Arcadia

52

‘Quickly! Bring me something to write with!’

Jay burst out of the tent where the forester lay, a look of panic and distress on his face. He had spent much of his time there, keeping his old friend company. In between Catherine went in and sat next to him, saw to the changing of his dressings and bathed his head. The old man was weakening though, despite their attention, and the fever they had all feared had gripped him.

‘That bad?’ It was Catherine who understood first what he was saying.

‘He has asked me to take his story.’

‘Go back inside and stay with him. I will see that everything is brought to you. Do you know how to do this?’

‘No. Not really. I mean, I know I have to take down his words, then write them properly later. Apart from that...’

‘You let him decide. I have had to witness it many times. You listen. You don’t interrogate or demand answers to anything. You must not be shocked or upset by anything he says.’

‘What if his words aren’t clear?’

‘You can ask questions, but you cannot press him. This will be how he wants to be remembered. You are just the agent of his wishes.’

‘Anything else?’

‘If he stops, you stop. If he keeps on going, so do you, for as long as he speaks. It is your judgement about what goes into the final version. I think that many leave out embarrassing or shameful details spoken in delirium but that is for you to decide.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Have a drink of water. You’re not allowed to eat or drink while taking the story. It could go on for a long time, and you have to sit until he’s finished. When you’re sure he’s done, then call me. I’ll sit with him if his end is near.’

‘I’d like to do that.’

‘No. That’s not your job. What you have to do is far more important. Oh — and, Jay...’

‘Yes?’

‘It will be hard for you, but you must not show it. If there is a chance, please ask him to forgive me.’

‘For what?’

‘He knows.’

Jay nodded and turned to go back into the tent. He was doing too many new things, too quickly. He hoped he could do this one correctly.

A few minutes later, a writing table, paper, pen and ink were brought to him. He set them up carefully and took a deep breath.

‘Callan, son of Perel. You believe you are nearing the end of your life, and you have asked to tell your story, that it may remain behind you and the memory of your life be preserved. Am I acceptable as the recorder of your story for others to read?’

‘You are, young Jay.’ Callan’s voice was thin and rasping; Jay had to lean over to hear what he was saying. ‘I could wish for no one better.’

‘Then I am ready, and you may begin to speak.’

The forester reached out to grasp his hand. ‘Don’t worry. I know how this is done. Relax,’ he said with a watery smile. ‘This may be worse for me than you.’

Nearly five hours later, Jay emerged. Callan had spoken for so long, he had exhausted himself and collapsed into unconsciousness. Jay wished only that he could do the same. He found that Catherine had stayed nearby throughout. Now she rose, stiff from sitting so long, to ask how they both were.

‘He’s asleep. You are not needed yet.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course. It was an honour to do it. He was kind to me.’

‘Then that kindness will live for ever,’ Catherine replied. ‘That’s no consolation, is it?’

He shook his head.

‘Callan has played his part in the story, and you will play yours for a long time to come. Do not worry for him. He will soon be relieved of care, although he is incredibly strong. He may well live awhile yet. You will have to bear the burdens of life for much longer.’

‘I know all the words. I just don’t believe any of them at the moment.’

‘You have done well, Jay. Henary would be proud of you. Will be proud, I can say. You kept my secret from Pamarchon until Rosalind decided to intervene — although quite how we got away with that one I cannot say. You will be a great Storyteller. You have played your part for Callan, and it was your idea to approach Esilio to avoid bloodshed. You have done more than enough.’

He glanced at her. ‘I fear I cannot finish yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘I need to be your advocate at the Shrine.’

‘You are not trained,’ she said with vehemence. ‘You don’t know the facts, and might well have to oppose someone who does. It’s a specialised calling. You can’t just stand up and speak, you know that. For a village theft, maybe. Not when lives are at stake, and the entire fate of Willdon.’

‘You see, Callan told me that—’

‘No! You must not say. You know you must not, not while he is alive. It would be a terrible breach of confidence.’

‘Then I must simply say it again. Appoint me to be your advocate. Tell me everything you can in confidence,’ Jay said eventually. ‘I will be able to discharge the duty Callan laid on me without revealing anything which may cast you in a bad light. Do you understand what I am saying?’

She hesitated for a long while before she spoke again. ‘You have thought this through?’

‘I have.’

‘Then I must trust you and place myself in your hands. Are you ready to listen to my story?’

‘I am.’

‘All I ask is that you do not judge me until the end.’

‘I am, as you know, Catherine of Willdon, widow of Thenald, who was my equal in birth and dignity,’ she began. ‘I won Willdon on his death because of my status. Someone of my background could be trusted, it was felt, to represent the domain and look after it until it returned to the family line, as it would on my death.

‘I have not displeased. My rule was confirmed at the first Abasement. I went away, returned and was restored by universal acclaim, so much so that now Gontal doesn’t even bother to show up. In all things, in all ways, I have done my people honour in my behaviour.’

She paused and looked at him carefully as he nodded.

‘Unfortunately,’ she continued, ‘that is all a complete lie. I was not the equal of my husband in birth or family. I obtained my husband, and Willdon, through fraud.’

There was a very long silence as Jay digested this.

‘You are known throughout the land as the finest woman in Anterwold,’ he said. ‘Nothing I have seen in the past few days has done anything to contradict that.’

‘I am touched by the compliment, but it is true, nonetheless. I will not dwell on my birth and upbringing, but I came from a poor place, a long way away. For many years I lived a hard life, with hard people. I lived as they did, hand to mouth, with never-ending labour. There was a sort of pestilence on the land. Cruel people commanded us, and few had the spirit to protest. It happens, more often than you think.

‘I left as soon as I could, and went without saying farewell. I came to richer and kinder lands and did what was necessary: I stole, slept rough, worked for shelter and clothes, met other wanderers, formed friendships for the first time. I listened to their stories and was captivated. I watched others, boys and girls from much better families. I kept quiet and absorbed everything. I learned about people, how to persuade and cajole, how to settle disputes and keep the peace. Above all I learned how to listen, to go through what people say to what they mean. It is now my greatest talent. One boy I met was going to be a student, and he was full of Ossenfud and the scholars. So I followed him there. I was already donning my disguise, becoming the mysterious, beautiful Catherine.

‘Henary found me out. He was curious about the young woman sitting in rapt attention as he spoke, who seemed to live nowhere, know no one. I was twenty by then; hardened and experienced from my life, but never, ever showing it. He questioned me, befriended me and gradually instructed me. I impressed him; I had taught myself much, and had not found it difficult in the slightest. He wanted me to become a student, but I could not; your family has to be entered into the rolls; you have to inform them of the great honour done to their name. So I said no and, one night, I told him what I am now telling you.

‘The reason I love Henary is that it did not matter to him. “I thought you were an intelligent, thoughtful and beautiful woman who had made the best of the many advantages that a good family had bestowed on her,” he told me. “Now I think you are even more remarkable, for you make your own advantage.” It made him appreciate me all the more, but he did accept that few would agree. We were thinking about it when I decided to go on a pilgrimage to Esilio’s grave at Willdon. There I met Thenald, and he fell in love with me.’

‘You do not say that you fell in love with him.’

‘Because I did not. He was a refuge for me. To me he was not a bad man, because he was entranced by me, but gradually I saw that to all others he was not good. He was a great believer in his rights and others’ duties. All must be as all had ever been and ever would be. Any deviation he found dangerous, and he reacted to it with violence. He was often heartless when a little kindness would have resolved an issue. He thought only in terms of whether people were below him or above him in family, and there were few above him, so he seemed impossibly proud. He wasn’t really. Just frightened.

‘He was also lazy, which was his best quality. I easily took over running the household, tempered his harshness, and was beginning to know how to run the domain. I would have tamed him eventually, but he found out who I was.’

‘Did he?’

She nodded. ‘He wanted to contact my family, of course he did, but I put him off for a long time. Before we married he sent Callan without telling me, but Callan lied for me and said my family had gone on pilgrimage and could not be contacted for worldly matters. But Thenald got the truth from him. He discovered that I had lied; I was nothing. He said he was going to divorce me and make sure that I was cast out utterly and in shame.

‘He was murdered instead, the next day. Instead of being cast out, I was chosen to rule Willdon.’

‘Henary knows this?’

‘Yes. He never once questioned me or doubted me.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Callan. Did he not say any of this when you took his story?’

‘I cannot say. You know that. But tell me now; I want to hear it from your mouth. Did you murder Thenald?’

‘No,’ she said firmly and without hesitation. ‘I did not.’

‘Forgive me for asking an impertinent question, but why not?’

She burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Jay! Why not? A good question, but not one I have ever considered. Because I believe in... what would you call it? Fate, if you like. How much would you have me do to safeguard myself? Kill Thenald, then overturn the whole of Anterwold? I could invade the grave of Esilio, cart Pamarchon away and just kill him. I could silence Henary, and you and Callan, for ever. My people would follow me. I could then take on the might of Ossenfud and subdue that, if it were necessary; it is hardly well defended. But I don’t want to; once this starts, it never ends.’

‘Do you think Pamarchon killed him, then?’

‘I used to. I was convinced, genuinely convinced, that he was responsible. I never questioned it. Now — having watched him for three days? Seen him with Rosalind? Now I am not so sure.’