‘No, that’s all fine,’ he replied. ‘With your leave, Mother, I’ll continue to bleed your swine. Six months is not such a long time after all. But if the equinox comes and Moccus is reborn even weaker than before, none of us will live to see the twenty-first century. Gus is right about me, so take it from a man who knows: if you want to survive, you’re going to have to make some unpalatable decisions.’
* * *
Ardwyn came to his bed the night she and her husband were due to depart, but she was too agitated and angry for sex. Instead, he watched her pace around the room like a caged animal, her face haggard and her arms crossed tightly across her belly. He guessed that some old illness which Moccus’ flesh had held at bay was making itself felt again, and not for the first time wondered how old she really was.
‘How can she be so bloody blind?’ she raged. ‘How can she not see what’s happening right in front of her?’
‘Oh, she sees, all right,’ he said. ‘She’s just scared like the rest of us.’
‘The worst of it is, I thought I knew her! I thought, she’s looked after us for so long and guided us all this time, surely she’ll recognise the danger and act on it. I knew that the old traditions were important to her but I never imagined that she could be so – I don’t know – so close-minded. Damn her! Damn her!’ Ardwyn was almost in tears. He moved to embrace her but she shoved him away. ‘No!’ She turned from him, smearing the tears away with the heels of her hands. ‘Don’t. That’s not what I need from you.’
‘Well, for God’s sake what do you need, then?’ he replied, stung.
‘Something real. Something more than just words.’
‘Fine then. What do you want me to do?’
‘What can you do?’
He laughed. ‘Oh I could do all manner of things. I don’t know about you, but I mean to survive. The question is how far are you prepared to go? What are you prepared to sacrifice? Your husband and your church?’
‘Church,’ she snorted. ‘A banker, his screeching wife, and a defrocked priest: hardly a huge congregation. I’m sure Cirencester can survive without us, and I’m damned sure I can survive without Gus.’
‘Swinley?’ he pressed. ‘Mother herself?’
He watched her wrestle with this and eventually square her shoulders as if ridding them of an uncomfortable weight. ‘If at the end of the day she refuses to see reason, then yes. Everything,’ she said. ‘All of it.’ Ardwyn moved into his arms and laid her hands on his chest. ‘All of it,’ she repeated. He felt his heart swelling with some large, churning sensation that was quite new and uncomfortable. Then a coughing fit gripped him, and he decided that it had simply been a bronchial spasm.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he repeated.
She told him, and as he listened his grin grew wide.
12
SCHISM
SIX MONTHS LATER, GAR’S RECKLING KIN MET Ardwyn’s car on the road to Swinley two days before the final replenishment sacrifice. The lane had been blacktopped many years previously but not widened, so that trees still grew closely down to the roadside, and it was easy for the Recklings to get close to the vehicle without being seen when Gus was forced to stop it at the sight of Everett and Gar standing in the middle of the lane.
‘What’s this about?’ He frowned, opening the door.
It was wrenched out of his hand by Sus. As he stared at her in astonishment, other Recklings appeared and hauled him out of the car.
‘What are you doing?’ he yelled. ‘You can’t do this! I won’t allow—’
But then a hand that was mostly fingers closed over his mouth and they never did find out what it was that he wasn’t going to allow. He was dragged into the trees, twisting and making muffled noises of protest.
‘You’ll look after him?’ Everett asked Gar.
Gar shrugged.
‘I mean, will he still be alive by tomorrow night?’
‘Alive, yes.’
Ardwyn got out of the car and joined them. She was moving slowly, with a hand pressed to her abdomen low down.
‘It’s getting worse?’ Everett asked her.
She nodded. ‘And your cough?’
‘Still bad. And it’s not just us. Swinley is looking like a geriatric ward. He’s had nothing but pig’s blood since March.’
‘Then let’s do something about that,’ she said.
* * *
The Farrow assembled in the clearing around Moccus’ pillar and the sixth swine was brought to him for sacrifice. He could feel the slow life of the god churning in the ground beneath his feet, and the responsibility he owed to it. At a nod from Ardwyn he took the blade from the beast’s throat and pushed it away.
‘No,’ she said, stepping forward. ‘We will not perpetuate this travesty any longer. Gar?’ she called, and out from the darkness beyond the clearing stepped Gar and Sus, pushing Gus ahead of him. The man was tied at the hands and gagged, and his eyes rolled like terrified white marbles in his face, just like every other man the deserter had seen die over the long years.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Mother, outraged. She stepped forward, but Everett pointed the sickle at her and she stopped, paralysed almost as much by fear as fury, he hoped. Others of the Farrow made moves as if to intervene, but from around the clearing the other Recklings appeared to stand between them and the deserter. They stopped, wailing and cursing. One or two even ran.
‘You can’t do this!’ Mother cried. ‘It’s sacrilege!’
‘No, Mother,’ said Ardwyn. ‘It is the beginning of a new covenant between the Farrow and He Who Eats the Moon. But I don’t blame you for resisting. Rebirth is always painful.’
‘Ardwyn!’ she wept. ‘Daughter. I
