“But what’s to fear, princess? We’ve no plans to go to any such island or any desire to do so.”
“Even so, Axl. What if our love withers before we’ve a chance even to think of going to such a place?”
“What are you saying, princess? How can our love wither? Isn’t it stronger now than when we were foolish young lovers?”
“But Axl, we can’t even remember those days. Or any of the years between. We don’t remember our fierce quarrels or the small moments we enjoyed and treasured. We don’t remember our son or why he’s away from us.”
“We can make all those memories come back, princess. Besides, the feeling in my heart for you will be there just the same, no matter what I remember or forget. Don’t you feel the same, princess?”
“I do, Axl. But then again I wonder if what we feel in our hearts today isn’t like these raindrops still falling on us from the soaked leaves above, even though the sky itself long stopped raining. I’m wondering if without our memories, there’s nothing for it but for our love to fade and die.”
“God wouldn’t allow such a thing, princess.” Axl said this quietly, almost under his breath, for he had himself felt an unnamed fear welling up within him.
“The day I spoke with her by the old thorn,” Beatrice continued, “the strange woman warned me to waste no more time. She said we had to do all we could to remember what we’ve shared, the good and the bad. And now that boatman, when we were leaving, gives the very answer I expected and feared. What chance do we have, Axl, the way we are now? If someone like that asked of us our most treasured memories? Axl, I’m so afraid.”
“There, princess, there’s nothing to fear. Our memories aren’t gone for ever, just mislaid somewhere on account of this wretched mist. We’ll find them again, one by one if we have to. Isn’t that why we’re on this journey? Once our son’s standing before us, many things are sure to start coming back.”
“I hope so. That boatman’s words have made me all the more afraid.”
“Forget him, princess. What do we want with his boat, or his island come to that? And you’re right, the rain’s stopped out there and we’ll be drier stepping out from under this tree. Let’s be on our way, and no more of these worries.”
Chapter Three
The Saxon village, viewed from a distance and a certain height, would have been something more familiar to you as a “village” than Axl and Beatrice’s warren. For one thing — perhaps because the Saxons had a keener sense of claustrophobia — there was none of this digging into the hillside. If you were coming down the steep valley slope, as Axl and Beatrice were that evening, you would have seen below you some forty or more individual houses, laid out on the valley floor in two rough circles, one within the other. You might have been too far away to notice the variations in size and splendour, but you would have made out the thatched roofs, and the fact that many were “roundhouses” not so far removed from the kind in which some of you, or perhaps your parents, were brought up. And if the Saxons were happy to sacrifice a little security for the benefits of open air, they were careful to compensate: a tall fence of tethered timber poles, their points sharpened like giant pencils, completely encircled the village. At any given point, the fence was at least twice a man’s height, and to make the prospect of scaling it even less enticing, a deep trench followed it all the way around the outside.
That would have been the picture Axl and Beatrice saw below them as they paused to catch their breaths during their descent down the hill. The sun was setting over the valley now, and Beatrice, who had the better sight, was once more leaning forward, a step or two in front of Axl, the grass and dandelions around her as tall as her waist.
“I can see four, no five men guarding the gate,” she was saying. “And I think they’re holding spears. When I was last here with the women, it was nothing more than one gate-keeper with a pair of dogs.”
“Are you sure there’ll be a welcome here for us, princess?”
“Don’t worry, Axl, they know me well enough by now. Besides, one of their elders here is a Briton, regarded by all as a wise leader even if he’s not of their blood. He’ll see to it we have a safe roof tonight. Even so, Axl, I think something’s happened and I’m uneasy. Now here’s another man with a spear arrived, and that’s a pack of fierce dogs with him.”
“Who knows what goes on with Saxons,” said Axl. “We may be better seeking shelter elsewhere tonight.”
“The dark will be soon on us, Axl, and those spears are not intended for us. Besides, there’s a woman in this village I was wanting to visit, one who knows her medicines beyond anyone in our own.”
Axl waited for her to say something further, and when she went on peering into the distance, he asked: “And why would you be after medicines, princess?”
“A small discomfort I feel from time to time. This woman might know of something to soothe it.”
“What sort of discomfort, princess? Where does it trouble you?”
“It’s nothing. It’s only because we’re needing to shelter here I’m thinking of it at all.”
“But where does it lie, princess? This pain?”
“Oh …” Without turning to him, she pressed a hand to her side, just below the ribcage, then laughed. “It’s nothing to speak of. You can see, it hasn’t slowed me walking here today.”
“It hasn’t slowed you one bit, princess, and I’ve been the one having to beg we stop and rest.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Axl. So it’s nothing to worry about.”
“It hasn’t slowed you down at all. In fact, princess, you must be as strong as any woman half your age. Still, if there’s someone here to help with your pain, what’s the harm in going to her?”
“That’s all I was saying, Axl. I’ve brought a little tin to trade for medicines.”
“Who wants these little pains? We all have them, and we’d all be rid of them if we could. By all means, let’s go to this woman if she’s here, and those guards let us pass.”
It was nearly dark by the time they crossed the bridge over the trench, and torches had been lit on either side of the gate. The guards were large and burly but looked panicked by their approach.
“Wait a moment, Axl,” Beatrice said quietly. “I’ll go alone to speak with them.”
“Don’t go near their spears, princess. The dogs look calm but those Saxons look foolish with fear.”
“If it’s you they fear, Axl, old man that you are, I’ll soon show them their great error.”
She walked towards them boldly. The men gathered around her and as she addressed them they threw suspicious glances towards Axl. Then one of them called to him, in the Saxon language, to step closer to the torches, presumably so they could see he was not a younger man in disguise. Then after a few more exchanges with Beatrice the men allowed them through.
Axl was puzzled that a village which from a distance looked to be two orderly rings of houses could turn out to be such a chaotic labyrinth now they were walking through its narrow lanes. Admittedly the light was fading, but as he followed Beatrice, he could discern no logic or pattern to the place. Buildings would loom unexpectedly in front of them, blocking their way and forcing them down baffling side alleys. They were obliged, moreover, to walk with even more caution than out on the roads: not only was the ground pitted and full of puddles from the earlier storm, the Saxons seemed to find it acceptable to leave random objects, even pieces of rubble, lying in the middle of the path. But what troubled Axl most was the odour that grew stronger and fainter as they walked, but never went away. Like anyone of his time, he was well reconciled to the smell of excrement, human or animal, but this was something altogether more offensive. Before long he had determined its source: all over the village people had left out, on the fronts of houses or on the side of the street, piles of putrefying meat as offerings to their various gods. At one point, startled by a particularly strong assault, Axl had turned to see, suspended from the eaves of a hut, a dark object whose shape changed before his eyes as the colony of flies perched on it dispersed. A moment later they encountered a pig being dragged by its ears by a group of children; dogs, cows and donkeys under no one’s supervision. The few people they met stared silently at them, or else quickly vanished behind a door or shutter.