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

  The dawn came on full, and with it the snow. But it fell straight down, in gentle flakes, and was no trouble. ‘Til almost midday we went on at a good clip, and not until the Sun stood still and the snow had nearly stopped did we stop as well. I took two loaves out of my bag, and because I could not give her time to forage, I gave one to Shagg, and also two turnips. I ate the loaf with a piece of goat’s cheese, and for drink I scooped up a handful of snow, and ate it too, but it made me so cold inside I was sorry for it.

  Now the flakes grew small. A wind picked up, and commenced to blow first at our backs, then in our faces. It stung, and I touched my cheek and my glove came away wet. Sleet! It came wetter now, and the snow in Shagg’s mane frosted over with ice crystals, and I shook my mantle and hood of snow, but it was wet through.

  I could see the Sun travelling away to her early bed. Dumbly, I stopped Shagg in the road. Where was shelter? There were but few haw trees near, all small, and the Winter-ragged oaks could not protect us. I slid off Shagg’s back and led her to the haws. My feet were so numb I tripped upon the broken stones of the road. I moved in as well as I could under the slender trees, growing colder and more numb. I slapped my arms and cheeks, but I was chilled through, and it was no use. I cursed Fate that had given me snow and sleet on the second day of my journey, when the weather the fortnight past had been mild and dry. Then I prayed, and cried a bit too. I knew I could not stay there, but must find some shelter where I could build a fire and dry my clothes, lest I sicken with cold and wet.

  I grasped Shagg’s mane and she snorted and tossed her head, and I would have pulled myself up in her saddle, but I did not, for a great weariness seemed to settle over me, and I felt dizzy. I leaned against her wet neck and steadied myself. The dizziness did not pass tho’, and as I stood clutching her wet mane and breathing in her steamy odour I seemed to hear at a great distance the clinking of bridle bits and the jostling of animals being driven side by side.

  I wanted to go back into the wood, but somehow my feet were rooted to the ground, and I could not move them, for I felt if I tried I should surely fall. So I stood there as if elf-shot, mute, cold, and wet; waiting for who or what I could not know. The sounds grew nearer, and I saw a horseman, heavily cloaked and carrying a spear, and where the cloak opened I could see he wore over his leathern tunic another hammered over with rings. He rode alone before two large waggons, covered over with tarpaulins stretched on tall arches, pulled by double yokes of oxen. The horseman stopped before me, and called out, and the waggons stopped. He spoke something to me, in a tongue like that of the Mercians, but I do not remember what, for I felt strangely light and giddy. Then a woman’s face, broad and plain, thrust out from the tarpaulin covering the first waggon and cried out sharp “Why have we stopped?”, and I opened my mouth to speak to her, and then knew nothing.

  The next was all confused, for I felt warmth about me, and my wet mantle was taken away, and I heard women’s voices. A warm hand lay upon my frosted face, and I opened my eyes. From the dim light of a brass cresset I beheld the face of the woman with the sharp voice, and I knew myself to be within the waggon.

  “Be a good maid,” she said, peering down at me, and her voice was thick with the accent of the Saxons of Wessex. Then she turned and thrust her face through the opening and bellowed, “Away! For the Lady is well,” and the waggon jolted and lurched on its way.

  Now I became aware of another woman, for she came forward with a cloth and a bronze cup. “Drink this first, before you speak,” said the second woman, and over the rim of the cup I saw her to be young and rich and of great beauty. It was spiced ale, steaming warm, and I drank it all.

  Then I lowered the cup and said, “Ladies, I thank you for your kindness,” and the sharp voiced woman handed me the cloth and said in answer, “Now wipe your hair, for you be as wet as a new chick.”

  I rubbed my head, and felt the blood coming back, and with it my senses. I raised myself from the cushioned bench, and looked about me in the dimness of the crowded waggon. A bird cage made of willow wands was tied over our heads, and in it a silent linnet hopped from one perch to another. Near it hung pots and ewers of bronze and iron; also straw baskets, heavy with their contents, which swung into the pots and made a dull gong-like sound when the waggon rolled hard to right or left. On a piece of slate glowed a charcoal brazier, filling the tiny space with delicious warmth.

  The two women let me look, and did not interrupt, but sat watching me from the bench upon which they sat. The sharp-voiced one was dressed in a smock of light brown wool, plain but of good make, tied at her shapeless waist with a wool sash. On her head was a wrap of undyed linen, from which a few strands of greying dark hair escaped. Her face was plump, but her features were as sharp as her voice, and her eyes were black and merry.

  The other was perhaps no older than me, but with a bearing and carriage of a great Lady. She looked tall, and her face was rather thin, with a long, straight nose. Her eyes were a dark blue, like a fair Summer’s sky at dusk, and her hair a pale flaxen gold, which gleamed even in the dim waggon light. A thin head-dress of cream coloured silk covered it, and hung down over the back of her finely spun gown of blue wool. At her throat was a brooch of beautifully worked silver, set with garnets.

  The young woman spoke. “I am Ælfwyn, daughter of Ælfsige. Burginde, my nurse” - and here she looked at the sharp-voiced woman-“had you brought in our waggon, for you had swooned on the road. Tell me who you are, and why you travel alone this way.”

  Her voice was cool and calm, and that of a Lady used to being obeyed. I pushed back my hair and remembered my comb, and my precious leathern satchel, and all it carried, and then the mare. “O!” I cried instead. “Where is Shagg?”

  And the nurse answered, laughing, “If by that you mean your raggedy pony, fear not, for she be tied behind the waggon, her nose in a bag, eating our oats.” And there was a kindness in her laugh that made me smile. Likewise I saw safe at her feet my satchel, wet through, but sound.

  “I thank you,” I said, and then set to answer the Lady Ælfwyn’s questions. “I am Ceridwen, daughter of Cerd. I am travelling to the Cæsar’s Road, and thence East, to the burhs of the King’s athelings, there to seek a station, for my father is dead.”

  The nurse Burginde clapped her hands and laughed, “A station! We too go to find new stations!”

  “Keep back your tongue,” Ælfwyn silenced her, and then turned again to me. “Lady, or rather child, for you look not more than thirteen, tell me from whence you came, and how you reached this pass, for you are clearly of good birth, and yet to find you in this wasteland, alone, bewilders me.”

  I answered quick, “This is no wasteland, Lady, but my home shire, for I was raised first by my father’s brother, and then by the Black Monks at the Priory by the river Dee.” Then I looked hard into her face and spoke again. “And I am not thirteen, but fully fifteen, and come into my portion, and my dead father was an ealdorman.”

  At this they were silent, and the Lady Ælfwyn said at last, “You speak as bold as a boy.” And I blushed, but she said, “I did not say that to shame, but to praise.”

  I nodded my head, and felt easier. She smiled, and said, “You are a gentlewoman, and you seek a station?”

  I answered, “Yes, Lady, for I was raised by churchmen, but am not called to take the veil as they had wished.” She nodded, and I added, “Neither would I wed their choices for me.”

  Now Ælfwyn closed her eyes, but opened them again and with a wave of her hand bid me to go on.

  “At some atheling’s keep,” I continued, “I hope to serve his Lady, for I am skilled with needle, and also read and write.” Ælfwyn raised her eyebrows, but I went on. “And I can teach the Lady’s children, and -”.

  She stopped me with her hand, and said, “Enough. I understand.”

  Then we three sat in silence a moment, jostling over the road so that we swayed hard upon the low benches, but little did I care, for it was w
arm and dry in the waggon. The one called Burginde leaned over and looked into my empty cup, and rose and went to the back of the waggon. There she opened a wood chest painted black and green, and came back with the ewer in one hand and a few dry leaves in the other. She filled my cup with ale, and ground the leaves between her fingers and dusted them in after. “‘Tis sage,” she said to me, “and warming. Drink it, for you are still chilled through.” And drink it I did.

  We went on more smoothly for a bit, and Ælfwyn spoke again, in a quiet voice. “I have less choice than you, for I am the bride of Four Stones.”

  I gazed upon her, and she met my gaze, and it was I who looked first away, for her eyes burned. I knew naught of what she spoke, and could not tell if by my speech I had brought this sorrow in her. So I was silent, and the nurse Burginde as well, which I was to learn was a rarity.

  “My home is far South in the Kingdom of Wessex,” said Ælfwyn, “and my father is the reeve of Cirenceaster. He and my grandsire have made a Peace with the Danes, that they might stop their slaughter at our borders. I go as part of the Peace to Yrling the Dane, one of the jarls who now rules over conquered Lindisse. The keep of Four Stones is now his, and I, its bride.”

  And she drew breath, and said, “Burginde, bring us ale.”

  Burginde turned and took from a basket another goblet of bronze, and brought down the ewer of ale, foamy from the swing of the waggon, and poured the brown liquid into the Lady’s cup, and then into the one I had drunk from.

  Then Ælfwyn held aloft her cup and said, “Drink with me, Lady, and toast my marriage.” But in her voice was great bitterness, and no joy. She tipped the cup and drank, and I drank also.

  It grew dark, and Burginde pulled open the tarpaulin flap to speak to the drover. “We are half jolted to death, and it is night. Let us stop now.”

  The drover called something back which I could not hear, and another voice, the horseman’s, also answered. “We have made poor time and must go on ‘til Moonrise.”

  But before Burginde slapped down the flaps in reply, she sauced back, “Ach! We are not so much in a hurry as that!”

  She turned back into the waggon, making angry clucking sounds. Ælfwyn sighed, and I did too, for the jolting waggon, tho’ warm, was tiring in its constant heave and roll, and I yearned to be still.

  So we sat, but did not have long to wait, for soon we heard the calling of the horsemen to the drover. The waggon lurched into a clearing so that we three clung to whatever was near for support. The willow cage holding the linnet rocked back so hard that at last the little bird chirped out as it fluttered in its prison.

  Then we stopped, and the horseman came and unlaced the back flap. I went to Shagg and rubbed her chin, and she snorted and bobbed her head and nickered. The drover got to work unhitching the oxen, and the horsemen unsaddled their horses and led them to the trees and hobbled them. I watched these men with something like awe, for they had removed their wool cloaks, and all wore ring-shirts and belts and sword scabbards of far greater worth than ever I had seen, and it told me again that Ælfsige, father of Ælfwyn, must be a great reeve to so provide for his thegns. Their horses were such that made Shagg look truly like a pony, and the saddles and other trappings, which they put into the second waggon to keep from damp, were bright with coloured leather and brass ornaments that glinted in the torchlight.

  I stood there under the growing Moon and looked on all this, and Ælfwyn stood silently at my side. The drover gathered stones for the fire-bed, and laid the fire with dry logs and cakes of charcoal brought out of the second waggon.

  We took our supper in our waggon. Burginde carried in a bronze platter that held small wheaten loaves split and toasted with sheep’s cheese, fragrant and delicious-smelling. The drover handed in a steaming pottery bowl with a wooden dipper. Within was a browis rich with shreds of dried pig, and made savoury with turnips, cabbages, and onion. Burginde pulled the flap closed behind us, and we three women addressed our supper.

  Ælfwyn looked at me and laughed and said, “As you are so late of the Benedictines, perhaps you should say our blessing.”

  So I held my hands over the loaves and pottery, and said, “As Our Mother provides for our bodies, so Our Father sustains our souls. Eat and rejoice.” And Ælfwyn answered, “Amen,” and Burginde answered, “Blest Be,” and in the comfort of that seeming feast, thus did we give thanks.

  After this meal I began to feel so weary that I knew I must soon meet sleep. I went outside to use the necessary the drover had dug, and coming back to the waggon I stayed to look at the stars. I remembered how last night I had slept with them over my head, never knowing that tonight I would lie warm and dry on feather cushions. And I thought how far away was the Priory, and my life there, and wondered what was next for me.

  Then Ælfwyn came out, and we stood together looking at the sky. The plough and wain was bright, as was the Dog-star. The slender Moon was nearly set.

  “What do you think of?” asked Ælfwyn, when we had stood for a moment.

  “O,” I smiled, “I think of these stars and their ways; that they always know their path and wander not. I looked at her and she smiled, and then I asked, gesturing at the sky, “And you? What do you see when you look thus?”

  But at this Ælfwyn cast down her face. “I see only our Northwards path away from my home, to wed a man who I must hate, and who may take me even farther from my people.”

  At this I knew not what to say, but at last spoke. “Your father is a powerful reeve, and I am sure your mother is of high birth to have given such beauty to her daughter. Surely they would not cast a jewel into a mire.”

  For answer she turned her face away. I began to be uncertain, but went on. “Other Danes have bartered for high-born wives amongst the Angles and Saxons. Perhaps this Lord -” I stopped, for Ælfwyn wept aloud, and she hid her face in her hands under the cold watch of the stars, and I could give her no comfort.

  Here Burginde came around the end of the waggon, and with a look of mingled pity and rue, helped me guide her charge back to our waggon.

  Once inside Ælfwyn grew quiet, and Burginde moved about the waggon with an extra cheer, setting up our sleeping places with added cushions, taking wool coverlets from chests, and humming aloud all the while. During this time I sat quietly by Ælfwyn, holding her hand in mine, and thinking of the things that might befall her, and me.

  Now Burginde brought out a large copper basin and placed it next the brazier, and filled the basin with hot water.

  Ælfwyn arose and began untying her sash, and taking off mantle and gown. I stood and took her clothes and smoothed them, and Burginde rolled them and lay them in one of the large wood chests. Ælfwyn pulled off her shift and stood naked by the basin. Her form was indeed lovely, with a long narrow waist, small breasts with the palest of nipples, and curly hair of dark blonde under her arms and between her legs. Her head was wrapped in undyed linen, and the fine bones of her face spoke together with the fine lines of her limbs. I thought her very beautiful.

  She dipped a linen cloth in the basin’s water, and carefully wiped herself from face to feet. Then Burginde gave her a towel of linen, and as she rubbed herself dry the colour came back into her pale flesh. She looked at me and with a movement of her head invited me to wash also.

  I stripped off my gown and stockings and shift, aware of how different was my body from Ælfwyn’s. I was nearly as tall, but much more compactly built; my breasts and hips rounder, and the shock of red-brown curls where my thighs met was a darker echo of my chestnut-gold hair. I knew that Ælfwyn looked at me, shyly, and I wondered if she thought me striking. My nose, I thought, was too strong to make my face pretty, but in my green eyes and chestnut-gold hair I had no shame.

  The water was warm and the smooth linen wash cloth a pleasure. When I was done Burginde wrapped my shoulders in a towel, and then performed her own quick ablutions as Ælfwyn and I finished drying ourselves. The two benches would serve as beds to us
, and Burginde would sleep upon the deer hides on the floor. Burginde opened the rear waggon flap to pour out the washing water, and we heard more clearly the voices of the thegns still gathered about the fire. Then the flap closed, shutting out voices and the cold, and Burginde pinched out the cressets. A tiny glow from the brazier still illumined the waggon, and made the crowded space confused with shadows.

  In the stillness I heard Ælfwyn sigh, and I called out softly, “Sleep well, Lady.” Her murmured reply mixed with my own soft breathing, and I fell into sleep.

  Chapter the Sixth: Looking Forward and Back

  IN the morning Burginde woke me, for I slept as one dead - such was the warmth and comfort of my bed. It was a cold, but not bitter morning, grey-skyed. The snow had melted, showing sodden branches and clotted lumps of brown leaves through the woods. The drover, whose name I could tell was Osred from Burginde’s constant scolding, had set about yoking the oxen, and the three thegns to saddle their horses. To break our fast we had wheaten loaves, and with them a piece of honey comb. We ate as we stood before the fire, and with weak ale washed it down.

  Travel in a waggon, I suppose, is always tedious, and more so in the cold and mud of Winter; and by the way Ælfwyn composed herself on her bench I could see she was full tired of it. Hand-work is not possible, for the rolling and jolting do not allow it; and one grows weary and sore of jostling.

  Ælfwyn gestured me to her side, and asked, “For how long did you journey?”

  I thought a moment. “For almost two days from the Priory. But I could not come as quick on Shagg as I might, for I was not certain I would not be followed, so I came cautiously, and in the woods at times.”

  Her eyebrows went up, and I went on, “You are thinking I have run off! But I have not - at least, not wrongfully. Shagg I bought with my own silver, and for those things such as food and tinderbox and suchlike I also laid down silver.”