The Ides of March

The stile wasn’t that high, but I still offered the girls a leg-up, after all it was the least I could do after last night’s party. Trevor was moaning as usual. Tough luck. None of us had managed much sleep, not with the buzz from the speed still sizzling in our veins. Bridie brought the hash, while I’d chipped in for the booze and Stella had supposedly gone halves with Trev for the speed.
We’d crashed out in my digs, the girls pleased to be away from the college rooms, so cramped you couldn’t swing a cat in them. Not that I wanted to, I’m fond of cats. When I’d decided on the University of Wales to do my BA in History back last year, my parents had made sure that I had adequate rooms to do my studying in. Some of the other kids think I’m spoilt, but it’s just the way my parents are. Shit, I could have gone anywhere I’d wanted to with my four straight “A’s”, but the college isn’t that far from the oldies and I figured that they’d give me a bit of leeway for hanging around fairly near to home.
I have a large flat in an old Victorian house near to the college. The living room alone can put up four people, while the spare bedroom is ideal for guests like Trevor…or so my parents think.

‘Hey, Gavin, stop daydreaming and give us a hand here.’ Trevor has decided to be a gentleman as well, but he isn’t used to stiles or farm gates. Stella was perched precariously on the second of the two stiles, but Bridie was already striding along the narrow country lane. She’s alright our Welsh goddess. With her long chestnut coloured hair and her green eyes, there’s something pretty special about her. Stella’s okay, but she hasn’t got that much spirit. Maybe she did go halves on the speed, though I think it more likely that Trevor coughed up for it himself.
I look at Stella now. She’s pretty in a modern way, with dark hair and brown eyes and a slim figure she does attract a fair bit of attention. Funny how the lads steer clear from Bridie. Maybe they already know I’m going to get her into bed before long. She’s willing enough, its just getting the time right. See, I’m a gentleman.
Anyhow, I help Trev give Stella a boost over the stile and we walk along the lane humming a song that sort off got stuck in our minds last night.
‘I’m going to catch up with Bridie,’I say, putting a bit of a sprint on. That was some good shit we had last night so I’m alright for the rest of the day.
This jaunt is a bit of a laugh, though I’d rather be back at my place with some vodka and maybe a bit more of the high stuff. It was early this morning, about 4am when Bridie says she wants to walk up Twm Barlum. Trevor snorted and Stella giggled. But I looked at her earnest face and thought that this was my chance to get in with her.
We are on the same History course, but she knows more about local customs than I do.
‘It’s an old tradition,’ she said. ‘Every year around now all the pagans make for the highest point around and that’s up to the Twm.’
I thought I knew all the pagan festivals and none of them before Mayday, but she tells me about the Roman calendar and the Ides of March.
‘Wasn’t that when Julius Caesar got bumped off?’ I asked her.
She just gave me one of those superior smiles of hers, so I shut up and then we kind of voted on it…at least I think we did?

She’s not that far in front and I soon catch up with her, linking my arm through hers. So far we’ve only walked about a mile. I drove the car to a parking space and we walked from there.
The day’s cold for March and windy, but it’s not far to where we start climbing. I think we can easily do it in an hour and then start back after a bit of larking around. There’s some joints in my pocket which should get us nicely mellow. After being awake all night I need to come down a bit. Bridie is wearing a pair of tight jeans with a sloppy sweater and I just can’t help it, I have to grab her arse. Its okay though, she turns and smiles at me, a long slow sexy grin that stirs the trouser mouse. I’m wondering if they might be a bit of shelter up on that mountain side. Christ, she makes me horny as hell.

I wasn’t far out about the time. It’s taken us just under an hour and the sky’s still light enough to look around in all directions. I can see about twenty miles in all directions, even on a day like today. I don’t know why they call it Twm Barlum. I might have a welsh name, but that sort of thing leaves me dead bored. It’s like a witch’s tit. There’s a long sort of mountain range and the bit that stick’s up is where we are now. There’s nothing to say it’s an ancient burial site, or all that crap. Its round and I suppose that’s a bit like a round barrow, you know what I mean, the sort of place that gets dug up and they find lintel stones. Sometimes even a few old bones. There’s no signs that this has ever been dug up, so I wander over to where Bridie is standing, the breeze is tossing her hair about though it doesn’t seem to bother her.
I try to cup my hand around her breast but she shrugs it off as if it didn’t mean much to her.
‘Well, what do you think about the view?’ she asks.
I look in the direction she’s facing, but it doesn’t look much different to any of the other views. Sure there’s a good view across the channel and I dare say that on a fine day you could see as far as Bristol, or maybe even Weston. But she’s not looking that way. Her gaze is on the mountains that rear up behind the puny little range that houses the Twm.
‘What about it?’ I ask. ‘All I can see is the forest and maybe the top of the Machen range.’
She just shrugs. ‘You don’t know much, do you?’

Trevor calls just then. He’s made a bit of a den in the circle that surrounds the twm. It’s not much of a shelter, just a bit of blanket he carried up from the car. He’d used it to cover a bit of an old tree, more dead than anything. Still, he was managing to get a bit of a fire going with some dried-out twigs. I wondered what we were going to use to sit on. My own contribution was coiled up in my back-pack, a double sleeping bag that I’d intended for my own use.
Ah, what the hell, it might get the mood going. We all scrunch up around it and I get the joints lit while Stella pours out the Vodka into plastic cups. Bridie joins us after a while. I still can’t get my head round her. All that walking and she’s not even drinking much. Sure, she takes a few drags of the joint, but its almost spent. I try and get my arm around her again. Its blowing a bit now and even in this ditch thing its kind of cold.
‘Dung,’ Trevor says.
‘What the fuck you’re talking about?’
‘To get the fire burning. That’s what they used to do.’
‘Yeah mate, like dried cow dung. All you’ll find up here is some sheep droppings. Get real.’
Stupid bastard. I could fucking strangle him. He knows I want to impress Bridie and he’s going on about dung?
‘We might as well start back before it gets dark.’ I say, swigging back some neat vodka.
‘Yeah I think we should.’ Trevor nudges Stella who looks as if she’s going to sleep.
Bridie says nothing. All this time when we’ve been arguing and drinking she stays aloof, like she sees something different to us.
Trev takes some foil out of his pocket and we all lick our fingers and take a dab, like kids doing sherbet, but this has a hell of a lot more punch. It’s not the ideal way to do it, but it gets the blood warmed up.
‘Might as well finish the vodka before we head back,’ I say. There’s a half litre left and I can’t drink too much if I’m driving.
‘Hey Bridie, do you want some of this?’
Now where the hell has she got to. I was sure she had some speed a minute ago.

We start packing up, stuffing the blanket and the sleeping bag into our packs. No sense in hanging around with the weather closing in misty now.
‘You two start going ahead,’ I say, ‘I’ll look around for Bridie.’
‘Man you must be crazy.’ Trev is annoyed. ‘Why the hell did she want to come up here for anyway.’
‘Just get going.’ There’s a mist coming off from the mountains and none of us is exactly a scout type.
I figure we still have some light left but I don’t want to get stranded up here. In the distance I can see a bob of bright colour near where the forest starts. How the hell did she get that far in less than ten minutes?
If I didn’t fancy her like mad….?
Nah, I’d have it on my conscience if I left her here. It looks like there’s a forest road down there, but she could get picked up by anyone. That’s if there was anyone daft enough to be around this time of day.

The light went hours ago and I’ve been wandering around in circles. I’m cold to the bone, my head’s aching like mad and I need a drink.
Surely Trevor and Stella must have realised that something was wrong by now?
Fuck! My ankle twisted. I’m down in that bloody ditch again.
My voice is hoarse from calling Bridie. I don’t care about shagging her anymore. I just want to get off this fucking mountain.
I have to rest, my ankles aching like hell. The mist is thickening. It’s like something out of Tolkien. The hobbits on the barrow downs.
I wish I hadn’t thought of that.
There’s one fag left in my coat pocket. I might as well smoke it now.
The lighter’s getting low…I must stop trying to see in the dark. Just finish my fag and then bugger it. It’s straight down the mountain, over the stiles and onto the car park.
What’s that light down there?
‘Trevor…’
No answer. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
It must be him. Either that or the farmer.
Those white blobs…they are sheep, got to be.
Sheep don’t shove though.
Fucking stupid animals.
Get off me.
‘Bridie…is that you?’
Wet mouth on mine.
Not what I expected. I stumble forwards, roll down the hillside and fetch up by the stunted tree. Now I know where I am.
Move forwards a bit more then tumble again.
‘Gavviinnn…’
Damn her. I’m not playing anymore.
Oh bugger. Put my foot in a cowpat.
Drag it out, wet and squelchy.
I’ll just use my lighter…have to see where I’m going.
No. No. No.
Trevor. Stella. God sakes why?
Just what did the Roman’s bring to Britain.
Can’t think
Maybe
Bridie
Knows.
Wet
mou...