Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

‘Some of my people asked the same question,’ she replied. ‘Incensed as we all were by this sacrilegious intrusion into somewhere so close to our own sacred places, many of our young men wished to attack Florian and protect the site from further despoliation.’

‘He is dead,’ Josse said quietly.

‘I know. We are not responsible for his death.’

‘No, no. I didn’t think you were. He-’ But he realised that the Domina was not listening; the doings of Outworlders, he thought, had very little interest for her unless they conflicted with the lives of her people.

He went back over what she had just been saying; there had been something there, something he wanted to ask her about. . Yes. That was it.

‘Lady, you said that this clearing is close to one of your sacred places.’

‘The entire forest is sacred.’

‘Oh.’ The vague idea that he had been forming drifted apart. ‘Then — she — the woman in the grave — she is not one of the forest people?’

The Domina’s eyes flashed to his and she said, ‘No. She was here in an age before we inhabited these woods.’

There was only one question to ask. He whispered, ‘Who is she?’

Again, the Domina appeared to consider her words before she spoke. Then she said, ‘She belonged to a people known as the Long Men, for they were a race of uncommon height and strength. Their territory was between the Downs and the forest and they guarded their precious valley fiercely. They were seers, magicians, and, although their numbers dwindled in the great fight against the invader from the south, enough of them survived to return to some sort of prominence after the incomers had gone. The Long Men enjoyed a brief resurgence and some of their number were appointed seeresses and cunning men of the ancient kings of Sussex. They were admired and feared, and with good reason for, in the long years of their presence here, their powers that stemmed from the very Earth had grown and extended.’

‘Where are they now?’ Josse asked, his voice an awed whisper.

The Domina glanced at him. ‘Their blood still flows in the veins of their descendants, but in the later years they were few in number and driven to choose mates from outside the tribe.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Some men whose antecedents were from this area still stand out by their height.’

‘A race of giants,’ he said slowly. ‘I always thought giants were only in the tales told to children by the fireside.’

‘Do not dismiss such tales,’ the Domina said, ‘for at their roots there is always a grain of truth.’

He was shaking his head. ‘They lived between the Downs and the forest,’ he said, thinking back over what she had said, ‘and so this — this place that you said was sacred — marked the northern limit of their land.’

‘Yes.’

‘Was that why she lies buried here? Because she was one of their most powerful ones and she guards the frontier of the area that her people claimed as their own?’

‘It was their own. They had lived here since the dawn of time.’

‘Aye. But I’m right, aren’t I?’

The Domina risked another smile and he thought he detected a flash of approval in it. ‘Yes, Josse. You are.’

His mind racing now, he went on, ‘And on the Downs is there another such burial — perhaps of a man — that guards the southern border?’

‘Yes, there is. But that one is more easily found, although very few people nowadays know that the marker that indicates the place stands above a man’s body.’

He knew all at once to what she referred, for he had seen it with his own eyes and stared at it in wonder. ‘You speak of the chalk giant,’ he said.

‘I do. The Long Man, do folk not call him?’

And, with a laugh of delight, Josse said, ‘Aye, they do.’

He looked down at the huge skeleton. I know who you are and why I felt such power from you, he addressed her silently. And I know too now that I need not take you anywhere because here is where you are meant to be and where you will stay. ‘Shall I fill in the grave?’ he asked the Domina.

‘There is no need,’ she replied — rather swiftly, he thought, as if she wanted to make quite sure he did not suddenly start doing so.

‘But we can’t leave the bones lying there with only my old blanket to frustrate prying eyes!’

She made a pacifying gesture with her graceful hands. ‘Others will perform the task, with the appropriate rituals.’

‘People of your tribe?’

She hesitated. ‘No, Josse. My people will not interfere, for the same reason that we prevented our own men from taking action to defend this place and this grave when first Florian intruded here. Those who will perform the necessary rite are her people.’

He baulked at accepting what he believed the Domina meant. Was she saying that there were still people of this long-dead woman’s race who would appear out of the shadows and, praying and chanting, replace the earth over her? But no, that couldn’t be right. Could it?

He stared at the Domina. With a moment’s compassion softening her face, she said, ‘You and Joanna almost lost your lives in the forest in Armorica.’

So Joanna had told her. Unless, of course, the Domina had used her mysterious gifts and seen what had happened with her own inner eye. ‘Aye. It was an attack in the night and it was only because she — Joanna — sensed danger approach that we were on our guard and fought him off.’

The Domina watched him steadily. ‘The assailant was not who you took him to be.’

‘Not — but it made perfect sense! Joanna’s brother-in-law said he’d make sure she didn’t escape again; we all heard him!’

‘Yes, I am sure that you did. But it was not he who tried to kill you.’

Josse tried to think but his mind was in a whirl. The Domina, with a faint noise of exasperation, said, ‘What did you notice about the man?’

‘Very little,’ Josse said crossly. ‘It was dark and we were fighting for our lives.’

‘Did you gain no impression of him at all?’

‘He was very tall, and-’

Very tall .

Then he knew.

‘Yes, yes,’ the Domina breathed. ‘He is one of the few still alive of the old race and to him and his brethren falls the sacred duty of protecting the places that mark the northern and southern boundaries of his ancient race.’

‘It was he who tried to kill us?’ She nodded. ‘But why?’

She raised her eyes to the sky, as if seeking inspiration. ‘I do not know. They were aware of your mission to Armorica and would have guessed, I believe, that you sought proof that these could not be the bones of Merlin the Enchanter. They, even more than the Hawkenlye community or my own people, were desperate for the site to be closed down for, in addition to the fact that it was attracting far too may unthinking and uncaring visitors to a holy place, the very concept was a terrible affront to those who still remember she who really lies here.’

‘But we had found the proof that we needed and we were on our way home to spread the word that Merlin’s Tomb was a fake!’ he protested. ‘Why on earth should he try to prevent us doing the very thing that he too most wished for?’

Again she said, ‘I do not know. I can only think that somehow he was led to believe that your mission had not been successful and that you had failed to find the necessary proof. But I-’

There was a movement behind her. And, before Josse’s amazed eyes, two figures dressed in the colours of the forest materialised out from beneath the trees. One moment they were not there; the next, they were. Both were very tall; one stood a little to the fore of his companion, who leaned heavily on a staff.

The man with the staff had a bandage around his head and four very deep gashes across the front of his neck that disappeared down inside his green tunic.