The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 11

  Burginde knelt down at her mistress’ hem, and touched her shoulder, and said, “And if ye be not a maiden, do not fear; he will most likely be drunk, and men can never tell.”

  Ælfwyn lifted her face from her arms and said, “Of course I be a maid! I would I were not!” And her voice was choked with anger and with tears.

  “Come, come,” chided Burginde, but in her gentlest voice. “‘Twill be as nothing, and we must all face it. And tho’ the first time be bad, the others be much better.” She sat back on her heels and went on. “I cared for a boy once, and met him in every hay rick as I could, for I grew to like it very much. But when I was got with his child, he would not wed me, for the smith’s daughter had her eye on him too, and he wed her. So ‘twas no loss to me, for he was false, and I could have married the baker’s boy even then. But I did not wed at all, for up in the big house your good mother was carrying you, and she had had two babes before you, which had died, and with them she had a poor time getting milk enough, and so she took me in; and my little babe died when not two days old, so you had both your mother and me to suckle you.”

  Ælfwyn’s sobs had quieted, and now she turned to where her nurse sat crouched. Tho’ her face wore the stain of tears, she blinked her eyes in surprise at this story.

  Burginde laughed and touched Ælfwyn’s cheek. “And how else did you think I came to you with my paps full of milk, when you were first a babe?”

  Ælfwyn blushed, and lowered her head.

  “So you see,” finished Burginde, “it all comes right in the end, or mostly so, if you give it half the chance.”

  Ælfwyn was silent, but Burginde saw that she had her mistress’ ear and added, “And believe me, when you have a babe in your arms you will like your husband more, or at least not mind him so, for the babe will mean more to you than any one thing, so that all else fades.”

  We stayed in all that afternoon, tho’ it continued fair, for Ælfwyn would not go down into the yard to be gawked at. No one came to tell us that a holy man had been found, and the day began to fade. Susa came back, and we three looked at her hard, and Ælfwyn caught her breath; but she had only come to say that Yrling wanted us at table that night.

  After Susa left Ælfwyn said, “I will not go; tell him I am unwell.”

  Burginde was quick with her answer. “Ach! Go you will, and eat and drink, for would you show such weakness to the Dane?”

  I too thought it best that she go down, and said, “Lady, she is right, and since you have come here you have shown nothing but pride and courage to these men. And in having started so well, it is best to see much of him, and so grow used to him, is it not?”

  She looked at me and said, “I will go, since you make my pride the point of it.” And she smiled, the first I had seen all day.

  I laughed and said, “What was it that Osred said? ‘The goose rules the gander, and she be twice as quick’? Today you have already squawked loud and well!”

  When it had grown dark we heard the men come into the hall, and we went down together. There were many tables set up in the hall, at least eight long ones, at which sat ten or more men each; and the longest table was the one by the wall at which sat Yrling with Sidroc and Toki on either side. A great fire blazed up in the firepit, and all the torches upon the walls were lit. The food had not come yet, but the men were noisy with their ale, and leaned back from the benches to shout to those at other tables. One cuffed a serving man so that he dropped the ewer he was carrying, and the ale ran across the floor, wetting the straw and making the rippling pattern in the stone glisten.

  We walked around this, and the men paid us no mind, and only when we reached the table of Yrling did anyone look up or greet us, for Sidroc once again rose. He smiled, and Toki glanced up from his cup and grinned, but did not rise. Then Yrling stood, and the other Danes, five or six, who sat also at this table rose; and so Toki also rose up to greet us. I was made glad by this, that the bold Toki was forced in this way to show us respect.

  When we had come to the table, Burginde went out through the door, for there were no women in the hall of her rank, and it was clear she would not wish to stay with the serving men at the firepit. So she left us with a bow, and went on.

  Again Ælfwyn sat by Yrling’s side, and again was placed before her the beautiful gold goblet set with rock crystal and jet. It was filled with ale by a serving man, and she took it up at once, and drunk deep, and looked into the bottom of her cup. So I knew from this she would dull her pain by these means, and that the Dane saw this.

  The hall was noisy with men, and I thought it the more so since the tribute had been shown that day. When the food came it quieted, and tho’ I tried not to look at him Sidroc spoke to me as we ate.

  He saw me looking at Ælfwyn, and he began, “Your Lady is beautiful; it is more than my uncle expected.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I thought to be silent, but saw I might learn something of value. I looked at him, and he smiled, and the scar on his cheek went crooked as it always did when he smiled. “Then your uncle will be good to her,” I said.

  He smiled more. “She will have all she wants, if she be good in return,” he answered, looking towards her.

  “She is very good,” I answered heartily. “I can tell you that.”

  But he only turned back to me and laughed as if I had said something of great humour. “Ha!” he said, and slapped the table with his hand. “I think she will be!”

  Now my face grew hot for I thought I had misspoke. I felt anger at myself, but anger too at these sly men who seemed always to want to shame us.

  I thought of the morning and of how Yrling had questioned the pearl that Ælfwyn wore. I looked up at Sidroc, and then lowered my eyes. “You gave Toki the pearl, did you not?” I asked.

  His voice grew quiet. “Yes, I did. Yrling would never think of such a thing.”

  “Then it was given falsely,” I said, and I raised my eyes to his for a moment.

  “No, it was not, for she would have had it sooner or later by Yrling’s hand. And it did much good, to come on the road as a welcome gift.”

  This angered me, and I turned to him. “A gift given falsely never does good.”

  “Ha!” he said, and tho’ I looked down, he brought his face close to mine. “Did you not all remark over it when you saw it? Did you not squeal with delight? Did you not talk of the richness of it, or the generosity of Yrling?”

  I said nothing, but he went on, and the scorn had left his voice. “Things cannot always be as we would have them, shield-maiden. Your Lady knows this, I know this, and even Yrling will one day know this.”

  I did not know what to say to such words; and I wondered why he spoke so of Yrling.

  Then Toki called over to him, and the two began to speak in a jesting way in their own tongue, and Yrling spoke with them also. Ælfwyn and I looked at each other but did not speak, for the three Danes knew our tongue, so there was nothing we wished to say. Ælfwyn raised her goblet again, and I saw that she had eaten almost nothing. Yrling stopped his jesting and looked at Ælfwyn by his side. Then did he reach out his hand for the pearl as it lay upon her breast and take it up in his grasp and hold it. He smiled upon Ælfwyn so that her face flamed. I looked away and as I did, the shudder that ran through Ælfwyn ran through me as well.

  When the platters of food were cleared away Ælfwyn asked Yrling that we might return to our chamber, for, she said, she was weary and would rest. He nodded his head without looking at her. The talk between he and Sidroc and Toki which had occupied them for many minutes continued as we rose and picked our way through the hall. This talk was not the jesting speech which the Danes so often used, but dark and grave in tone; and Sidroc talked much and Yrling listened, and Toki scoffed and said things in heat as he often did. The other men at the table listened and also spoke, but the drinking and jesting went on just the same throughout the hall.

  We went up the steps and closed our door on the noise below.
I fed the brazier with more coals, and we got into our beds, but we left a cresset burning. I lay in the dark watching it cast its dancing light upon the walls. Ælfwyn was quiet, and she had eaten little but drunk much ale, and I thought her to be weary and wanting sleep. I thought of all we had seen and heard that day; and I thought too how tomorrow Ælfwyn would not ascend to the chamber with me, but go at day’s end with Yrling to the room behind the wooden partition, and there amidst all the treasure she had brought pass from being maiden to wife.

  Then I slept, but did not know how much time passed. I awoke in the dark to hear Ælfwyn groan, and hear her panting and tossing. Burginde arose and went to her as I lit the cresset from the brazier coals. Ælfwyn moaned and lay with her head off the bed, calling that she would be sick, and I reached for a wash basin and gave it to Burginde as Ælfwyn began to retch. Burginde placed the basin on the floor beneath Ælfwyn’s head, and Ælfwyn cried out and retched, and her nurse soothed her and stroked her hair.

  “Ach! You poor lamb, ‘tis all gone right to your stomach, the jitters and all. Let it all come out; you will soon be put to rights.” Burginde turned to me and said, “She has always had a tender stomach, and likely to upset; ‘tis nothing.” She turned back to her mistress, cooing and soothing.

  I thought to bring water, that Ælfwyn might rinse her mouth and wipe her face. I went to the bucket but there was scarce any left. I poured it into a cup and said to Burginde, “Here is a bit of water; I will go and bring more.”

  Burginde turned her head and said, “There be a drawing well in the passage between the hall and the kitchen yard; the same as you see me go through when you sit at table with the Danes.”

  I nodded my head, and pulled on the russet gown I had worn. I slipped on my felt night shoes, glad that they were quiet, for I did not look forward to going below to the hall where slept the Danes. I opened the door, and crept out of the room as quietly as I could.

  No noise came from below. I could not tell what time it was, only that all was still. I groped my way down the steep stair. I began to turn into the hall and was jolted by the sight of two men stretched upon the very steps of the iron-wrapped door of the hall. They were sound asleep, and lying as they were, no one could enter the hall through the door unbidden and in surprise.

  I collected my wits and entered the body of the hall. The blaze in the firepit had burnt down to coals which still flared brilliant red. Shadows were cast across the floor and upon the lower portions of the walls. Some of the Danes were lying near the fire, asleep on straw pallets. Other men lay along the sides of the walls, and some slept on benches. By their sides lay their swords in their sheaths. The sounds of their snores filled my ears, and covered, I hoped, the sound of my own breathing. Some of the men tossed and snorted in their sleep. I looked upon them. What if one should awaken and think me an intruder? What if one grabbed me?

  I shook these thoughts out of my mind. I recalled the timber hall of Cedd, my father’s brother, and how his men had slept with him in just this way. I took a breath and went on, stepping as carefully as I knew how.

  Now I was close to the door of the passageway I sought, and close also to the table at which Yrling and Sidroc and Toki always sat. Along the wall I saw a pallet upon which Toki slept, for his yellow hair was bright even in the dimness of the hall. Next to him was a pallet upon which a man slept, perhaps Sidroc to guess from the length of his form; his face was turned away. I did not see Yrling, but only an empty pallet, and I grew fearful that he himself might return to the hall from the latrine or some such place and find me. I went with haste towards the passageway. As I was about to step into it, a creaking noise from the other side of the hall made me turn my head. The door to the treasure room of Yrling was opening, and out of it came the serving woman Susa. Her hair was mussed and she was dressed only in a shift. She left the door open behind her, and as she did so I ducked into the passageway.

  I peeped out and saw her come directly towards me, and then saw Yrling, clad in a linen tunic, come out of the room behind her. He too came towards me where I hid, but stopped at the empty pallet and yawned as he lay himself down.

  Then I pulled back, for Susa was nearly upon me. When she turned into the passage I pressed myself up against the wall and held my finger over my lips. She walked in and saw me and was startled, so that she gave a little gasp, but she did not cry out. She looked at me with her round eyes starting from her face, and then turned over her shoulder to see if her gasp had alerted anyone. No sound came. She turned back to me but would not raise her face, and only clutched her hands over her bare arms. She was very frightened, and I felt pity for her fear; and tho’ I felt also anger and contempt, it was not for her, but for the Dane.

  I touched her arm and gave her a little push. She fled through the passageway towards the kitchen yard. I stood still and listened. After many minutes had passed I looked out and saw that Yrling slept. I filled my bucket and passed back out of the hall of the sleeping Danes.

  When I entered our room Burginde called out, “Good stars above! Where have you been?”

  Ælfwyn was sitting up, and looked weak and pale, but her retching had stopped.

  I brought the bucket to Burginde and said, “I am sorry; I went slowly so no one would wake.” And as I said this I yearned to tell them of what I had seen, but knew I would not, for it would do no good, and perhaps much harm, to so betray Susa.

  Ælfwyn bathed her face and hands, and said she felt better and now sleepy, but asked that we might leave the cresset burning. We did so, and we all lay down again, and sleep came once more.

  Chapter the Eighteenth: Shuttle and Sword

  IN the morning another serving woman brought us broth, and not Susa; and Burginde remarked on this but I said nothing. Burginde brought forth for Ælfwyn the red gown she had spoken of. It was beautiful to see, for it was of silk, and had a fineness of weave and brightness of colour that made it shimmer before the eye. With this she wore her blue mantle trimmed with marten fur, and a thin yellow silk head-dress like the wing of a honeybee.

  I combed her hair so it once again flowed down her back, and left it loose as a bride’s should be. For her brooch she chose the plainest of her golden pins, but the choice was right, for the simple circle of gold sat upon the red cloth as if the silk itself was a great ruby. And she wore no rings upon her fingers, nor any bracelets upon her wrists, and somehow looked the richer for it.

  I braided up my hair for today I did not want it loose; its colour was too bright. I put on my good green gown and grey mantle. As I fastened a pewter brooch at my neck, Ælfwyn went to her jewel casket and drew out a silver disk set with green stones, and pressed it into my hand, saying, “Take and wear this brooch as my gift to you, for the emerald stones suits your eyes, and I would have you wear it for love of me.”

  I kissed her and we embraced, and I wore the silver brooch henceforth.

  We did not wait to be called into the hall, but went down soon as we were dressed. I again walked before Ælfwyn, but when we came into the hall, no tables were set up. No one was there save Toki and a few other Danes, and the serving men who were at work building up the fire.

  I turned to Ælfwyn to see what she wished to do. Toki stood by a far wall, talking to the Danes, and took no notice of us.

  “I would not go back up,” she said. “Let us go outside and have some air.”

  We walked out through the open door of the hall. The bright day foretold Winter’s end. I felt glad for it, and glad this wedding day was not a wet and dark one.

  As we stood there Sidroc and Yrling appeared from around the corner which led towards the gate. They were walking fast. Yrling was speaking as if in anger, and Sidroc had his hand on Yrling’s arm, as if trying to calm him. Both men spoke loudly, and Yrling stopped and turned to Sidroc and they spoke more quietly, and Sidroc spoke at length. Yrling seemed to consider, and then spoke slowly to Sidroc. Both men looked satisfied, and continued on towards us.

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nbsp; They were still talking when they came up to the door. Sidroc looked at us as if he had just seen us, and stopped.

  “I have found a holy man. He will be here at noon,” he said to Ælfwyn, and then he and Yrling brushed by us, still talking, as if we were not there. They disappeared down the steps and into the hall, and Ælfwyn closed her eyes and lifted her chin as if she had been slapped.

  She stood for a moment, and then turned and went down the steps through the door, and up the wooden stair to our chamber. We were just behind her, but when we reached the landing outside our door I stopped, for Burginde had touched my hand. She peered in the room, and came out again, and together she and I walked down the stair.

  “She needs to be alone a bit; ‘tis a hard time for any bride, but most so for her, being unwilling,” she said. “And of course the Dane be all agog over her one moment, and pays her no mind the next.”

  We stood at the bottom of the stair, and went to the doorway where we might stand in the Sun.

  “Burginde,” I said, for I felt someone must know, “last night when I went to fetch the water I saw the serving girl Susa with Yrling, and they came from the treasure room, and she wore naught but her shift.”

  Burginde clucked her tongue, but did not seem surprised. “Ach! Poor hussy; she has but little choice,” she said, “and it will probably end tonight. I will not say a word, but I am glad you told me.”

  We walked back into the hall. “It must be close to the time,” she said, and we went up the stairs.

  The door to our chamber was still open, and Ælfwyn sat within at the table. The full skirt of her red gown fell about her feet like a crimson pool.

  “Would you like me to see if the holy man is here?” I asked. “Perhaps you would like to speak to him alone?”

  She answered without raising her eyes. “I do not care about the holy man. I only asked for him to delay what cannot be delayed.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said, as gently as I could. “But perhaps he can give you some comfort or counsel.”