Read Online Dying Fall, A by Elly Griffiths - Free Book Online Page B

jumper.
    ‘Pen,’ says Cathbad, ‘I’d like you to meet some friends of mine, Ruth and Kate.’
    To Ruth’s surprise, she too gets a hug, Pendragon wrapping his arms with ease around both her and Kate. He smells of wood smoke.
    ‘Welcome,’ he says. ‘Welcome to my hearth.’
    Cathbad makes an odd little bow in return. ‘What’s with the firearms?’ he asks.
    Pendragon strides over to the gun and picks it up. ‘Airgun,’ he says, ‘not loaded.’
    ‘Natives not friendly then?’
    ‘It’s a long story,’ says Pendragon. ‘Come inside. I’ll make some herbal tea.’
     
    The cottage is low-ceilinged with bumpy, plaster walls. Pendragon has to stoop to cross the threshold, which makes him look like an adult in a child’s playhouse. The door opens onto the main room, which smells of herbs and smoke. There is a huge fireplace with little iron seats on either side, a wooden settle and what Ruth instantly recognises as a version of Cathbad’s wizard’s chair. When she makes her urgent trip to the loo, she notices shells hanging from the roof like one of Cathbad’s dream-catchers. Druid interior decorating.
    When she returns, Kate is playing happily with a pile of little wooden dolls. As Ruth enters the room, she hears Cathbad saying, ‘. . . not my child, not biologically anyhow.’ Clearly druids are not immune to nosiness. The white dog is sitting next to Kate, tail wagging noisily on the wooden floor. Pendragon sees Ruth’s glance.
    ‘Bull terriers are actually very good with children,’ he says. ‘They used to be known as nanny dogs.’
    That’s not what the headlines say, thinks Ruth, but the dog does seem amiable enough. He had a jolly, piratical look with a black patch over one eye. She pats him and he leans against her, panting.
    Pendragon makes herbal tea that tastes of wood shavings. He also offers home-made bread and butter. Despite having eaten a burger for lunch, Ruth tucks in. She thinks she could get to like it in Dame Alice’s Cottage. It’s certainly very cosy in the main room with the oil lamps lit and the rain outside. The fire is smouldering gently and the dog is now sleeping in front of it, paws twitching.
    ‘What’s his name?’ asks Ruth, indicating the dog. She heard Cathbad refer to it as Thing, which is typical. It’s rare for Cathbad to call any creature by their given name. He usually refers to Kate as Hecate and has been known to call Ruth ‘Ruthie’, an appellation which only Erik was allowed to use.
    But Pendragon’s answer surprises her. ‘He’s called Thing,’ he says with a grin. ‘Shall I tell you why?’
    Cathbad smiles as if he knows the answer and Pendragon assumes his storyteller’s pose, leaning back in the wizard’s chair, eyes half shut.
    ‘Four hundred years ago,’ he says, ‘this house was owned by a wise woman. Her name was Alice Barley, Dame Alice. She was the person you went to if you needed a spell to make your sick child well or to help your wife conceive. She was full of ancient wisdom and lore. For many years she helped the people in these hills.’ He looks at the three faces turned towards him, even Kate is listening intently. ‘But as time went on, people turned against her. There was some dispute about land. One family in particular had a grudge against Alice. They went to the magistrate and claimed that Alice had put a spell on their child, who subsequently died. They said that Alice boasted that she had a familiar—a Thing—who did her bidding. They said that Alice did not take Communion at the church; she saved the holy bread for her Thing. It was said that the Thing could take the form of a dog or a human man. It was said that Alice lay with the Thing and that she suckled it—its teeth, it was claimed, had left a mark on her belly. The Devil’s mark. Alice was accused of witchcraft. She refused to defend herself, saying only that the Great Mother would protect her. Those words probably signed her death warrant. She was