Chapter Two
There were, however, plenty of things to attend to before they could set off. In a village like this, many items necessary for their journey—blankets, water flasks, tinder—were communally owned and securing their use required much bargaining with neighbours. Moreover, Axl and Beatrice, advanced though they were in years, had their burden of daily duties and could not simply go away without the consent of the community. And even when they were finally ready to leave, a turn in the weather delayed them further. For what was the point of risking the hazards of fog, rain and cold when sunshine was surely just around the corner?
But they did eventually set off, with walking sticks and bundles on their backs, on a bright morning of wispy white clouds and a strong breeze. Axl had wished to start at first light—it was clear to him the day would be fine—but Beatrice had insisted on waiting till the sun was higher. The Saxon village where they would shelter the first night, she argued, was easily within a day’s walk, and surely their priority was to cross the corner of the Great Plain as close to noon as possible, when the dark forces of that place were most likely to be dormant.
It had been a while since they had walked any distance together, and Axl had been anxious about his wife’s stamina. But after an hour he found himself reassured: though her pace was slow—he noticed again something lop-sided about her gait, as if she were cushioning some pain—Beatrice kept moving on steadily, head down into the wind in open land, undaunted when confronted by thistles and undergrowth. On uphills, or ground so muddy it was an effort to pull one foot out after the other, she would slow right down, but keep pushing on.
In the days before their journey’s start, Beatrice had grown increasingly confident of remembering their route, at least as far as the Saxon village which she had regularly visited with the other women over the years. But once they lost sight of the craggy hills above their settlement, and had crossed the valley beyond the marshland, she became less certain. At a fork in a path, or facing a windswept field, she would pause and stand for a long time, panic creeping into her gaze as she surveyed the land.
“Don’t worry, princess,” Axl would say on such occasions. “Don’t worry and take all the time you need.”
“But Axl,” she would say, turning to him, “we don’t have time. We must cross the Great Plain at noon if we’re to do so in safety.”
“We’ll be there in good time, princess. You take all the time you need.”
I might point out here that navigation in open country was something much more difficult in those days, and not just because of the lack of reliable compasses and maps. We did not yet have the hedgerows that so pleasantly divide the countryside today into field, lane and meadow. A traveller of that time would, often as not, find himself in featureless landscape, the view almost identical whichever way he turned. A row of standing stones on the far horizon, a turn of a stream, the particular rise and fall of a valley: such clues were the only means of charting a course. And the consequences of a wrong turn could often prove fatal. Never mind the possibilities of perishing in bad weather: straying off course meant exposing oneself more than ever to the risk of assailants—human, animal or supernatural—lurking away from the established roads.
You might have been surprised by how little they conversed as they walked, this couple usually so full of things to tell each other. But at a time when a broken ankle or an infected graze could be lifethreatening, there was a recognition that concentration was desirable at each and every step. You might also have noted that whenever the path grew too narrow to walk side by side, it was always Beatrice, not Axl, who went in front. This too might surprise you, it seeming more natural for the man to go first into potentially hazardous terrain, and sure enough, in woodland or where there was the possibility of wolves or bears, they would switch positions without discussion. But for the most part, Axl would make sure his wife went first, for the reason that practically every fiend or evil spirit they were likely to encounter was known to target its prey at the rear of a party—in much the way, I suppose, a big cat will stalk an antelope at the back of the herd. There were numerous instances of a traveller glancing back to the companion walking behind, only to find the latter vanished without trace. It was the fear of such an occurrence that compelled Beatrice intermittently to ask as they walked: “Are you still there, Axl?” To which he would answer routinely: “Still here, princess.”
They reached the edge of the Great Plain by late morning. Axl suggested they push on and put the hazard behind them, but Beatrice was adamant they should wait till noon. They sat down on a rock at the top of the hillslope leading down to the plain, and watched carefully the shortening shadows of their sticks, held upright before them in the earth.
“It may be a good sky, Axl,” she said. “And I’ve not heard of any wickedness befalling a person in this corner of the plain. All the same, better wait for noon, when surely no demon will care even to peek out to see us pass.”
“We’ll wait, just as you say, princess. And you’re right, this is the Great Plain after all, even if it’s a benevolent corner of it.”
They sat there like that for a little while, looking down at the land before them, hardly speaking. At one point Beatrice said:
“When we see our son, Axl, he’s sure to insist we live at his village. Won’t it be strange to leave our neighbours after these years, even if they’re sometimes teasing our grey hairs?”
“Nothing’s decided yet, princess. We’ll talk everything over with our son when we see him.” Axl went on gazing out at the Great Plain. Then he shook his head and said quietly: “It’s odd, the way I can’t recall him at all just now.”
“I thought I dreamt about him last night,” Beatrice said. “Standing by a well, and turning, just a little to one side, and calling to someone. What came before or after’s gone now.”
“At least you saw him, princess, even if in a dream. What did he look like?”
“A strong, handsome face, that much I remember. But the colour of his eyes, the turn of his cheek, I’ve no memory of them.”
“I don’t recall his face now at all,” Axl said. “It must all be the work of this mist. Many things I’ll happily let go to it, but it’s cruel when we can’t remember a precious thing like that.”
She moved closer to him, letting her head fall on his shoulder. The wind was now beating hard at them and part of her cloak had come loose. Putting an arm around her, Axl trapped the cloak and held it tightly to her.
“Well, I dare say one or the other of us will remember soon enough,” he said.
“Let’s try, Axl. Let’s both of us try. It’s as if we’ve mislaid a precious stone. But surely we’ll find it again if we both try.”
“Surely we will, princess. But look, the shadows are almost gone. It’s time for us to go down.”
Beatrice straightened and began rummaging in her bundle. “Here, we’ll carry these.”
She handed to him what looked like two smooth pebbles, but when he studied them he saw complex patterns cut into the face of each one.
“Put them in your belt, Axl, and take care to keep the markings facing out. It will help the Lord Christ keep us safe. I’ll carry these others.”
“One will be enough for me, princess.”
“No, Axl, we’ll share them equally. Now what I remember is there’s a path to follow down there and unless rain’s washed it away the walking will be easier than most of what we’ve had. But there’s one place we need to be cautious. Axl, are you listening to me? It’s when the path goes over where the giant is buried. To one who doesn’t know it, it’s an ordinary hill, but I’ll signal to you and when you see me you’re to follow off the path and round the edge of the hill till we meet the same path on its way down. It’ll do us no good treading over such a grave, high noon or not. Are you fully understanding me, Axl?”
“Don’t worry, princess, I understand you very well.”
“And I don’t need to remind you. If we see a stranger on our path, or calling us from nearby, or any poor animal caught in a trap or injured in a ditch, or any such thing might catch your attention, you don’t speak a word or slow your step for it.”
“I’m no fool, princess.”
“Well, then, Axl, it’s time we went.”
As Beatrice had promised, they were required to walk on the Great Plain for only a short distance. Their path, though muddy at times, remained defined and never took them out of sunlight. After an initial descent it climbed steadily, till they found themselves walking along a high ridge, moorland on either side of them. The wind was fierce, but if anything a welcome antidote to the noon sun. The ground everywhere was covered in heather and gorse, never more than knee high, and only occasionally did a tree come into view—some solitary, crone-like specimen, bowed by endless gales. Then a valley appeared to their right, reminding them of the power and mystery of the Great Plain, and that they were now trespassing on but a small corner of it.
They walked close together, Axl almost at his wife’s heels. Even so, throughout the crossing, Beatrice continued every five or six steps to chant, in the manner of a litany, the question: “Are you still there, Axl?” to which he would respond: “Still here, princess.” Aside from this ritualistic exchange, they said nothing. Even when they reached the giant’s burial mound, and Beatrice made urgent signs for them to move from the path into the heather, they kept up this call and response in level tones, as though wishing to deceive any listening demons about their intentions. All the while Axl watched for fast-moving mist or sudden darkenings in the sky, but there came no hint of either, and then they had put the Great Plain behind them. As they climbed through a small wood full of songbirds, Beatrice made no comment, but he could see her whole posture relax, and her refrain came to an end.
They rested beside a brook, where they bathed their feet, ate bread and refilled their flasks. From this point their route followed a long sunken lane from Roman days, lined by oaks and elms, which was much easier walking, but required vigilance on account of the other wayfarers they were bound to meet. And sure enough, during the first hour, they encountered coming the other way a woman with her two children, a boy driving donkeys, and a pair of travelling players hurrying to rejoin their troupe. On each occasion they stopped to exchange pleasantries, but another time, hearing the clatter of approaching wheels and hooves, they hid themselves in the ditch. This too proved harmless—a Saxon farmer with a horse and cart piled high with firewood.
Toward mid-afternoon the sky began to cloud as though for a storm. They had been resting beneath a large oak, their backs to the road and hidden from the passing traffic. A clean sweep of land lay visible before them, so they had noticed immediately the coming change.
“Don’t worry, princess,” Axl said. “We’ll stay dry beneath this tree until the sun returns.”
But Beatrice was on her feet, leaning forward, a hand raised to shield her eyes. “I can see the road ahead curving into the distance, Axl. And I see it’s not far to the old villa. I took shelter there once before when I came with the women. A ruin, but the roof was still good then.”
“Can we reach it before the storm breaks, princess?”
“We’ll reach it if we go now.”
“Then let’s hurry. There’s no reason to catch our deaths from a drenching. And this tree, now I’m looking at it, is full of holes the way I can see most of the sky above me.”