The Chalk Giants by Keith Roberts

Author:Keith Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2016-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

II

His dog’s sense roused him at first light. He frowned, sniffed and was instantly awake. His hands, groping beside him, touched nothing but grass. He sat up, with an oath. There was no sign of her. The little dell in which they had slept lay empty and still, mist-streaks drifting between the trunks of trees.

He stared round him, narrowing his eyes; then rose, buckling his sword belt. A path wound through the copse; he followed it, stepping silently, and paused. Somewhere ahead, a twig snapped; and again.

He flattened himself to the bole of a tree, stayed waiting. The figure came cautiously, muffled in its cloak, a silhouette in the early light. It stepped past; and Elgro pounced, knife in hand. The blade was poised when a muffled squeak checked the stroke. He half-overbalanced, grunting.

She said furiously, ‘Let me go, you Sealand oaf. You’ll make me drop the eggs.’

Elgro said, ‘Eh? What?’

She said, ‘These.’ Beneath the cloak she held a wicker basket. The Dancing Man, staring, saw it was filled to the brim. Beside the eggs were a loaf of bread, a pitcher of milk, a great round of cheese. He frowned at them. He said, ‘Where did you get these?’

She sniffed. She said, ‘That’s my affair. In any case they’re not for you. They’re for the Prince.’

He fell into step with her. He said, ‘He’s not a Prince. He’s the King of Crabland.’

She tossed her head. She said, ‘If I am a Rat, I will call you what I choose. Are you his servant?’

Elgro drew himself up. He said quietly, ‘I am his Dancing Man.’

She looked at him curiously, from black-rimmed hazel eyes. She said, ‘I have heard of such people. Can you raise the dead?’

He snapped, ‘If needs be, child.’

She sniffed again. She said, ‘I doubt it. If last night was an example, you cannot raise the living. I thought you Sealanders boasted of your prowess.’

He stopped, staring; and she glanced up at him amusedly. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Now beat me, to prove your manhood. And make me drop your Lord’s breakfast.’

‘Last night,’ he said grimly, ‘when you were whimpering with fright, you were glad enough of company.’

‘Last night,’ she said, ‘I whimpered with the cold. I needed a man to warm me.’

He growled. He said, ‘You were warmed.’

‘Aye,’ she said composedly. ‘By your cloak.’

She turned aside; and he gripped her arm. He said, ‘This is the way we came.’

She pulled away, disdainfully. She said, ‘And this is the way I go.’ She laughed. ‘Sealander, if I were to run, you and your great feet would never catch me.’

He said tardy, ‘Why don’t you?’

‘Because my folk live far away,’ she said. ‘And you at least, as I have seen, can use a sword.’ She pushed aside an overhanging branch, let it spring back. He caught it, and swore.

The path wound down to a little glade, hazed with the blue flowers. The sun, striking between the tall saplings that lined it, made shafts of misty light. A brook chattered over stones, ran clear and deep between overhanging banks.

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