The Raven’s Knot

‘Hacked it clear through that monster did!’ she uttered sadly. ‘The world shuddered, as did we all, and after that the sun never seemed to shine quite as brightly again. A horrendous shiver travelled through the great ash, from its topmost leaves to the bottommost root and suddenly we were all afraid.’

‘Is that when the tree died?’ Edie asked breathlessly.

Miss Celandine ran her fingers through the stained and ragged lace that fringed her velvet gown before answering. ‘No,’ she said simply. ‘Only the bough was hewn, the ogre could do no more damage, for the massive branch toppled right down on top of him and broke his frozen head to bits. Served him right it did, but that was no comfort to us. The World Tree was injured and we did not know how to heal it.

‘Oh, the poor thing. Three days it took for the people of the city to ride about the trunk to where the sap seeped from that hideous gash. I couldn’t look, it was Ursula and our mother who went with a company of guards. Veronica was away at the time, but she returned as soon as she could. She was often away in those days, exploring the outlying regions, blessing the wild forests and standing upon distant hills. I wanted to go with her sometimes but she always said no. Sometimes she could be so mean and tiresome, I do hope she isn’t lapsing back into old habits.’

‘Then how did Yggdrasill die?’ Edie pressed, before the elderly woman had a chance to be distracted.

‘It was the others!’ she cried, astonished at the girl’s ignorance. ‘I thought everyone knew that! It was the other giants. They saw what happened to their leader and knew that weapons more cunning than axes would have to be used to be rid of it. They drew silly, weak people and unwary creatures into their service until eventually they discovered the whereabouts of two of the World Tree’s roots.

‘Oh, it was terrible, into them they fed the bitterest poisons, fouling the waters of the wells and springs which nourished them with their dirt and filthy charms. How we cried when a second shudder quaked the earth and Yggdrasill sickened. We thought that the end had come, but a ray of hope still glimmered, for no one – not even the enemy’s watchful spies, knew where the third and final root could be found and so the tree survived.’

Resting her chin in her hands, Edie closed her eyes and recalled the impressive sight of the withered Nirinel in the subterranean chamber far below the museum.

‘But they did in the end,’ she muttered glumly.

Miss Celandine stroked her head. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘The end hasn’t happened yet, at least I don’t think it has. Ursula would have told me, I’m certain. The ice lords haven’t returned have they? The sun still shines doesn’t it?’

Turning to the window, she stared at the dismal day outside and sharply drew her breath. ‘Has the last day closed? Are they stirring in the frozen wastes? We must get Ursula. The darkness is coming – the cold and dark are here!’

‘No, Celandine,’ Edie assured her. ‘It’s only raining. Tell me what happened next, after the two roots were poisoned.’

The elderly woman squinted once more at the window and shifted in the chair.

‘Great expanses of the World Tree started to rot,’ she murmured sadly. ‘In those decaying wounds, all the sicknesses and plagues were spawned. There was no death in Askar in the early days, but soon the bleak northern winds began to carry disease and the spores of pestilence. Many fell ill and perished, and so the glory of Askar began to dwindle and wane.’

‘That’s sad,’ Edie mumbled as Miss Celandine sniffled into the lace of her collar.

‘It was, and is,’ the old woman agreed, blowing her nose upon the sleeve of her dress.

‘But the Frost Giants were not wholly successful,’ she added. ‘They had not killed Yggdrasill completely, for the third root was still sustaining it and whilst they continued to hunt and search for its whereabouts, something wonderful happened.’

Running her fingers over the child’s pixie-hood, she beamed to herself and tilted her head to one side.

‘When the first bough was hacked from the ash,’ she said, ‘no one knew what to do with it. Obviously we couldn’t just leave it there for the ogres to make their nasty weapons out of. The wood was that of the World Tree and no one could imagine what powers it might possess. Then our mother had a vision in which she saw what had to be done.’

‘Did the people of Askar listen to her?’ Edie asked doubtfully.

Miss Celandine stared at the child in surprise. ‘Of course they did!’ she declared. ‘She was their Queen! Hasn’t Ursula told you?’

Edie grinned and gazed at the old woman as if viewing her for the first time. ‘Then you’re a princess!’ she laughed.

‘I was,’ Miss Celandine answered mournfully, ‘a long, long time ago when my name was different. I don’t know what I am now. I forget so much of the in-between years, after the great early days. Sometimes I wonder how we came here and all I want to do is get away from Ursula and go dancing down through the galleries. Veronica feels the same, but her legs are bad. If it weren’t for her pancakes I don’t know how she’d...’

‘Celandine!’ Edie said firmly, assuming a tone not unlike that of Miss Ursula at her most severe. ‘What did they do with the fallen branch? What did the vision tell your mother to make out of it?’

‘Why the loom of course!’ the elderly woman grandly declared. ‘The loom of destiny, where we weaved the fortunes of mankind and the webs of doom. Veronica would measure the threads, I would spin them and Ursula would cut them. That’s what we did for many, many years – ordering the affairs of everyone and everything – the whole world was caught in our tapestry, no one escaped us. No one at all, even we were trapped.’

Thrilled to the marrow, Edie marvelled at Miss Celandine’s words and her skin prickled with excitement. ‘Doooom,’ she echoed. ‘Loooom of Doooom.’

‘Of course,’ Miss Celandine added, ‘at first nobody dared to string it and so the very first day it was completed, the loom was left in the courtyard until the night came.’

‘What happened then?’

Miss Celandine turned and pointed to a small painting half hidden in the shadow of a bookshelf.

Edie peered at it. Within the dusty frame there was a woodland scene enshrouded by dense curling mist and, from the swirling vapours, reared the dim outlines of four great stags.

‘At the dead of night,’ Miss Celandine said, ‘Ursula looked out of her window and saw those milk white creatures come boldly into the court and carry the loom away upon their silver antlers. Of course, she raised the alarm at once, but it was as if they had vanished, no one could find any trace of them.’

‘But you did, didn’t you?’

Miss Celandine however was growing restive and she looked across the room to Miss Veronica who was peeping over the back of the armchair with a curious, intense look graven upon her face.

‘I won’t say any more!’ Miss Celandine announced, putting one of her plaits into her mouth and chewing it stubbornly. ‘I’ve said too, too much!’

‘Please!’ Edie cried. ‘What happened next?’

Miss Celandine clenched her teeth and refused to utter another word, then she folded her arms upon her chest and dug her heels into the frayed carpet.

‘It was Ursula’s fault,’ Miss Veronica’s voice piped up. ‘It was she who walked under the leaves, she who learned too much, more than was good for her – or any of us.’

Miss Celandine spat the hair from her mouth and tutted disagreeably. ‘Veronica, stop it! Oh, Edith, you are a wicked child – look you’ve made our sister go and remember. It’s better if she doesn’t, Ursula always say so. How could you be so hateful?’

But Edie wasn’t listening to her any longer. Drawing near to the armchair, she brought her face close to the heavily painted eyes which peered over the back and smiled persuasively.

‘It was years later,’ Miss Veronica continued, ‘on a night of calm. Ursula was roaming under that part of the tree which was still untouched by poison when, in the rustling of the leaves, she heard a whispering voice.’

‘Stop her someone!’ Miss Celandine squeaked, hopping from her place by the hearth and clapping her hands over her ears. ‘I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I didn’t make her remember, I didn’t, I didn’t. It was that disobedient girl. Why, I wasn’t even here – I was downstairs. I’m not here now – I’m down there, that’s what. I’ll tell her that too if she asks.’

Miss Veronica watched her spring about the cramped room, and gazed dumbly at the folds of faded velvet which thrashed madly about her sister’s wizened form, making a sound like great flapping wings. With a start, the old woman gripped her walking cane.

‘The ravens!’ she cried abruptly. ‘Thought – Thought and Memory! That’s what they were called!’

Miss Celandine stumbled to a standstill and shuddered, before letting out a shrill squeal as she pointed at Edie in fear.

‘You’ve done it now!’ she scolded. ‘Oh, you’ve done it now!’

Along the curiously named Coursing Batch, that stretch of main road which cuts across the lower slopes of Glastonbury Tor, a plump figure with a mass of curling, carrot-coloured hair, strained at the pedals of her bicycle.

Lauren Humphries scrunched up her face as yet another heavy lorry thundered by, and wobbled unsteadily in the buffeting draught of its passing.

‘Thank you!’ she growled through gritted teeth, her cheeks spattered with dirty water thrown up from the wet road. The lorry roared away and the girl gently squeezed her brakes, stopping beside the narrow pavement to wipe herself clean.

Although she was now seventeen, she had lost none of the chubbiness that had made her childhood so miserable. There were just so many unkind names for idiots to choose from when shouting abuse, it was like a sport that anybody could play. Lauren had grown used to it, from an early age she had taught herself to ignore the cruel taunting, but that did not make it hurt any less. No matter how hard she tried, sometimes the insults hit their mark and stung her.

Mopping a handkerchief about her freckle-covered features, she glowered at the receding, rumbling lorry, her hazel eyes lost amid the fleshy expanse of her round, pink face.