by Troy A Hill
“Lady Enid, Lady Mair, this is Llinos,” Rhian said. Llinos stood to offer a curtsey to us. I noticed she rose with an awkward stiffness in her hips. “Llinos’ mother was our best weaver for a generation. She taught her daughter well.”
The girl was thin, with a sharp nose on a narrow face. Her brown eyes drifted across both of us, but returned to me. Her hair was black, very similar to mine. Llinos kept her hair long, and tied behind her with of ribbon.
I glanced at her work on the loom. The weave was tight and consistent. The colours were the grey and green of Penllyn. I let my eyes wander across the cloth. She worked on a banner similar to those that flew from Caer Penllyn’s walls. I could see the steed, the horse’s head that was the symbol of Penllyn.
Rhian took Enid back to the weaving mistress so they could plan their next month’s work for the women. I stayed with Llinos. Her hand wove the card with the thread meticulously through the strands on the loom. “You do good work,” I said. Llinos murmured her thanks as her cheeks reddened.
“Pardon, milady,” she said. Her eyes drifted to my hip each time her shuttle emerged from he threads on my side of the loom. She seemed to want to chat, but was timid, like a finch with a hawk overhead.
“Yes, dear,” I said. “Go ahead and ask.”
“I… you…” she stammered, then took a breath. “I was at the Caer for Lord Cadoc and Lady Enid’s wedding feast. You charged in to protect everyone.”
I remembered that day well. Enid led the young, unmarried women on a mad chase. Local tradition held that the first girl to catch hold of the new bride would be the next to marry.
Ghosts of Roman soldiers long dead had erupted from the hillside. When the spirits dove at Enid and the girls, Cadoc and I charged to protect the girls. Cadoc’s sword, which Gwen and I had blessed, glowed with the goddess’ light. I didn’t have a sword yet. But I made the Celtic cross I wore about my neck glow with The Lady's magic. Cadoc and I used the sword and cross, with The Lady’s power, to drive the spirits back to wherever they came from.
“I don’t remember,” I said, “were you one of the girls who chased?”
Llinos started to blush again.
“No, milady,” she said as her smile disappeared. “With my leg all crippled I can’t run fast enough. My pa tried to get me married off, but none of the boys in the villages want a girl like me.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing,” I said. “This is some of the best work I’ve seen on a loom.” I pointed to where the horse head was taking shape. “Most weavers would have just used a second colour of thread to make the mane. You’ve got four, no five colours in here.”
“I dyed them myself,” she said. “Lord Penllyn sent word down we should make a new banner for Lord Cadoc. I wanted to make it as special as I could.”
“We each have our talents,” I added.
“That’s what I wanted to ask,” she said. “I tried to learn the sword and spear with everyone else. The guards were patient with me. But with my bum leg, I walk too bad to do the attacks.”
“You have the sword,” Llinos continued, “and I heard some of Lord Emlyn’s guards talk about how you give sword lessons.” This is it, I thought. She’ll want to join.
“And you want to learn?” I still wasn’t sure what to say.
“Oh, no, milady,” she exclaimed. “Not that at all, I hope you didn’t believe I would presume to ask…” she stammered, flustered again.
“You’re so brave,” she said. “I could never be as brave as you. All the other guards, even Lord Emlyn and Afon stood frozen.”
I understood what she was after.
“You want me to give Afon a message?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t given her heart to Emlyn. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share him.
“No, not a message,” she said and rose again. She limped her way to a cupboard set between two of the looms. She handed me a folded garment.
“I made him this cloak,” she said. “His is old, and thin. Walking guard duty is cold most nights. I know he’ll never want to see me, or talk to me…” her gaze was on the dark blue of the cloak as she spoke. “When my family first came to Penllyn during Mercia's last war, Afon and another warrior found us. Well, brigands found us first. One of them was trying to tie me up, said they’d take me back to their camp. Afon ran in and killed him and the others.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide.
“I was shaking so bad that Afon gave me his cloak. He had just bought it after he and the other man had been paid by King Penda.” Her eyes drifted out the window as she relived the memories. “It was a very fine cloak. Mother sent it back to him after we got settled here. I asked mother to teach me how to weave, so I could make him a cloak. One finer than he had loaned me. I want him to be warm and know someone is thinking about him while he’s there to protect Lord and Lady Penllyn.”
I unfolded the cloak. The skill in the weaving was exquisite. She had blended a series of blues and darker colours, even reds to give it a shifting tonal texture. There was a faint series of horse silhouettes woven in as well, across the shoulders. I let my finger drift across the wool.
“This is marvellous work, Llinos,” I said. “Even the embroidery is wonderful.” She had kept the thread dark, but the cloak had a series of Celtic swirls and points. Two swords, one on either lapel, were worked into the design as well. I thought back to my attempt at embroidery. Llinos’ talent with thread put my skills with the needle to shame.
“This is a princely gift,” I said and held her eyes until she smiled. “I’ve seen no work better in all of my travels. I shall be honoured to carry it to Afon for you.”
“Oh, thank you, milady,” she said. I pulled her in for a one-armed hug. “But please don’t tell him I sent it.”
“I will not lie,” I said. “Afon is my friend, as are you, Llinos.” I held her eyes with mine. I didn’t use my undead powers to manipulate her mind, but wanted her to acknowledge my use of friend. “If he asks, I shall tell him who crafted this gift, and who will be thinking of him on watch.”
“Oh you mustn’t… I could never expect him… oh! I mean…”
“But,” I added, “I like to commission another piece from you, as good as this one.” Her eyes went wide.
“Really?” she said. “You want me to make you a piece?”
“Not me,” I replied. “You know Lady Gwen?”
“Of course,” she said. Her eyes went even wider. “I don’t know that my work is good enough for a lady of her quality.”
“Pish, girl,” I chuckled. “I've seen lesser quality work than your worst on queens in Europe. Lady Gwen will find the cloak you make for her a most fitting gift.”
I described what I’d like out of the cloak.
“It will be a while to get enough variations in the greens you’d like,” Llinos said.
“Is there anything I can have Lord Penllyn send away for?” I asked. “I have the means to import whatever you need.”
“I have most of what I need. But, I'll have to find the right plants to dye the wool with. Once we get the threads spun, all I need is time to work.” She said. “I may not complete it by winter.”
“Of course, not, dear,” I replied. “Make sure you finish your normal duties first.”
By then Rhian had drifted back over. Enid was still across the room, chatting with several of the weavers.
“What duties does she need to give up?” Rhian asked.
“Nothing,” I replied. “I just asked her to make a cloak for Gwen.” I held the dark blue one for Lady Penllyn to see. “Similar to this one.”
“Oh, dear, Llinos,” Rhian gasped. “You’ve outdone even your mother. She would be very proud of you.” The girl blushed again. “And you gave this to our Mair?”
“No,” I said. “There’s a certain member of the Teulu who will receive this one from Llinos.” Rhian raised her eyebrow. Llinos blushed again. She tried to appear busy by picking up her thread caddy again.
“I have ask
ed her to add the cloak to her other work,” I explained.
“What do you need to work on Lady Mair’s request, dear?” Rhian asked.
Llinos stopped trying to fumble their way through another row on the loom. The poor girl was distraught. She had threaded the colour for the horse into the background that should have been green.
“Well,” Llinos said, “I’d like to add seven different greens to what we keep on hand, plus a deeper black. That helps with the gradient of the tones.” She and Rhian lapsed into talking plants for dying thread.
“I’ll speak with Mistress Olwin about your workload and the dyes,” Rhian added. “Finish the banner for my son. After that, if Olwin can spare you, I’d like you to make that cloak a priority. Our Lady Gwen deserves a gift of the quality only you can make.”
49
A Little Bird
Bleddyn sat with Afon, who held a mug of ale when we arrived back at the keep. A basket sat on the floor, near Bleddyn. In it nestled two wooden figures. They were very rudimentary, just the basic body shapes of a cylindrical body and a head on a neck. He had carved a basic face on each, slits for the eyes and mouth. A few other hunks of wood, leftover odds and ends from his carpenters, sat in the basket. Bleddyn raised his current work.
“Mair will tell you,” he said. “Doesn’t it look like there is a chicken inside this hunk of wood?”
“Definitely,” I said. “Not sure if it’s a hen or a cock, though.”
“I will get rid of all the non-chicken bits and we’ll see.”
“Lady Mair may have her chair again,” Afon said as he rose. He gave me a slight bow. “I don’t wish to keep her from her assigned task of entertaining you.”
“Just a moment,” I said and waved him back. “A nice young lady in the village is concerned about your warmth while you walk guard duty.” I passed him the folded cloak.
“Me? What did I do to catch a girl’s eye?” he asked, but took the garment. As he unfolded it, Bleddyn whistled.
“Oh, this is much too nice for me,” Afon said. “Surely she meant it for Lord Emlyn.”
I glanced at Bleddyn. He winked and carved his wooden figure again.
“I know my brother,” Bleddyn said. “He’d take that into Mercia and trade it for more steel rod to make weapons. If I were you, I’d keep it and not ask questions. Steel won’t keep you warm like that cloak will.”
Afon wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. “Thick, and warm. Now you’ve made me wonder who this mysterious gift-giver is.”
“There is only one of our weavers with that kind of skill,” Bleddyn said. He ran his knife along the wood, then closed one eye as he turned it back and forth to check his progress.
“You don’t mean that little bird in the weaver’s hut?” Afon asked. “Llinos? I thought she’d be married off by now?”
“She’s rather shy,” I said. “Evidently, no one wanted someone who couldn’t walk well.”
“What’s her walking got to do with anything?” he asked, and he refolded the cloak. “Her leg made it rough for her in weapons training. So we kept her long enough to get the basics. She had determination. I kind of liked her.”
“Well,” I said. “She definitely likes you. So don’t forget to thank her for her gift.”
“Why me?” he asked. “Those who live by the sword die by the sword. Why would any girl want me?”
I looked at Bleddyn. He shrugged and kept on carving.
“Do you intend on dying tomorrow?” I asked the guard.
“No,” he answered.
“Good. Then go find her between your shifts.” I said. “Oh, and on your way down, there are several places where wildflowers grow. Pick a handful and give them to her.”
“Girls like flowers?” he asked.
Enid walked by. She planted her hands on her hips and stood in front of Afon.
“Yes,” she said. “Girls like flowers. But what we like even more is the men that bring them.”
Afon shook his head again. “But if I pick them, they’ll just die,” he said. “Couldn’t I take her out to look at the flowers instead?”
Enid glanced at me and giggled. “That’s the next step,” she told the befuddled guardsman. “Take her flowers the first time. The next time you visit her…”
“The next time?” he interjected.
“You want to see her again, right?” Enid asked.
“Probably… I mean…” Afon shrugged.
“Then when you go back the next day,” Enid continued, “take her a single flower and ask if she’d like to come see more.”
“But why me?” he asked. “Couldn’t she go by herself when she wants to see flowers? I’m not sure she’d want my company. Would she?”
Enid rolled her eyes and sat in the chair next to Bleddyn.
“Don’t ask us,” I said. “Go down tomorrow and ask Llinos.”
Afon shook his head as he walked away, the cloak over his arm.
“Men…” Enid muttered.
Bleddyn and I shared a chuckle.
Gwen contacted me a while later.
“We’ve lost the trail,” Gwen sent a few moments later.
“How?” I asked.
“The creature must have sensed it was being followed,” she explained. I cursed. Out loud. Enid and Bleddyn looked at me. I stood and paced.
“He’s doubling and tripling back on his trail,” Gwen added. “We think he climbed a tree and has been running around the upper branches. Ruadh isn’t sure which path is the newest.”
I cursed again.
Behind me, Bleddyn cleared his throat. “Well?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I stopped pacing long enough to fill him in.
“Damn,” Bleddyn grumbled. “I had hoped they’d catch the beast unawares.”
“Emlyn says I should come back and get you,” Gwen added. “He wants to split up. You and he go one way. Ruadh and I another.”
I passed that onto Bleddyn, with my voice quiet enough for he and Enid to hear.
“As much as I like having you here to relay the news,” he said as he pushed his knife up along the piece of wood. A long sliver fell off onto his lap. “I want this ended tonight.”
50
Searching
The sun was still barely above the horizon when Gwen and I stepped out of the tree. The evening light filtered into the woods with a nice golden glow. Not the type of evening I envisioned to hunt down a beast that had been killing and ravaging Penllyn and her people.
“Mair and I will head southeast,” Emlyn said. “You two take the trail the opposite direction.” The Penteulu held his gaze on Ruadh for several seconds. “Try to stay off the cliffs,” he told the monk.
“He can come back and climb them later,” Gwen interjected with a stern look at our hairy friend. I had to suppress a giggle.
“With Gwen along, I will stay on the path,” he rumbled with a smile. “But if Mair wants to come back later, I kin show her some good ones to climb in this part of Penllyn.”
Emlyn waved them on. With his shifter senses, excellent hearing and sense of smell, Ruadh was our best tracker for this kind of beast.
“Follow the animal trail,” Emlyn said. “Can you detect magic like Gwen?”
“Similar,” I said and headed out. “Death and graves are easy for me to find. Neither she nor I are good at sensing the magic of shifters. We can only sense Ruadh when we actively search for him.” He grunted. “But shifters have their own magic, and it tends to hide them from my senses. The shifters have a far better sense of smell than I do.”
“Do what you need to do,” he said. “I remember from my time with Emilius that his hearing was beyond excellent. Is yours similar?”
“Of course,” I said. “Not as good as Ruadh’s, but better than a human’s.”
“Good. You take point.” With those instructions, Emlyn went silent. His footfalls were almost as quiet as mine. My steps were damn near impossible to hear. Six centuries of practice helped me move almost silently. Em
lyn, not even half a century old, was just good.
We drifted down the path. The sun had dipped below the horizon before I caught my first sense of something unnatural. The magic sense my undead nature gave me, and heightened by my connection to the goddess, gave me a sense of something unnatural. I pointed toward our right.
Emlyn laid a hand on my shoulder and leaned in so he could hear my whisper.
“Graves on that hill,” I breathed, then pointed. He gave me a gentle push, a signal to continue toward the hill.
We moved upward, each footstep careful. As the hill rose, the trees and scrub thinned. I crouched behind the last cluster of brush. The landscape here opened to an expanse of grassy ground. I placed my hands palm-down on the soil. I pulled energy from my connection to The Lady and sent my thoughts into the graves.
“Nothing alive,” I said. “No sign of the dead either. But…”
“The graves?”
“Empty except one.” I scanned the hillside. If I had daylight, or were closer, I was sure we’d be able to see the blight over the graves. “If Gwen were here, she could probably tell us when the occupants left their graves.”
“Why leave one grave undisturbed?”
“You don’t want to know our suspicion,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. His voice was quiet, but full of authority. “I believe I need to.”
“We think whoever is behind this blight of empty graves can travel just as Gwen does.”
“Into the otherworld through the graves, then back out again?”
I felt rather than saw movement. Something arced down toward Emlyn’s shoulder. He sensed it too and whipped Medwyll out to intercept the blow. Wood thunked into steel.
Emlyn cursed, drew his other sword, Corff, and took a step back. Human-like figures shuffled up the hill. Their garments hung in tatters, dropping clods of dirt as the creatures stomped toward us. They made a crescent around us, pushing us back. Sticks and rocks in their hands were the only weapons they had. And their stench.
