The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Read online

  Ælfwyn did not smile, but she handed back the cup and pushed the hair out of her eyes. Burginde made much of little, but there was wisdom in her ways, I could see.

  The noise below us had died down, but we would not return to our beds so soon. Burginde opened the window shutter and let the cold night air flood the room, and then closed the shutter and fed the hungry brazier with many pieces of charcoal. I combed out Ælfwyn’s hair and braided it up again, and we fluffed out our cushions and pillows, and walked up and down the room. All of these things helped to rid the room of the presence of the Danes, and to calm our thoughts. When at last we slipped into our beds, it was late, and I at least was so tired that I fell quickly into the arms of sleep.

  Chapter the Sixteenth: Of the Tribute

  WE awakened slowly in the morning, and when Burginde finally rose and went for water the rising Sun slanted in our windows from over the top of the palisade wall. It was a fine day at last, and sharp shadows fell in the yard below. We had washed and were beginning to dress when Susa came up with a steaming bronze ewer.

  She dropped a rough curtsey. “‘Tis broth from Dobbe; she hopes it pleases you,” she said. Her round eyes noted each touch of comfort and colour we had brought into the bare room. She looked back at Ælfwyn. “And the Lord Yrling is awaiting you below. ‘Twill be a big day.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Ælfwyn quickly.

  Susa stared at her, then looked down at her own shoes and gulped. “‘Tis the treasure day, Lady.”

  Ælfwyn nodded her head. I moved to the door. “Thank you, Susa. The broth is most welcome,” I said, and Susa scuttled past me, bowing as she went.

  Burginde was pouring the broth into cups as I returned to the table. It was rich with fat and had a wonderful savour. “We should start all our days with such good stuff,” said Burginde, smacking her lips after the first taste.

  “I do not know why we should not,” I said. “Dobbe does well to so please you, Ælfwyn, and I think truly wishes to serve you with her heart.”

  “Aye, the poor soul,” added Burginde, “to have anyone take notice of her skill would be a joy to her in this savage place.”

  Ælfwyn sipped her broth and did not answer.

  I thought of what Susa had told us. If the tribute was unloaded, the second waggon would at last be emptied. “Perhaps we will have the looms today,” I said.

  “Aye, but there be no time for to set them or warp them, if ‘tis the marriage day,” answered Burginde.

  Ælfwyn set down her cup. “There will be no marriage today,” she said with firmness. She looked at us and said more gently, “There is no cause for haste. Another day will do as well.”

  “Aye,” nodded Burginde, “tho’ the groom be ready, there be no reason to rush.” She set down her cup and rubbed her hands together. “But ‘tis at least the treasure day, and we must dress.”

  I put on my russet gown, and tied around my waist the gayest of my thread-work sashes, which has on it pictures I drew in yellow and brown thread of pheasants flying. I combed my hair smooth, and pulled it back with a russet ribband, and lay a fine linen wrap given me by Ælfwyn over my head.

  Ælfwyn sat in thought for a moment, and then told Burginde to bring the deep cobalt dress and red mantle from her chests. It was the same she wore the day we had arrived at Four Stones, with no one to look at us but Sidroc and Toki, whose eyes we did not want. She took from her jewel casket all her finest brooches and pins, and chose again the silver one covered with garnets, as it was largest and most beautiful. I combed out her hair so it flowed along her back like a river, and over it she placed her head-dress of thin silk. She looked as close to a great queen as I could ever hope to see, but a young and sad one.

  We began to hear sounds coming from the hall below; voices and the movement of tables. At last we were ready, and Burginde brought out the small red leathern pouch from where she had been keeping it.

  “Here is your pearl; you must wear it,” she said as she drew the golden chain from its bag. The pearl appeared, as magnificent again as it was on the evening Toki delivered it.

  But Ælfwyn did not take it. “I would not honour his rudeness by wearing it,” she said, and gathered up her skirt as if to descend.

  Burginde was quick, and blocked the door. She crossed her arms over her breast, and the chain swung from her clenched hand. “Wear it you will, Lady, or you be no daughter of your good mother.”

  Ælfwyn furrowed her brow and made no move. I held out my hand and Burginde passed the chain to me. “You do not honour his rudeness by so wearing it, but his generosity,” I said with stress, “and why then would you not wear a jewel of such beauty?” She seemed to consider this. I went on, “In wearing it, you will please him, but more, you show your own worth in deserving such a treasure.”

  She reached for the chain and slipped it over her neck. I drew her hair and head-wrap so it fell smoothly once again. Burginde opened the door, and we stepped out on the landing.

  We could clearly hear the high fluting voice of Toki, and the calmer, flatter tones of Sidroc.

  “Let me go first,” I said, “and Burginde will come behind you, that you should enter in some state.”

  Ælfwyn nodded, and I took my place. We began slowly down the wood steps, and walked into the hall. The great door was open, and daylight came streaming in, and the good light of the Sun fell from the firepit hole. The rippling pattern of the coloured stone floor stood bold before me, and I felt that I stepped onto a red lake.

  Toki and Sidroc were indeed in the hall, seated at a large trestle table. Between them sat Yrling, and around them hovered two of the serving men who had swept away the straw yesterday. Food and drink were on the table, and the three Danes were eating. As we walked in, all three looked up, and Toki and Sidroc stopped their talk. Tho’ I knew Ælfwyn and Burginde were just behind me, I felt alone as I could not see them, only the steady gaze of the Danes and the dull gape of the serving men as they stood against the wall.

  At last when I had almost gained the table I stopped, and Sidroc slowly rose. He stood silently, looking at us, and then Toki looked at Sidroc and rose also, and finally did Yrling rise as well.

  It was clear from their dress that this was no common day. Each man wore a leathern tunic with many designs burnt into it, and colour rubbed upon it, and set with many bosses of bronze; and the bare arms of each were adorned with arm-rings and bracelets of silver, beautiful to the eye. On Yrling there were also arm-rings and bracelets of pure gold which dazzled when he moved. And thus arrayed in their strength and richness all three men were in their way wonderful to behold, and amongst them Toki with his yellow hair and darting eyes was the most beautiful, and I thought, the cruellest and worst man.

  Now Ælfwyn took a step forward, and bowed her head, but did not speak. Yrling pushed back the bench and came around the table to where we stood. As he did, I saw his eye was caught by the great pearl which now hung freely down from the Lady’s throat as she bowed. She straightened, and looked at him, but his first words surprised us all.

  “The pearl - how did you get it?” he asked, and his brow creased.

  Ælfwyn raised her eyebrows. “Why, I wear it as your gift. Toki delivered it to me on the road here.” And she looked in Toki’s face, in wonder of what it meant. Toki grinned, and looked at Sidroc, and Sidroc made a slight gesture as he looked back at Yrling.

  Yrling nodded his head once, and looked at Ælfwyn. “I had forgot; it was many days ago that I sent Toki with that charge.” He smiled broadly, so that his white teeth flashed. “My gift is worn well.”

  Ælfwyn bowed again and spoke not, and Yrling raised his hand to the table, as an invitation that she should sit with him. At this both Toki and Sidroc began to cross over the floor to where we stood, but Sidroc spoke to Toki and stopped him, and came alone to stand before me. And Ælfwyn sat next to Yrling upon the bench, and I next to Sidroc, and thus did we first sit at meat with the Danes.
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br />   Burginde went through a door to the kitchen passage way, and we saw her not until after we had eaten. The plate was fine, for every bowl was bronze, and every platter of bronze too. Yrling drank from a golden goblet, very precious, set all around with blue and green stones, and had placed before Ælfwyn a golden goblet set with rock crystal and stones of jet, so strange and beautiful that I could not take my eyes from it. Ælfwyn too looked much at this cup, and Yrling watched her looking.

  Before Sidroc and Toki were placed goblets of silver, rimmed with gold, and also before me was such a goblet placed, and that was the first time I had drunk from gold.

  We drank a dark pungent ale and ate porridge made of dried beans mashed; and roasted fowls stuffed with bread; and plates of honeyed dried fruits: apples, pears, and cherries. And through it all the three Danes talked to each other in their own tongue, and as Sidroc was seated between me and Ælfwyn we could not speak to each other in ours. But the food was good, and I ate well, and Ælfwyn ate of it too, but without much relish.

  Then Yrling pushed back his cup, and turned to Ælfwyn, and spoke to her in our speech, careful and slow. “We go now to the waggon, and I will accept the tribute that you bring.”

  Then he spoke to Sidroc, and Sidroc and Toki rose and went out of the hall so that Ælfwyn and I were left alone with Yrling. It was still; the serving men had gone, and I wished that Burginde might come back.

  Yrling turned on the bench and looked at us. Like all the Danes, his eye was bold, and he looked upon us with no regard for the boldness of it. But his boldness was more like that of Sidroc than of Toki; for Toki I think looked to shame us, but Yrling and Sidroc looked for the pleasure it gave them, as a man looks at a good horse.

  Ælfwyn would not flinch under this stare, but kept her gaze steadily upon his face as he looked first at her and then at me. When his eyes fell upon me thus, I lowered them for just a moment, and then raised the goblet to my lips. From over its gold rim I looked back at him, and he grinned, and picked up his own cup.

  “This Lady you have brought with you, she is brave,” he said, looking at Ælfwyn. “My sisters’ sons tell me of her. It is good you are not alone.” He looked over to me. “Toki wants you, but he wants all women, and all women want Toki. Sidroc is a better choice.”

  Ælfwyn wrapped her fingers around the stem of her beautiful goblet and spoke. “The Lady seeks not a husband.”

  Yrling laughed. “And Toki seeks not a wife!” he said.

  I felt my face burn, and Ælfwyn looked at me and back to Yrling. She spoke with care. “My Lord, this Lady is my friend, and came here of her own will. I desire her company, and do not wish to have her driven away. But I myself will send her away if she be not safe under my own husband’s roof.” These last words she said softly, and looking full into Yrling’s face.

  For reply he only smiled, and reached out and took the pearl in his hand. He held it, and looked at her, and I looked away.

  “She will be safe, as you yourself are safe, for no one would touch that which is of Yrling,” he said, and he let slip the pearl from his grasp so that it fell gently against Ælfwyn’s breast.

  Then he stood, and we stood with him, and followed him out of the hall and into the light of the yard. I looked with relief to see Burginde come around the corner from the kitchen yard, and she joined us on the stone step.

  Sidroc and Toki stood before the waggon, and many Danes, both warriors and workmen, were standing all about. Yrling came to the waggon, and jumped in one move unto the waggon board. He raised his arms and spoke to the men, and they cheered and raised their arms to him. Then he spoke more, and turned and pointed to Ælfwyn, and she took a step forward and inclined her head, but did not smile. He turned back and pulled open the tarpaulin flaps, and a great cheer came forth from the men.

  And this was the way the Dane accepted his tribute: he opened chest after chest within the waggon, and took out what was in it, and held it before the men so that they cheered and beat their hands against their thighs, and laughed the laugh of triumph. He held up dishes of silver; and bracelets of gold; and huge pots of bronze, gorgeously worked; and ewers which might hold rare oils or scents, I could not tell. He pulled out length after length of cloth of purple, and held it before the men so that they whistled and hooted; and then he lifted a small casket, and looked into it, and dipped his hand and showed what the hand held: pieces of gold, newly minted and very bright. At this the men whistled and cheered the more, and then Yrling turned to where we stood, and pointed again to Ælfwyn, and the men cheered. And I heard in his speech the names ‘Ælfsige’ and ‘Ælfwyn’, and that was all I could make out.

  Then he jumped down, and came to where Sidroc and Toki stood, fresh-faced from laughter and cheers. Sidroc called to two men, and together with them Sidroc and Toki began to carry the treasure into the hall. Yrling stood by us as they did this, and as the waggon emptied, the gathered men drifted off. We saw the looms in the back of the waggon, and Ælfwyn turned to Yrling and said, “I would have my looms so that we might work.”

  Yrling nodded, and called to one of the men, pointing out the looms. As they were carried past us, Ælfwyn saw a large plain chest in the waggon. “And that chest, too; for it holds my wool and thread,” she said.

  Yrling spoke to the men, and the chest followed the looms into the hall and up the stairs.

  When the waggon was emptied Yrling turned, and we trailed after into the hall. He strode across the floor to the wood partition at the far end, and the open door told us that this was where the treasure had been brought.

  This then, would be the chamber in which Ælfwyn would sleep. Men were setting chests on the floor as we walked in, but soon they were done, and only Sidroc remained with Yrling. The room was square, and had a single window set high on one wall so that only the sky showed. The new chests were crowded up against each other, and I saw that there was already a number of wood chests and barrels before these had come. The walls were bare; one peg held Yrling’s leathern baldric, and from it hung a carved wooden sheath stained black that carried a sword with a gold hilt.

  There was a torch holder on the wall, and a round bronze mirror, highly polished, hung near it; and that was all that was upon the walls. There was no furniture save one bench and a low rush bed, hardly better than a pallet.

  Yrling said, “Now we will wed.”

  Ælfwyn jerked her head. “I will not wed today,” she said flatly, but her eyes flared as if in fear.

  Sidroc shifted his position and looked at her. “You are come here to be wed,” he said quietly.

  She looked first at him, and then at me. She said, “I cannot wed without a holy man to bless me. I must have a priest.”

  Sidroc dropped his hands. “There are none of your priests here, nor for many miles. It cannot be done.”

  She raised her eyes and looked at Sidroc. “Then I cannot wed.”

  During all of this Yrling watched closely the face of Ælfwyn, and his own face showed his anger.

  I stepped forward, and spoke to Sidroc. “Sir,” I said, “there must be a monk or brother nearby. Please to find him so that my Lady’s wedding may be a happy one.” I felt I could barely speak these last words.

  Sidroc looked into my face and smiled his slow smile, and then looked again at Ælfwyn.

  Yrling spoke now, and spoke to Sidroc. “Look for such a man. If he can be found before tomorrow noon, let him be present.” Then he turned to Ælfwyn. “If not, she will wed without him.”

  Ælfwyn stood without moving, as if she counted the hours. I bowed my head and murmured, “Thank you, my Lord, thank you, Sir.” I touched Ælfwyn by the hand, and we turned and walked across the rippling stone floor to the steps leading up to our chamber.

  Chapter the Seventeenth: The Tribute Dinner

  WHEN we entered our room we found Burginde huffing and straining as she heaved her body against a large chest in the middle of the floor. “Simple heads!” she cried. “Why
could they not put it against the wall as they did the looms?”

  Together we pushed the chest out of the way. Ælfwyn sat down at the table, and Burginde brought us water so we might wash our hands; and brought ale too. The Sun came in strongly at the windows, and made the room bright; and with all the comforts from the waggon, it seemed at last a pleasant place.

  We sat in silence for some time. At last Burginde spoke from her stool by the brazier. “If you are not wed today, then you will be tomorrow; what gown and mantle will you wear?”

  Ælfwyn looked into her cup and shrugged her shoulders. “I do not care. The red, or yellow; it matters not.”

  Burginde clucked her tongue. “You cannot marry in yellow, ‘tis bad luck and brings a stillborn child.” Ælfwyn made no response, and Burginde went on, “Choose the red. Your mother did, and it brought her good luck, and at last good babies.”

  Again Ælfwyn was silent, but her lip trembled, and she lowered her eyes. Burginde was warming her hands over the brazier, and could not see that tears now flowed down her mistress’ face.

  I reached my hand across the table and touched her wrist. “Lady,” I said, “how can I help you?”

  She shook her head and kept her eyes steadfast on her cup, but her tears flowed faster than ever. Burginde turned on her stool and saw this, and looked at her with pity.

  “I - I am afraid,” whispered Ælfwyn, and she clenched her hands upon the table top, and her shoulders began to shake.

  Burginde got up and came to the table. “If it be the wedding night that frights you, do not worry; ‘twill be unpleasant, but ‘tis soon over; and if it hurts too much, begin to cry, and he will take you more gently.”

  At these words Ælfwyn covered her face with her hands and began to sob, and the tears squeezed out from between her clenched fingers in little streams. She laid her head down upon the table and buried it in her shaking arms as she wept.