Throwback Thursday: Told Under the Linden Tree by Rénee Sarojini Saklikar

Tales for a Better Apocalypse

In the early days of 2023 we published ‘Told Under the Linden Tree’, a side-tale to Renée Sarojini Saklikar‘s climate epic in verse Bramah and the Beggar Boy and Bramah’s Quest.

For your throwback Thursday enjoyment, here is a bit of Ciswen the Blacksmith’s story. You can read the full story in Pulp Literature Issue 37, Winter 2023, on sale now for the throwback price of only $8!

Told Under the Linden Tree

Renée Sarojini Saklikar

Ciswen the Blacksmith & Albert the Mendicant 

Three days past summer solstice. Noon, and the sun burning down, the green grass fast turning brown. In the Before-Time, we’d click, tap, to check the times of sunrise to sunset, fractions misplaced with the Shift-Tilt. Now, we paced our morning steps to the sun, following bee dances, to stand under green boughs, to watch Ciswen the Blacksmith: tall, broad shouldered, forearms strong, white-blond hair tied back in two long braids. Her eyes glowed cornflower blue when she worked at her forge; or, when irritated, narrowed to flint grey, her mouth set in two firm lines. At the sound of our footsteps, Ciswen grunted. Without lifting her head, her voice came at us, “Ah, my friends, you’ve returned, here with me again.” We edged in closer to her workspace under the Linden Tree. Suddenly, a voice cried out, “Ciswen, Ciswen, don’t start anything without me!” We all turned to see Albert the Mendicant loping towards us.

Ciswen glared at Albert. We said nothing.

“Now, Ciswen,” said the mendicant. He held up a torn Before-Time paperback, as if to barter, three-quarters of a translation — The Sand Reckoner — Greek to Latin to English. 

“Honestly, I’ve got nothing for you,” said Ciswen.

“Not even the time of Bramah’s arrival?” said the mendicant. “Not even a tale of skill and bravery?” 

“Especially not that,” said Ciswen. She mopped her glistening brow. We heard her add, under her breath, “You’re always grubbing for stories.” Albert thought, Today, this very afternoon, I’ll best her. Ponderous, cantankerous. But what skill her hands at the forge! 

Bees darted to suck pollen from the tiny flowers of the Linden Tree. Ciswen reached up to the lower boughs. Albert’s gaze followed the length of her arm, then turned away. Albert didn’t notice, as we did, how Ciswen caressed each leaf and flower. She let her hand fall to her side and sighed. Albert, eager to divine her thoughts, said, with exaggerated jollity, “Remember, last winter, how the ice on the lake never froze?” 

Ciswen glared at Albert.

“Remember,” said Albert, “the boughs of this very tree hung free from snow, and you told the most amazing story of the Before-Time and — ”

Ciswen squinted at Albert, and he started to cough, gulping for air. 

Albert looked up at the tree. Albert thought about the time he saw Ciswen swing a sledgehammer two-handed. She could beat iron, steel, bronze, fast and sure, deft with tongs, her huge hands measured and slow.

Find out what happens next in Pulp Literature Issue 37, Winter 2023, on sale now till the end of May!

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Renée Sarojini Saklikar (Surrey Poet Laureate, 2015–2018) is the author of four books and six chapbooks, which you can find more about at thotjbap.com. Her work has been adapted for opera and visual art. She teaches creative writing and has judged our Magpie Award for Poetry. Renée’s sci-fi epic in verse, Bramah and the Beggar Boy, was published in 2021, and the sequel, Bramah’s Quest, came out in 2024. Her short story ‘Man with Golden Helmet’ appeared in Pulp Literature Issue 28.

 

 

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