Fire Bringer (18 page)

‘Yes. There are plenty of does in the herd. The fox had to eat and, well, the fawn was there. Now if it had been Rannoch here, or even Bankfoot, then of course it would have been different, I assure you. I really don’t see why you’re getting so upset.’

Rannoch glared up at Scarp.

‘In Herne’s name, what are you saying?’ Bracken cried, stamping the ground. ‘Don’t you even care about the fawn?’

‘Now, now, my dear,’ said Dearg softly. ‘Of course we care. But the stags didn’t see the point of risking an injury for a doe, that’s all. You shouldn’t trouble yourselves about it, really. It’s sad, but then a Herla’s life is full of sadness. That’s Herne’s way.’

‘Well, I think it’s horrid,’ said Alyth.

‘It is horrid,’ said Scarp, ‘but you’ll have forgotten about it in the morning, I promise you. Why don’t you all go up to the feeding place and have an extra graze.’

‘That’s another thing,’ said Bracken. ‘There’s always food at the feeding places, yet I’ve never seen a deer taking it there. And where do you keep it?’

Scarp gave Dearg a sharp look.

‘I’ve told you,’ he said. ‘We collect it in the autumn. The stags store it in the woods and put it out at night, when you’re sleeping.’

‘No! It isn’t true!’

The voice came from beyond the group.

‘Thistle,’ cried Alyth delightedly, rushing up to her calf. She tried to lick him.

‘No, Mamma. I must say something,’ said Thistle, nudging her away.’Rannoch was right. I was walking up by a feeding place when I saw them. Putting out the dry feed.’ Thistle lowered his voice to a whisper and a hush fell on the listeners as he spoke.

‘Men,’ he said.

The hinds looked aghast.

‘They add those herbs to the grass,’ Thistle went on.

‘That’s why we couldn’t smell them.’

‘That’s it,’ cried Rannoch.’That’s what I scented.’ Dearg suddenly nodded to Scarp.

‘It’s all right,’ he said calmly, ‘there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’ cried Bracken furiously.

‘We would have done, all in good time. But we didn’t want to frighten you, before you came to understand.’

‘Understand what?’

‘About the feed. Some Herla are naturally nervous, aren’t they?’

‘We must get out of here,’ said Bracken suddenly. ‘If there are men about, we’re all in danger.’

‘No, no,’ soothed Scarp. ‘They won’t come into the park, not at this time of year. It’s unheard of, really. Besides, a hind has little to worry about.’

‘Quite,’ said Dearg calmly. ‘And your bucks are hardly old enough, are they now? I mean, not an antler among them.’

‘What do you mean?’ stammered Bracken.

‘Well, I don’t want to be rude,’ said Dearg, ‘and I’m sure one day they’ll all grow up to serve the herd proudly in the Hunt—’

‘The Hunt?’ gasped Bracken.

The hinds stared at the stags in disbelief but the full horror of understanding was beginning to dawn on them.

‘Oh dear,’ said Dearg mournfully, ‘I’ve said too much, haven’t I? But they’ll get used to the idea. We all do. Whitefoot did. I mean, what else is a stag for but to die bravely in the Hunt?’

Dearg’s eyes looked glassy, with a distant, desperate gleam.

‘We shouldn’t really be talking about this in front of the fawns,’ said Scarp. ‘They’re too young to understand such a difficult idea as the Hunt.’

‘Tell us,’ said Shira coldly.

‘Very well.’ Scarp nodded. ‘You had to know eventually. That is what we’re here for. The Hunt. Then a stag may serve the herd by running well and dying bravely. They come about fifteen or twenty times a year. That’s all. And never when the hinds are fawning or during the rut. In return they bring us the feed when the snows are very deep and sometimes even bracken from the hills. So you see, the herd always has enough to eat.’

‘They?’ whispered Bracken, feeling sick. ‘Who are they?’

‘The men,’ said Scarp blankly, ‘from the other side of the forest, to the east, where the great stone walls are. They bring the horses and the dogs and the stalk begins in the park. Then we must all run and every stag must do his duty.’

‘But it’s terrible,’ whispered Bracken, shaking furiously.

‘Terrible? It is life, that’s all. In the park it’s always been that way.’

‘But why don’t you do something?’ cried Alyth. Why don’t you run away?’

Scarp and Dearg stared at her but they didn’t seem to understand what she was saying.

‘You could go into the mountains,’ said Alyth. ’Anywhere but here. You could come with us.’

‘But I don’t understand,’ said Scarp quietly. ‘Why should we want to? In the mountains some of us would be taken by wolves or dogs. The dangers in the wild are far greater than in the park. Here the herd is always stable. The men never take too many of us, although I can’t say we wouldn’t be happy to have your bucks for too many does were born in the herd this year. In return we have all we can to eat and we are happy.’

‘Happy!’ snorted Alyth. ’I’ve never seen such a bunch of soft-foots. You’re all mad.’

‘No, my dear,’ said Scarp quietly, his large eyes smiling back at her. ‘It’s better in the park.’

‘We’re getting out of here,’ cried Bracken, ‘and if any one of you tries to stop us, they’ll feel my hoof, stag or no stag.’

‘We wouldn’t dream of stopping you,’ said Dearg. ’We hate violence. We are just sad that you can’t see the truth.

‘That’s right,’ said Scarp. ‘Of course you’re free to go, if you must. It is a great pity though.’

Scarp and Dearg turned without another word and, with a last sad look at the bucks, led the stags off into the darkness. The hinds stared at each other, stunned. Alyth was all for leaving there and then but Bracken persuaded them to wait until morning. She wasn’t frightened of the men any more and she was convinced that Dearg and Scarp would do nothing to stop them.

So, as dawn came, stretching its blood-red fingers across the snowy park, the hinds and the fawns got ready. But just as they were setting off, Morar came up to Bracken and Alyth.

‘I’m sorry, but we’re not coming,’ she said guiltily.

‘What do you mean, not coming?’ cried Alyth. ’You’ve got to.’

‘I’ve made up my mind, Alyth. Quaich can’t travel any more.’

‘But Morar,’ said Bracken, ‘you heard what Scarp said.’

‘I know. And it’s clear that he won’t be in danger, not now anyway. When he grows up he can make his own choice about the park.’

Morar looked back lovingly at the little deer who was standing further off in the snow.

‘He won’t survive the winter, Bracken,’ she whispered sadly, ‘not without this food to thicken my milk.’

They did everything they could to dissuade Morar but she was adamant and so, reluctantly, the hinds and their fawns set off towards the trees. As they went Fern looked out across the fallow deer herd, to the single red stag grazing in the distance. Whitefoot lifted his head slightly and, as though he had heard some distant echo, he half looked round. But he never saw the hinds and his antlers dropped again towards the snow.

Morar and Quaich watched the hinds quietly, side by side. But suddenly, when they were quite a long way off, Rannoch turned and ran back to his friend.

‘Goodbye, Quaich,’ he called.’I shall miss you.’

The little fawn blinked back at him. He didn’t know why, but he felt a strange gratitude for the fawn with the white birth mark and he came forward and licked his muzzle.

‘Goodbye, Rannoch,’ called Morar, as Rannoch ran back to the hinds again. ’Herne be with you.’

The red deer wound up along the edge of the forest. A few of the fallow deer looked up as they went, but most of them hardly noticed their passing. To the north the forest swung east and, remembering what Scarp had said about the men and their stone walls, the hinds led their fawns away to the west and the bottom of a low hill. They looked back one more time as they began to climb out of the park but could see nothing of Morar and Quaich, so they turned away again. The deer and their fawns had begun their journey once more.

7 Lord Above the Loch

‘The first of earthly blessings,independence.’ Edward Gibbon, ‘Autobiography’

For seven suns the hinds led their fawns north-west. They crossed hills and small glens. They followed the path of a burn for a day until its course was lost among the tumbled rocks and they turned away through a forest dappled with winter sunlight where they saw the tracks of other Herla and hurried on. On the second sun another snowfall hit and what grass was showing was lost under its covering so that Bankfoot even began to dream of the dried grass they had been given by the fallow deer.

That night they heard wolves from the north-east where the mountains were growing steadily in the distance. But again the wolves were far off and though the hinds and the calves sorely missed Bhreac, they managed to keep cheerful enough. Bracken had come into her own now, somehow released by the anger she had shown in the park, and she was often seen running on ahead with Rannoch at her side.

Of man they saw and smelt nothing more and they were glad of it. Their spirits were rising now and the calves seemed to be coping well enough, although the winter that was settling in around them was a bitter one. Rannoch and Willow were striking up a strong friendship, for the little doe had come to trust the fawn. She thought him kind and handsome and she wondered about the fawn mark on his forehead. If she dared to mention it, though, Rannoch would grow shy and sullen, so she learnt not to talk of it.

After several more suns they came to a patch of wide moorland that lay cold and white before them and crossed it in a biting westerly wind. The fawns shivered as it started to snow again for, though they all had thick winter coats, when the soft, white flakes had settled on their fur and melted through to the skin, the icy water chilled them to the bone and, with the cutting wind, they felt they had little real protection. They pressed on and once more the hinds began to ask themselves if their journey would ever end. The moor ran northerly and when the deer reached its edge they stopped and gasped as they looked down.

In front of them was a wide glen, vaster than any they had ever seen. It seemed to stretch on for ever, cutting deep into the hills to their right. Its near slopes were rocky and its far slopes were banked with tall trees that glistened and smoked under the powdery snow. But what made the fawns catch their breath was the great loch that stretched out before them in the bowl of the valley. Its waters seemed as smooth and cold as winter itself.

Rannoch went first. He started to run suddenly, tossing his head and kicking out his back legs behind him. Tain followed. The fawns started to race and Bankfoot came too. He was stammering and stuttering for Rannoch to wait for him, but the fawns couldn’t hear him. Peppa and Willow soon picked up the chase and then Thistle, who looked on coldly at first but found the sight irresistible. Soon they were charging delightedly down the slope. Bankfoot slipped and his fat little body went rolling through the snow but he picked himself up, unhurt, and charged on.

At the top of the valley, Fern looked at Bracken and smiled, and the hinds ran too, following their calves only a little more carefully down the slope. But as she ran and felt the wind on her face, Bracken also began to race. All that had happened in the home herd and since had somehow worked to age her, to make her forget the joy of being a deer. But as she saw the little ones running and knew that Rannoch was safe, she felt a weight lift from her heart, so that when she reached the bottom of the valley and came to a stop in front of the lake, it wasn’t just the wind that had brought tears to her eyes.

At the bottom of the hill the fawns were already by the loch as the hinds ran up behind them. It had stopped snowing and Bankfoot was lapping at the waters while the others were beginning to graze, for the snow here had melted to reveal thin tufts of grass, scorched by the cold. Bracken ran up to Rannoch and began to groom him tenderly as the others milled around the lake, until Canisp, who had wandered further off round its western edge, suddenly called them over. She had found a great number of hoof marks in the mud.

The hinds scented the place and they agreed that the marks belonged to red deer. They must have been here no more than a sun before. Then Shira noticed the trees. Here and there, on the edge of the wood that banked the slope, the trunks were pale where bark had been rubbed away and the hinds saw a clear browse line where the leaves and branches had been eaten, leaving a visible line across the forest wall. As they scented the place they smelt a strong musk boundary too.

From the extent of the damage the hinds realized that quite a large population of red deer must be nearby. They huddled together to discuss what they should do and eventually decided to follow the northern edge of the loch, going east up the valley to try and avoid them.

But suddenly Bracken spotted them, high up on the western slopes where the trees cleared: three stags. Their antlers were well developed and they looked well fed and strong. It was too late to run. When the first stag caught sight of them he raised his head and let out a deep bellow. It alerted the other two and then two more stags appeared from the trees. The deer came together and then one set off swiftly up the valley, trotting forward briskly with his head held high, as the other four turned and ran down towards the water. By the time the stags reached them the hinds had formed up in front of the calves and were waiting nervously with their ears raised. The stag who had bellowed, a ten-pointer with a surprisingly small body for such a heavy head, was the first to speak, and when he did so his tone was hardly welcoming.

‘I am Birch,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’ve been expecting you. Drail has sent scouts across the Low Lands.’

The hinds started at the mention of Drail.

‘Where is the one with the mark?’ asked Birch.

‘Over here, Captain,’ cried a larger stag named Braan, who was a four-year-old. He was standing over Rannoch and peering down at the leaf on his head.

‘And I’m his mother,’ said Bracken, stepping forward angrily. ‘And if any stag wishes him harm—’