Page 17 of Circle of Days

Only smoldering ashes were left in the north half of the Break. Everyone withdrew from the field. Pia’s father, Alno, was coughing.

Someone said: “How could a fire start in a field in the middle of the night? There was no lightning, was there?”

Troon said: “It was done deliberately.”

His wife, Katch, said: “You can’t know that.”

The people standing around contemplated that thoughtfully.

Pia’s mother, Yana, walked to the far end of the field, where the ashy remains bordered the herders’ pasture.

The cattle had gone, frightened by the flames.

She came back holding some shards of pottery.

She stood squarely in front of Troon as if she was about to fight him.

Others came closer to see what was going to happen.

Troon pretended not to care. He said: “What’s that?”

“A broken pot,” said Yana.

Pia wondered why that was important. Pots broke from time to time: it was normal.

Yana wiped the inside of a curved piece, sniffed her finger, then made a disgusted face, as if the smell was bad. She handed the shard to Troon.

Troon did the same. Then he said: “Birch tar.”

“Exactly,” said Yana.

There was a murmur from the crowd. Pia knew why. Birch tar caught fire easily.

Yana said: “Someone brought birch tar here in pots in the middle of the night. They threw the tar on the crops and set fire to them. And you know who they were, don’t you, Troon?”

“Of course. It was the herders.”

“And you know why they did it.”

Pia was mystified. Why would the herders want to do that?

Her mother answered her unspoken question. “They did it because we plowed up the Break.” She raised her voice in anger. “I warned you!” She pointed a finger at his chest. “You have brought this down on our heads. It’s the herders’ revenge.”

Troon said: “I’ll show them revenge.”

Wun’s team came to the end of the seam of flint they had been mining for the past year or so.

It was worked out in every direction. Before leaving, Wun and his miners performed an important ceremony.

They had violated the ground, digging a big hole and taking away the flints, and now they needed to placate the Earth God.

They began by shoveling back all the chalk they had removed, together with broken antlers and other rubbish, meat bones and wood ash and worn-out shoes. Then they spread earth over the lot, so that the grass could grow again in the spring, and the plain would not be disfigured.

When it was all done, they stood together, holding hands, and solemnly sang a prayer they all knew that thanked the spirit of the pit for what it had given them.

The balance was restored.

Wun and his miners would now move on and dig another pit.

Seft decided to go back to Riverbend. He was thrilled and terrified: thrilled at the prospect of seeing Neen again, terrified that she might no longer love him.

Tem asked to go with him, just to see Riverbend—he had never traveled away from the mining country. Wun kindly gave permission. “Come back and work for me anytime you like,” he said to Seft.

Seft and Tem set off early in the morning on the day after the pit ceremony.

During the long walk across the Great Plain, Seft reflected on how much he had achieved since Cog beat him up outside the Monument.

He had escaped from his family. He had invented a way of joining pieces of wood without straps.

He had fought off an attempt to kidnap him, and he had given Olf a wound he would never forget.

He had established himself as a useful member of a working team.

In Tem he had found a friend, something he had never had before. And he had made his living.

He was ready to face Neen again.

As he and Tem walked they talked amicably, and he ended up telling Tem the whole story of himself and Neen.

Tem was fascinated. He had not yet had a love affair.

Embarrassingly, he treated Seft as an expert on everything to do with women.

When Seft said he was no such thing, Tem thought he was being modest.

Seft liked Tem’s quick mind and cheerful disposition. He found himself regretting that their ways would soon part.

They reached Riverbend in the late afternoon.

Summer was coming to an end and the air was cool.

As they made their way through the village, Seft was seized by fear.

What if he got to the house to find Enwood ensconced there, with a proprietorial arm around Neen?

Then all his great achievements would turn to ashes.

Before they got there, they were spotted by eight-year-old Han. “It’s Seft—he’s back!” he yelled delightedly to no one in particular, then he raced away toward his house, repeating the cry. It was a good sign, but Han was not Neen.

By the time Seft and Tem got there, Neen was standing outside the house waiting for him.

One look at her told Seft he need not have worried.

A lovely smile spread over her face, the same smile that had gladdened his heart on the day before the Midsummer Rite, when he had found her scraping a hide; a smile that seemed to occupy her whole face from forehead to chin. All his fears had been unfounded.

He stared at her, drinking her in, and slowly walked up to her.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him.

It was all worth it, he thought, everything; worth it for this.

The hug went on for a long time, but neither of them wanted to quit, until at last he heard Ani’s voice saying: “You’d better stop soon so that you can talk to us. ”

Seft let Neen go and turned to Ani. “May the Sun God smile on you.”

“And on you, Seft. How wonderful to have you back here with us!” Her welcome was warm but he sensed that she was distracted. She went on: “Perhaps you should introduce your companion.”

“This is Tem, my friend. We’ve been working together at his uncle’s pit.

” Then he had to tell the whole story of how he had left Cog and his family and taken refuge with Wun.

They all sat on the grass in a ring as he did so, and Neen held his hand, which thrilled him, because it told the world they were a couple.

When he had finished his tale, Ani said: “How marvelous! And dinner will be ready soon.”

Seft said to Neen: “Could we go to that timber circle, just to talk quietly for a while?”

“Of course,” she said, and got to her feet.

They strolled hand in hand through the village. Seft said: “Is your mother worried about something?”

“She’s angry,” Neen said. “Scagga and some of his family went to Farmplace and set fire to the crop on some land called the Break, which the farmers stole from us.”

“To me that sounds justified,” said Seft.

“The elders decided to take no action. Scagga’s an elder but he defied his colleagues.”

“I see that.”

“Mamma says that revenge always leads to reprisals, and that’s how people end up at war.”

Seft did not know what to think about that and, anyway, he had something more important on his mind. They came to the concentric circles of tree trunks. They sat close together and kissed for a while.

Then Seft said: “Are there rules about people joining the herder community?”

“Well,” she said, “yes, I suppose there are. I mean, you have to work. Strangers can’t just come and move into a house and eat beef and lie around all day.”

“So I could join.”

“Yes. You could be a herder. We’d teach you.”

“I’d be glad to learn. But what I’m really good at is carpentry. I could make bows, and shovels, and chests for keeping precious things. And I’ve worked out how to make a doorway without straps.”

“You could do that. Like my mother makes leather.”

“There’s something really important, the most important of all.”

“Go on.”

“I want a family like yours, where everyone loves each other, and there’s no beating.”

“That’s what I want, too.”

“Last time we were together you said you weren’t ready to make a baby.”

“True.”

“When do you think you might be ready?”

She took his hand. “I’m already pregnant.”

He was shocked, and his heart seemed to thud. “From just that one night?”

She smiled. “From just that one night.”

Seft was filled with joy. “Well, then,” he said, “everything is just perfect.”

Joia was awakened by the sound of two women having sex. It would be a couple of novices, she guessed, too in love and excited to care who heard them. She wondered whether to tell them to hush, but someone else said it first, and they giggled and carried on, not quite in silence.

In the relative quiet, Joia heard a strange, muffled noise.

It sounded like carpenters at work some distance away, hammering and sawing, chopping and chiseling.

They were up early. Was it dawn already?

She looked across the room at the doorway.

She could see the edge of the moon, silver against a deep black sky.

This is the middle of the night, she thought; no carpenters are working now.

She stood up, pulled her long tunic over her head, and laced her shoes.

As she crossed the room in the dark she stumbled over the drum they used in some of the ceremonies, and it fell with a resonant boom.

Several sleepy voices told her to hush. She picked up the drum and its stick and put them by the door, in the moonlight.

She stood by the wicker gate and leaned out. She could hear the carpentry noise better, but it still seemed muffled. She lifted the gate, stepped outside, and replaced the gate.

Once she was out of the building she could tell which direction the sound was coming from. It seemed to be at or near the Monument.

She hurried across the stretch of grassland that separated the priestesses’ village from the Monument, and as she did so the sound got louder. It was coming either from the far side of the Monument or from actually inside the circle.

She began to be fearful. On impulse, she returned to the house and picked up the drum and stick. She had a worrying feeling that she might need to raise an alarm.