Secrets of the Valley by Simon Mitchell. An adventure of mystery and magic in the valley of the River Fowey in Cornwall

Chapter 3. The Crone’s Revenge

I sprinted to the ladder and up where a tribesman lowered me over the fort wall. I raced away inland, back towards my home. The tree was on the other side of my settlement and I decided to stay on the ridge as long as possible. As I ran I took in great gasps of air, my body became light and my young legs carried me, leaping boulders and running into the woods in the valley of my home.
I angled down the hill a little way past our settlement. The tree was in a small clearing away from any habitation. I reached it and leant against its trunk, merging myself with its form, but panting out of breath. I hadn't seen anyone, but knew I had made noise in my flight through the woods. I listened for the sound of movement but could hear only my heart thumping in my throat. My breath came in ragged gasps. I stood, hands on knees and concentrated on calming my breathing. I thought of the spirit of the 'bird's eye' flower, asking her to help me breathe. Just then came a flicker of black cloth between far trees. I pressed myself to the tree and mounted the trunk to look into its dark interior. The rope had gone. Someone had taken the rope. My flower lay only a tiny distance away. I had to get it and I needed it fast. I knew my mother had only so long.

I decided to slide down into the bole without the rope and took off my carry sack. I should be able to climb out. I dropped my bag into the cave. Feet-first I eased myself into the dark crack, spreading my legs out for purchase on the rough interior walls. It was a tight fit, even tighter than last time.
I breathed out to squeeze my chest through the bark constriction. I was through, just my head poking out of the top of the trunk. I turned it sideways to squeeze it through, hanging on with my hands to the sides of the hole, finding purchase inside. The rough skin of the tree scraped my cheeks. Just then I saw another movement in the trees, the flicker of a black garment between trunks. I heard the sound of dark laughter.

My foot slipped and I lost my grip. I tumbled down into the interior, and felt a sharp pain stab into my side. I landed badly, twisting my ankle. My head whacked against the inside of the tree and for a short time I saw only white light and stars. A ringing sound in my head echoed with the memory of the crone's laughter, the crone's spell.
I sat there for a moment, cramped in the gloom, gathering myself. I could feel a warm, sticky substance trickling down my side. I reached out for my carry sack to staunch the flow of my blood but it wasn't there. I felt my ankle; it lay at a strange angle and felt wrong. Pain started to flood from there up my leg.

Easing myself up the inside of the bole, I winced and reached out clutching my side. The bag had caught on the inside of the tree; Lugh's knife, poking from the bag, had stuck me on the way down.
Standing up on one leg, I reached the base of the bag where it hung and shook it. The bag clattered to the base, landing on my box. I sat down again and opened the box. I took the small pot and held it cupped in my hands. Maybe I could heal myself with the gift; I had to get back to Castledore. I gasped with pain as my body started to recognise its injuries.
I opened up the energy and felt it flow from my hands. The white purity reached in and released my pain. I felt a little easier. I put the small container into my jerkin. Now I had to get out of here.
I reached to my side and found it was still bleeding. My foot was not right, although I couldn't feel any pain. It was all at an angle and wouldn't stand right. The gift had taken away my pain, but I wasn't able to heal my own wounds.
I stood on one leg again, still shaky from the blow to my head. I shook out my bag and folded it, pressing it inside my jerkin to staunch the blood flowing from my side. I held it there with one elbow. Lugh's knife was in my belt on the other side.

"Fintan, Oh Fintan, can you hear me?" sang out the voice of the crone from outside. It was her, and she had me trapped in here. It was her who took the rope.
"Go away!" I yelled. "Leave me alone."
"I've got something you want Dearie. Don't you want your little rope back?"
I reached around inside the trunk to feel where it was narrowest. Pushing with my good foot and pulling with my arm, I found purchase and shifted myself up a little towards the light.
"Yes I do, throw it down to me please," I sang out.
"Well you can't have it." Another hideous cackle of phlegm-laden mackerel-breath. "Not least till you give me what I want." She hawked and spat and I could hear the liquid splat even from inside the tree.
"And what's that?" I asked.
"I want your secret Fintan, the one you've been hiding from everyone in that tree. Give it to me and I'll let you have your little rope back." Another hateful peal of fish phlegm.
I could get a little way up, but as soon as my twisted foot had to take any weight, it collapsed and I landed on it. New pain shot up through my lower leg. I was back at the base again.

I took out my gift, and kindled its power to ease the pain in my leg and side. There had to be a way I could escape from this tree. My side was bleeding even more.
"OK! I'll give it to you." I lied, thinking of the stag horn scraper. Maybe she'd take that, after all, she didn't know what my ‘secret’ was. "Throw the rope down first and I'll bring it out."
My eyes had grown used to the dark and I could see small projections on the inner trunk. If I swung my carry sack on to one of these maybe I could pull myself up. I stooped to get the bone scraper, and the rush of stars to my head made me nearly black out.
I took out the sack from my jerkin and new blood spouted from the wound. Slowly and surely my life was ebbing, just as was that of my mother. I had to get out. I swung the bag. It missed.
"No, you throw it out to me, and then I'll let you have the rope." Came the tiresome hag's response. I threw the horn upwards and it also missed, clattering down to land at my feet. I tried again, and again. Finally the fragment of antler flew from the tree to land on the ground outside.
I swung the bag up to find a grip. Again and again I flicked the handles of the bag upwards. Finally it found purchase about halfway up the inner trunk. The pain was starting to grow again.
"Fintan. Oh Fintan! Are you going to tell me what it is then? What does it do Fintan? It looks like an old bone scraper to me. Tell me what it does and I'll let down the rope." I really hated this hag.
"You said you'd throw down the rope if I gave it to you, so let me have it." I pushed off again, this time pulling on the bag caught further up the tree. Gradually I edged my way up the inside, hanging onto the bag with my back against the narrowest side of the trunk. With one leg against the other side, I made slow headway, but got further up this time.
"Finnie, come on, just tell me how to make it work and I'll let you have the rope," she taunted me. There was no point in trusting anything that she said.
I froze. I could hear deeper voices outside and the jangling sound that armed men make when they move fast. I listened as they came nearer and the voices resolved. Their language sounded like the swarthy men who had come to trade at Castledore, their speaking was full of the sounds of the sea. They had raided here before; it was these pirates that had killed my father.
The men stopped nearby and I felt they must have heard the crone, taunting me from outside. I could almost hear the old woman breathing, pressed flat against the outside of the tree. With any luck they'd find her, but not me, I laughed to myself, they wouldn't find me. Then I realised. I called out as loud as I could in my best crone's voice:
"Yoo-hoo, I'm over here!" A mutter from outside, a jangle of metal and I heard the hag's last curse. It was meant for me. They were on her in a moment and I heard her dying gasp as metal sliced into her. The men moved off quickly, jangling lightly into the trees.
I stayed very still, I couldn't cry out, if these people caught me, I would be useless to my mother. My leg started to shake, but I stayed still fighting the cramp, until the men had passed. Carefully I levered myself up a bit more, and then my foot slipped. Down again to the bottom and to pain and despair. I blacked out and thoughts of my mother came.

She stood at the door of our home. Tired was etched on her face even in the poor light, her shoulders carried too many burdens.
"Your sister Gerslin has the fever," she said, resigned.
"I must go to Castledore to fetch the healer. Stay with her and look after her. Harm said he would be back soon."
I hoped he wouldn't come back. "Yes, Ma. Is there any of that stew left?"
"Take your sisters portion, she won't be eating tonight, but leave some for your stepfather, you know what he's like when he comes home."
I knew only too well, a few drops of his cousin's noxious brew brought out the worst.
Ma left and two of the dogs followed her upstream. I was alone with my sister.
She lay on a straw pallet in one corner of the hut, just a heap of rags. I crossed over to her side. She was asleep, but a film of cold sweat covered her pale face. Her breath came in rasps, and looked painful. Froth at the corner of her mouth had flecks of red. She fretted in her sleep and whimpered, as if afraid to start another spasm of coughing. I pulled the blanket up over her shoulders as she shivered. I put my hand onto her forehead and her eyes flickered open.

"Hello Fintan," she whispered. "I feel so horrible, please help me." Her eyes told a story of pain, she wheezed with the effort of talking, even so quietly. I looked at my brown-stained hand resting on her head. I could still sense the tracery of light playing through my body and urged it into her. I saw the energy moving into her, battling tiny specks of black, flicking them away down her body in response. Tears formed in my eyes as I calmed and pictured the pure flower. I could help her, I knew I could help her.

The strange energy sprang into life, and I directed it down my arm, to fight for my sister. I placed my other hand on her leg, and used it to attract the black particles. The feeling of dark entered my hand, and I shook it, spraying the night-soot out toward the door.
Soon she slept again, but I could already see the colour returning to her face. I helped myself to her portion of stew. I had given energy to Gerslin and was extra hungry. After eating, I felt tired, and lay down on my pallet near the dying fire to rest.

The flickering of firelight awoke me. My mother was back, rekindling the fire. A large, black shadow stood by my bed. Head cocked, it stared at me with shiny eyes. I thought I was dreaming, and blinked to clear the giant bird from my head. The figure resolved into a gaunt man with a beaky nose. He had on a dark cloak with a cape of black feathers, still shining with damp. Lights from the growing fire danced in his beady eyes. He looked from me to my mother, his head jerking round in stages like a rook on lookout duty.
"Where is she then?" he said to my mother. His voice had a cawing quality, it seemed to produce its own small echo, filling the hut with nasal sound. He turned and pointed his beaky face at me, his eyes focusing like those of a bird.
"Over there." My mother pointed to the pallet in the other corner where Gerslin lay. Bird man crossed over to where she slept and knelt down. He placed his hand on her forehead, which woke her.
She opened her eyes and screamed, with hale and hearty lungs. She backed into the corner, sitting quickly upright and pulling the blanket with her. Ma ran over, consoling her, persuading her to allow the examination.
"When I left, you had been retching blood, you could hardly breathe through coughing, and a fever was burning you up. How come you look suddenly well again Gerslin?" asked Ma.
"Fintan made me better Ma," claimed my sister, looking towards me.
"This is Nevli, the herbalist from Castledore. Let him have a look at you Gerslin," said Ma, taking control, standing and walking over to me. I got up.
"Is this true Fintan? What did you do? How did you make her better?" she asked, somehow stealing the gaze of the herbalist. The rook-man had quickly completed an examination and stood. He walked over to join the inquisition.
"She seems well enough," he said, fixing me with his beady stare. "Tell us what you did. How did you make her well?"
I felt the pressure of both their eyes upon me.
"I just helped her, I wanted her to be well and she got better," I said simply. The sharp face of the birdman jerked round to meet my mother's.
"Has he ever done anything like this before?" he stared at her without blinking, his head cocked quizzically to one side.
"No, nothing. I could swear she was really ill, I was afraid for her life." She shook her head more obviously and averted her gaze, downcast.
"I think you've been wasting my time. Don't get me unless someone is really sick."  The caped man left swiftly without another glance or word, his dark cloak swirling into the damp night air.

But I wasn't safe in my mother's hut. I was a small, frightened boy, alone and trapped inside a tree. I could feel the life leaking from me; puddling by my side. My attempts at climbing out just stopped my wounds sealing. My mother, I had to reach my mother. I held the pot and filled myself with the healing energy, freeing my pain, but into dreamsleep.

After healing my sister I had experimented with the strange energy. I found I could connect up to life around me and see into and through things. I could see patterns of life in plants, animals and people. Cycles of growth surrounded me as the sun warmed the air each day. When I visualised the flowers I would suddenly merge in intimate connection. I could see how it all connected up, a delicate tracery of life running through and between every object. It was as if everything were made of light, billions of  tiny cycles, alive, alone but working in unity. When I dreamed the flower, the energy would run to me, filling me up with its wild fire. When I attracted the energy I could even move it between my hands. It would pass through objects and back to me. It altered whatever it touched, purifying with its light and making it whole and new.
I used it to heal a sick tree, infected with damp fungus. A wood pigeon with a broken wing allowed me to mend it, I could see the bones fusing together as the fire worked through me. I loved playing with this energy and my attention to work suffered. Ma didn't notice, she thought I was a daydreamer at the best of times, but Harm did.
I had paused from scraping at the frame and he crept up on me. He cuffed the back of my head with his open palm. An immediate feeling of anger burst from me. To both our amazement, Harm stepped back to see a large bee in the palm of his hand. It stung with a howling buzz and flew off.
Harm's answering yell of pain brought Ma and Gerslin running from the hut. He glared at me in disbelief, but allowed Ma to mollycoddle him into the hut for some treatment. I ran off to the woods, afraid of what had happened.

I felt polluted by my own rage. Even though I disliked Harm for his spiteful ways, I didn't wish hurt on him. A little way into the woods I sat on a rock and visited the energy. It was somehow less pure, shot with grey like an old man's beard.
It seemed lessened, dark strands occluded the purity of the fire. I extracted them, pulling them gently from the fabric of white energy. They slid out like centres of grass stalks and I shook the mess out to the ground.
Harnessing the remaining energy, I pushed it down my arm and stored it there by keeping my fist tightly closed. I carried it carefully like a beaker of water and walked home, determined to put the situation to rights.

Harm and Ma were outside, and she poured cold water from a pitcher onto his hand. She had got the sting out and was trying to stop the swelling. Harm continued to glare at me where he had left off. His eyes were full of resentment, he hated me.
"I blame you for this boy," he said. "If you hadn't been messing about and day dreaming this would never have happened. I can't work now, just look at this swelling."
He held his red-angry hand out to show me. I took the end of three of his fingers and shoved the stored power in. There was a snap of sound and Harm jumped back, holding his hand to his chest.
"By the Moon Fintan, I'll have you for this. Just get out of my sight, you cost me more than you're worth you idle, useless, waste of space."
He drew back his leg to kick me but Ma intervened, holding him by his other arm. Harm unpeeled his hand from his chest. The red swelling had gone, leaving only a small stigmata to show the bee's point of entry. The pain had also gone and with it Harm's foul mood quickly evaporated. Looking up at me from his hand he gave a nervous laugh. He glared one more time and went inside to get his cider.

Later that day I knew they had been talking about it.
"How did you do it, Fintan?" said Ma. "Your sister claims you made her better, and we've seen what you did to your stepfather's bee sting. What did you do?" She held me gently by the shoulders and brought her face level with mine. I didn't want to tell her about the flower, it was my secret alone, but I must tell her something.
"I...I just pushed the energy in," I said. " I just wanted to help, to make them stop hurting." Hoping that would be enough, I stopped. Harm and my Ma looked at each other.
"Can you do this for anyone?" asked Harm.
"Yes, I suppose so," I claimed.
"Well, let's find out," said Harm. "Come on, you're coming with me".

He ushered me out of the hut. We walked uphill from home, towards where the sun leaves the valley. It was a steep climb up a narrow trail, following a stream bed. The track moved through mud, then stream, and then mud again, occasionally broken by pebbles high enough to avoid the trickle of water. My feet were cold.
Finally we reached the top of the hill and I turned round. Below me was the valley. I could see the whole body of the river below me cloaked with a tapestry of rich woodland at the peak of its season,.
"Stop dawdling, boy." Harm grabbed my collar and pulled me round to face the other way.
Soon I smelt burning greenwood and saw smoke coming from a single hut in the dark woods. A large chough stood on the roof and eyed us. As we approached it flapped away, cawing in alarm to an imaginary flock. The sound filled the space between trees with an eerie echo.

"Hellooo," called Harm to the dark space inside the doorway. "Anyone here?"
"Come in, come in," spluttered an ancient, croaky voice. Harm pushed me into the hut. The crone was hunched on a stool by the smoking fire. She looked up at us.
"What is it you want, dearies?" I had heard stories at the settlement about this strange old woman who lived alone in the woods. They said that she ate children who went out alone at night. She made charms and people from the valley visited her for ailments and philtres. 'Old Ma' they called her. As my eyes adjusted I could make out things hanging from the ceiling. The dark corners of the hut moved in the firelight, inhabited by shifting shapes.

"Err... This boy is my umm... stepson," said Harm nervously. "He claims that he is able to errr... heal people of their ills," he finished swiftly.
"Is this true my boy?" she rasped, shifting her gaze to me. "Can you do as he claims? Come over here where I can see you properly. What's your name child?"
"F..Fintan," I stuttered nervously, catching Harm's uncertainty. I shuffled closer, pushed by Harm. I didn't like this old woman and I didn't like her smell. Coming from a tanner's boy, that's no mean insult. I felt immediately I shouldn't trust her. She raised the long bony fingers of one hand to rest clawlike on my arm.
"Look into my eyes, Fintan," she said. "Just relax and let me see." I felt her mind reaching in behind my eyes, and pulled them out of contact with her.
"He's strong," she motioned to Harm. "Come over here, hold him so I can see." I tried to make a break for it, but Harm caught me and held me firm in front of the old woman.
This time she placed her hand on my brow, searching out small points I didn't know were there. Her fingers were husks of dry leather, cold with the feeling of dead mackerel.
I strove to clear my mind of all thoughts. I filled myself with memory of oneness with the woods. I shrunk away to their deepest recesses and hid behind trees.
"He's hiding something, and with an art," she snapped to Harm, shaking my arm and bringing me back with a start. "I can't see what it is, I only see the woods, he won't show me."
Her beady eyes, pupils wide stared into mine, urging me to submit to her will. I fought and broke away, refusing to meet her eyes.
"I don't know if he can heal or not. Is it true boy, can you make people well?" Old Ma shook me again, slightly harder this time to encourage an answer.
I would not tell her. I had locked all thoughts of my secret far away under a rock in the woods.
"Tell her Fintan or I'll have the hide off you," growled Harm, gripping harder, his fingers pinching my shoulders.
"I wished them better," I said, looking down and trying to shrug. "They were hurting and I just wanted them to be well." There was silence.
"He might have something," said the hag, "I can't tell. He's certainly a natural at hiding his thoughts. The best thing is to try him out."
She raised her left arm to dangle it in front of my face. The fingers were gnarled like the roots in a woodland path. It was a useless claw.
"Can you mend this, dearie?" said she, waving the hand in front of my eyes. "Come on, show me you can do it." She took my right hand and dropped the grotesque appendage into it. I met her gaze then and very slowly and firmly shook my head.
"He won't do it," she snapped. This time averted her eyes and I'm sure I saw a glint of fear as she snatched her horrible hand back from mine.
"Take him home, he won't open up to me. I can't tell you if he's a healer or not," she concluded. She pushed up from the stool but remained almost the same height, her back was so hunched over.
"Go, begone, get out of here," she shushed, flapping her arms at us. Harm pulled us from the hut.

We walked back in silence. Harm lagged behind this time, stroking his bearded chin in thought most of the way. I resolved to keep the source of my strange energy a secret from everyone, especially Harm.

END OF CHAPTER 3

Over Lostwithiel

Batchelors' buttons

Bluebells, Stitchwort and Campion

Buddleiah and Red Admiral

Lesser Celandine

Cherry Blossom

White Clover

Over the Valley

Common Centaury

Vetch

Bindweed

Copper Beech

Coombe Hawne

Oak by Restormel Castle

Early mist in the Valley

Mist in the Valley

Periwinkle

Shirehall Moor

Fennel

Field Gentian

Fowey seagull

Folks gloves

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