Seth

1

Abandoned

Seth couldn’t quite believe that just maybe today his luck would change. They actually wished to play with him! To have him join in! For the last time he had been noticed by the village children they had formed a circle about him and taunted him about his leg, as if his crippled leg was somehow both his fault and a mark of the devil. His uncle had seen him flinch.

Don’t you squib it every time they laugh at you—do that and you might as well give up now. Either take it or go under. And he spat as he spoke. He was unlike any other man Seth had ever met. For Seth, accustomed as he had been to people to whom kindness was as normal as talking or walking, his uncle was like some farmyard creature—tiny eyes and big snout—a snout that was far too close when advice was being given.

And don’t look at me like that.

Like what…? Seth defended fearing that his innermost thoughts could be read.

You know! Uppity-like!

He’d expected some sympathy or even support from his aunt who was kneading and pounding dough nearby, but none was forthcoming. 

Her big round face flushed as she yelled over her shoulder, Listen to him. He’s your meal ticket from now on. No one else! Just him. You remember that.

I’d rather starve, he thought. As he tried to hide that thought and look away, she leant across the table and seizing his face in her hands she continued.

"Don’t you look away from me, you cheeky young pup. Now you listen and you listen good. We’ve only taken you in because there’s no one else. No one."

Seth would have tried to explain his father’s absence, but his aunt’s hand on his face squeezed him into silence until his lips protruded and all he could do was to mouth air like a dying trout. He felt powerless and sick to his stomach.

She smelt of onions and dripping. Her eyes were glazed with an anger he didn’t understand as she stared into his face.

If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just as hopeless as him. If you weren’t my own sister’s child, bless her memory, then for two bits I’d give you away. But who’d want a bloody crippled kid, eh? Who would? Just you remember that and be grateful that you’ve got such good god-fearing kin as Jasper and me. And with one last self-righteous squeeze of his cheeks, she turned back to the baking.

Seth was overwhelmed as familiar unpleasant feelings seeped into his body. He was both paralysed with grief and terrified of dying. He knew what it was, for even as a small boy, he had been plagued by attacks of breathlessness which had threatened to end his short life. Attacks that had only been checked by the steadfast re-assurance of parents who could soothe and rock him until the fear went and his breath could return. He had just heard his loved family, his dead mother and absent father, insulted and cursed by people who seemed incapable of love or even kindness, and with whom he now lived. 

Seth tried to stem his panic, but it had got beyond him. There seemed no escape. There was nothing to go back to. His mother was dead. His father was away at the wars and this was all he had in the whole world. The pain deepened and he could not check the irregular breaths. 

And stop that crying and wheezing or I’ll give you something to carry on about.

He tried to signal his distress, but to no avail. The last he remembered hearing before he felt and saw the room begin to swim about him, was the ongoing threats of his aunt.

His aunt heard the sound of his body falling to the floor and screamed to her husband:

Jasper!

***

From some distant place, Seth flowed back into his body. He could hear strangely magnified and distorted voices some moments before he was fully conscious. Shapes took on solid form. Blurs assumed definition. He heard a groaning noise and realised that it was his own voice. Swimmingly, his aunt’s face came into focus before him, and he couldn’t check himself from starting and shuddering. He felt no joy in returning. He felt weak and nauseous, and feared he might be sick.

There now. You’re fine, she cooed. You, young chook. You gave us such a start with your gargling and fainting and all that. We’ve been so worried. Me and Jasper.

He’s having some sort of fit, was what she confided to Jasper.

Jasper didn’t look capable of worry, but she kicked a nodding affirmation from the indifferent looking partner and hissed at him.

I told you he wasn’t just putting it on. Why would I ask you in the first place? Seth tried to speak, but she shushed him to rest. You rest now. I’ll tell those children that you can’t go today.

Seth remembered, then tried to sit up and protest. After all, this was to be the day his luck changed.

No. I’ll be right in a little while. Please. Please let me go! he pleaded because he saw a faint chance to escape his lonely misery by making friends with the village children. Perhaps he could find a friend and temper his misery. I’ve had these before. I just need to rest.

What do you think, Jasper?

Jasper was thoughtful. You could tell this from his face—one eye twitched a little.

Fresh air might do him some good. And with that measured advice, he slunk away. Seth lay back down.

She broke the silence. "I’m sorry about what I said before. Your mum was a good soul. Headstrong! When she ran off with—with your father it broke our hearts, you see? She who’d had some book learning, running off with a soldier. Our mum was never the same again. Wracked with guilt and shame she was. Couldn’t hold her head up after that. No word for years—we just thought she was dead. Then you turn up. Well. It was all a bit much. Do you know what I mean? Asking on her death bed to bring you to us. We never had kids. So, it’s a bit hard for us. Do you understand? And you, you know! You—like you are and all."

Seth nodded.

If you want to go with the others later on, then you do. Just make sure you don’t go too far away. That eldest one, that Josh, he’s a bit rough, but I think he's a good lad. You hear me, now?

Again, Seth nodded. It was Josh who had baited him when he first came.

I’ll be careful.

About a dozen of them turned up to take him with them. They were a blur of figures to him. He only really knew Josh and the small girl with a shock of red hair who talked shrilly and often.

Come on. Come on. We’ve got to get going. We’ll miss out! She tugged at Seth’s hand, impatient to be gone.

Don’t hurry him now. He hasn’t been too well today. Now, Josh. You look after this one! Do you hear? said Seth's aunt.

Josh nodded. Eyes not entirely friendly, smiled out from beneath the shock of tousled hair that fell over his face. He was solid for his age with an open brown face that hinted at laughter and good humour, but there was a certain stillness in the eyes that made Seth feel uneasy.

And you, young miss, his aunt addressed the red haired one. Don’t you get up to any of your tricks, now.

By now, Seth was scared she would spoil it for him. He pushed past her and swung away towards the forest, clutching his crutches.

Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon! he called over his shoulder. And those were the last words he ever spoke to her.

They raced to catch up with him as he swung along taking the weight of his useless right leg on the rough wooden crutches that he had needed as long as he could remember.

For a moment, he was a novelty. The girl walked alongside him watching how he managed the awkward, rolling gait. 

Is it hard to do?

No. Not really. You get used to it. Hurts under my arms, Seth replied.

Can I have a go? she asked.

He’d never been asked that before. He hesitated and looked at her. Why? Why would you want to do that?

Just for fun. Just to try it out. I'm Tess.

I’m Seth. And you can have a go when we get to the woods. 

Josh wants to know how you got like that. Did you hurt yourself or something? she probed.

No. I got sick and then my leg wouldn’t work. That’s all!

Oh. She seemed disappointed. Seth heard Josh question her.

So—what happened to him? Was it a horse or something?  

No. He just got sick, and his leg stopped working. His novelty had worn off. They’d wanted him crushed by boulders or attacked by Celts.

They travelled quickly and it took all of Seth’s strength to keep up with them. The largest carried sacks so as to bring back what they found while the younger ones, raced about throwing stones, fighting with sticks formed into rough swords and yelling insults at Josh and the others in the hope that they would chase them. So far, no one had taunted Seth and he was grateful. He spoke to no one. He just concentrated on swinging his weight along and keeping up. They went a long way into the forest and came to a point that obviously the older ones knew. It was just a grassy knoll in the middle of the forest with the track to the east and a stream to the west. This was their destination.  

Seth was a little behind—not a lot. He’d seen to that, but it had taken some strength and energy to keep up. He clambered up to them and set himself to rest on the ground. Tess saw the chance.

My go. You said I could. And she raced over to grab his crutches. 

Seth was fearful of them being damaged, but his wish to be accepted and to belong was strong. He bit his lip, as all had a turn at playing at being crippled. One boy tripped when it was his turn and Seth scrambled to his knees in anxiety—a gesture that was not lost on Josh. He collected the crutches and came to wave them in Seth’s face while the others crowded about him.

Bit precious, are they? Hate to lose them? he mocked as he held them just beyond Seth’s grasp and the circle formed around him, sensing cruel fun.

Seth tried not to react as with shrinking heart he saw the game of keepings off that could follow and which he was powerless to prevent. He gulped but held Josh’s gaze.

What do you think? We could take these with us? We could go and throw these in the river. Then the Riders would have you.

A couple of the smaller children muffled whimpers. Others just grouped together behind Josh.

What do you say to that? Let the Riders have you.

Seth knew that, although he was half-joking, this smirking boy was quite capable of doing just that. Fear gripped his throat and he prayed that now he wouldn’t begin to gasp and wheeze. For what seemed a very long time, Josh smiled at him, holding out the crutches daring him to snatch at them while the little ones barracked from the sides.

Go on. Leave him. Go on, Josh. See what the Riders would do to him? said one little boy was adamant that this is what they should do. His small face flushed with excitement and crazy with anticipation as he pulled at Josh’s arm, hopping from foot to foot as he poked at Seth with a stick from behind Josh’s legs.

Josh wavered and then hurled the crutches at Seth’s feet before turning to pick up the small enthusiast and hold him aloft.

Matt, began Josh. Always wanting to hurt something. Maybe we’ll tie you to a stump and leave you here for them. Skinned, you'd look about the size of a rabbit. They could turn you on a spit over a slow fire.

The small boy’s cheering gave way to howls of terror and misery as he was carried thrashing to the trunk of an old oak, but Josh had already grown tired of the game and dropped him on the ground to wail away his fear.

Seth breathed hard and clutched his crutches to his chest. His heartbeat and his face was flushed as the full force of it hit him—these were not safe people to be with. He should have guessed that his aunt’s judge of playmates would be as poor as her choice of husband. Tess came to have another go with the crutches, but he refused her. She was not happy.

I could get Josh over here to take them off you if I wanted to, she threatened him. Then, she teased maliciously, He likes me. He’ll do that if I ask him. 

Seth wondered if they’d all drunk from a poisoned well. There seemed like no other explanation. As she reached out to take the crutches, he grasped her wrist and held it tightly.

Don’t. I need them!

She blinked at him—hard. But she made no effort to take the crutches or yell for help. 

Seth pushed on. My dad made these.

Where’s your dad now?

He’s a soldier or something with the army.   

She stared into his eyes as if looking for signs of lies, but seeing none, she sighed and lifted his hand from her wrist.

So’s mine. She sat back on her haunches and stared out into the forest as if the shared coincidence had somehow startled and softened her.

Seth had to ask, Who are the Riders?

She turned to look at him with some surprise. You come from somewhere else! Don’t they have the Riders there?

Seth shook his head slowly.

They only come out at night, and they do really terrible, terrible things. Big horses and dressed all in black. She was no coward; he’d seen that, but she shuddered involuntarily as she spoke. 

Seth insisted. What? What do they do?

They just ride into villages at night, and they kill everyone and burn the cottages down. They even killed old people and children our age. 

How do you know?

They were whispering in broad daylight.

Promise you won’t tell. Promise! Spit on your hand and touch your heart! she demanded. 

He solemnly did so. 

Tess leaned over to tell him, I heard my ma talking to my dad after I’d gone to bed. They thought I was asleep. He went to one of the villages after the Riders had been there. He said all they did was bury bodies and the bodies were all hacked and horrible. He was sick afterwards. Ma said that they’re not people—that they are really demons. That’s why they come out at night.

Seth shivered as he thought of being without his crutches in the forest. He heard the word demon and remembered an illustration he’d seen of Hell with horned creatures, pointed fangs, wings, and who came hissing and cooing. 

He felt his breath gasp and pull at his chest. She heard him.

What’s wrong with you? Why’s your breathing funny? Are you dying or something?

Seth took breaths until it settled a little. It’s just this thing I’ve had all my life. It happens sometimes.

So, it’s not just your leg? It’s your breathing as well. You got any bits that work? And then she laughed in a way that made Seth feel icy inside. 

As she got up to play with the others, he appealed to her, Just don’t let them take my crutches. I’ll never get home if they do. 

She shrugged indifferently and disappeared into the forest without a backward glance. It was all the reassurance he would get and he knew it meant little. He contemplated trying to escape, but felt that his best chance of survival was to simply try and do as everyone else did. 

Visions of being pursued by them ran through Seth’s head. He picked up kindling as best he could, and turning one crutch about, he used the armrest to sweep acorns into clusters so that they could be gathered by the others to take home as pig food. He did this and he said nothing, hoping against hope that by drawing no attention to himself he would blend in, and make his way home with all the rest. So much for his luck changing!

***

The shadows were beginning to stretch across the glade and at that point then the unease was apparent. The younger ones wished to return, but no one moved until Josh told them to. He’d been missing for some time and several of the younger ones had grown nervous. What if he were lost? It was not safe to be in the forest once it was dark. 

A few began to snivel and talk of the Riders, but Tess scolded them into silence. At last, Josh emerged from the shrubbery. He had been experimenting with a jug of cider he had seen his father hide in a shed. He was only fourteen. There’d not been a lot in the jug but enough to make him feel bigger, stronger, and more full of himself than he had ever been. He assembled his band of little followers and began organising them by shouting and cursing. 

In one hand, he held the jug and in the other a switch which he used across the legs of the youngest who gaped, but they scurried as they heard the tone and its threat of real violence. Acorns were scooped up into bags and kindling snatched up into bundles. 

Josh surveyed them. He liked this. He looked at their eager fearful little faces and planned to march his little army home in ranks of three, when his eye fell on Seth. He saw difference and he remembered the unfinished game. He quickly crossed to Seth and wrenched a crutch from him. 

Right. Now we really will see if the Riders like a cripple.

Terror swept over Seth. Gone was any attempt to stay calm or detached. He begged, No. No. I can’t walk without them. It’ll be dark soon. I’ll die out here. Please. Please. Don’t do this! His cries fell on worse than deaf ears.

Don’t whine. Maybe you’ll learn to walk again. We could have a miracle. Like those nuns are always saying we should pray for. How’d that be? A real miracle?

Seth heard these words and knew that there was no hope of compassion—no point in trying to placate or please and as he did, he felt rage replace terror. The crutch felt quite light in his hand as he swung it at Josh’s head. It hit hard and Josh flinched and staggered back as the smaller children gasped and clutched at each other. Seth braced himself for the beating he knew must follow, but saw with astonishment Josh’s face change from shock and rage to a strange lopsided sort of grin—the face of an amused weasel. He stroked his face where the blow had landed.

One! I’ll leave you one. For having guts!

And then, with that strange smirk on his face, he swept everyone else off down the track towards the distant village with the small ones wailing and crying. As they went, Seth thought he saw Tess glance back at him and wave his stolen crutch, but he wasn’t sure if her actions were encouraging or taunting. 

He yelled to them, but they ignored him. He tried standing on one. He had been used to the two as long as he could remember. The first attempts at walking were disastrous. His left arm hung by his side like a bird with a broken wing, and without the familiar swing of the two crutches moving in unison, he found himself pitching forward to land on his left knee. His efforts were hindered by the panic and misery that raced through his brain. He felt that he would die out here all alone miles from anyone. 

Utterly and completely alone!

After his third tumble, he forced himself to lie still, to not try to leap into action and to check the thoughts that raced through his mind. He remembered his father telling him endlessly when he was in the midst of his breathing attacks, Don’t tense up. Don’t panic or else the fear will tighten in your throat. You’re not going to die.

And he remembered how hard it had been for him to consciously halt the dark images that flashed through his mind. But he’d learnt to do it, soothed as he had been by his father’s reassuring presence. He sensed now that he needed to do the same if he was to escape from the forest and avoid the image that swept into his mind—that of caped figures on horseback plunging through the forest like demons on some dreadful and demented errand of destruction and he, standing slumped on one crutch in their path, solitary and defenceless.

2

Forest Dangers

Seth lay back in the grass of the forest. The dark was crowding in and clutching with icy fingers. He could feel the cold catch at his exposed face and hands. Already, moisture was on the grass, and he could feel the cold seeping up through the earth. 

The others had gone from sight, and he was a long way from his home. He felt the gnawing of terror in his stomach and the catching of his breath in his throat. Every fibre of his body screamed to push himself to his feet and to hop, roll, or even crawl towards the village. He forced himself to lie still until he had a plan. Only then, did he roll onto his stomach and then drag himself up.

On one crutch it was hopeless. Seth tried not to think of it, but he knew there were still wolves in the forest—fewer than before, but still enough to scent and track a small boy in trouble. He knew what he must do. He’d have to find or make another makeshift crutch to get him home.

By the fading light, Seth found and experimented with branches that he had found on the floor of the forest. The first he tried was the right size, but it was rotten in the middle and as he put his weight on it, it broke and flung him face forward.

The second seemed perfect, but it was still attached by its bark to the tree and despite his frantic efforts he could not pull it free. Again, he felt the hopelessness rise in him, before he fought it down and continued his hoppity-skip search through the forest floor. 

The branches were either too big and cumbersome, or too small and incapable of bearing his body weight. He began to doubt the wisdom of his plan. Seth was about to abandon it and try to find a hollow in the ground that he could pack with leaves for warmth and cover, when he noticed a small bird creating a disturbance to his right. He saw it to be a blue wren. 

It brought a faint smile to his face as he remembered in another time and place, being told by his mother, Blue wrens alone, they signal home. 

In the absence of any better plan, he followed the noise. 

It was good that he did. Either by chance, coincidence or fate, near where the chirping had come from, he found a broken limb. It was a bit rotten, but the core was still solid. Breaking bits back as much as he could, he finished with a Y shaped stick that fitted under his left arm and was about the same length as his other crutch. Gingerly, he eased his weight onto the forked branch and could have laughed aloud when it held firm. It hurt under his arm but he had his crutch back. He was not done yet.

The image of the Riders was hideous in his mind, and so, he resolved to make his way in the light brush at the side of the track. He reasoned that if he heard anything then he could hide in the denser forest, and in the meantime, follow the ease of the path before him. Having decided that, Seth put his head down. Determined in a regular rhythm, as if he were rowing a boat, he scooted along the edge of the forest. Biting his lip, ignoring the pain in his arms and where the stick crutch caught him, he made good progress.

Maybe he could make it. 

He went along as far as he could until exhaustion overcame him. He couldn’t be sure, but he felt he was not far from the edge of the forest; and once there, he knew he would see fires at the village and make his way back there. But at present, he could go no further. Sweat poured down his face and back as the blood pounded in his face. His arms and hands felt hot and sore, and the makeshift crutch had chaffed under his arm until it was raw and tender.

He dropped to the ground and his breath came in great gasps and gulps. He was torn between struggling up again or waiting until his breath abated. It was just as well; he chose the latter course.

Seth was lying with his back on the forest floor with his head thrown back, gasping for air. He was in the act of grasping his crutches when he first noticed it. He wasn’t sure if he heard it or felt it or whether it was a combination of the two. But as he rested his hand on the ground, he felt it tremble—just flutter a little. 

He’d seen his father do it, and so he placed his ear to the ground. He felt a shaking of the very earth and he knew what it foretold. A large group of horses was coming this way and with the encroaching darkness, he had no doubt who it could be.

He was surprised by his calmness. Yes. His heart was pounding, but somehow his mind stayed clear and coherent.

So, he thought, just as I saw them. I can’t run away. I can’t climb very easily so I’ll have to hide really, really well.

And then, he set about his task. Seth searched until he found a shallow ditch by the track.