Daughters of Fire

When the king’s children appeared a few moments later the horses had settled again. Triganos was laughing. ‘Come on. I’ll race you! To the forest and back before sundown.’ He vaulted onto his own pony, leaning forward to pull the rein free, and turned it already galloping as he headed for the gates. Carta was not far behind him. As she leaped for her pony, bareback as his was, but for the backcloth, the animal let out a scream of pain and reared up. Carta flew over the horse’s back and landed on the ground on the far side, winded. For a moment she didn’t move.

From the shadows Venutios appeared. He stooped to help her climb to her feet. ‘Are you all right? What happened.’ His face was bland. Then concerned. Kindly. Behind him two men working at the bellows outside the smith’s house dropped the great wooden handles and ran to her aid, as did another of Carta’s companions, Mairghread, a tall dark-haired girl with buck teeth, who was just emerging from the house. Shaken and with her dignity wounded Carta scrambled to her feet and shook off Venutios’s arm. ‘I’m all right! I’m fine. How is Olwen?’

Venutios was beside the pony already, soothing it and gentling its trembling skin. The bunch of holly leaves had gone, tossed into the sunshadows out of sight beyond the other horses.

To his delight Carta was taken away, back to her mother to be cleaned and soothed and reprimanded for not checking the pony’s saddle cloth was firmly fixed, for not approaching quietly, for not mounting carefully, and long before she was allowed once more to emerge into the sunshine Venutios had climbed onto his own pony and ridden in pursuit of Triganos, followed by some of the other boys and leaving Carta at home to sulk. It was a long time before she managed to slip away at last from her mother’s eagle eye, but when she did she hurried straightaway over to the horse lines and whispering to the pony, fed it handfuls of titbits. Then carefully she ducked under the rope and began to search the ground.

From the top of the wall she could see far into the distance, beyond the forest, the scarlet gleam as the sun began to set into the sea. Pushing her hair out of her eyes she stood for a long time, listening for the voice. It wasn’t there. All she could hear was the gentle moaning of the wind. Silently she watched as the colours changed to deeper richer red, then to orange, then slowly they dulled into night. Behind her the coming darkness was already thick on the fells. There was no trace of Triganos and his friends.

There was a rattle of stones behind her and she turned. Mellia had scrambled up beside her. For a moment she too stared at the sunset, then she shrugged. ‘It’ll be dark soon. Is there any sign of them?’

Carta shook her head.

‘You think they’ll spend the night in the forest?’

‘I’m sure of it.’

‘And you wanted to go with them.’

‘You know I did.’ Carta pursed her lips. ‘Someone had put some holly under my saddle cloth.’

Mellia’s eyes rounded. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I found it. And then the scratches on poor Olwen’s back.’

‘But who would do such a thing?’

‘Venutios. He didn’t want me to go with them. If I’m there Triganos looks after me and does what I say. If I’m not, then the boys can do what they like.’ She gave an elaborate shrug.

Mellia studied the other girl’s profile with misgiving. She recognised the set of the jaw. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I haven’t decided yet. I’ll think of something.’

When the boys finally returned they brought with them a fine haul of game and had clearly enjoyed themselves enormously. Carta was not there to greet them. She had decided unaccountably to sit in the sunshine and watch Mellia’s attempts at mending some of the tears in her friends’ gowns; a thankless task, but one she seemed happy enough to try. Triganos brought his sister the gift of a pair of soft leather slippers which he had wheedled from the shoemaker near the entrance gates in an attempt to console her for leaving her behind. She smiled and accepted the gift with a gracious smile which filled him with foreboding.

Two days later Venutios was taken violently ill after the evening meal. Crouching behind the feasting hall as he vomited again and again into a latrine pit he glanced up at last, wiping his sweating face, to see Carta watching him. She was wearing her best gown and new slippers. And she was smiling. ‘Poor Venutios … Aren’t you well?’

‘Obviously not.’ He groaned and leaned down towards the stinking mess again.

‘No one else has been ill.’ She did not come any closer, wrinkling her nose fastidiously. ‘The gods must be punishing you for something. I wonder why.’

‘I can’t imagine.’ He looked up at her. ‘I hope you haven’t poisoned me, you little bitch!’

Carta frowned. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

He was incapable of answering. With another groan he bent double again. By the time he had recovered enough to straighten and look round she had gone.

III

‘Pete didn’t tell you I’d rung him, did he!’

Pat took one look at Cathy’s astonished face and read the situation correctly. ‘Admittedly, I didn’t give him much notice before I jumped on the Shuttle, but I didn’t think he could forget that easily. Shit, I’m sorry. He said I could scrounge a bed after I’d been down to see Maddie. No worry.’ She had dropped a large scarlet canvas bag and her computer case on the floor at her feet. ‘I can stay with some mates of mine down in Leith. I’m sure they won’t mind, if there is no room here.’

Cathy shrugged helplessly. Bugger Pete. ‘It’s not that I’m not glad to see you, Pat.’ She kissed her visitor. ‘It’s just that we’ve got Tasha for a couple of nights.’

‘Say no more. I remember the child from hell!’ Pat chortled.

‘Tasha adores you, Pat, you know she does.’ Cathy didn’t sound too convinced. ‘And we’ve got room.’

‘Somewhere I can lie late abed without screaming children or for that matter cats jumping on my diaphragm?’ Pat peered over Cathy’s shoulder. ‘Is it safe to come in now?’

‘Of course it is.’ Cathy gestured her towards the living room. ‘I’d love you to stay. In fact I’d be furious if you didn’t. You can have the box room upstairs. It’s a bit crowded with junk and stuff, but it’s quiet and it’s got a nice bed. You’ll be safe up there! Come on. I’ll show you.’

Cathy arranged their first meeting the next day and as the one o’clock gun resounded across the city, the three women seated themselves at a corner table in a small restaurant in a narrow street off the Grassmarket. It was a place Viv knew well, and one where she would almost certainly not run into any other members of the department.

After Cathy had introduced the two women to one another she raised her wine glass. ‘Right, ladies, let’s drink to your alliance, to the play and perdition to reactionary male academics.’

Viv grinned. ‘You don’t know how the thought of this meeting cheered me up this morning. Especially after I had opened my bank statement. That concentrates the mind.’ She took a gulp of wine. She was looking strained and pale. She didn’t mention the abrupt end to the supper party on Sunday night and neither did Cathy. ‘Has Cathy told you my predicament?’ she addressed Pat. ‘If my boss, Hugh, is not going to promote me to Reader when Hamish Macleod goes, and if he succeeds in cutting the funding for my research I am going to have to find some other gainful employment and soon.’

‘Isn’t writing a successful biography gainful employment?’ Pat asked curiously. She sat back in her seat and surveyed the woman sitting opposite her. Her initial reaction was to be slightly wary of this obviously highly intelligent redhead.

There was a shout of laughter at the next table as a late arrival tried to squeeze in amongst the other diners. The room was very hot.

‘If it’s successful, yes, then it might be employment of a sort.’ Viv grimaced. ‘If the book is slated by the critics and blackballed by my ex boss, probably no.’

‘That hasn’t happened yet, Viv,’ Cathy put in calmly.

‘To be honest, it won’t matter if it is. The more controversy the better.’ Pat accepted a menu from the waiter with an absent-minded smile. Maddie was right. Viv’s slightly aggressive demeanour probably hid a lot of hurt and insecurity. ‘It would bring us good publicity. Always a plus. More listeners for our play. More readers for your book. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?’

Viv shrugged. ‘Yes, to be honest. Not the more readers part, but the criticism. I’m an academic. That matters. It will put my scholarship in question.’ She reached for a bread roll from the basket which had been set down on the table between them. Tearing it to shreds, she piled the crumbs into a heap on her table mat.

‘Well, one of the first things you have to learn, Viv,’ Pat said firmly, ‘is that you need a thick skin in this business. And that’s what I’m here to help you achieve!’

Cathy glanced from one to the other. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, I think you two will make a good team. You’re the academic, Viv. And Pat has lots of experience in this field, and has had some success with her script writing. So listen to her! She knows her stuff. And she can help you.’

‘When is your book being published, Viv?’ Pat asked after a pause.

‘Just under a month. July 14th.’

‘Great. And we have a deadline for the play, right? So we need to get down to it as fast as possible.’

Nodding, Viv met her eye with a determined smile. ‘Your name would be a huge asset. No one’s heard of me, after all.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘I thought you were a TV pundit?’ Pat raised an eyebrow.

‘Only late-night programmes.’ Viv shrugged. Pat’s comments had unsettled her. The woman was too worldly, too confident, too knowledgeable about the nuts and bolts of this project without knowing anything about the subject itself. She was feeling threatened and uneasy. Yet it had to happen. Without Pat this play was not going to get off the ground.