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

  “Have you seen aught of Danes?” he asked.

  The goatherd shrank back, and answered, “No, and so preserve us. Why do you search for them here?”

  “They search for us,” answered the thegn, and he moved his horse forward, leaving the goatherd gaping behind us.

  At end of day we again made camp in a large clearing, which I knew the thegns chose for its difficulty of surprise, for no trees stood near to shelter the advance of those who might creep undetected to the camp.

  During the night it rained, and did so with such force that the tarpaulin above us began to sweat water. At daybreak we three took turns wiping down the inside of the tarpaulin so that we caught the great drops before they fell upon our heads. It still rained on, and our wiping tasks, in which we clambered all over the tops of chests and benches to reach the tarpaulin before it dropped its wet issue upon us, put us by turns in both silly and ill humours. We knew without speaking that the trials of the bad weather took our minds off what may lie at the end of the road ahead.

  It rained hard all morning, and the thegns delayed our start in hopes of it clearing; but it did not, and we set out. We felt some damp in the waggon, for despite our efforts it began to sprinkle rain upon us; but it was as nothing to the wet and cold of the thegns and of Osred.

  At last in late morning the rain began to lessen, and then to stop. A breeze, nearly warm and Spring-like, picked up from the South, and helped to dry out our sodden tarpaulins.

  We rolled on some way, and by and by came to a path which led off the road to a lone small hut. There was no one near it today, and the Halloo of the thegns echoed and went unanswered as we passed.

  I began to wonder at how few folk we met upon this great road. I expected to find many to guide my passage to the houses of the athelings on this route, and began to see that it would not have been with ease that I would have found either guide or goal.

  We could see hills before us now, the hills of lead, and I told Ælfwyn what I knew of these hills; that much wealth came out of them, and that the ealdorman and reeves of these parts were made rich by it. And Burginde said she would have a wee tunnel of gold before all the hills of lead in Mercia, but Ælfwyn said, and rightly so, that tho’ gold be the more beautiful to look upon, that lead could make one rich just as sure. “For,” she finished, “we have no gold from the ground in Cirenceaster, but much wool fleece that buys us gold just the same.”

  And we nodded at this, and then I thought of the men outside and their swords and spears, and thought also of my dead father and kinsman, and said inwardly, Yes, and yet those thegns will take cold iron every time, for by their iron is life or death.

  The morning was clear again, which was good, for we were not yet as dry as we liked from the drenching of yesterday. We were in hills now, their growth thick with beeches; but in daylight it was a cheerful place, sweet-smelling and full of birds and squirrels that darted across the road. We heard the routing of wild boars, and the thegns spoke amongst themselves to determine if they should stop and try to follow them for fresh meat. I was glad when they did not, for we had no dogs, and what would we have done if they or one of their horses were hurt in doing so? For boars are treacherous, and I had seen many times the wounds their tusks could make in man and beast.

  As the weather was fine we had the front flap open all this time, and sometimes got out of the waggon and walked alongside it, for when we went down steeply it was better to walk than to suffer the joltings of the waggon.

  When we women had climbed in once more, Ælfwyn said, “I wish we were there.” Then she sat down and said, “No. I wish we would never be there, but I wish it were over.”

  Burginde leaned back on her bench and said, “The closer we get, the closer it be.”

  “Nothing will be over, but just begun,” said I. “Only this part - this waiting - will be over. The rest will be a beginning for you, and all of us.” A new thought came to me. “What happens to your father’s thegns? Do they remain with us at Four Stones, or return to Cirenceaster?”

  “I do not believe three Saxon thegns would be long welcome at a Danish camp, even if they do bring treasure. And they are amongst my father’s best men. They will make sure I am delivered safely, and then return to Wessex.”

  I had another question. “You say you bring treasure. I have seen naught but rich things since I joined you: your linens of a fineness like silk; your silver and garnet brooch; your mirror of bright silver; the many cups of closely worked bronze. Even Burginde wears wool of high quality, and the swords and ring-tunics of your thegns are far better than those my kinsman was burnt with. Have you much more of these good things?”

  Now Burginde laughed at me, but her mistress checked her with a raised hand.

  “These waggons carry much, and most of it would have been mine in my own right had I wed a Saxon. Some are things for me to make my household with, some are gifts from my mother so that I should be glad in their beauty, but most are tribute to the Dane, and will be his outright.”

  So there would be no bride-price paid by the Dane for Ælfwyn; all the payment was on her side, as part of the tribute.

  “And the waggons themselves, and the oxen, and Osred?” I asked.

  “The waggons and oxen are part of the tribute, and Osred stays on with me, as Burginde does, to serve me,” she answered. “And now I have you as well.”

  She smiled, and I did too, and said to her, “It is said that two heads be better than one.”

  At this Burginde answered, “Two heads be more mischief than one, that be certain.”

  Then Ælfwyn pulled the hem of Burginde’s head wrap so that it fell over her face, and we laughed at her grumbling.

  Chapter the Ninth: The Escort

  THE following morning we went down a long slow hill, and no hill rose before us to take its place. The pines dropped away, and woods of trees still barren edged the road. Now we moved much faster, and the wheels rang out against the cut stones the Cæsars had laid.

  At midday we stopped by the first of many small lakes, and after we had rested, the thegns went to the second waggon and opened it. They brought out three helmets, of iron covered over with bright brass so that they glinted; and these they put on, and mounted their horses, and we went off. This was the first time I had seen them wear their helmets, and as I watched the lead thegn with his spear across his saddle and his sword sheath uncovered by his cloak, I knew that they thought at any time to be met by the Danes we sought.

  In the waggon we three began to prepare ourselves as well. Burginde straightened up the baskets, and put away into chests stray things we had been using. I unfolded my leathern satchel, and placed into it those things of mine which I had out, as if I was going away. Ælfwyn shifted from bench to bench; looked out the flap, back at the contents of the waggon, and then outside again. Then she spoke. “They may not come for days.”

  To which Burginde answered, never stopping her work, “And they may come in an hour.”

  Ælfwyn spoke again. “What if they come by dark, when we are asleep?”

  “They will not spring upon us,” replied Burginde. “They value their lives.”

  “Why must we meet like this on the road, without a fixed point to meet at?” continued Ælfwyn, twisting her hands. “It is too hard, not knowing when they shall come, or how many.”

  “Or who,” finished Burginde.

  “It is best to be ready at any rate,” I said, “for whether it be in an hour or four days we can ourselves control this one thing. And I am sure that Burginde is right: they will not spring upon us at night, for they do value their lives, or at least I hope they do.”

  There was little else we could do to prepare, but speaking of the coming meeting and doing the slight tasks we could was enough. We sat together in the waggon, looking out at the thegn before us, watching his watchfulness.

  Ælfwyn spoke after a long silence. “I never knew that I would yearn for hand-work as I do now. I
would welcome even the chance to spin.”

  I turned to her and said, “I too, have never gone so long without spindle or weaving, or at least the coloured thread work that I most enjoy.”

  “Well,” she said, “soon enough we shall have such work, and much more to do as well.”

  “Have you looms with you?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, “two of them, and also enough newly spun yarn and thread to keep three more looms full, and many bags of carded fleece; for we heard that there are no good fleeces left in Lindisse, as the sheep are gone wild or been killed off.”

  “How do the people live without sheep and the fleece they give?”

  “I do not know. But it was thought best that I take enough yarn at least for the weaving of new clothes as I may need this year.”

  I nodded. “I do not care to spin, but often I have thought weaving a pleasure, and so do it passing well.”

  “Good,” she agreed, “we will have another loom made, so the three of us can work together each morning. It will make the time go pleasantly, and recall me to my life at home, when I sat each morning at work with my mother and sisters and this grumpy old nurse.”

  At this Burginde looked up from her work, which was at that moment removing a splinter from her finger, and said, “Grumpy or no, your stockings would be full of knots if I did not spin for you.”

  When we set off in the morning the road went smooth as a ribband, and we passed lakes and groves of trees. The good weather held, and at noon we stopped by a lake, and poured out all of our stale water, and filled our barrels with the soft lake water.

  That afternoon the land began to rise again, and the Cæsar’s Road began to show more ruts. Then the land went down, and there was marsh of rushes and willow and hazel. And the wind now came from the North, and tho’ the Sun was still bright, it grew cold, and we closed the flap up against the damp wind.

  At one point we heard the splash of water as the oxen plodded through it, and Burginde pulled open the flap and we saw the road was nearly fallen away into the marsh. She closed the flap and grumbled, and wondered aloud where we would find dry land to make our camp, for it was drawing on to dusk. We piled more charcoals into the brazier, and Ælfwyn and I put on our mantles against the cold.

  We sat together in silence on one of the benches, warming our hands at the brazier’s glow. Then the waggon stopped again, but instead of hearing Osred coaxing the oxen, we heard no voices. Burginde moved to open the flap, but Ælfwyn stopped her with an upraised hand. We sat, listening with intent, and heard at first nothing but the dripping of marsh water off the bottom of the waggon, and the flapping of the oxen’s ears as they shook their heads.

  Then we heard the voice of the chief thegn, loud and calm. “Come forward, and show yourselves.”

  Burginde moved once more to the flap, but again Ælfwyn stopped her, and held a finger to her lips, bidding her be quiet. I feared the pounding in my heart must surely be heard by all outside, and felt my eyes starting in my head.

  We heard then some movement of horses and jingling of bridles that told us more horsemen stood before us in the road.

  The thegn spoke again. “Toki, you have found what you search for. This is the tribute of Ælfsige to Yrling.”

  Again we heard the movement of horses, as if they turned before us on the sodden road, but heard no other man.

  The thegn spoke again, impatience growing in his words. “I know it is you, Toki, by your helmet; for I regarded it well when I saw you with Yrling.” The thegn paused, and then went on. “Perchance I am wrong. Perchance the great Toki has after all fallen in some squabble amongst his brethren and his better now wears his helmet.”

  At last we heard an answer, in a broad, flat voice with a strange flute-like tone, but in the tongue of our people: “Toki’s better does not live.” And these words were full of contempt.

  Then we heard several men’s voices at once, speaking in a strange tongue, with the same flat, broad tone, and I heard for the first time the native speech of the Danes.

  The higher voice belonging to the man Toki spoke next. “You will now leave. We will take the waggons to Four Stones.”

  We heard the sounds of horsemen coming up behind us, as if the two thegns behind the second waggon had moved to join the first in front.

  The chief thegn’s voice rang out. “No, we will not. You and I both sat at table with Ælfsige and Yrling when this Peace was made. You know its terms. We return only when the waggons are delivered at Four Stones.” Then he added, “I am sure your greatest concern is that Yrling receives all he expects?”

  Toki’s voice flashed out, “You anger me, Saxon, but I will laugh. Do you think I, Toki, would pilfer from my own jarl?”

  The thegn seemed to speak carefully. “I think nothing but to fulfil my duty in delivering these waggons.”

  There was more of the strange speech of the Danes, some of it sounding close to anger amongst them.

  Toki spoke again. “You will yield up your swords and spears until you reach Four Stones and are ready to leave again.”

  Now the thegn’s voice was full of wrath. “We will yield our weapons to no one. Will you, Toki, break so soon the Peace that your jarl has made?”

  There was more speech amongst the Danes, and movement of horses, and jingling of bridle bits.

  Finally Toki spoke again to the thegn. “We will proceed then to Four Stones,” he began, and his voice was free of anger and almost light. “First we will look in these waggons to be sure that the tribute you bear is not that of more Saxon thegns.”

  Then we in the waggon knew we would have to show ourselves to these men, and the thought made my throat dry, tho’ the thegns of Ælfsige be around us.

  We heard a horse move nearer, and Toki’s voice call out, “Let us see first what is in this waggon.”

  And at these words - I think for fear that he would open the tarpaulin flap himself and look in - Burginde grasped the flap ends and thrust out her face to the horseman.

  “Ah!” came Toki’s voice. “The bride of Yrling.” Then he spoke to the Danes, and there was much laughter amongst them.

  Burginde was sputtering in anger, but she still held the flap closed tight about her face so we could not see out, or they, in.

  Toki spoke again. “Perhaps not. Perhaps this waggon carries another Lady.”

  As one gesture Ælfwyn and I pulled our hoods up over our heads, as if they could in some slight way shelter us from the gaze of this man that was waiting outside.

  We heard the thegn’s voice. “Lady, show yourself so we may cut short this sport and be on our way.”

  Ælfwyn drew a breath and clasped my hand, but said in a firm voice, “Burginde, open the flap.”

  Burginde drew back her face, then stood and pulled open the flap as far as it would allow. The day was fading fast, and the horsemen before us were silhouetted against the failing light. There were four Danes, the one closest mounted on a large grey horse of great worth. He wore a ring tunic such as the thegns wore, but across his chest was a baldric and sheath of magnificence, for the belt itself was worked all over in bronze bosses, and the sword hilt gleamed with gold. On his head he wore a helmet of iron, covered over with thin copper or gold foil, polished bright, so that in the setting Sun it fairly flamed.

  He looked down at us, and then pulled off his helmet and held it under his arm, and his long yellow hair fell down in two braids upon his shoulders. We saw that he was young, and had a face that bore no scar; and I thought him very handsome, but very cold; for his eyes were bright with greed, and his lip twisted in a smile that was filled with scorn.

  His gaze moved from Ælfwyn to me, and back again, and though she cast down her eyes at his glare, I felt anger, and would be as brazen as he, and kept my eyes fixed upon him, look tho’ he might.

  He spoke at last. “You Saxons are generous. You bring two brides to Yrling, of equal beauty.”

  Then Ælfwyn r
aised her head and addressed him, her voice full of resentment. “I am Ælfwyn, daughter of Ælfsige. I do not believe that my new Lord would suffer to hear your rude speech to his wife.”

  “Rude?” asked Toki in a mocking tone. “To praise beauty?”

  “It is not thus praise from your lips,” breathed Ælfwyn, and she near trembled with fury.

  Now Toki spoke flatly. “Take off your hoods, Ladies, that I might see you better.”

  And Ælfwyn and I pushed back our hoods, and I felt a thrill of hatred against this Dane Toki.

  He leaned forward in his saddle and considered us. Then he spoke in a smooth, light voice. “Yes, Lady,” he said to Ælfwyn, “you are clearly the daughter of Ælfsige, for I heard from Yrling that your hair was as silver melted with gold.”

  Then he looked to me, and grinned as he spoke. “I myself prefer my gold with more copper in it, for it blazes all the better in the dark.”

  I felt my face flush with heat, and tried to speak out, but heard instead the voice of the chief thegn, grim and tight.

  “Come away, Toki; you have seen enough. I wonder you do not hasten to the second waggon, where lies the real treasure.”

  Toki twisted in his saddle to look at the thegn. “One moment. I have a gift to bring to the bride of Yrling.”

  And he pulled from beneath his bronze-studded knife belt a small pouch of bright red leather, and tossed it at Ælfwyn so she was obliged to catch it lest it strike her.

  Then he turned his horse, and spoke to the other Danes, and they rode with the thegns to the second waggon. Burginde closed up the flap at once, and we three women stood together, I still red with heat, Ælfwyn pale as snow. Burginde muttered to herself but we two were silent.

  Ælfwyn raised the leathern pouch and looked at it mutely.