Cart and Cwidder. Diana Wynne Jones

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СКАЧАТЬ wasting time. He hurried over to Clennen with it bumping at his thighs and knees, and hoisted it away sideways as he knelt down. Clennen’s face was paler than Moril had ever seen a face before. His eyes did not seem to reflect the sky, or Moril bending over him, though it was clear he could see Moril.

      “Got the big cwidder, have you?” Clennen said. Moril nodded. He could not manage to speak. “Keep it carefully,” said Clennen. “It’s yours now. Always meant to give it to you, Moril, because I think you’ve got the ability. Or will have. But you have to come to terms with it, and with yourself. Understand?” Moril nodded again, though he did not understand in the least. “You’re in two halves at present,” Clennen went on. “Often thought so. Come together, Moril, and there’s no knowing what you might do. There’s power in that cwidder, if you can use it. Used to be Osfameron’s. He could use it. Handed down to me. I couldn’t use it. Only found the power once, when I—” Clennen paused for breath. Moril waited for him to go on, but nothing happened. Clennen stayed as he was, with his eyes open looking at Moril, and his lips parted. After a while, Moril realised that this was all there would be. He got up and carefully, very carefully, put the cwidder back in its place inside the cart.

      Brid was crying loudly. Lenina was standing very upright beside the lake, as calm as ever. Dagner seemed to have frozen into the same sort of calmness, facing her. And Kialan was coming slowly towards them round the lake with a bundle of dead rabbits.

      When he reached them, Kialan stopped. He looked at Clennen and, for once, seemed not to know what to say. “I’m – terribly sorry,” he said at length.

      “It was going to happen sometime,” said Lenina. “Will you help us dig a grave, please?”

      “Of course,” said Kialan. “Here?”

      “Why not?” said Lenina. “Clennen never had a home after he left Hannart, and we can’t take him there.”

      “Very well,” said Kialan, and he laid the rabbits down and unhooked the spade from its clips beneath the cart. Dagner went and fetched the pickaxe, and the two set to work. Lenina watched and seemed ready to take Kialan’s advice, as if, in some odd way, Kialan were in charge just then. “I think we should mark the spot,” Kialan said as he dug.

      “How?” said Lenina.

      “Is there a spare board in the cart?” Kialan asked.

      “Find him one, Moril,” said Lenina.

      Moril managed to work free one of the spare boards Clennen always carried under the floor of the cart, and on Kialan’s instructions, he sawed off a piece about three feet long. Then he relieved Kialan at the digging for a while. Kialan took out his sheath knife and carved away at the board, quickly and competently, as if this were another thing he was good at. When he had finished, the board had letters deeply and neatly cut into it. CLENNEN THE SINGER.

      “That do?” said Kialan.

      “Very well,” said Lenina.

      When the grave was ready, Kialan, Dagner and Brid put Clennen into it. Moril did not like to see his father topple into the hole. Nor did he like to see the earth going in on top of Clennen’s face and clothes. Rather than watch, he fetched his own cwidder and stood back a little, playing another lament, a newer one that had been made for an earl of Dropwater killed in battle. He went on playing while Brid put the turf back in place and Kialan trenched his board in until it was standing upright at the head of the grave, as it should. And now that there was nothing but a grave to be seen, Moril began to feel that something was missing. They should all be feeling and doing something else. They should be angry. Clennen had been murdered. They should be trying to bring the murderers to justice. But none of them thought of it. It was out of the question, here in the South. The six men had been far too well dressed.

      “There,” said Kialan, wiping his hands on his coat.

      “Thank you,” said Lenina. “Now I must change. This dress has blood on it. And you too, Brid. Kialan, I think it would be a good idea if you changed your coat for Dagner’s old one.”

      Kialan agreed to this, although Moril did not think Kialan’s good coat was more than a little earthy. When everyone was changed and cleaned, Lenina told Dagner to catch Olob and harness him to the cart. Kialan picked up his bundle of rabbits.

      “Leave those,” said Lenina. “We don’t need them.”

      “Well, I don’t fancy them at the moment, either,” said Kialan. “But—”

      “Leave them,” said Lenina. Kialan did as he was bid. Now Lenina seemed to be definitely in charge. It was she who took the reins when Olob was ready and drove out of the valley.

      Brid and Moril looked back. It was a very beautiful valley. Probably, Moril thought, it was a good place to be buried, if one had to be. Brid cried. Dagner did not look back. He had sunk into a silence as profound as any of Lenina’s. He did not look at anything, and no one liked to speak to him.

      Lenina drove northwards for a mile or so, until she came to a road that turned off to the left. Then, to Moril’s surprise, she swung the cart into it.

      “Hey! Where are we going?” said Moril.

      “Markind,” said Lenina.

      “What? Not to Ganner!” demanded Brid, halting in the middle of a sob.

      “Yes. To Ganner,” said Lenina. “He said he would have me and mine if ever I was free, and I know he meant it.”

      “Oh, but no! You can’t!” said Moril. “Not just like that!”

      “Why not?” Lenina asked. “How do you think we shall live, without a singer to earn us money?”

      “We can manage,” said Moril. “I can sing. Dagner can – Dagner …” His voice tailed away as he thought of Dagner and himself trying to perform as Clennen did. He just could not see Dagner doing it. He did not know what to say, so he stopped, fearing he might be hurting Dagner’s feelings. But it looked as if Dagner was not listening. “Father wouldn’t like us to go to Markind,” Moril asserted. He was sure of that, at least.

      “I can’t see that your father has much say in the matter now,” Lenina answered drily. “Get this clear, Moril. I know well enough that your father was a good man, and the best singer in Dalemark, and I’ve done my duty by him for seventeen years. That’s half my lifetime, Moril. I’ve gone barefoot and learnt to cook and make music. I’ve lived in a cart in all weathers, and never complained. I’ve mended and cleaned and looked after you all. There were things your father did that I didn’t agree with at all, but I never argued with him or crossed him. I did my duty exactly in every way, and I’ve nothing to reproach myself with. But Clennen’s dead now, so I’m free to do as I choose. What I’m choosing is my birthright and yours too. Do you understand?”

      “I suppose so,” Moril mumbled. He had never heard Lenina say anything like this before. He was frightened and rather shocked to see that she must have been not saying it for longer than he had lived. He thought it was wrong of her, but he could not have said why. He thought she was altogether wrong, but he could not find any words to set against her. All he could do was to exchange a scared, helpless look with Brid. Brid said nothing either.

      It was Kialan who spoke. He sounded rather embarrassed. “It’s not my place to object,” he said. “But I do have to get to Hannart, Lenina.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ