Page 15 of Circle of Days

Seft rejoiced in his freedom, but he knew that his father would not accept his escape. There would be a confrontation sooner or later, and he had to be ready for it. Every night he slept with a flint knife close to hand.

He was happy at Wun’s pit. His system of mining was superior. Chalk removed by the digging of new tunnels was disposed of in abandoned tunnels, so that it did not have to be laboriously carried up the climbing pole to the surface.

The work was satisfying and the atmosphere even better.

The men liked one another. They even seemed to like Seft.

He had made a friend his own age: Tem, a nephew of Wun’s.

They sat together in the evenings, eating the dinner cooked by Wun, who was too old to dig.

They all slept in the open, and Seft and Tem generally lay down side by side and talked quietly until they fell asleep.

Some of the miners were single young men such as Seft and Tem; others had families they visited whenever they could. There were no women at the pit. A few women were strong enough for the work, but not many.

Seft’s family showed up one evening at dinnertime.

He felt a cold hand grip his heart as he saw the three of them approaching: stern Cog, with a face like war; big shambling Olf, always hoping for a fight; and scrawny Cam, looking at Olf to know what to think.

The setting sun threw long shadows behind them.

They strode across the grassland like an army come to destroy Seft’s new life.

For a little while he had lived in a place where there was no hatred. Was that over now?

He put down his dinner bowl and stood up. Tem, beside him, stood too, and Seft was grateful, for that would show Cog that Seft had at least one person on his side.

For the first time, Seft noticed that his family’s clothing was grubby.

Here at Wun’s pit the men took off their tunics in the evening and cleaned the chalk dust off them, using leaves dipped in the stream, and Seft had taken up the practice to be like the rest. Now he felt that his family were just dirty.

Cog looked as determined as a cornered wild boar. Olf swung his arms from the shoulders, limbering up. Cam was trying to look threatening, with little success.

Seft hoped that he himself did not look too scared.

Cog said to him: “You have to come home with me.”

Seft decided to say nothing.

After a pause, Cog said: “Pick up your tools and let’s go.”

Seft did not move.

He saw Olf clench his fists. Not long now, he thought.

Cog moved menacingly closer. “Do as you’re told, boy, or you’ll be the worse for it.”

Seft trembled.

Then he heard Wun say: “No violence, please, Cog. This is my place and I won’t stand for it.” He crossed the space to stand with Seft and Tem.

A thrill passed through Seft. He had friends and supporters. He was no longer at Cog’s mercy.

Cog said: “You keep out of this, Wun. It’s a family matter.”

Wun stood his ground. “Call it what you like, I’m in charge here and I won’t have you starting a fight.”

“No fight,” said Cog, trying to sound reasonable, but failing. “Seft here knows his duty. He’s coming back to his family.”

Seft spoke for the first time. “No, I’m not.”

“You have to, you’re my son.”

“You don’t want a son, you want a slave. I’m staying here.”

Cog became angry. He could never tolerate defiance. He raised his voice. “You’re coming with me, even if I have to pick you up and carry you.”

Olf and Cam moved closer and stood on either side of Cog, ready for action. But Wun’s men also moved, six of them surrounding Wun and Seft.

Wun said: “Give up, Cog. You’re not going to get what you want.”

“Oh, yes I am,” said Cog. “It may not be today, but I’ll get this boy back, and when I do he’ll have the thrashing of his life.”

Seft felt cold fear. His face still bore the marks of the last thrashing.

“That’s as may be,” said Wun. “But for now I want you to get away from my place and stay away.” He indicated the men around him. “If you come back again, we may not be so polite to you.”

Seft could see his father calculating the chances. If his opposition had been herders or farmers, he might have risked the odds of three against six. But the six were miners, just like Cog and his sons, as hard as the flint they dug up. Cog’s face showed that he was reluctantly accepting defeat.

Cog found it hard to give in. He stared at Wun with hate, and then at Seft with rage. He seemed to be searching for words. At last he said to Seft: “The time will come when you’ll rue this day with bitter tears—and blood.” And then he turned away.

Olf and Cam looked surprised. They did not often see their father back down. They turned and followed him, trying not to look defeated.

Seft felt weak with relief. His legs seemed about to give way, so he sat down abruptly. He picked up his dinner bowl, realized he was too tense to eat, and put it down again. Now that the clash was over, he felt helpless with fear.

Wun said: “Well done, lad. You stood your ground. Good man.”

Seft said: “Thank you for defending me.”

“I don’t like to see a decent young man bullied.” He returned to his dinner, and the others did the same.

Tem sat beside Seft. “Your father is horrible,” he said. “No wonder you ran away.”

“It took me a long time to work up the courage.”

“I can imagine! But it’s over now.”

“Perhaps,” said Seft, and he picked up his bowl again.

Night fell, the birds went quiet, and everyone lay down. Seft took from his bag a long-bladed flint knife, well sharpened. After a while the moon rose silently.

Seft thought about Neen. He had a recurring daydream about how he would reunite with her.

His departure had been so ignominious that he was determined to return with dignity, as an independent young man with a role to play and the ability to make his own living and one day feed his children. He would be able to do that soon.

He wished he could have got a message to Neen, but there was no way.

Most people traveled only for the quarterly Rites.

Occasional itinerants arrived, singing poems or offering to trade something small, bone jewelry or magic potions, but they were not trustworthy messengers, and anyway Seft had not seen one.

So Neen must be in the dark about his intentions. He hoped she might wait awhile for him. But she probably saw Enwood every day. How long would it be before she gave up on the vanished Seft?

The men around him fell asleep, but Seft felt sleep was dangerous. His family might not be far away. He planned to stay awake all night.

Tem stayed awake beside him for a long time, and they talked intermittently, but eventually Tem’s breathing became regular, and Seft was the only one left awake.

He clutched the flint knife in his right hand.

He listened to the sounds of the night, the scurry of small creatures and the melancholy moan of the owl as it hunted them.

He strained his hearing for human footsteps on the grass, and he wished he had a dog.

Against his will, he fell asleep.

He was awakened by something with a sharp point digging into his neck. He opened his eyes to see his brother Olf standing over him, pressing an antler into his throat. His heart thudded like a drum.

Olf whispered: “Make a noise and I’ll kill you.”

Seft tried to calm his panic and think. Would Olf really kill him?

Seft would be no use to his father dead.

But this was about pride as much as anything else.

Cog could not bear to be disobeyed. Yes, he thought, if I cry out now there is at least a chance that Olf will stick that antler point into my soft throat and I will bleed to death.

So he lay still and silent. But he felt the lump of the flint knife under his thigh, where it had slipped out of his hand during sleep. He would not go quietly. He would not lightly abandon the chance of happiness that had so recently come his way. He might die; others might too.

Olf seemed unsure what to do next. He had not planned his next move in advance, which was typical of him. There was a pause while he figured it out. Then, awkwardly, he contrived to get off Seft without withdrawing the weapon. “Now get up,” he whispered.

“All right,” Seft murmured. “All right.”

Tem grunted and turned over, but did not wake.

Seft rolled slightly right, his leg hiding the knife. He got up on one knee, which forced Olf to retreat a few inches. He slid his hand along the ground to the knife.

He would have only one chance.

“I’m coming,” he said, grasping the knife.

He rose to his feet in a fast fluid motion. He used his left arm to knock Olf’s antler aside while lifting his right hand high. Then he brought the knife down hard and slashed Olf’s face.

He felt the flint connect. There was a sickening sensation as it cut through flesh to bone. Pressing down hard, he drew the blade across Olf’s face. He saw fluid burst from Olf’s left eyeball. Blood from Olf’s cheek spurted over his hand.

Olf screamed.

Cog emerged from the darkness, trailed by Cam. Wun’s men, abruptly awakened, got to their feet.

Olf staggered around blindly, hands to his face, yelling: “My eye! My eye!”

Seft knew he should be horrified by what he had done, but in fact he felt exultant.

Cam screamed at Seft: “What have you done?”

Wun’s voice said loudly: “No need for violence, calm down, everyone.”

Cog shouted at him: “Look what this evil boy has done!”

Wun shouted: “You’re to blame, Cog, you fool. You come slinking into our camp like a thief in the night—what do you expect? A polite welcome? You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

Cog turned on Seft. “You’ve half blinded your brother!”

Seft found in himself a streak of reckless aggression. “Let me tell you something, Father,” he said. “If I ever see Olf again, I’ll take his other eye.”

Cog was shocked. “You’ve turned into a monster.”

“I’ve toughened up,” said Seft. “Just like you told me to.”