‘Your own early training was not so happy,’ Thorne remarked, pleased to receive my praise – which I gave only very rarely.
‘That’s true.’
‘Then tell me the tale again. I’m sure Will would like to hear it – wouldn’t you?’
The boy nodded, desperate to agree with anything she said.
‘Well, then, why don’t you tell the story for me?’ I suggested. ‘You’ve nagged me to the telling often enough – you should know it off by heart by now!’
Thorne shrugged and smiled. ‘Why not?’ she said, turning to face Will. ‘To begin with, I’d better explain that the witch assassin of the Malkin clan is usually chosen by single combat. Challengers must face the incumbent in a fight to the death.
‘But first there must be a period of intense training for those who hope to win the right to the position. Grimalkin had decided to become the Malkin witch assassin but came late to that year’s preparations. She joined two others who had already been training for six months. What was worse, only half a year remained before the three days assigned for the challenges. So she’d very little time to learn the basics of the assassin’s trade.
‘Her first day in the training school was a disaster. The other two trainees were weak – doomed to be killed by Kernolde, who was the Malkins’ assassin at that time. As the day slowly passed by, Grimalkin became more and more annoyed. At last, just before dark, she voiced her thoughts. She was sitting on the floor looking up at Grist Malkin, their inept trainer, who was blathering on about fighting with blades, his words showing just how in effectual and stupid he was – he hadn’t a clue. Standing behind him were two of the ugliest old hags from our clan, both witches. So ugly were they that they had warts on their warts and more bristles on their chins than on a hedgehog’s arse!’
Thorne laughed deep in her throat as she said that, and in response Will gave a weak smile and blushed to the roots of his pale hair.
‘The hags were there to make sure the trainees didn’t use magic against Grist Malkin,’ Thorne continued. ‘Her patience finally at an end, Grimalkin rose to her feet and shouted at him.’
I smiled as Thorne lurched to her own feet and shouted out the words as if she were actually there in my place and Will was Grist.
‘“You’re a fool, Grist! You’ve already prepared twenty-seven defeated challengers before us. What can you teach us but how to lose and how to die?”’
So vehement was her outburst that Will actually flinched away.
Thorne smiled wickedly. ‘You should see Grist now. He retired at the end of that year, and he’s grown old and fat. It was this confrontation with Grimalkin that finished him off.
‘For a long time he didn’t speak,’ she went on, sitting down again, ‘but simply locked eyes with Grimalkin and glared, his foolish fat face twitching with fury. He was a bear of a man, at least a head taller than Grimalkin and heavily muscled. But Grimalkin wasn’t the slightest bit afraid, and met his gaze calmly. He looked away first. Deep down he was scared, although he tried not to show it.
‘“On your feet, child!” Grist commanded. Grimalkin obeyed, but she was smiling and mocking him with her eyes.
‘“Take that grin off your face. Don’t look at me!” he bellowed. “Look straight ahead. Have some respect for the man who teaches you!” He began to circle Grimalkin slowly. Suddenly he seized her in a bear-hug, squeezing so hard that one of her ribs snapped with a loud pop. Then he threw her down hard into the dirt, thinking that this was the end of the matter.
‘But what did Grimalkin do? Did she lie there moaning with pain? No! She was on her feet in an instant and broke his nose with her left fist, the punch knocking him to the ground. And after that she fought like an assassin. You should never let anyone bigger than you get close – she kept him at a distance. The struggle was over quickly. Each blow was well-timed and precise. In moments Grist Malkin was beaten to a pulp! One of his eyes was swollen and closed, and his forehead was split wide open; blood was running into his other eye. Grimalkin punched him to his knees.
‘“I could kill you now!” she cried. “But you’re just a man and hardly worth the trouble.”
‘So Grimalkin was forced to train herself. Of course, she was already skilled in forest-craft and forging weapons. So she worked hard, ate well and gradually built up her strength, swimming daily to increase her endurance for fighting – even though it was a long bitter winter, the worst for many a long year. She also forged the best blades she could and carried them in sheaths about her body.
‘Then, one day, in a cold northern forest in the dead of winter, she faced a pack of starving wolves. They circled her, moving in slowly, saliva dripping from their jaws, death glittering in their hungry eyes. Grimalkin readied a throwing knife in each hand. When the first wolf leaped, her blade found its throat. The second died just as easily. Finally she drew her long blade as a third wolf bounded towards her. As easily as knocking off a dandelion’s head with a stick, she struck the animal’s head clean from its body. When the pack finally fled, seven blood-splattered bodies lay dead, staining the white snow red.
‘At last it was time for Grimalkin to face Kernolde, and she returned to Pendle. Kernolde slew the first two challengers easily enough – in less than an hour, without breaking a sweat. Finally it was Grimalkin’s turn—’
‘If you are so strong and brave, why have you taken refuge in this castle?’ Will interrupted. ‘I think my father is braver than either of you!’
We both stared at the boy in surprise. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the anger that flickered across Thorne’s face. I put my hand on her shoulder to restrain her. Then I answered the boy.
‘Of course your father is brave,’ I agreed, smiling without opening my mouth – for what son would not think that of a father who was good to him? ‘He is a knight and it must be part of his nature. Do minstrels sing his praises?’
‘They do! He has fought and overcome many opponents, but his greatest deed was to slay the Great Worme that besieged our castle.’
‘Are wormes real?’ Thorne asked. ‘I thought they were just stories told at dusk to scare children.’
‘They are indeed,’ I replied. ‘Wormes are dangerous creatures covered in tough scales and they have jaws filled with powerful fangs. Many have long, snake-like tails, which they use to wrap around their victims and squeeze the life from them. They usually drain the blood of cattle but like to eat humans whole – blood, flesh and bones. They are quite rare in the County,’ I continued, ‘and I have seen only one. It was lurking in long grass on the edge of a lake: I was curious and wanted a closer look. As I approached, it slid into the water and quickly swam away. It was no larger than a dog.’