John called them to supper long before the Earl of Wynnewood and the fletcher’s apprentice finished with their rambling conversation. Over mutton and parsnips, they discussed the new wing of the castle Lord Morgan planned, the chapel he’d commissioned, and his hopes to convince Dennis Clarke to retire on castle grounds as the castle chaplain, once he grew too old for his responsibilities in the village.
Half way home, stumbling through the cloudy night, Philip realized the gentle hint Lord Morgan had given him. The Earl of Wynnewood wanted Philip to become the next minister of the village. Resistance welled up in the boy’s heart until he remembered that Broðor Clarke had already admitted he wasn’t confident enough to teach Philip everything the boy would need to know. His status as a villager— a seaman’s son— would keep him safe from a life of academia.
Chapter 18
Unusual Lessons
Wrapped in two blankets, Letty eyed Dove suspiciously. Did Bertha truly expect them to half-freeze for a few minutes every day just so they could “air out” the house? It sounded like the kind of crazy thing Bertha would say, but the cloaked girl shaking out the bedding didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold. Was Dove just doing this to torture her?
“Why d-do we have t-to d-do this again?”
“Bertha says that sickness lives in stale air just as it does in stagnant water. If water is healthier for movement, so is air. So, we open the door for a while every day and air out the bedding at the same time.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“My gloves and cloak are both very warm.” Dove brought Letty another blanket. “Just put it on the bed when you get warm.”
“Thank you.” Surprised at Dove’s kindness, Letty wrapped the fabric around her and relaxed a little as the shivers slowly ceased. She watched as Dove adjusted the mattresses in the bed boxes. “What is in those?”
“Mostly pine needles.”
“It sounds prickly.” Letty was terrified to be making casual conversation with Dove, but she was nearly as miserable in a silent house with the odd girl.
“The mattress has a layer of wool on all the sides. It keeps things warm and soft.” Dove knew that many of the villagers slept on piles of moss or straw, so to them, a thick mattress of pine needles would seem almost luxurious.
“That would be nice.” When silence settled over the cottage again, the girl tried to continue the conversation once more. “So Philip—”
Frustrated, Dove put her hands on her hips and turned to face Letty. “What do you want from me?”
“What? I—”
“I’m not going to hurt you. Is that what you need to know?” She threw her hands in the air and went back to fluffing the mattress. “Trust me, if I could get rid of you, I would, but I wouldn’t hurt you to do it.”
“Why don’t you like me?” There was almost a whine in Letty’s voice.
“That’s what this is about? You’re bothered because I don’t like you?”
“Well…”
Moving to the other bed, Dove tugged and pulled, nearly knocking her hood off her head several times, as she tried to turn the mattress over onto its other side. “Why should I like someone who has spent most of my life chasing me from the village?”
Dove had a point, and Letty knew it. Part of her felt as if she should apologize, but the other part of her wanted to justify herself. “I didn’t know you wouldn’t hurt me, or maybe I wouldn’t have.”
“That is illogical. ‘You might hurt me; therefore, I will attack first so that now you really want to hurt me.’” The disgust in Dove’s voice was unmistakable. For a third time, Dove dropped the mattress and grabbed her hood before it could fly back and expose her. “Besides, you make doing my job that much harder.”
She shut the door before returning to her tasks. Confused, Letty asked, “Why do I make it harder when I’m doing some of your work?”
“Because this cottage is the one place I can be less vigilant, but with you here—”
“So, take it off; I am not afraid.” Both girls knew Letty was lying.
“No one sees me without my cloak. Bertha wouldn’t allow it, even if I would.”
“Not even Philip—”
“No,” Dove snapped, making her even angrier with herself. Letting Letty see her hurt over Philip ignoring her was foolish.
Always a chatterbox, Letty found the quiet of the midwife’s cottage stifling. She longed for conversation, but Dove rarely cooperated. The girl was more perceptive than people gave her credit for and swiftly changed the subject. “Why do you wear the white one in summer? People often think you’re ghosts that swarm in the mists.”
“White is cooler.”
“And breeches? Why don’t you wear dresses like other girls?”
Dove failed to stifle her snicker before it escaped. “Since no one actually considers me a girl, why should I dress like one? I can run faster and climb trees better in breeches than I can in skirts.”
“I think I’d feel too boyish in breeches. Don’t you feel prettier in a dress?”
This time, Dove didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “Prettier! We’re talking about the Ge-sceaft, you daft girl! What is pretty about that? I know some who have called me Scynscaþa. How is a demon supposed to be pretty?”
Despite her fear, for the first time, Letty felt true sympathy— pity even— for the creature of Wynnewood. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you’re not a scynscaþa. Bertha would never bring something so terrible into her home.”
“I’m just a girl, Letty. I’m just a terrifying-looking girl. That’s all.”
With that, Dove grabbed her second cloak, threw it over her shoulders, stuffed a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the inner pockets, and slipped outside, letting the door shut quietly behind her. Letty removed the blankets from her shoulders and put them back on the bed. She glanced around the room and then grabbed the little bags that Bertha had left for her. In each bag was an herb, a root, or something she used to help the village women. One by one, Letty tried to identify them, as she pondered Dove’s words. If Dove was just an ugly girl, why was there such a great mystery? Surely people would have gotten used to her by now.
After a while, a new thought occurred to her. Oh, that poor little thing! She does think she’s a demon! She really believes it. I wonder what she really is…
Winter in Wynnewood was a bleak scene. Though the evergreens added a little color, most of the area was some shade of gray. The sea, cliffs, sky, even the bark and branches of the trees were all different grays. The mists hovered around the trees in Wynne Holt nearly all day and night, giving the villagers much to fear as they hurried over the bridge to the castle or back to their homes.
During those cold, damp days, people shuddered when they heard the high eerie voice singing amid the trees as Dove meandered through the holt and along the edge of Wyrm Forest. The dark “wings” of the Ge-sceaft frightened children as she ran from stones or to investigate some odd sound. Her cloak, billowing out behind and beside her, often made Dove look like a huge winged animal.
It had been several days since she and Philip had visited Jakys in the cave, but he hadn’t come to see her again. She’d watched as he split the firewood, sharpened the tools, carried the water and slop pails back and forth to the cottage, and even raced home from his lessons several times to keep the fire going for Una to save her the work. It was just the kind of thing Philip would do. Dove was proud to have a friend who was so thoughtful, but she did wish he’d get over his anger. She missed their fun.
Thursday, a week before they were to visit the caves, Dove watched the boys scatter from the chapel, watching to see if Philip would join his friends for a game of tag through the village, or if he’d stay for extra lessons. A minute or two later, just as she’d given up, he shuffled out the door, closing it quietly behind him. He seemed to hesitate, and then squared his shoulders and walked toward the road that led away from Wynnewood— the road past Bertha’s cottage. She started t
o sing, knowing he’d probably come find her, but curiosity overcame her. Darting into Wyrm Forest, her feet flew over the ground, as she ducked under low hanging branches, and wove through the trees. At the clearing, she paused, took a moment to catch her breath, and then raced the rest of the way to the edge of the tree line behind their cottage. The door was open and Letty was chattering to Philip.
He started to leave, but the girl urged him inside, offering him a drink and something to eat. Dove frowned. Inside, it would be harder for her to hear what they said. Resigned to hear little, she crept to the door, and tried to listen between the cracks. She was right. Only a few words were clearly audible, but then Philip grew angry and it was easier to hear what he said.
Phrases such as, “—course she’s a girl. You’re daft—” and then, “didn’t know you were so silly—” told her all she needed to know. Letty didn’t believe that she was human. Philip’s tone grew angrier, until Dove was certain he’d say or do something they’d all regret, so she pushed open the door. “They can hear you at the castle. What is going on in here?”
Philip grabbed her hand and pulled her back out the door, slamming it shut behind him. “I can see why she irritates you. What a foolish girl. Bertha should have been more patient and picked someone with sense.”
“She picked the right girl. Letty is gullible, but she’s a natural with babies. Bertha says she’ll learn quickly.”
“Well, I don’t know how Bertha expects to trust the lives of women and babies into the hands of someone who can’t recognize a person when she sees one.”
Dove laughed. “She’s never seen me, Philip. How is she supposed to recognize me as human when even the Ma—” She felt her face grow hot as she realized her foolishness. “When others don’t.”
“The who?”
“You’ll see.” With a disappointed sigh, she turned back toward the cottage. “I’ve done it again. I’m sorry, Philip.”
“Don’t go back. I came to apologize. I’ve been—”
She interrupted, abruptly changing the subject. “Did you ask Lord Morgan about the hoof prints?”
They started toward the clearing, Philip describing his visit in great detail. “Then he showed me a tapestry with his great grandfæder’s unicorn in it. Those hooves— don’t you think they could be a large goat’s?”
“Oh! Definitely! That’s exactly what they looked like.”
“Lord Morgan says he is sure the unicorns are still here. He said the last time he saw them he was a boy. He was going send the knights to look, but I told him how we were trying to tame one for him, so he won’t be sending them out now.” Philip kicked a tree as he passed it, showing his frustration. “I’m sorry, Dove. I didn’t mean to tell him about the hooves. I meant to be discreet, but I was trying to change the subject and it just all came out.”
Her voice was very quiet. “It’s fine, Philip, really. The surprise was your idea. I just wanted the fun of searching and taming. I didn’t realize it was such a secret to you.”
“Well, it was, and I gave it away just like it was nothing.”
Dove became uncomfortable with the shame Philip seemed to feel, so to change the subject, she asked about his lessons. “What did you learn today? Was Liam there?”
“Liam wasn’t there this week, but Alys Baker said he might come in a fortnight.” They’d reached the clearing, and Philip crossed to the old log they’d dragged from the forest as a resting bench. Sitting, he stared at his hands as if somehow they’d do the apologizing for him. “We went over Cain and Abel again today.”
“The brothers? The first brothers?”
Philip nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t understand. Why does Broðor Clarke keep giving you the same lessons? Has he told you all of them?”
“No,” he grabbed a stick and dug it into the dirt as he spoke. “Broðor Clarke wants us so familiar with the stories, that we know immediately if someone has added to or taken away from them. He thinks if we don’t go over each one repeatedly, we’ll start mixing them up in our minds.”
“That makes sense. After all,” she teased, “you wouldn’t want to tell someone that Noah killed Goliath with five loaves and seven hundred concubines before he said, ‘it is finished.’”
“That’s almost the example Broðor Clarke gave.” Philip eyed her suspiciously. “Were you listening?”
“No, but I’m happy to know I think as logically as an intelligent man like the minister.”
“You think more like a man than a girl,” he muttered.
“That’s an insult!” If she hadn’t been laughing, with the tone she used, Philip would have been sure she was angry.
“To the man or the girl?”
They both snickered as Dove tried to decide which was more insulting. “If girls are like Letty, then I suppose to the man.”
“That was difficult to admit, I think.”
She nodded. “Then again, I’m a girl and Ellie was a girl. Maybe Letty is the exception.”
“Maybe… but I doubt it.” Philip broke his stick, jabbing it into a rock. “Anyway, today we went over Cain and Abel and something really struck my heart.”
“What was that?” At the sound of his stomach rumbling, Dove pulled a piece of cheese from her cloak, broke it in two pieces, and passed the larger one to Philip.
“Thanks.” He took a bite and chewed, trying to decide how to explain. “Well, the Bible says that when Cain’s offering was rejected, he became angry and his ‘countenance fell.’ It was then that he killed Abel.”
“I remember that. You told me that.”
“Right, well, I was thinking about it, and when you told me you’d promised someone not to tell me something, my ‘countenance fell.’ I was angry, and today I realized that if you weren’t the kind of person you are, I would have killed, too.”
Her head whipped up in shock. “What—”
“No! Not people— not you. I would have killed our friendship by being childish. I’m always trying to prove to everyone that I’m almost a man, but then I do something immature like get upset for someone keeping their word just because it means I don’t get my way. Could you think me any more pathetic?”
“I would think,” Dove began thoughtfully, “it is normal to be hurt when a friend keeps things from you. Especially when she hasn’t done that before.”
“Well, regardless, it was wrong. Lord Morgan told me I was wrong, Broðor Clarke told me I was wrong, even my modor told me I was wrong, but I was stubborn.”
“Now that I can believe,” Dove whispered as she passed him another piece of cheese.
An assortment of boys and a minister lumbered up the hill to the castle. Cloaks billowed around them, making it look like a flock of very large birds waddling up to the great gate. The guard, a new man that none of them knew, blocked the way until Wydo waved him back and welcomed the group into the courtyard.
Aurelia listened as the boys jostled and whispered as they crept past the kitchen, past the window seat where she sat hidden from view, and up the stairs to Liam’s room. Their joking and shoving seemed exciting to a girl who had never enjoyed that easy camaraderie that boys do. Lord Morgan, shielded from view by a large tapestry, watched both the procession of hearty young men and his daughter’s reaction to them. Most of the boys were average in height and build, but it would have been unnatural for her not to notice Angus. The boy was easily a head taller than the rest and nearly as broad shouldered as Hugo Armstrong. Aurelia’s interest blossomed into amazement as she realized that the tallest member of the group was just one of the boys. Lord Morgan smiled at the wide-eyed blush that covered the girl’s face when Angus noticed her sitting there and nodded respectfully.
Once all the boys were out of sight and earshot, Lord Morgan strolled to his daughter’s side. “How would you like a houseful of boys, Aurelia?”
“Oh! It was so strange watching them push and shove like that. I thought they were angry at first, but then I saw they were teasing and playing. Phi
lip was so different somehow.”
“He does adapt to his situation well, doesn’t he?”
“What do you mean?” Aurelia’s peeked her head around the corner of the window alcove to see if they were still within sight and frowned at the empty corridor.
“I’ve noticed it often. Philip seems to be comfortable in any company. I’ve watched him with the other lads. He is true to himself, but he adapts to the group as well. Here at the castle, whether with the servants or with us, he knows how to relate well to us equally. It is a rare gift. If Wynnewood were an independent nation, I would train him as an ambassador. He would excel in a profession such as that.”
“Broðor Clarke would say that there is no better profession than ambassador for the church. He wants Philip to be a minister.”
Nodding, Lord Morgan sighed. “Yes, but Philip is not keen on the idea.” With a twinkle in his eye, he added, “And I think our fine minister would say that being an ambassador for Jesus is even a better choice.”
“Does Broðor Clarke have someone else studying with him?”
“No, not that he’s mentioned.”
The girl frowned. “One of the boys was just so much bigger than the others. I was sure he was a man, but his face looked so young. Then, I thought maybe it was just like Dove says.”
“What does Dove say, dear heart?” His lip twitched, but Lord Morgan kept his amusement to himself.
“Well, that some people always seem much younger than they really are. I think she was hinting that I look younger than I am.”
He looked at his daughter thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose you might look a little younger than your years, but I think it’s more likely that you only appear younger because you do not stand. It makes you seem smaller than you are.”
“I suppose.”
A burst of laughter bounced against the stone walls as feet pounded down the hallway toward them. Lord Morgan flattened himself against the wall, trying not to arrest the boys’ fun by his presence, and exchanged amused glances with his daughter as Liam tried to chase Angus and Aubrey through the passageway. Philip followed, and by the time Liam reached the alcove, he was exhausted. Nodding hello to the earl and his daughter, Philip hoisted his friend up on his back, and took off after the other boys calling, “I’ll be Liam’s feet until he’s back on his again!”
The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series Page 33
