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.
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?”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“We accept your kindness gladly, sir,” Axl broke in. “My wife and I are much in need of rest.”
“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.
“The treatment you received just now,” he said, “I shudder with shame to think of it.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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?”
“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?”
“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.”
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?”
“About what, princess?”
“He was talking of the mist and the reason for it.”
“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?”
“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?”
“A fine thing indeed, but what good it will do, I don’t know.”
“How can you say so, Axl? How can you say such a heartless thing?”
“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.”
“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?”
“I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t mean to do so. My mind was on other things.”
“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.”
“Forgive me, princess. It must be this mood here is affecting me.”
But Beatrice had become tearful. “No need to talk so harshly,” she muttered almost to herself.
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 was wondering what the medicine woman said to you about your pain.”
“She said it was nothing but what’s to be expected with the years.”
“Just what I always said, princess. Didn’t I tell you there was no need for worry?”
“I wasn’t the one worrying, husband. It was you insisting we go see the woman tonight.”
“It’s as well we did, for now we needn’t worry about your pain, if ever we did before.”
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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“That’s all true. But it seems a pity, having come this far, not to visit this wise monk.”
“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.”
“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?”
“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.”
“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.”
“Querig, the she-dragon? I’ve not heard talk of her in a long time. Is she still feared in this country?”
“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.”
“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’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.”
Ivor began to move to the inner room, but Beatrice quickly sat up and said:
“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?”
“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.”