident that I had lighted a fire without further thought, and we slept in the open that night all wrapped under my cloak, for the nights were chill-all that is except Corby, who preferred to roost off the ground.
In the morning the white horse was still there, quietly cropping the sweet gra.s.s that still lingered in the hollows. He seemed shy of approaching us, so I went across with one of the small russets I had bought the day before.
”Please have one: they are nice and juicy.”
Lipping the apple gently from my palm, he scrunched it with evident enjoyment. ”Thank you.”
”Talking of thanks, I quite forgot to offer mine-and ours-for the rescue and the ride and-and everything.”
”I had been near you for some days: I thought sometimes you realized I was near.”
”I thought someone, or something, was following us, but I wasn't sure. And if you hadn't, I don't know what would have happened to us. That-that man, with his-his-” I still wasn't sure what it had been.
”I followed you because you seemed a small and vulnerable party to be making your way in such a determined manner, and I was curious. Besides, you are a maiden, and even in my present state I have not forgotten my duties.”
”Duties?”
”To defend all maidens and the pure and unsullied from Evil, in whatever form that may come . . .” The answer was confident as if it came from a much bigger animal, but my eyes must have mirrored my astonishment, for the white horse blew softly in my ear. ”Things are not always what they seem,” he said. ”I was not always the wretched thing you see me now . . . No more of that. Now tell me, youngling-”
”My name is Thing,” I interrupted. ”And may I know just whom I have the honour of addressing?” I knew that was the correct way to ask someone's name because I had overheard two gentlemen meeting on the road one day, and they had addressed one another in just that way. I had crept away and practised it.
”You may, but not just now. Give me a name of your own: whatever you would call a white horse.”