Page Title

NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE

The Birthright For James

Peter Freeman

Anger made cold the heat from the blazing logs in the centre of the room. The slave girls and the guests watched the duel of words at the head of the table, in a fearful silence.

The two young men faced each other, Johan, stocky and dark, hand on the ornate hilt of his smile of victory on his swarthy face, but wariness in his eyes. Eric, stood bleakly staring at his half brother. The old man in the centre, Thorin the Chieftain looked tired and saddened. His head drooped and his beard scraped noisily on his embroidered jerkin. The fire crackled and a blazing log broke gently in two and rolled away from the main fireplace. Ordinarily a servant girl would have retrieved the logs and thrown them back into the flames, but on this occasion no one moved. Blue smoke curled into the roof timbers and weaved its way amongst the thatch of the Meeting Hall. The old man lifted his head and his eyes, full of tears shone in the flickering light.

“How have you done this thing Eric?” he said quietly.

The tall young man turned to him to answer but the old man raised his hand and the room waited.

“You will leave us” he said wearily. “Take whosoever will share their lives with you. Go tomorrow— you are no longer my son.”

He raised his arm and a long finger pointed to the doorway.

A sigh came from the listeners at these words. A banishment. Johan no longer smiled but he gazed mockingly at his half brother. Eric made to speak, shrugged and turned and began to walk towards the Entrance Gate. But by the fire he stopped and faced the raised dais. “At a time” he said slowly “At a time of my choosing I will return” he paused and coolly he surveyed the people gathered in the hall.

“I have worked for you Father, I have fought for you, I have conquered for you and you repay me thus. I cannot blame you because you have been told lies and you believe them.”

The tall Viking’s voice rose slightly.

“I repeat to you all” he said strongly “at a time I will return. ff1 do not, if the Gods take me to Valhalla before I come here, then my son shall come, or my son’s son, but this wrong will be righted.”

The words echoed round the timbers of the hail.

No one spoke, no one moved, the condemned man, by the laws of Thorin the Chieftain, had the right to the last word.

“Father, I am innocent, my brother is the guilty one and I will show you one day the truth in this matter. There will be no secret slaying, you can rest easy, but the matter will end in death, a rightful death before witnesses who will testify.”

He made to say more, but then shrugged and strode out into the darkness, the people in the hail clearing a way for him. And some of the servants and a number of guests and villagers followed him.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Over two hours later I drove into my own drive with Netta beside me holding the tiny baby. Meg was waiting in the hall.

“Oh Netta” she said. “Thank goodness you’ve come.” She looked as if she had been weeping.

“What’s the matter Meg?” I said anxiously, but Meg ignored me. Netta stood with her baby in her arms and looked down at him. She bent her head and kissed his small cheek. The baby opened its eyes and seemed to look directly into hers and then it whimpered gently. Netta looked at Meg.

“I have to choose don’t I Meg?” she said slowly. “Eric or little James.”

She paused. “You know don’t you Meg, you understand?” Meg brushed her face with the back of her hand then nodded dumbly.

“Here take him,” Netta said, “he’s yours. Look after him but please give him our name. A sob burst from her and tears ran down her cheeks.

“Oh Netta” Meg whispered. “Must it be like this? Can’t it be changed?”

Netta shook her head.

“I don't think so” she said. “I don’t know for sure but I don’t think so. Eric needs me and I am here to fetch him. You need a child and we need someone to love him who believes in us.” She kissed Meg. They were both crying.

“God Bless” she said Cuthbar the priest said that hiis would b e accomplished but at great sacrifice. This is the sacrifice.”

She turned and took a deep breath.

“I’ll be outside Peter, don’t be long.” Pulling her coat about her, she went out of the door.

Meg was trying to fight back more tears. “Go with her Peter, Eric will be waiting at the waterfall. He called in here. He has things to tell you. He said he said he wants you to be a witness.”

I was unable to speak. A feeling of being part of a great event swept over us both. Only the baby, a real live baby in my wife’s arms gave these moments any semblance of reality. The whole thing seemed to be a dream. I stumbled outside into the darkness. Netta stood by the gateway, trembling. She took my arm and in silence we walker quickly up the village street.

A police car swept past but instinctively I had pulled Netta into the deep shadow of a tall hedge. We were not seen.

“Come on Peter” Netta said. “Quickly”. We ran into the lower wood. Soon we were scrambling up the pathway leading to the moor.

The moon had risen and owls were hooting around us. The sound of the waterfall began to be heard over the moaning of the wind in the fir trees. Branches whipped in our faces, and we stumbled over rocks and fell into hollows in the bracken. We tumbled rather than ran into the hollow by the waterfall and stood panting and lost on the small pebble beach.

The water fell incessantly into the pool as it had done for thousands of timeless years since the ice had retreated and the world had become warm and alive.

Then a shadow detached itself from a pine tree on the opposite side of the pool. Eric, in his sea boots and long black oilskin, waded across to us.

“Come with me” he said “Quickly”. He led us to the edge of the clearing. A long forgotten and neglected track-way ran downhill from the pool. The earth had been banked up on one side and Eric led us to a small hollow behind the bank.A damp smell swam up at us, a dankness which had assailed the nostrils of all the people of this valley for countless generations.

Eric and Netta held each other and Netta sobbed quietly into his shoulder. After a few moments he gently held her away from him.

“Soon my woman, soon” he said “We will be starting again. We can have more children. Peter will be a good father to James and Meg will love him as her own.”

Dumbly she nodded and sank down on to the bank.

“Peter” Eric said. “You must listen and watch. There must be no secret slaying this time. No one must accuse me of that.”

He took my arm. His hair was dishevelled and fell over his face. He seemed to have aged ten years in the last hours. Lines creased his mouth and accentuated the strength of his jaw. He looked just as his father must have done years before.

“My father is dead,” he said.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“But I was with him only a couple of hours ago — what happened?” I stammered.

Netta, who was watching us with a strange far away look in her dark eyes did not appear to have heard.

“Listen” Eric said, urgently. “There isn’t much time, this is what happened. John came into the room just after you’d left. He had murder on his mind I’m sure of that. My father stopped him from doing or saying anything by picking up the revolver and pointing it at him. The time has come for me to make amends he said. “Eric must know the truth.” Eric passed a hand over his eyes. “He told John that he’d made a new Will, that he’d given it to you and that you were on your way to the solicitors with it. He told him that he’d left all his shares in the ThorinJohanssen business and all the estate in trust to me, and my direct descendents. He told John that both he and his mother had been specifically excluded from the Will totally.

“My God” I said “what did John say?”

“He was white with anger, shouted things about ingratitude and called my father an adulterer and a murderer, said he’d tell the world about how he’d killed my mother.”