Clegg The Teller

1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 978-1-80381-465-0
Verlag: Grosvenor House Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 522 Seiten

The Teller is a tale set in the late Bronze Age, told by an itinerant storyteller to members of an Iron Age tribe living on a defended hilltop c 405 BC in the region now known as the Welsh Marches. It describes survival during worsening weather and how they sustained themselves on what little was available. Apart from when luxuries such as meat, fish, wheat, barley and peas, were obtainable, the rest of their diet was barely nourishing, similar to what would now be described as foraging fare. Central to everything, was the might of bronze and those controlling its manufacture, plus woven into that control was the power of the Seers, 'those who know,' intermediaries between the spirit world and the people. These small power groups holding sway of production of the vital metal and supposedly forces of nature, courtesy of the holy men, gripped the numerous tribes in their thrall. Then slowly emerging, with the likelihood of bringing the whole edifice crashing, came the knowledge of iron. The main family in the tale, coped better than most with prevailing conditions and also began to question accepted wisdom. Their story involves battles against injustice, slavery and wild tribal incursions, told in a conversational, unassuming manner with archaeological details dropped in where relevant. To bring the characters to life, the author took the bold step of using fairly contemporary dialogue, minus of course, modern words and phrases that would jar and those abounding from recent centuries that could not possibly have been known by a storyteller plying his trade, Mid-Iron Age, plus of course, all present day measures of time and distance were off limits. Hopefully, the reader will feel as if offered access to their escapades and lives unfolding, without them even realising they are being observed.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Clegg, John

Leseproben

Chapter Two

Next morning was clear and fresh. Warm enough, however, for just simple linen shirt and leggings to suffice. The loose-fitting clothes suited the Teller’ s mood. It was good to feel free from his theatrical duties as he strolled through the camp, exchanging greetings with those he met. People were going about their business and children were playing. A young man approached in a most obsequious fashion and handed him a gift of warm apple cake. He requested forgiveness and realising him to be the youth who had interrupted him the night before, the Teller gladly gave absolution. He wandered over to the camp’s main entrance. It led down to the base of the hill, protected on either side by tall, sturdy wooden palisades and at top and bottom by gates. The expanse of ditches and defences surrounding the fort were enough to deter all but the foolhardy. To the east lay a wooded ridge and turning he could just make out the dim outline of hills that held the lofty encampment of those known back in time, as Gatekeepers of the South.

He finished eating his gift and was on the point of continuing the circuit when a group of youths ran towards him. “Tell us a story,” they begged him. “Tell us about Erdi.” They clamoured in a ring, surrounding him. His heart sank and he did his best to resist, being fatigued from the previous night’s exertions, but in the end capitulated and perched himself on the fighting step of the fortress wall while they seated themselves in an eager group below.

He explained the main characters and then said, Now where shall I start? I know. I’ll take you way back to when Erdi was beginning to explore his locality. He was still just a boy. It had been a dream of his to climb that far ridge. The one behind me now. He yearned to see what lay beyond. He knew there were numerous lakes, for that was where his grandfather Tollan had trapped fish to add stock to their local pools, but apart from that and the fact the people talked a bit funny - The boys laughed and said that they still did - the world beyond the ridge was a mystery. Erdi and his cousin Yanker had both finished the morning’s grind of feeding the pigs, taking scraps to the dogs, shelling peas, splitting and lugging in wood for the fire and were now at a loose end. Suddenly, as if from out of nowhere, an exciting plan materialised. They would set off on a little journey of discovery to see what lay beyond that enigmatic east ridge. Even at this early age Erdi had become noted for his accuracy with slingshot and they both carried their trusty staves everywhere and so were well equipped to face danger.

Slipping away unseen, they headed along the well-worn path winding through the trees. This petered out into what was no more than an animal trail and the sun had started its dip to the west by the time they reached a tiny brook that marked a personal boundary. The winding ooze of water, never more than a chuckling brook even in winter, was of no great significance other than the fact that beyond it, lay the great unknown. They had never ventured further than this before. Penda and Dowid had told their sons that beyond this point lay danger. They had never specified exactly what type of danger, but had given strict instructions not to take so much as one step beyond that seeping trickle, hardly audible, just beyond their toes.

The boys stared long and hard at forbidden territory. It looked much the same as where they were standing. They continued peering at the trees and shrubs ahead expecting to see at least some clue as to what might lurk, but hard as they looked, they received not the slightest hint. Maybe there were monsters, dragons or giants, as in frightening stories related to quell a child’s natural tendency to wander. Maybe tendrils would entangle and drag them, bound as food for the green forest spirits to devour. Looking at each other and back at the woodland ahead, which appeared no different to that they’d just scrambled through, they concluded, ‘Monsters? Surely not. Why not just go a little way and find out?’

With looks exchanged for confidence they decided to take that first decisive step. They could always jump straight back again if something awful suddenly reared up in front of them. As nothing of the sort did, they simply shrugged and continued.

The going became steeper and any hint of a path dwindled to nothing. Briars tripped and lacerated ankles and calves. Long spiny tendrils seemed determined to grab at their clothing. In places trees had grown into such tangled thickets, they had no choice other than to backtrack and try and seek a way round. They stopped at intervals, exhausted and took the precaution of remembering certain features to avoid becoming lost. They’d been warned of ‘the lost boys,’ those that had wandered off never to be seen again.

Erdi said, they’d just top the ridge and make that their goal for the day. Something stirring in the darkness, beyond the gnarled greening trunks, stopped them dead. They peered into the gloom, hearts beating, but it was just deer ghosting through a dusty half-light. They were encouraged by the sight of brighter, possibly less entangled ground ahead and ripping the last of the clinging branches and briars from clothing, fell with relief from the wilful twists and snarls that had seemed so intent on imprisoning them.

A drumming of hooves shook the ground and they froze as if spell-cast. It was just wild ponies they’d disturbed. Then hearts leapt as a hare sprang from underfoot to bound away ears erect. Growing apprehension brought on wild imaginings, illusions, jangling the nerves in a growing sense of panic. Yet still they were drawn on.

Their spirits rose. Beneath more widely spaced trees, open ground beckoned. Ever watchful, one hand tight-clenching the stave, the other poised on the verge of signalling, ‘stop,’ they dared edge their way forward, constantly checking behind, dwarfed by ancient columns supporting the green canopy. There was bracken, knee high grass and occasional slippery rotting branch, but at least the going had become easier. Prodding the ground ahead for snakes, they continued, curiosity drawing them yet further onwards. They couldn’t stop now, for they had spotted something strange up ahead.

A shaft of sunlight lit a myriad of butterflies and quivering shades of green in what appeared to be a magic circle deep in the forest. They ducked from sight on spotting a figure emerging from the shadows beyond.

Holding her gown clear of the grass as she entered the sunlit ring, the woman suddenly stopped as something caught her attention.

They watched, truly fascinated, for just beyond the murky stillness of their vantage point, they could see the woman’s hair gently billowing, auburn strands shining, rose-gold in the sun and yet apart from butterflies and bees idling amongst the blooms, all about her was hushed and calm.

Curiosity getting the better, they crept towards the light. What was a woman doing up here alone? Something about her drew them closer. She appeared to be foraging, looking as much at home as any of the forest animals. Ominously her search led in their direction. Something had caught her eye. She crept a few steps, then bent and scooped whatever it was from amongst the ferns.

Like all children through time, they had been taught not to talk to strangers and so the boys watched and waited.

Almost as if catching the hint of a rather odd scent, she suddenly looked up and peered in their direction.

They recognised her as the one often referred to in hushed tones, as that strange one; lady of the forest and even sometimes called, Earth Mother. With it being obvious she had now actually seen them, they stepped from cover and joined her in the glade, not only warmed by the sun, but now by her smile. This lingered, hardening slightly as she scrutinized.

She had pleasant rounded features which the weather had bronzed to blend in perfectly with the rowan berry glow of her cheeks. A white blouse was just visible beyond the thin red trim, edging her light grey gown. Her dark eyes, shining as bright as bedewed bramble berries, watched them intently. Was she unravelling their very thoughts? When she did finally speak, it was actually quite disarming, “You look like two lost souls up here in the woods.”

Erdi doing his best, in vain alas, to sound older than his years, tried explaining they were in fact not lost, but exploring. These happened to be the first words said to the lady who was to have such an influence on their lives. When she pointed out the possible dangers, Yanker countered, “With great respect, dear lady, if it’s that dangerous, then why are you up here alone?”

She laughed and said with a wave of an arm. “This is my home. I live here. The animals are my friends and the forest is my provider.”

Erdi wondered why the breeze seemed to blow on her alone; her gown wafting gently as she approached to show them the contents of her basket.

“Just leaves,” Yanker muttered.

She overheard. “Agreed, but not just any leaves.” Picking out a sprig, “I press these into a wet mash and when bandaged over a wound, they have healing powers.” A beech tree was indicated to show their origin. A different clump was extracted to be lifted for inspection. “These are called ‘heal-bone.’” She rooted deeper and chuckled, “Here are some you ought to know.” They were dandelion leaves, ‘Wet the bed,’ “And the magic of these others is…. look.” They were held up for them to see the detail. “If these are boiled it brings forth a certain juice. A juice that gives strength.” She clenched an arm and gave a wink.”

The Teller...