Chapter 6 #4
“Their intentions may have been good back in the dark days, but now they mainly guard the gold. They are usually found on cliffs or cairns. I had no idea one such was in residence here. I shall come back another day and scourge the area. Humans should not be around them.”
“He wanted your watch. No fucking way was I giving him that.”
“He would have hurt you badly for that. You could have given it to him, and I would never have missed it. You, however…”
“What?”
“You would have been missed.” The words are simple and heartfelt and make my eyes feel hot. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, I’m fine, Sig. You can’t know everything.”
“Sig?”
I’m glad to see that his eyes are twinkling again. I shrug. “It suits you.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, he stoops to the ground where a dark bundle is lying. “I dropped this.”
This turns out to be a thick parka, and I slide it on, laughing as I see English Heritage printed on the lapel. “The spriggan wasn’t the only one doing a spot of mugging.”
He smiles. “’Twas in the guard’s hut. I shall return it when we leave. Come walk with me.” I slide my hand into his, and we walk along the path, the gravel crunching beneath our feet, and our shadows stark in front of us.
We come to the famous statue called Gallos. It’s easily eight feet tall, and shows a king in tattered clothes resting his hands on a sword.
Sigurd pats the statue’s arm in a friendly way.
“Isn’t this supposed to be King Arthur?” I ask.
He looks at the ragged cape. “Yes, but Arthur would have loved to have been as tidy as this statue.”
“You knew him?”
“But of course.” He laughs. “He was always messy when not dressed for battle. He was argumentative, opinionated, and loud. He lost his possessions as soon as he got them, and his roar could be heard all over the castle.” His gaze turns melancholy.
“He was also kind, clever, and a most loyal friend.” He turns to me and blinks when he finds me gaping at him. “What?”
“Just how old are you?”
He smiles. “Very old, my Cary.”
“How old is very old, Sigurd?”
His face is grave and far away, as if he has suddenly looked down a long distance.
“I have seen England when it was naught but dark forests where the fae lived, where twisted fruit grew, and strange things lived in the depths that did not like the light. I have watched Christianity rise, and I have seen the fall of the monasteries when England echoed to the sound of screams, and the fires seemed to encompass this land. I have seen an armada of ships threaten the country, and it was I who harnessed the winds that drove them onto the rocks. I have heard the confidences of kings and stood by their sides through centuries to keep this land, this Albion, safe. I have seen giants and I have seen monsters, but the biggest of those is the human race.”
He stops, and the fierce expression fades slowly.
He smiles at me and draws me close, so I fit under his arm, hugging me.
“You are strange folk,” he says softly. “Quick to anger and wilful enough to spoil what you touch, but you are also immensely kind, with a limitless desire to please and an infinite capacity to forgive.”
I swallow hard. “You kept England safe?”
He nods and pulls me over to a bench. We snuggle together and he carries on talking. “We dragons were not always popular with humans, but that did not matter. What always drove us was our duty.” He chuckles. “Well, that and the gold.”
“There are more of you?”
I regret the question as soon as I ask it, because his face grows sad. “There were once many, but time and mankind have made us less. Now there are few. I do not know of any others in England, but I have cousins in Norway and Finland. They do not protect now. They have moved into acquisitions.”
“Acquisitions?”
He smiles, and it’s nice to see it on his face again. “The myth of dragon gold is not a false one, Cary. We like possessions. Many of my extended family are now bankers. We have left our wild past behind us.”
“Have you?”
“To a certain extent. I outgrew my fighting ways many centuries ago, but I was always happier with hoarding books than gold. It is why I became a professor for many years and wrote scholarly books on long forgotten myths. But my cousins oversee my assets. In return, I have to appear in Norway where they will feast me twice a year and lecture me on fiscal responsibility.”
“You really were a professor.”
He nods. “I can only do it for so long, though. You humans grow suspicious about a man who does not age.”
“Not if you live in Hollywood. They’d just give you an Oscar and talk about how brave you are.”
He laughs. “So, I would do that for a while and then retire and turn up somewhere else.” He sighs. “And then came the time when I retired from the world.”
I snuggle closer, putting my hand on his, watching as he turns it over to examine the palm before dropping a kiss there. He closes my hand as if to keep the kiss safe, and something about his solemness makes me smile tenderly at him. “Why did you retire?”
He settles back against the bench, staring at the distant statue of Arthur.
“Truthfully, I was weary of everything. When you have lived as long as I have, you eventually feel that you have seen everything. I was alone and lonely, and I grew tired of always waiting for something that seemed as far away as it was when I was a small dragon.”
I look at him curiously. “Waiting for what?”
He kisses my temple, inhaling as if taking my scent into him.
“It matters not now,” he says solemnly. “But I was tired. I was living in Wales, and one day I just flew away and never went back. I took the coastline, and I travelled the length and breadth of England until I came to Porthcurno. It was a windy day, and I sat on the rocks listening to the sound of the sea, and suddenly I heard snatches of poetry.” He shakes his head.
“Ah, it was beautiful, Cary. Shakespeare’s The Tempest spoken on words that flew on the wind to me, and I took to the air and saw the small theatre on the rocks. ”
“The Minack?”
He nods. “And I knew that I was finally home. I made a hall for myself under the gorse and stone, and I settled down where I could be alone and yet never feel so lonely when I could hear poetry and plays and see the lights of the Minack. And there I waited.”
Silence falls. “I’m sorry you were sad,” I finally say. “I hate that.”
He runs his fingers through my hair slowly and almost reverently. “But that is forgotten now.”
“Is it?”
“But of course.”
His surety is curious, but doesn’t seem to invite further questions on the topic. So I ask about a different one. “You spoke about your duty to protect England. Albion,” I correct myself. “Is that still your duty?”
“It will always be my duty as long as I remain here.”
“Do you have somewhere else to go, then?”
He takes my fingers and squeezes them. “Into the Sunlit Lands. Many of my kin took the journey when they grew tired of this world.”
“But not you?”
He shakes his head, his gaze fastened on the statue of his old friend. “Nay. My friendships bound me, and I still love this world. Besides, I would not leave before—" He draws in a breath. “One day, maybe, but not now,” he finishes.
“Does anyone know that you have this duty?” I sit up straight. “Do they know they could have a dragon to help them?”
“It is a secret handed down from king to king, but I believe that they no longer have faith. I have become a legend like Arthur and his knights, and so I have been left in peace.”
“Which monarchs did you like best?”
“Ah, the first Elizabeth,” he says immediately. “Now there was a canny woman—astute and clever and devious, with a bawdy sense of humour, a raucous laugh and a passion for her country and her people. It was my pleasure to serve her.”
I shake my head. “It’s like a curtain’s been pulled back and I can see another view of history.”
He smiles. “I am glad to share it with you. Come, you shall ask me anything.”
“I have so many questions,” I admit. “Too many to organise in my head.”
“There is no moratorium on what you can ask me.”
“Did you know Saint George?” I inhale. “Oh my god, did he kill a member of your family?”
He huffs. “That was a fireside tale for children who grew up in the dark times when magic went into hiding. George was a friend to dragons. Many were the times that we drank and caroused together.”
I hesitate. “You mentioned that you had taken lovers for years. Did you love them?”
He shakes his head. His face is sad. “No. I cared deeply for them, but I am only made to love one man.”
I’m deeply curious as to who that might be, and a sudden passionate hatred for this unknown man makes my stomach churn.
I exhale slowly. I have no right to such feelings.
I’m just keeping Sigurd company for a bit, and I should treasure our time while it lasts.
I will never forget this gift—and I won’t regret it.
He gazes out over the landscape. “I grew tired of having to mourn people, so I stopped letting myself care so much. As such, I took lovers and then they would move on the next day, bespelled and content.”
His words sink in, and I straighten. “Wait. Bespelled?”
He hesitates and then nods. “Yes. I would bring the men here, and when they slept, I would use my magic to tinker with their memories of me. I never mistreated them, you understand? ’Twas only to make them happy and never want to find me again.
In the past, men have wasted their lives trying to find my world again.
They withered away and died heartsore under that compulsion. ”
I’d lay odds it wasn’t the magic world that was the attraction. Then something registers, and I remember the odd events of the night when I woke up. “Oh my god. You enchanted me.”
He licks his lips, a slightly panicked look coming over his face, but his voice is steady. “I did.”
I cock my head. “So why did I still remember you?” I grimace. “Did your magic go wrong?” I say sympathetically.
His lip twitches. “Nay.”
“I don’t know whether to be cross or grateful that it didn’t work.”
“I admit I am hoping for the latter but resigned to the former.”
“I’m not cross. It was for a good reason.” I nudge him. “I’m just grateful you couldn’t magically roofie me.”
“What shocking things you say,” he says, but his eyes twinkle. “’Tis a redundant thing anyway, Cary. I could not bespell you even if I wanted to. My magic will not allow it.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
He cocks his head. “Is it my turn to ask the question?”
“Well, I have asked a few, so yes.” I hold up a finger. “Maybe I’ll answer a question with another question, eh?”
He looks sheepish, which makes me smile.
Then he turns and takes my hand in his. “Will you stay with me for a few days?” I open my mouth, but he carries on quickly.
“I know you said you would but that was before you knew the truth about me. So, I ask you again if you will stay with me until Christmas Eve?”
“You really want that?” I ask breathily.
His eyes are mysterious and full of secrets. “I find you enchanting, Cary, and I have been lonely for many centuries. I would show you my world and share it with you.”
I consider him—his windswept hair, his strong, handsome face and his tired, warm eyes, and the words come more easily than anything I’ve ever said. “I would like that.”