The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 13

  We looked upon the men about us, and knew they were glad-hearted with ale and gaming. The torches flared upon the walls, and the firepit blazed forth its red warmth. And tho’ the men were strange, and their tongue stranger, one of us was now wed to their Lord, and the other two of us were thus bound also to these men and their ways. And I myself, warm with ale and hope, thought: All will go well here; the Lady will find peace, and I a new life with her and her husband’s people.

  Chapter the Twentieth: Valerian for Sweetness

  AT last Burginde rose from the table and said she must set to work to make up the marriage bed; and these words she said lightly to Ælfwyn that they might be borne lightly.

  Burginde called Susa and the two went straight for the door of the treasure room, opened it and went inside.

  The head of Yrling rose from his goblet, and he looked at the two as they went in, and turned his head back to where Ælfwyn and I sat. As he looked at her a slow smile spread across his face, and he wiped his mouth with his hand and called out to the men who were still gaming. Some of them grumbled, but they began to gather up the dice before them.

  The serving men were clearing the last of the cups, and the Danes themselves began to take the tables off their trestles and to bring in the pallets from the passageway. Burginde and Susa were still within the treasure room, and Ælfwyn looked towards the open door.

  “Shall I go in?” she whispered to me.

  I did not want us to go in and find Burginde scolding Susa, yet it seemed better for her to go sooner, when the men were busy with their work, than later, when all eyes might be upon her.

  “Yes,” I answered, considering these things, “let us go now, and together, to make sure the room be as it should.”

  So we walked across the hall to the treasure room, and tho’ my own eyes told me that the men scarcely regarded us, the warmth of my face made me feel as tho’ every man stopped and stared.

  I felt ashamed that my face was so red, and more so when I looked at Ælfwyn, for hers was white as snow. We gained the door, and stepped inside, and shut it behind us. Susa was setting and trimming the cressets, and Burginde just finishing making up the bed. The simple frame was now covered with feather mattresses, pillows, linen throws, and wool blankets. Over this Burginde was tossing a coverlet I had not yet seen, made entirely of wolf pelts, and backed with blue coloured linen. The thickness and lustre of the grey fur was such as might grace the bed of a queen. Burginde smiled as she patted it, and looked up into the surprised face of Ælfwyn

  “‘Tis from your father; these be the wolves he took at Martinmas, and your own dear mother wove and sewed this backing; ‘tis their wedding gift to you.”

  I thought Ælfwyn would cry at this reminder of her parent’s love; but Burginde saved her from it by saying cheerfully, “You see, tho’ they not be here, they have found a way to bless your wedding, and your bed.”

  Ælfwyn and Burginde embraced, and Burginde pointed out all the little comforts she had brought into the room, where the basin and ewer was, the Lady’s night mantle, shoes, scent bottles, and such.

  Then there was naught to do, and Susa had finished with the cressets and would take her leave. She came before Ælfwyn and made a deep curtsey, and Ælfwyn smiled down on her and said, “I am glad that you are here with us, Susa, for you are a good woman.”

  These words may have been the kindest Susa had heard in many months, and fitting for a Lady such as Ælfwyn to say on her wedding night to one who would serve her ever more, but Susa only burst out in tears so that Burginde hustled her out of the room.

  “Susa be a flighty wench,” said Burginde, coming back in and closing the door, “and weddings make such very odd.”

  But Ælfwyn was already thinking of other things, and turned to Burginde with a troubled look. “Shall I undress and be ready in the bed? Or should I wait here in my gown upon the bench?” she wanted to know.

  Burginde laughed. “That be up to you. If you be ready in the bed, you will not have to undress before him this first night, and that might be a mercy; but then again, it might deprive him of the pleasure of watching you, and ‘tis always a good thing to give your husband pleasure.”

  “I want it to be dark,” said Ælfwyn, after thinking about this.

  “Better to have a bit of light,” said Burginde, “‘twill be awkward enough without groping.”

  Burginde looked at Ælfwyn’s face and laughed again. “Now, lamb, not to fright yourself. ‘Tis the most natural thing in the world for a man and woman to do, and believe me, if your Lord has any sense about him, and I think he does, you will grow to welcome it, and look forward to the nights in his arms.” She clasped her mistress to her for a moment. “And besides, you be a great healthy girl, and will soon bear a babe, and nothing will give you more joy than the first look into the little one’s face.”

  Ælfwyn nodded her head, and began to take off her necklace. “I think I will be - in bed,” she said softly.

  Burginde went out to fetch some water hot from the kitchen yard, and came back with a bucket in one hand a sprig of dried herb in the other. She tucked the herb beneath the mattress of the bed. “Valerian,” she said, “for sweetness between man and wife.”

  Ælfwyn bathed, and scented her skin with rose oil, so precious and rich in its scent that the room smelt like a day in June. I braided her hair, and made as lovely a plait as I could, and we told her over and over how beautiful she was.

  Burginde pulled back the coverlets, and the one of wolf pelts fell in soft folds upon itself, and Ælfwyn got in upon the linen throw, and pulled it to her neck. We set the cressets as she liked them, and then it was time for us to leave her.

  Burginde smiled down at her and said, “‘Tis no loss we have no flowers in Wintertime to adorn your bed; the room is as filled with roses.” She bent over and kissed her. “Be well, and be at ease.”

  I too bent over and kissed her. “I bid you Good-night, and will see you in the morning. You are very beautiful, and very good,” I said, but it was not half the love I felt for her.

  She clasped my hand and smiled, and said, “Good-night,” and I opened the door and Burginde and I went out into the hall, and Burginde pulled the door closed behind her.

  The hall was much darker now, for most of the torches were out, and the fire burned low. Some of the men were already snoring on their pallets. Yrling stood with Toki by the firepit, and Burginde went to them. She bobbed her head in her quick way to Yrling, and said, “My Lady be awaiting you, Lord,” and the same smile I had seen before crept across Yrling’s face; but Burginde would not stay to look at it, for she said, “And I bid you Good-night,” and turned on her heel.

  We turned and walked towards the stair, but Toki winked at me, and his face wore the grin it had the first night we had seen him, when he forced Ælfwyn and I to push back our mantles from our faces.

  So did we go alone into the upper chamber, and the bed of Ælfwyn looked empty and bare as we walked in, and Burginde spread a coverlet over it so that its bareness was not so great.

  We undressed and washed, and Burginde yawned again and again, for it was then late, and we had all drunk much ale; but tho’ I got into my bed I did not feel sleepy. We bid each other Good-night, and Burginde was soon snoring her gentle snore. The sounds of the hall below died away, and all grew quiet, and as I lay in the dark I wondered if Yrling had yet gone into the treasure room.

  Chapter the Twenty-first: The Lady of Four Stones

  IN the morning I was not fully awake when I heard a step on the stair outside. The room was still dim, but some streak of dawn came in from the shuttered windows. I sat up and the door opened, and there was Ælfwyn, dressed in her yellow gown, and with her hair loose about her shoulders and arms.

  I ran from my bed to greet her. “Ælfwyn,” I said, clasping her to me, “are you well? It is so early.”

  Burginde stirred in her bed and sat up, and saw us together, and Ælfwyn said, “Yrli
ng has gone out with some of his men; he will be back soon and we will eat.”

  She seemed breathless, but she was not pale, and I could not tell how she fared. I said again, “Are you well?”

  She smiled and then colour came to her cheeks. “Yes, I am well,” she said, and I too felt colour come to my cheeks.

  Burginde was up and bustling about dressing herself. She came over and looked closely at Ælfwyn’s face. Then she pulled back and said, “You look well, Lady,” in a tone with mock graveness that made Ælfwyn smile.

  Ælfwyn wore a ring of gold set with blue stones upon her left hand. Never had I seen stones such as these, for they were clear like the best crystals, but a rich blue colour.

  “Ah! How beautiful it is!” I exclaimed, and Ælfwyn also beheld the ring with pleasure.

  “He has given it to me just now,” said Ælfwyn softly.

  Burginde laughed, and said, “Ach! Did I not say he esteemed you!” Ælfwyn smiled, but I saw for the first time that she looked tired, and Burginde must have seen it too. “‘Tis good you are come so early,” she said, “I want to make you a steeping bath of Lady’s mantle; ‘twill soothe you.” And she went about gathering the bucket and left the room.

  Ælfwyn crossed to the table and sat down on her chair. I dressed myself, but could not take my eyes from her. I sat down next to her, but could not speak; and she looked at me, and I blushed and looked down.

  “Well,” she said at last, “it is done.”

  I looked up at her. “Did it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you weep?”

  “No, I did not weep. He was not - unkind.”

  I said nothing, for being ignorant of this Mystery, what could I say? I knew not even the right questions to ask.

  “It was not what I expected,” she said after a few moments.

  “How so?” I asked quickly, for my mind was racing with all the things I had ever seen or heard about this Mystery, and I thought of all the animals I had seen mate in Fall, and the young they brought forth in Spring; and I thought also of what my mother had told me. But none of this seemed to have much bearing on Ælfwyn as she passed from being maid to wife.

  “I do not know exactly,” she said, “it was not what I thought, but now it is done I no longer know what I thought it might be.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Do you understand?”

  “I think I do,” I said, but I did not. “Perhaps you will have a babe in the Fall,” I suggested.

  “Yes,” she said, looking down at the table, “perhaps I will.”

  Burginde came back with the water, and set up the copper bathing tub, and took from the Simples chest a handful of shrivelled leaves, which she ground to a powder between her palms and shook into the tub. “The water is hot, and when you sit in it, ‘twill reawaken the wound a bit, but the Lady’s mantle will heal you up wonderfully, and tonight will go much easier.”

  Ælfwyn undressed and sat in the bath, and winced when she did, but Burginde teased her and made her smile. I felt glad for Ælfwyn and her new estate, and felt outside of it all.

  I did her hair in braids wrapped about her head like a crown. She put on her yellow gown and also the great pearl, and her new gold ring set with blue stones glittered upon her hand.

  We went downstairs into the hall, and she walked with measured step and without blushing to her husband’s side at the table. And he stopped his talking to Toki, and looked upon her with pride, and I watched him and thought, He is not changed at all, but she is changed very much. But I recollected that he had had at least one wife before, and as Burginde said, many women, so one night would matter not to him; but to a maid one night was everything.

  I sat next to Sidroc, and when we had begun to eat he said, “You make Toki jealous. He thinks you should sit one meal with me and one with him.”

  I looked at him as he said this. He smiled, but it was a quiet smile.

  “Yesterday when I said you did not fear Toki’s anger you laughed. Was I wrong in saying this?” I asked him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I do not fear Toki, tho’ many men do,” he said.

  “No, you do not fear him, for you are a better man than he,” I said, and tho’ my words were bold, I tried to make them light.

  I thought he might laugh, but he did not. “You think I am a better man than Toki?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “I do, for you try to shame us less with your words and looks, and so you act more honourably to both my Lady and to Yrling.” He looked at me with much interest, and I went on. “And it is clear that Yrling listens well to your words.”

  He smiled, and I went on again. “And I think you are also a better warrior than Toki, for the scar you bear must be from a great battle.”

  Now his face fell, and he looked down at the table and then at me with piercing eyes. “The scar I bear is from Toki, and he gave it to me when we were but boys.”

  I felt such a fool that I wished I could slip from the table. But I could not, so only said, “Perhaps he was jealous of you even then.”

  He snorted and said, “I think not,” and then was silent.

  I took a sip of ale and put down my goblet.

  He said, “It is good that you think I am the better warrior, for I am.”

  I looked at him, glad that the moment was over.

  He lowered his voice. “You are a true shield-maiden; you do not turn from a scar on a man’s face.”

  I looked at him and did not lower my eyes. “My father was an ealdorman, and his brother ealdorman after him. He taught me that a scar is the badge of honour of the warrior, and this I believe.”

  He regarded me for a long moment. “I think I am glad we did not face your father and his brother in battle,” he said, “for they were of better stuff than what we have found here.”

  In saying this, he gave my dead kinsmen much praise. I felt that praise came rarely from the Danes, and took a strange pleasure in hearing him say this.

  I did not speak, but he lifted his cup to me, and I again took up mine.

  After we had eaten Ælfwyn rose, and she and I went upstairs to our chamber. Burginde soon joined us, and when she came in found that Ælfwyn and I were already at work warping one of the looms.

  “Ach!” she said, “‘tis Distaff Day again, and Twelfthnight fun is over!” And we laughed at this jest, but it was a good one, for the wedding was over, and today our work would begin, just as Distaff Day signals the taking up of spinning and weaving after the holiday of Twelfthnight is past.

  “Burginde, bring the warp weights; they must be in the new chest,” said Ælfwyn as she held the tension tight on the first few threads.

  Burginde went to the chest and opened it, and took out the basket of spindles and shuttles on top. She rummaged around, and then we heard her sharp whistle of surprise.

  “What is it?” asked Ælfwyn. “Are they broken from the movement of the waggon?”

  “No, Lady,” she answered, and held out a handful of the clay rings. “They be fine. ‘Tis something else I found.”

  Ælfwyn let go the warp threads, and we both went to where Burginde stood before the chest. Inside was a much smaller chest which she had just uncovered. The lid was open, and it was full of silver coins.

  Ælfwyn touched the silver, and plunged her hand deep within the small chest. It was layers upon layers of small coins, all silver, some newly minted and rough, others worn and smooth, but all silver.

  Ælfwyn pulled out a few of the pieces, and held them in her hand. “My mother told me to regard well my weaving... do you think she placed this here on purpose that it should be mine?”

  I thought of the silver coin my own mother had pressed into my hand and said, “Yes, I do, Ælfwyn. She set it here without your knowledge, so you would find it later and it would be yours and not part of the tribute.”

  But Burginde’s face was creased with worry. “Ach! Suppose the Dane find out, and find it
he must! ‘Twill look as tho’ you stole from your own husband!”

  “I do not think so,” I said, “he missed nothing from the tribute, and I do not think this was part of it, but a gift in secret from your mother. To show it to your Lord will be perhaps to lose it.”

  Ælfwyn was deep in thought, and spoke not.

  Burginde still scowled, and I turned to her. “What good will it do the Dane?” I asked. “She has brought him fifty times more than this already.”

  “Well, I would not see him get richer still,” she grumbled. “But what if he find out?”

  I looked back at Ælfwyn. “He will not find out, and if he does, then you must make it right with him. It will be like” - I searched for something fitting - “like the wolf skin spread, which he did not see until last night. He was not displeased that he had not seen it in the tribute waggon, was he? He was glad over it, was he not?”

  Here Ælfwyn nodded her head, but Burginde was not convinced. “There be a big difference from a spread and silver,” she said.

  I looked again at Ælfwyn. “Then if he finds out, tell him it is our custom that newly-wed women receive much silver from their mothers. He does not know our ways.”

  Burginde began to laugh. “Ach!” she said, “and either do you!”

  But Ælfwyn’s mind was made up, and she need hear no more. “I shall keep this treasure, as I have given away so much,” she said, and I rejoiced to hear it. She spoke slowly, but with great steadiness. “First, Burginde, I will give you seven pieces, for you have served me since I was born and came willingly into this new life with me.”

  And she counted out seven newly minted pieces into Burginde’s hand. Burginde trembled and nearly dropped the pieces she held. Her mouth opened, but for once, nothing came out.

  “Be silent, nurse; there is good cause to give you this, both for the past and for the future. For think of this: what if I should die of fever or in childbed? You would be left here alone, so far from Wessex. Seven pieces will buy your freedom from the household, if anyone contest your going; and give you enough to travel back to Cirenceaster.”