Maglanda

©2010 Ian Hobson

The oldest of the apple trees in the orchard was also the easiest to climb, as though the weight of its great trunk and overburdened limbs had made it sink deeper into the ground. 'Come on it's easy!' Six year old Maglanda was already half way up the tree while her twin brother, Lyram, was still trying to get onto the lowest limb. 'You have to swing your leg up onto the branch and then pull yourself up until you're sitting on it!'

'I know!' Lyram was constantly frustrated by his sister's ability to best him; whether running, jumping, climbing or even fighting, she was always the winner. Holding on tight with his hands he swung his right leg up and over the branch and then used the momentum, and what strength he could muster in his arms, to heave himself up into a sitting position. It was a hot summer's day and he sat there panting and looking up at his sister, squinting against the sunshine that filtered down through the leaves.

'Now stand up and reach the next one and put your foot on that other branch. Then it's easy.'

Lyram shuffled himself closer to the trunk before following Maglanda's instructions. As he stood, his left foot slipped but he managed to grab the branch above in time to save himself. 'Don't go too high,' he said. 'Mother will scold you again.'

'No, she won't! Look... the apples will be ready soon.' Maglanda examined the three apples closest to her head. They were still green, apart from one that had a brown patch. 'This one's going rotten though.' She took hold of it and twisted and then let it fall. 'Mind your head!'

'What?' Lyram had climbed a little higher and, as he looked up, the falling apple struck his shoulder. 'Ow, that hurt!'

'Don't be so soft. I'll race you to the top!' Maglanda continued climbing; the branches were closer together now, and she had to squeeze between some of them before grabbing the next one and pulling herself up. She was glad that her mother allowed her to wear boys' clothes at home. If they went to visit relatives in Croton, or to Rowan Castle to see her uncle and aunt, she had to wear girls' clothes, which she hated; they were no good for running or climbing. Sometimes she wished that she could be like one of the ordinary children that lived in the village, nearby. But her family was what her mother called noble. Though it was probably better to be noble than to be poor.

She heard a grunt from below, and looked down. Lyram was now about half way up the tree. 'See, I told you it was easy.'

'I've cut my hand. I'm not coming any higher.'

'What have you cut it on?'

'I don't know, but it hurts and it's bleeding.' Lyram examined the palm of his left hand where bright red blood had run from a tiny cut close to his middle finger.

'Just lick it; it'll soon stop.' Maglanda let out a sigh of disgust and climbed higher. She could see over the tops of the other fruit trees now. There was her father's hall on the higher ground and, beside it, the new stables. There was no sign of life; not even one of the servants or either of the dogs. Her mother would probably be in her bedchamber, resting, she had a new baby in her tummy, though it wasn't ready to come out yet. Maglanda wondered if it would come out on her birthday which was only a few days away. She and Lyram would be seven then. 'I hope it's a baby girl.'

'What?'

'Nothing. Has it stopped bleeding?

'No. I'm going to get down.' A gust of wind rustled the leaves, making Lyram grip more tightly the branch he was holding with his good hand. 'You should get down too; you might fall.' Lyram winced as he smeared the blood on the trunk of the apple tree, and then began to climb down.

Maglanda looked out over the treetops again, turning and shading her eyes as she looked towards the fields to where she could see cows and sheep. Further away, she could just make out some men and women working: the men cutting the grass with scythes, and the women raking it into long lines. At first she wondered why they did that, and then it occurred to her that it must be to let it go all yellow - just like hers and Lyram's hair - before the men built it into haystacks to feed the animals in winter.

She was about to start climbing back down when something caught her eye: beside the brook at the bottom of the field below the orchard, something was happening. A deer, no, two of them, one large and one small, seemed to be stuck in a muddy patch; the smallest one, right up to its middle. Without a moment's hesitation, Maglanda slid quickly down from branch to branch, soon reaching the lowest and dropping to the ground, where her brother was sitting on the grass still examining his cut hand.

'Quick, get up! There's two deer stuck in the mud.' Without further explanation, Maglanda raced off through the orchard, leaving Lyram to slowly get to his feet and follow. Once again, he realised, he was following his sister's lead; it seemed that he always had to do what she wanted to do, and to go wherever she wanted to go. After a few paces, he stopped, torn between going to see the deer, and doing something that he wanted to do for a change; though he couldn't think what. Perhaps he should go back to the hall; he felt he had walked far enough for one day. He turned, kicked at a fallen apple and then walked slowly back towards home.

By then, Maglanda had left the orchard and was in sight of the brook. At a spot where another smaller stream ran into it - a place where cattle and sheep often came to drink - the water was a little deeper, and the bank wider and muddier from when the brook had overflowed after heavy rain had fallen a few days before. And there, mired up to its middle, was a young roe deer with a mature one, probably its mother, trying to nudge it free with her nose.

'Let me help,' said Maglanda as she got closer, not realising that her presence might frighten the adult, though she seemed intent on helping her offspring and took little notice of the young intruder until she began to wade into the mud. She was barefoot and the breeches she was wearing barely reached her calves, but soon she was more than knee-deep in mud and having difficulty getting any closer to the fawn. It was then that the female deer bolted, leaping from the muddy patch, into the brook and then along the far bank, from where she watched her fawn and Maglanda's attempts to get closer.

The fawn was petrified, almost literally, as it was stiff and unmoving, as though it knew that its life was about to end now and that there was nothing that could be done to avoid it. 'I'm coming,' Maglanda called, as she pulled first one leg from the mud and then the other, each time getting a small step closer to the frightened animal. 'Don't be scared.' She could feel something firm and gravelly beneath the mud and so did not feel that she herself would get stuck but, when she reached the fawn she realised that rescuing it might be more difficult than she had first imagined.

She leaned forward and held a hand out to stroke the fawn's head, which startled it, making it roll its head and body away as far as the sucking mud would allow. But this gave Maglanda an idea. Clapping her hands and shouting 'Git on, git on!' over and over, just like she had heard some of the cow herders do to make the cattle move faster, she frightened the animal so much that it tried to kick with its legs and roll away from her. But still the dark brown, sticky mud refused to let go of its victim.

'Be you tryin' to save it or scare it to death?'

Startled, Maglanda looked over her shoulder to see two boys, one about the same age as herself and the other a little older. Both were bare foot and dressed in well-worn breeches and grubby-looking shirts. The youngest boy stared at Maglanda while the older one, the one who had spoken, burst out laughing as though the sight of a girl and a young deer, both stuck in the mud, was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

'I'm trying to save it, of course!' exclaimed Maglanda, for the first time in her life feeling real anger. 'Stop laughing, and come and help!'

'I bain't touchin' no king's deer,' said the older boy. 'I could be hung for that, and so could you.'

'It's not a king's deer, it's my father's deer. He owns this land and everything in it.'

The boy burst out laughing again. 'Your pa's? Who be your pa, Lord Muck from up the way?' He turned and pointed towards the orchard, knowing that the local landowner's hall was somewhere beyond the trees.

Maglanda was confused; she had never heard of a Lord Muck. 'My father is Lord Morden. And if you don't help me I'll make him have you whipped.' She had heard one of the servants mention a thief who had been whipped on her father's orders. It sounded horrible, but this boy was horrible, and she liked the thought of him being whipped.

Now the boy seemed a little less sure of himself. 'You don't be lookin' like no lord's lass. They be wearin' long dresses and leather boots, not boy's breeches and bare feet.'

Maglanda frowned and then looked down at the mud, which was well above her knees. 'How do you know I'm not wearing boots?'

'Cos we've been a watchin' ya, from behind them bushes.' The boy pointed towards a group of shrubs and saplings further upstream. 'Been watchin' them deer for a while, like.'

'We do be,' the younger boy agreed, speaking for the first time. 'And we be goin' to kill it when't big un...' He stopped speaking abruptly, when the older boy cuffed him on the side of his head.

'Shut up, Gravan.'

'Kill it?' Maglanda glared at the two boys. 'You were going to kill it? I'll tell my father.'

'No, he be talkin' rot.' The older boy was now worried that the girl might indeed be the lord's daughter. He tapped the side of his head with a forefinger. 'He be a bit simple, see? Tell thee what: if we help you save yon little deer, you could forget you even seen us.'

'Forget? Why should I forget?'

'Just as a favour, like. We're supposed to be helpin' with hay-makin', see? So if you ain't seen us, then we be in no trouble, like.'

Maglanda was beginning to understand. The boys were supposed to be helping the women rake up the grass that the men were cutting, but they must have slipped away to avoid the work. Though, to her, it seemed unfair that boys no older than herself and her brother, Lyram, would have to work. 'But won't the grown-ups know you were not helping, anyway?'

'No, I'll tell Ma we was helpin' in t'other field, over yon.'

Maglanda turned her attention back to the fawn; it had gone very still again and its eyes looked very strange, as though it had gone to sleep with them open. 'Come on then,' she said. 'Help me save this poor little deer, and I'll forget that I've seen you.'

The two boys waded into the mud, the oldest one taking off his shirt and, when he reached Maglanda and the stricken deer, he wrapped the shirt around its head. 'That'll stop it bein' afeared,' he said. 'Now I'll grab its front legs, you two grab its back-uns.' He reached into the mud and took hold of both forelegs, waiting for Maglanda and the other boy to take a hind leg each. 'Now pull.'

There was a sucking sound as the fawn's legs were drawn from the mud and then, suddenly, the animal was free and kicking wildly, knocking Maglanda and the younger boy over. But the older boy clung tightly to its forelegs and swung it in an arc, sliding it across the surface of the mud and towards the brook. 'Give us me shirt back, you bugger!' Before letting go of the fawn's left leg, he launched himself across the mud and grabbed his shirt and then, with a splash, the animal slid into the water.

'Oh no, it's going to drown!' Maglanda shouted. But, as the current took the fawn downstream, it righted itself and began to swim towards its waiting mother, soon finding its feet in swallower water and stumbling onto the far bank.

Maglanda, now upright again but with her legs and back covered in mud, let out a whoop of joy and then began to laugh and clap her hands as the adult deer led her offspring away across the field. The two boys laughed as well, pointing at Maglanda's mud-covered clothes and then at each other's. The elder boy staggered through the mud and into the brook, where he began to wash himself. 'Come on, Gravan. We can't go home all mucky.'

The younger boy made his way into the brook, immediately followed by Maglanda. 'My name's Maglanda. What's yours?' she asked the older boy, as she washed away some of the mud. The water was cold but, under the summer sun, it felt refreshing.

'Why?'

'I just wondered. He's called Gravan, but what about you? Don't worry; I won’t tell anyone. I know I have to forget I've seen you.'

'He's Barag,' said Gravan, 'and he's my brother.'

Barag almost cuffed him again, but then decided to kick water at him instead. 'You should learn to keep your mouth shut.'

'You should,' said Maglanda. 'You told his name first.'

'Yeah, you did!' Gravan shouted, cupping his hands and splashing his brother. Maglanda joined in and and it became a contest, with her and Gravan against Barag, which resulted in the three of them becoming soaked from head to toe while shrieking with laughter until, finally, they made their way upstream and out onto a dry patch of grass.

They lay in the grass for a while, as their laughter subsided. Then Barag got to his feet. 'We 'ave to go now,' he said, wringing out his shirt before putting it back on. 'But don't you forget: you ain't seen us and we didn't touch no deer.'

'Before, you wanted me to forget. Now you want me to not forget,' Maglanda observed as she ran her fingers through her wet hair.

'You know what I mean,' Barag replied as he strode away. 'Come on, Gravan.'

Graven gave Maglanda a shy smile before running after his brother. Maglanda stood and watched them go, giving them a wave as they turned to look back before disappearing over the brow of a small hill. Then the possible consequences of retuning home in wet clothes struck her and she began, in her mind, to construct a version of events that included a young deer and falling in the brook, but that did not include meeting two boys. It would be the first time in her short life that she would tell a lie, but it would not be the last.

As she walked back up the hill towards home, she thought about the boys. She had hated Barag at first but, after he and his brother had helped her free the fawn, and after the fun they had had splashing each other, she had decided that she liked him. Boys were so strange. She thought again about the baby in her mother's tummy and, once more, wished for it to be a girl.

*****

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