Among the Campions

The soft murmur of conversation in the Tin Miner's Arms halted as the young woman dumped her rucksack on the floor by the hat stand, a jangle of climbing equipment announcing her arrival. The pub patrons turned to assess the newcomer and, satisfied she was just another tourist rather than one of the local regulars, conversation quickly returned to a background murmur. The girl rearranged the rope attached to her rucksack so it wouldn't impede any other visitors to the pub, and approached the bar.

The barman smiled in welcome and spread his hands in greeting. "Welcome to the Miner's, young lady. What can I get you?"

"I'm looking for a Mr. Tregenza," she said in a soft voice.

"Arthur?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Mr. Arthur Tregenza."

"He's over in the corner there, next to the fire."

The barman motioned to an old man who sat in an even older looking armchair, the leather complimenting his skin, both worn with age and experience. His hands rested on his walking stick, one atop the other, a nearly empty pint glass creating several watery rings on the wooden table next to his elbow. A faint half smile graced the old man's face as he stared into the flames, and a terrier of indiscriminate breed dozed by his shoes, its feet twitching as it chased rabbits in its dreams.

The girl smiled and inspected the ales available on the bar. She unzipped her red and black fleece to let some of the warmth of the surroundings get to her skin and reached to her back pocket for her wallet.

The light from the central lamp momentarily dimmed as a shadow cast across his table, and Arthur looked up to see a blond haired girl standing next to him holding two pints of real ale. "May I join you sir?" she asked politely.

Arthur motioned to the empty chair next to him and smiled. "Of course young lady, especially if you'm bringin' me a pint."

"Please allow me to introduce myself Mr. Tregenza. My name is Jade De Lacy and I'm studying myths and legends at Cambridge."

"Arthur will do my girl," interjected the old man with a smile before De Lacy could say any more. The girl inclined her head and carried on smoothly.

"Well Arthur, I'm due to go climbing with some friends, but I arrived early and thought I'd do some research while I was here. Someone in the village shop told me you were the man to speak to about old legends and local lore."

"Oh they did, did they?" said Arthur, his eyes twinkling merrily as he supped on his pint of ale.

"Well, what they actually said was that if I wanted to hear a load of old hokum, you could talk the hind leg off a donkey, but I thought I ought to phrase it more politely."

Arthur laughed, waking up the dog by his feet who growled. Jade reached down and scratched the hound behind the ears, prompting a satisfied noise from the mutt who licked her hand and settled back down to sleep on her foot. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a Dictaphone which she set carefully on the table, avoiding the slop rings.

"To get to the point, sir, I was wondering if you'd do me the great honour of letting me record a few old tales."

The old man sat grinning at her, and took another draught of ale.

"I'll tell ye what lass, I'll make you a deal. You keep me supplied with ale and I'll talk fer as long as you want me to. How does that strike you?"

Jade proffered a hand, smiling, and the deal was struck.

"... and they say the pizkies dance by dawn's early light amidst the sea-campions and squill. They feast and laugh in the cliff gardens, the precarious patches of green which hang on the stone, the gardens of the families who hide in nook and cranny. They hide with magic and are seldom seen by those who pass. But 'ware the traveller, for he who seeks them may find himself joining the dance and never escape."

Arthur finished another tale and sat back into his armchair, taking a deep draught of amber ale, several empty glasses by his elbow proof of time's passing.

Jade clicked the 'stop' button on the Dictaphone and smiled, her eyes alight with interest and the dying flames of the fire.

"That was wonderful. Thank you, Arthur."

"It were my pleasure young 'un, and thank you for the beer. Not many people are interested in the old tales these days."

Jade looked thoughtful for a moment and Arthur laughed softly prompting a confused look from the young lady who sat next to him.

"And now you're wondering whether you should ask me the question that's sitting at the front of your head. 'Are the legends true?'"

"Yes," whispered Jade.

The pub was quieter now, with only a few patrons in the snug next door, so Arthur and Jade were to all intents and purposes alone. The old man leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed on those of his companion of the last few hours. Holding the woman's gaze, he rolled up his jumper to reveal an intricate set of Celtic styled tattoos that left little in the way of bare skin untouched by the dark indigo whorls. His arm exposed to the air, he hooked a finger into the neck of his jumper hitching the material down to expose his chest below his neckline which was also covered in whorls and patterns.

"They're real." His tone had turned dark and all trace of humour had left him, the storm clouds of memory swirling in his eyes as he leaned in close and carried on in the same low voice.

"They did this to me when I was about your age. I went looking for them, and I found them. They let me watch their dance but did this as a reminder to stay away from them in the future. I would urge you to take the warning I was given as your own, no good will come of you trying to find them. They are a curse, not some cute little mischief maker like some people would have you believe. Yet even with all this cursed blue ink ingrained in my skin I still consider myself lucky. Normally they eat the things they catch. I was thrown back like an undersized line-caught fish and left screaming in pain as a warning to others who might try the same folly."

He reached across the table and with sudden strength grabbed the young woman's arm, his grip fierce.

"Stay away from the cliffs missy. Take the stories and go back to your university and books. There is no place for you here, only misery."

Jade shrank back from the old man as he slumped back in his armchair, seemingly exhausted, his terrier whining in sympathy for his master.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Tregenza," she said softly. "I will take your words to heart."

She picked up the Dictaphone from the table, "...and thank you too for the words now residing in my pocket."

Poking a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, Jade rose from her seat. She nodded her thanks at the old man who ignored her, back to gazing intently at the dying embers of the fire, and made her way back to her rucksack. Hefting the jangling bag with its purple rope strapped to the outside, she moved back to the bar where the now sleepy looking barman was beginning to clear down. She placed a twenty pound note on the wooden surface.

"Please put this on Mr Trengenza's tab. Thank you for your hospitality."

"My pleasure miss, and thank you for your custom. I hope you enjoyed Arthur's company. He can be a crusty old bugger sometimes, but he's a good lad at heart."

"He's a mine of information, and I always enjoy a good legend or folk tale," she said. "Good night."

"Good night miss, I hope you enjoy your stay in Cornwall."

A few moments later, the pub door closed leaving the old man and his dog staring into the flickering mysteries of the fire.

Arthur stopped walking as his terrier growled and moved close to his master. Bright sunlight glistened on the early morning dew resting in pearly splendour on the rabbit cropped grass at the edge of the cliff top footpath and, apart from the faint crash of waves below, all was at peace.

The dog growled again and whined, moving towards the edge of the cliff and sniffing at a gorse bush.

His interest piqued by the dog's behaviour, Arthur moved to investigate and noticed a piece of climbing gear wedged into a crack in the slate, the loop of steel wire securely anchored in place. Attached to it was a steel shackle and a length of purple rope.

"Silly girl," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves to keep them out of the way. "Toby, let it alone." The dog stopped worrying at the red and black fleece which had been left neatly folded by the gorse bush and turned to watch as the old man pulled the rope easily up the cliff, the severed end coming all too quickly into view.

"Some people never listen," he said under his breath.

As he inspected the end of the rope, Toby growled long and low and moved to his heel.

"Your dog appears upset old man."

The deep gravelly voice seemed at odds with the small blue man who moved into view from behind the gorse bush.

"I think he took a bit of a fancy to the young girl who owned this rope. She was in the pub last night. Not many people scratch his ears these days," he said calmly. Arthur straightened up, leaning on his stick and looked hard at the blue creature.

"You warned her not to come here looking for us?"

"Aye, I did, but some people prefer to make their own mistakes."

"Then she was a fool and her mistake has cost her her life."

The dog growled again.

"Toby, hush," he commanded, "we're talkin' here."

Still growling, the dog shimmered and changed, a small and angry looking blue figure standing in the dog's place.

"You shush, I'm hungry!" He turned to the other blue figure. "I hope you buggers saved me some. The girl looked young and tender to me; I do love a good Sunday roast."

"Honestly, the young have no patience," said Arthur. He frowned and concentrated. The tattoos on his arms glowed momentarily, and he too shimmered. The form of the old man was replaced by a third blue figure, this one with a shock of white-blue hair.

"Welcome elder," said the first figure, and the other two bowed deeply to the older pizkie.

"Thank you," he replied and bowed in return, smiling broadly to expose a host of pointed teeth.

"Now as Toby here said, I hope you saved us some nice roasted meat. We tire of the human food, but human as food is far more palatable."

~~~ The End ~~~