The View From the Cart (6 page)

‘But he found he could not ask her what was wrong. Some power sealed his lips, so he simply took her hand, his heart like lead inside him, his joy all shrivelled into confusion and fear. Mathild spoke in a voice full of weariness.

‘ “It is good to see you again. I am all impatience for our wedding.”

‘Geat found his voice at last. “Is that true? You have not thought that you could do better? Or that marriage with me would not be to your taste?”

‘ “Of course not.” She smiled a thin little smile. “I need you to be near me. I think my life depends on our being married quickly.”

‘So then Geat believed that she looked so ill and tired because she had been pining for him. Perhaps she had feared he would not return from his travels. Perhaps the other maidens in the court had been jealous and were ill-treating her. From that moment on, he did his best to remain close to her throughout the day, and was rewarded by her grey colour disappearing and her hair once more looking as it had before. She slept for much of the afternoon each day, and stayed up late with Geat, planning their life together and listening to his songs and stories.

‘At last it was the wedding day.' Bran nodded to his musicians and they began to play soft dance tunes, which grew louder as Bran described the wedding, the feast and the merrymaking. We drank more of our ale, and I could feel the jollity and sense of wellbeing which comes from any wedding. We toasted the couple, as if they were in the barn with us, and a few people stood up to dance a little.

‘Finally it was time for the new couple to leave, and to spend their first night together. The young men followed them, cracking whips, throwing nuts and rose petals, making the same bawdy jokes which attend every wedding.' Bran spoke loudly over the music and the comments from his listeners. There was no fear that we would spoil his story now. But knowing what was to come, we were in no hurry to let him proceed.

Finally, we fell quiet again. ‘Geat was still concerned about Mathild's changed appearance, and was especially worried that she did not in truth wish to marry him. He resolved to woo her gently, to be as kind as any man could be, and to make certain of her true wishes before committing any lewd acts on her. Yet he was afraid that this would be asking too much of him - a young man who had waited many long weeks for this night. In the bower made especially for their nuptials, aphrodisiac herbs had been woven into the walls and roof, soft bedding and pillows piled high for their comfort. The Queen's handmaidens had undressed Mathild, and clothed her again in gossamer silk which was part of the Queen's own wardrobe. Her green eyes glowed, and she clung tightly to Geat as soon as they were alone.

‘ “Husband, I have much to confess,” she began, all in a rush. Geat held his breath, but did not try to push her away from him.

‘ “I must begin by telling you of my childhood beside the great river,” she went on. “For many years I was a happy child, playing in and out of the water like a little seal, weaving together the rushes into baskets and catching the minnows and newts. I was almost a water creature myself. The water elves were my friends, and I loved them.” ' Bran's voice was breathy and light, for all the world like a shy young maiden's. We all believed in him utterly.

‘ “One day, when I was no longer a child, but not yet a woman, the elves came to me in a crowd and took me deep under the water, at the point where the river is widest and surrounded by forest. They held me there, adorning me with weed and water flowers, until they suddenly disappeared and I was face to face with the River King. He told me he had fallen in love with me, and was desperate to have me for his Queen. He fed me with something that tasted wonderful, and he played with me all that day, dancing water games which made me laugh. I liked him well enough, and was awed by his Kingship. At the end of that day, he easily procured my promise to marry him when I was old enough. The elves took me home and I dreamed of my future as Queen of the river and everything within it.

‘ “Twice more, I met the King and renewed my promise. But I was never so easy about it as I had been on that first meeting. Finally, I told my mother what I had done. She was horrified, shrieking that she would never allow it. It was against nature, she said. The River King was a demon of hell, luring me to my death. She was so distressed at the idea that she immediately began to arrange for me to go away, and live somewhere far from the river where I could forget my foolish promise.

‘ “Thus it was I came to the court here, and lived with the kind Queen. But the other maidens knew there was something strange about me. One even called me
mermaid
, which was almost true. I did my best to forget my early life, and succeeded until my betrothal to you. It seemed to me then that I had to go back to the river and explain why I had betrayed my promise to him. I knew I had little chance of being truly happy with you until I had done that.

‘ “So, when you had gone on your journey, I set off on my horse to the river. It was nearer than I had imagined, and I was there in half a day. As if he expected me, the King was waiting.”

‘She stopped speaking, and Geat shifted his arm a little. He was wondering to himself whether his bride was perhaps a little awry in her wits. He did not believe the story of the River King, but was unsure why she was telling it to him. It still seemed to him that she wanted to keep him away from her. If she told him some tale about another lover, perhaps she supposed that he would want nothing to do with her.

‘But he deemed it too soon to interrupt. The night stretched long ahead of them, and many more nights after that. His ardour had been damped by the story anyhow. Best, he thought, to let her get to the conclusion. He prompted her to continue.

‘ “He told me that there was no way of escaping from my promise. He had the power to force me, and since I was now of an age to marry, he would require my presence at his side from that day forth. When I protested, and then pleaded, he softened. He does love me, you see. He is not evil, as my mother thinks. He has loved me truly and deeply since I was a child. So I could not hurt him too severely. And he could not hurt me. We made an agreement.” She paused, looking into Geat's eyes. “I thought perhaps I could escape him by marrying you. Now I know I cannot.”

‘ “What did you agree?” he asked. A worry was stirring inside him. She seemed so sincere, and so tormented in her mind. “Tell me.”

‘ “That I would go to him at night, in my dreams only. For him, I would be real, and he would try to be content with that. I would remember next morning, but it would not affect my waking life. He made it sound easy.

‘ “But I did not like it. His embraces are too much for me. He is cold, like a dead thing. His kisses chill me. However great and powerful he may be, I do not wish to be his Queen. I love you, my earthly husband. I learned that I could evade him by remaining awake all night. And so I did. I have not known a night's sleep this past moon and more. Husband, I want nothing more now, than that you safeguard me as I sleep. Can you do that?”

‘Geat did not know what to say. It seemed a foolish question. “Of course I can,” he assured her. “How can you doubt it? Here, if that is your only wish, put your head here, on my shoulder, and sleep. In the morning, perhaps, we will become true man and wife.”

‘ “Perhaps,” she agreed. “But, Geat, I am still afraid he will be able to come for me as I sleep.”

‘ “Nonsense,” he said.

She slept, but tossed restlessly from time to time. Geat kept hold of her, confident that she had not left him for any distant river man. In the morning, he was eager to renew his wooing. As soon as Mathild opened her eyes, he smiled at her, and said, “There! Safe now?”

‘Wildly, she drew away from him, shaking on the pillows. Her hands brushed at herself, as if to push something away, or pluck off some binding strings. She reached to the back of her head, and pulled at a tendril. Holding it up for Geat to see, she whimpered. It was a long strand of green river weed.

‘ “You cannot protect me,” she cried. “What am I to do?”

‘An idea came to him, and he reached for his harp. He played his magic tune of sunlight and open meadows, until she calmed. Then he began to stroke her, and play her as he had played his harp strings. “I can make you forget him,” he said. And he did.

‘Later, he said, “Does the River King only call you at night?” She nodded. “Then you must sleep by day. We will sing and play and make love in the dark hours. Trust me. It will all be all right.”

‘And for a time, it was.'

Bran stopped again, and we all noted the black sky outside and the cold fingers of night air creeping into the barn. The story was reaching its climax now, and we were impatient for it. Half asleep and stiff, we yet didn't want to leave the world of Geat and his troubled bride. Edd sighed, and said, ‘I can't hold my piss to the end. Take Wynn, will ‘ee.' He slid the child across to me, and stumbled out of the barn. Other men had been doing the same at different times. I noticed that Bran watched him go, with a strange smile on his lips.

The story began again as Edd returned. ‘The day came when Geat and Mathild were to journey to their new home, which was close by King Wulf's smaller palace, where he spent his summers. It was a day's ride away, and they set out with great good humour, accompanied by four menservants and four handmaidens for Mathild. The trouble with the River King seemed forgotten, and the party chattered and sang as they travelled. The men rode their own horses, while the ladies travelled in a coach, drawn by two fine stallions.

‘Suddenly a glorious white stag with golden antlers leaped out in front of them. Without thinking, Geat and his fellows spurred their horses to follow it, snatching at their quivers as they galloped, wagering on who would be first to bring the creature down. Mathild and the maidens jumped down from the coach and ran after the men, hoping to catch another glimpse of the magnificent creature.'

Bran's drummer, who had been quiet for so long, began a fast beat, to suggest the chase, and the breathless girls trying to keep pace. Above the drumming, Bran shouted ‘They followed the stag into the thickest part of the forest, catching sight of it now and then, as it darted first one way, then another.' The drum crashed louder and louder. Wynn woke up, bewildered, and I hugged her close to me.

‘Then they lost it. It vanished as if it had never been, and Geat came to his senses like a man awakening from a drunken sleep. “Mathild!” he cried. “We must go back to her!” But they were lost by this time, in the dense forest, and it took them two, perhaps three, hours to retrace their eager flight after the stag.

‘At last they found the coach, with the four maidservants huddled inside it, crying with fear. “Where is Mathild?” Geat demanded, his voice high with concern.

‘ “We hoped she was with you,” was the timid reply. But Geat knew, already, where she had gone.

‘Night was falling, as he went back into the forest, and found the river where it was widest and deepest. The surface was smooth, and he could see nothing beneath the water. Yet he knew what was there, just the same, and sat down to wait out the night, his head in his hands, a sad and wretched man.

‘In the morning, as the sun rose, he lifted his head and found he could see through the water as clear as may be. Down in the depths, he could plainly see his wife, on a throne made of shells and small stones, a crown on her head made from fish scales, flashing and irridescent. At her side sat the River King, gazing into her face with adoration. Geat watched as the King took Mathild's hand, and kissed it with his thick lips. Mathild did not react. Her eyes stared ahead without expression. She seemed like a woman in a trance.

‘Geat was in despair. He plunged forward into the river, but as soon as he broke the surface, he found he could no longer see anything. He waded further, hoping to find the place where the river became so deep, but it never reached beyond his shoulder. He called over and over for his wife to come back to him. He wept and pleaded and cursed the river man who had stolen his beloved. But all was fruitless. He threw himself onto the riverbank, beneath the great trees of the forest, and mourned his lost wife.

‘So great was his sorrow that he took up his harp, which he kept strung onto his back wherever he went, and began to play. Slowly the tune formed itself into the last of the three magic melodies that the Lady Goddess had given him as a boy. It was the tune of sorrow, which he had never yet played. Now it swelled across the whole world, so that people heard it many miles away, and remembered all their griefs and losses. King Wulf and his Queen remembered their lost daughter and how she had laughed and gathered flowers for them. Peasants recalled all their woes; the babies who had died, the disappointments of their lives.'

Bran pointed to his piper, who played a snatch of slow sad music, which made me think of the pain I had felt at Cuthman's birth, and the awful time before that when my own small brother had been killed by falling into a moorland bog and being sucked under before we could save him. All around me, people were letting tears run down their cheeks, unashamed.

Bran continued after a few moments. ‘As he played, the river itself responded. The smooth surface became broken, as if some great monster was writhing and thrashing just beneath the water. The music faded away as Geat's fingers slowed and then stopped. Staring at the river, he saw a strand of light brown hair break the surface and then more, followed by the white cloak which Mathild had been wearing for her journey. Finally, he could see his wife's body floating lifeless on the water, as if the River King had understood that he could not keep her, and had killed her so that Geat could not have her, either.

‘Desperately, he plunged into the river and dragged her out, half drowning himself as he did it. He pulled Mathild onto the bank, and turned her over, hoping to drain the water from her lungs. For long moments he was certain that she was dead. Her skin was a deathly white, and her eyes firmly closed. She was cold to the touch, and he could detect no breath as he leaned over her face. She was most certainly dead, and he laid her down with a sob.