Gemini Thunder (3 page)

Warming his hands over a glowing campfire, the flaxen-haired young man with pigtails looked around the small Savernake clearing at his loyal troop. Both Combi and Nation snoozed contently, their thick brown fur rising and falling in unison, whilst Sir Valiant munched noisily on a pile of grass. Lord Scroop had abandoned his usual position between Sir Valiant’s ears for an overhanging branch as he kept sliding to the floor every time the old horse bent to the ground.

Then Twilight spoke softly in his ear.

‘Do not be alarmed. I join you and your fine animals as a friend.’

Sitting down beside him, he smiled at the look of astonishment on the young man’s face, who then quickly shot a worried look at the two slumbering bears.

‘Don’t worry, they are resting and won’t disturb us,’ said the young astounder.

‘H-how do you know they won’t,’ said the flaxen-haired young troubadour, beginning to regain his composure. ‘They will fiercely protect me against intruders. Why, Combi there bit four fingers from the hand of a thief just a few days ago, and Nation chased away a bull cow that was threatening to charge us.’

‘Because they don’t know I am here.’ Twilight smiled.

‘Don’t know . . .’ The young man broke off as he realized that it was true. The old horse carried on, munching away noisily at the grass without so much as raising his head, whilst Scroopy continued to preen himself on the branch as if all was as before Twilight’s arrival. The bears, if anything, were beginning to snore in an even deeper sleep.

The young man looked reflectively at Twilight.

‘Then you, sir, must be a very special person,’ he said, slowly beginning to relax.

‘My name is Twilight. What are you called?’

‘Today I am Hero the Famous of Londonium.’

‘Today?’ said Twilight.

‘Oh yes. I have different names for different days. Yesterday I was Claudius the Emperor of Rome, the day before Ignatius the Great of Athens. The day before that Merlin the Mysterious of Wessex, and before that King Arthur of the Round Table. There are many others, depends what takes my fancy.’

‘Merlin the Magician of Wessex. Of course. And what will you be tomorrow, I wonder?’ said the clearly amused veneficus.

‘Who knows.’ The young man smiled. ‘They are my stage names, part of the little
spectaculum
my loyal troupe and I put on. Some of them are made up, some not. I just pick them up as I go.’

‘Do you have a given name?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said the lad. ‘I was a foundling. An
expositicia
. Born to a mother who did not want or could not care for me. Left on the steps of the public spa in Cirencester when no more than two days old. Most people referred to me as Granny Biwater’s foundling because she was the old lady who took me in. The dear old soul died when I was twelve years old, and I had to leave. That’s when I took to travelling.’

‘Cirencester, eh? A Roman town. How many winters do you have?’

‘Sixteen now,’ came the clear reply. ‘I learned some Latin from some of the many Roman inscriptions carved in the stone around the town. It’s a beautiful language.’ He paused. ‘I’m always trying to learn new things.’

‘Scientia est potentia
, knowledge is power, my young troubadour. Never stop learning.’

‘Twilight is an unusual name. Did you think of it yourself?’

‘No, it was given to me by a very persuasive old man,’ the spellbinder said with a chuckle. ‘Someone whose name you use in your
spectaculum.
’

‘What, Merlin the Magician?’ The young man’s eyes opened wide in wonder. ‘He was a veneficus, the best in the whole world . . . Then you must be . . .’

‘Indeed so, only he was best known in these parts as the long magus,’ Twilight interrupted.

The young man studied the young veneficus for a long moment.

‘So that’s why my animals don’t know you’re here. I heard that Merlin had passed on—you must be his replacement. You must be the new Wessex veneficus. You are a
proper
wizard!’

Twilight nodded.

‘Imagine that,’ said the young man almost to himself. ‘I’ve had a visit from the Wessex veneficus himself.’ He shook his head in amazement before continuing. ‘To tell the truth, I’ve always fancied being called Desmond Kingdom Biwater. I made it up— took Desmond from a man called that in Salisbury, a big man and a blacksmith but a braggart and a bully. Tried to rob me having put a fresh shoe on Sir Valiant here. Didn’t realize the two bears were in the cart. He was rummaging around our few belongings when my back was turned when Combi bit him. Took four fingers off his right hand as clean as you like. Very powerful, the jaws of a fully grown bear. I wasn’t lying when I said Combi had removed a man’s four fingers, only about the date. It must have been at least a hundred days ago. You could hear his screams the other side of the valley. I don’t suppose he’s doing much blacksmithin’ now, eh?’

‘And how did you come by the bears?’

‘I joined a small travelling show. It was a bit bigger than mine here but not much. That’s where I learned magic tricks and how to entertain. I’ve always been able to play music on any instrument made. Two years I was there travelling all around. It was owned by a humpbacked Jute from Kent called Felix and his wife, Nelly, but they gradually fell to drinking the mead, and the animals began to suffer. He kept those two bears in heavy chains all the time and didn’t feed them. They got very thin and mangy and were close to dying of starvation. Then he started to beat me, and I decided it was time to go. So one dark night I left and took the bears and horse with me. Scoopy came later. Just turned up. I awoke one morning, and there he was perched on Sir Valiant’s head facing backwards. The silly old bird’s been there ever since, although I have managed to teach him to speak a few words.’

‘Well, Desmond Kingdom Biwater,’ declared Twilight solemnly, ‘you certainly have a way with animals.’

‘Thank you. Tomorrow I can be the King of the Avebury Rings in honour of this region.’ He waved his hands around to encompass the surrounding area. ‘This is a most magical and fascinating place, the like of which I have never come across before in all my travels around the West Country.’

‘Tomorrow, my friend, I will personally show you around the mighty stones of Avebury and tell you the story of each one of them, including the resting place of the mighty Merlin himself. As for magic, well, let’s just say that some people can produce a little more than an apple from a boy’s ear, eh?’

The following day they met by the stone circle, and, leaving the small cart, Sir Valiant, and Lord Scroop under the watchful eye of the two bears in the nearby Savernake, Twilight walked the agog Desmond around the mighty sarsens, giving a brief outline of each venefical inhabitant. When they finally came to Merlin’s great Obelisk they sat down.

‘And yours will be the next one?’ asked Desmond.

‘Yes, just there,’ replied Twilight, pointing to the spot.

‘I counted ninety-nine stones. You are the one hundredth Wessex veneficus?’

‘Yes, a tradition stretching back ten thousand years with my death in seventy-seven years’ time. I will repeat to you the words my teacher said to me when he first brought me to this place.’

Twilight tapped the great Obelisk stone at his back, and his dark eyes flashed a tall image of the long magus in all his silver-haired glory.

‘He said, ‘We stand now among the epic echoes of thousands of years of human folly and imagery and their mighty attempts to cease its restless quest for death; we stand among the frailty of sorcery in the face of the vitality of warfare; we stand among the bones of the few who have given their all to halt the spread of evil; we stand among those who understood, enchanted, transformed, moved, reshaped, and changed . . . yet seemingly made no difference.’’

Desmond Kingdom Biwater was silent for a while as he absorbed this.

‘I want to be a veneficus like you. I will make a difference,’ said the flaxen-haired entertainer finally.

‘It cannot be so,’ replied Twilight.

‘Why not?’ There were instant tears in his eyes.

‘Because you do not have an aura.’

‘I’ll get one from somewhere, anywhere . . . what is it?’

‘An aura cannot be ‘got.’ True venefici are born with it. A potential veneficus has to have a signature aura in order to understand the enchantments and be able to manipulate phenomena. That is how we identify each other and the next one chosen—the tyro veneficus or novice wizard—for training to be the next in line. It is an underlying power pulse with a unique signature to each holder. This signature, in a lesser form, extends to the animals in ligamen to each veneficus—in my case the pica—and also to any images that the astounder places. My pica can detect any images I have placed because my unique aura will surround the image. They can also detect the auras of others. If it’s any consolation to you, my own children do not have it and neither, as far as I can tell, does anyone else in Wessex.’

The boy looked glum.

‘So there is absolutely no way that I can become a tyro wizard.’

‘No . . . but there is something else that may interest you, something not far removed from the full role.’

‘What is it,’ said the lad eagerly, his face brightening up instantly.

‘My wife, Rawnie, a high-born girl with a sharp perception, told me recently that I need a companion. Someone to share the considerable burden of venefical decisions with. Someone with judgment, a good worldly understanding of people and the issues that matter to them, someone with an affinity with animals who . . .’

‘It’s meee . . . I want it, say I can be that person, say it, Mr. Twilight, oh please say it . . .?’

He looked at Twilight with his blue eyes shining.

‘It could be you . . .’

‘Yesssss. Yes, yes, YES.’

Desmond leapt to his feet and went on a merry dance around Merlin’s Obelisk stone, flinging his hands in the air.

Twilight, chuckling at his antics, continued.

‘Just a moment. There are some things you need to know that may change your mind. Your life will be in constant danger. You will come into contact with the most virulent, violent, bloodthirsty, obsessed, and, as I found out only a few days ago, rabid killers of innocent people on this turning earth. And you will not be popular with common folk. They will always view me, and by association, you, with suspicion.’

‘You sound as if you don’t want me to be your companion.’

‘It is important that you understand what you are getting into. This veneficus business is more than just playing with magic. I am, among other things, the venefical protector of the Wessex Celts and that means engaging with anyone who would seek to damage them or this region.’

‘Who did you engage with a few days ago that were rabid killers of innocent people?’

‘A raiding party of Viking came from the sea and killed two hundred villagers in Lyme Regis.’

Desmond’s eyes opened wide in disbelief.

‘Two hundred in Lyme Regis! My little troupe and I have entertained there.’

‘Well, now they are all dead, and the settlement has been burned to the ground,’ said Twilight gravely.

Desmond Kingdom Biwater went very quiet for a while as he digested this news.

‘Will my animals be able to stay with me?’ he asked eventually.

‘Of course,’ replied Twilight. ‘Unless I transform them elsewhere because of danger, but remember this, they are just as vulnerable as you to those who would oppose us. However, along with my pica and others, humans and animals, who would attach themselves to our cause, they will be a part of our merry little band. A bit like your spectaculum but without the entertainment.’

‘Death does not frighten me, nor them. As a small travelling group we live with its threat every day and can look after ourselves when the going gets tough. I know I speak for them. We would all like to be your companions . . . please.’

Twilight’s dark eyes flashed.

‘So be it,’ he said softly.

‘I have placed pica sentinels along the coast of Wessex,’ Twilight said to Rawnie and Desmond as they sat on the long bench in the compound. ‘To keep a lookout for other Viking raiding parties.’

‘D’you think they will come again?’ asked his wife.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It’s a question of when and how many.’

They all reflected on that whilst watching Eleanor and Harlo rolling around on the ground with the two bears, who treated the two children as gently as if they were dandelion puff-balls that mustn’t have one spore damaged. Since their arrival, the children had played incessantly with the bears.

‘I do believe that those bears have put on weight in the three weeks we have been here,’ mused Desmond.

‘Nation certainly has,’ said Rawnie with a wink at Twilight.

‘Must be all that lovely food you have been giving us.’

‘Could be, or could be something else, eh, Mister Veneficus?’ Rawnie chuckled.

‘What do you mean?’ Desmond eyed Twilight with a perplexed look.

‘Nation, the female one, is going to do what only females can do.’ The astounder smiled.