Part 25 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 25 – The wind beyond the woods
Despite the subtle display of weakness, Arthur still regarded Pewtory with a hostile stare. Pewtory chose to ignore it. It was enough for the bard to know that Arthur was no longer the threat he had imagined and so he decided not to aggravate the situation further. Instead he pulled out his mandolin.
Elsie’s eyes lit up upon seeing the instrument and when Pewtory lazily strummed the strings she broke out into a big smile. She gripped her husband’s arm with one hand and patted it excitedly with the other.
Pewtory smiled in response, the familiar feeling of audience anticipation washing over him. For a moment he was able to forget the past few weeks and lose himself in his profession. This was his bread and butter, and is what kept him sane. As a showman he did what he could to prolong the moment.
“I don’t normally give away any part of my performance before the show, but seeing as you have been kind enough to share your fire with me, I guess one song won’t hurt.”
“Oh yes, please do,” Elsie could hardly contain her excitement.
He strummed the mandolin again and pretended to tune the instrument. In truth he had tuned Beth as soon as he was clear of Compton. He found the process calming and provided a distraction from the image of Archie lying on the floor.
“Any requests?”
Elsie looked at Arthur who shrugged. He studied Pewtory with curiosity now, interested to see what kind of skill he possessed.
“Arthur and I rather like the ‘wind beyond the woods,’ do you know it?” Elsie said.
“Intimately,” Pewtory grinned. It was one of Pewtory’s favourites as well and one that was not often requested in taverns due to its excessive length and haunting, sombre tones. The first verse was sung without music which immediately exposed the singer’s voice to the audience. The range of notes were vast and people could quickly tell what kind of performer you were on the opening few lines alone and because of this complexity many bard’s steered clear of the song. To mess it up in any way was the quickest way to lose your credibility with the audience and therefore your wages.
Pewtory noticed how Arthur suddenly leaned forward, interested in how the stranger opposite would cope with the requests. Pewtory cleared his throat, licked his lips and broke into the song.
“Stark are the trees in the winter’s wood,
Devoid of their thick summer clothes;
Frigid is the river in the winter’s wood,
Carrying the ice as it flows.
The warrior stands and ponders his fate,
The life he knew is no more…”
Whilst he sang, Pewtory glanced at Elsie and Arthur and knew that he had them. Elsie’s face was one of pure pleasure, whilst Arthur’s mouth hung open, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners.
Pewtory closed his eyes and tried to ignore his audience. The forest around them seemed to cease all movement and listen to Pewtory’s rich voice. The bard lost himself in the melody and the tragic story of the warrior that endured so much to find his family, only to succumb to an arrow as he finally found them. He died as his wife and boy rushed towards him, pleasure turning to despair on their faces.
Pewtory finished the last note and was surprised to discover that he had been weeping as he had sung. That was the type of song he wanted to be known for – the brave warrior, not the villain who fired the arrow. He realised as he wiped his eyes it was never going to happen.
The moon Gods if they existed had chosen this path for him. His fate was inevitable and unavoidable. Why else had they selected a man so desperate to be famous he would do anything?
The ardent clapping of Elsie and Arthur surprised him. He opened his eyes and beamed to see the smiles on their faces. Elsie openly wept, whilst Arthur’s mouth still hung open as he shook his head slowly. It seemed like the old man could not quite believe what he had heard.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Elsie said.
Pewtory bowed his head and delicately placed Beth down by his side. From inside the bundle there was a loud splash. Pewtory reached inside his pocket and pulled out a few crumbs. He untied the cloth around the bowl and sprinkled the crumbs on the water. There was another splash and Pewtory smiled as he caught a glimpse of Wisp shooting to the bottom and back to the surface again. It was a sign that the fish had enjoyed the song too.
“What was that?” Arthur asked. It was said in a kinder tone than his earlier inquisition.
“That is my finale for tomorrow night,” Pewtory said and winked as he tied up the cloth again.
The couple looked at each other like giddy children but asked no further questions. A chilling breeze blew through the trees causing the branches to sway overhead. Pewtory shivered and inched closer to the fire whilst the leaves rustled. From somewhere deep in the wood a fox barked.
Elsie laid her head on her husband’s shoulder enjoying the sounds of the forest as it settled. He reached his arm round her and cuddled her into his chest. Pewtory admired the closeness the couple shared. They seemed so content together.
“You camp a lot?” Pewtory asked.
Arthur started as if he had forgotten the bard was there. The elderly man nodded.
“Always have. It is one of our favourite activities. We usually wait until the gold month when the leaves start to change colour and the moons are lower. One year we had sat round the fire and the red, blue and green moons all surrounded us as large as could be. The array of colours against the leaves that night was a sight I will never forget. People often forget to appreciate the simple things in life.”
Beside him, Elsie made a contented sound in agreement. She was already half asleep.
“How come this is your first visit to the ball?” Pewtory asked and ignored the obvious stiffening of both Elsie and Archie. Elsie kept her eyes shut and left the answer to her husband.
“We’ve always wanted to go, but as you know it is an established guest list. I have a favour to call in with an old friend so we thought we’d do it now whilst we are still young enough,” Archie said and winked at the irony.
Pewtory smiled politely. He could not understand why the pair had chosen not to reveal that Elsie was a stoneholder. In the bard’s experience, stoneholders were either scorned as if diseased or revered when people found out they had been selected for the Ritual. Either way, they were treated with respect.
All the couple had to do was to announce Elsie had a stone and it would have ensured their safe passage to Lilyon. No one interfered with a stoneholder. At least that was the common belief.
Elsie began to snore softly. She made a light whistling noise that was not altogether unpleasant.
“It seems my wife is ready for bed. I will bid you good night sir. Thank you for the song tonight, it was the best rendition I have ever heard,” Arthur said. Despite the shelter behind them, Arthur adjusted his body and gently laid his wife’s head down where they sat. He grabbed a blanket and groaned as he lay down next to her. Before he settled he looked over at Pewtory, “I was harsh with you earlier, I misjudged you. I guess I am sorry.”
Pewtory struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. He tried to say “goodnight” to Arthur but his mouth was dry and he croaked out an unintelligible response. The man had not misjudged him at all. Arthur had read him like a scroll from the second he met him.
Once again, Pewtory felt tears on his cheeks. Why did they have to be so nice?
