by Jason Malone
I began to weep. Not out of grief or pity, but out of anger. I felt rage boiling up inside me. I wanted to scream, but I wept instead. This was no mere raid carried out by bandits or robbers looking for an easy haul. This was an attack on me. It was personal, and whoever had killed my men and placed their burned bodies here intended for me to find them.
I stood up and swung my sword at a scorched post. It crumbled from the blow, and the fresh embers hissed. I swore and kicked what was left of it. “Oh Gods, why have you done this?” I shouted at the sky. “Why?”
Light snow began to fall. Or was it ash? I cannot remember. Perhaps it was both. But I remember hearing my name echo on the wind, and my heart skipped a beat. Were the Gods replying? I heard my name again, but this time it came from the doorway. I turned and saw a man standing there, with Matilda behind him.
“Edward…” he said. I collapsed again, tears falling down my cheeks. The man ran over to me and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me to my senses. “Edward, thank the Gods in all the Heavens.”
“Dughlas, what happened?” I said. This man was one of my oathmen, and my best friend. I had thought his body was on the pile with the others, all burned up, but here he was. Alive.
“We can talk outside,” he said. “Get up, the others wish to see you.”
And so Dughlas helped me up, and I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. We went outside of what was left of my hall — my home — and there they were. Survivors. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then dizziness washed over me.
My vision blurred, and everything went black.
I woke by a small fire under a canopy of evergreens. Matilda was sitting beside me, as was Dughlas. I blinked and looked around.
“What happened? Where are we?” I asked, yawning. I had passed out, Dughlas told me, and when I returned to my senses I was tired and weak, so he and the others brought me back to a camp they had made in the wooded hills behind my hall, about an hour’s walk away, where I promptly fell asleep. It was dark now.
I asked Dughlas what had happened at the house. He did not witness the full event because he and three of my other oathmen were on their way back from a hunting trip, but one of the servant girls who managed to escape the slaughter filled him in with what he had missed.
Apparently, late in the night before this, about thirty or so men dressed all in black and riding black horses came to the hall and demanded to see whoever was in charge. My steward was woken up and went outside to see them.
The servant girl did not hear the conversation, but it did not last long, for my steward and the leader of the horsemen began shouting at one another, and the latter then drew his sword and gutted my steward in one swift motion.
Chaos and panic followed, and the servant girl rightly decided to escape through the back of the hall and into the woods. Someone was smart enough to sound the horn, which was what woke Dughlas and his companions, who went as swiftly as they could back to the hall.
But they were too late. They arrived just before dawn, saw the hall alight with flames, and watched from the trees in hiding as the black-dressed men pushed into the burning building those of my servants and tenants who were not lucky enough to escape. Some of the women, and even a few of the young girls, were raped. It was brutal, senseless savagery.
Dughlas admitted he and the other three warriors felt like cowards as they watched, but I assured him they did the right thing by waiting instead of throwing their lives away meaninglessly.
After the sun came up, the men threw most of the bodies onto a pile in the middle of the hall, then they mounted their horses and rode off westwards, leaving the ruin and taking nothing with them.
When they felt it was safe, Dughlas and the others emerged from the woods and began to search for survivors. They found some hiding, and some others returned from where they had run over the course of the morning. They took these survivors back into the woods, where they made a camp while deciding what to do.
Later that day, Dughlas heard hoofbeats off in the distance, so he and my surviving warriors went back to the house to investigate. That was when they found Matilda and me.
“What happened to my other oathmen?” I asked him. I was sitting up now, warming my hands by the fire.
Dughlas shook his head. “I didn’t see, but one of the servants told me they saw your warriors make a shield wall in the doorway shortly after Alfred was killed. They bravely made their stand there but were all slain to the last man.”
“Did they take any of the bandits with them?” I asked.
Dughlas grinned. “Apparently each man killed two before being killed himself.”
I smiled at that and found comfort in the fact they had died as warriors. They were feasting with the Gods now. Before then, I had only thirteen oathmen, but they were all loyal warriors and strong, skilled fighters. Now I had four, plus half a dozen servants.
“Edward,” said another of my oathmen, coming to stand before me. I nodded to him. It was Osmund, a man near the age of fifty with a thick grey beard and numerous battle scars. Osmund had served my master Brendan for as long as he could remember, but when the usurper Wim of Tidegate rose against King Edwin in 1104, Osmund was given leave to fight under Edwin’s banner. He returned after Edwin’s death in 1110, which was when I first met him. I never stopped feeling intimidated by that man.
“Osmund, come sit,” I said.
He shook his head. “Where were you? You were supposed to have returned a week ago.”
“I was caught in a blizzard, and then I was held up in Oldford.” I glanced at Matilda, and she stared at the ground.
Osmund grunted, then nodded at Matilda. “Sticking your poker in this new toy of yours, I bet.”
“Watch your tongue, Osmund,” Dughlas said. Osmund glared at him and then grabbed me by the throat and hauled me to my feet. His fist was raised and his eyes were burning red. I heard Dughlas draw his sword behind me, followed by the others. Osmund hesitated and glanced around at the men.
“Forgive me,” he said. His hands fell to his sides. “I lost my wife and two sons in that attack. I only wish you were there at least to die for them, if nothing else.”
“Edward was away, as were you. Go mourn,” said Dughlas. Osmund shook his head and then turned to go sit by his own fire with the other two oathmen. The three of them looked back to me and murmured to each other. They were angry with me, and they were right to be. I should have been with them, defending the lives of those who relied on me, but we cannot choose what Fate decides for us.
“Get some sleep, you two,” I said to Dughlas and Matilda. I lay down, looking up at the cloudy, starless sky. We were several miles away from the hall, but I could still smell it.
I could not sleep that night, of course. Whenever I tried, images of my people being gutted, burned, and raped flashed before my eyes. Was it my imagination, or was my gift giving me visions of the dead?
I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, but it was all I could think about. I knew exactly who was behind this. I just knew it. I kept that fact to myself, however, because I did not want to be blamed any further for this mess.
One thing was certain. The Gods were growing bored again, and for the first time in nearly a decade, they were beginning to cast their dice.
4
Hazeling
We left our woodland camp before dawn. There were twelve of us in total, and we were all miserable. Aside from Matilda and I, there were my oathmen Dughlas, Osmund, Egil, Cubert, and what remained of my servants.
We reached my house shortly after sunup, and my heart sank once again. The embers had cooled now, and the smoke dissipated, so all that remained was the gloomy skeleton of what was once my home.
Matilda tried to comfort me. She climbed down from the horse, came over to me, then lightly rested her hand on my forearm. She began to speak, but I pushed her hand away and ignored her. I wished to be alone with my thoughts.
The group waited while I went back into the ruin. I wanted to see if I c
ould salvage anything and maybe retrieve the silver I had hidden away. Dughlas insisted on helping. He was handsome, around twenty-five, he estimated, had long blonde hair that he tied into a thick braid and a short beard with streaks of black. His shoulders were broad, his arms wide, and he stood taller than most men.
Dughlas was orphaned as a baby, and like me he was taken in by Brendan and trained in the ways of a warrior so that he could serve as Brendan’s housecarl and oathman. We grew into men together, and we were like brothers. If I had to choose one man to defend me against any onslaught, it would be Dughlas.
“It’s a real pity,” he said.
“This was personal,” I said.
“Aye, I can see that. So can the others,” he said, jerking his head back to the group.
I glanced over and saw Osmund standing by his horse, watching us. “They blame me.”
“You aren’t the only one to have lost everything in this attack. They regret that they could do nothing to stop it but don’t want to blame themselves.”
I kicked through the rubble and found a few valuables. There was some jewellery and a few books that had survived the blaze more or less in good condition. Dughlas helped me lift the stone slab inside the fireplace, which hid my wealth. The iron chest was still within.
“They really did take nothing of value,” Dughlas said. “It seems like they didn’t even bother to look.”
“That just adds insult to injury,” I said. I lifted the chest out of its hole and opened it. It was still filled with all my silver and gold, and I scooped out two handfuls of coins. “Give these to the other three and take some for yourself.”
“What about the servants?”
“They’re free to go, if they choose. But I need my warriors. Some gold should keep them happier for now.”
Dughlas nodded and took the coins to my men. I watched him divide them up and then went back to searching through the ruins. I found a few more items worth keeping but stopped when Dughlas called my name.
I turned to see what he wanted and saw him pointing up at the hill to the south, where the ruins of my tenants’ homes sat. A man was up there, watching us. He sat on a black horse.
“We should go,” I mouthed to Dughlas. He nodded, then readied the horses and helped the servant girls mount up.
I returned to the group and we carried on westwards. Matilda asked me where we would go, evidently concerned she no longer had any place to live, so I told her I planned to return to Oldford, but from there I did not know.
I was hoping Lord Adalbert would provide us with hospitality for a while, though the more I thought about that, the more I doubted its likelihood. Adalbert was on good terms with my master, and I had known him years ago when I was an apprentice, but he had grown increasingly paranoid in recent times and was notorious for turning away those he did not trust.
I also thought about going back to Henton, even if it was just to return Matilda to her family, but I could not face the humiliation. I was prideful back then. Besides, Matilda did not want to return, so we both agreed that she would stay with us unless Adalbert denied us asylum.
I told Dughlas of how I had come to meet Matilda and why she was with me. He thought I was a fool, but a kind fool nonetheless. I also told him we had been followed by Harold’s men, but we both agreed that they were no longer our immediate concern.
We travelled slowly through the day because the servants wanted to keep stopping to rest, but my men and I had to hasten everyone along as fast as possible, for the man from before was following us. He kept at a distance, but every now and then he would appear on a hilltop or at the edge of the woods, as if he did not care that we could see him.
“Who is he?” Dughlas asked at one point.
I ignored the question. “When we get to the wall, I want you to keep going and take everyone to Oldford,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to seek advice.”
“Ah, you’re going to see her.”
I nodded. “When you get to the edge of Oldford’s swamp, set up camp and wait for me there. But do not camp by the road, and make sure you are not seen.”
“Aye, Boss. Don’t be gone for too long.”
“I will only be a few days,” I said.
And so we kept moving until we reached the low stone wall that marked the edge of my land. I suppose it still was my land, even though it was no longer my home. I bid farewell to everyone, and Matilda begged to be allowed to come with me. “You do not know what it is like to be a young lady in the company of strange men.”
“No, but these men have sworn to me. They will not hurt you.”
I felt for Matilda and wished I could bring her with me, but there was something I needed to do alone. I did not tell her where or why I was going, only that it was important.
I then turned south and rode Lilly along the stone wall built by my master’s predecessor, through empty fields and paddocks. Lilly struggled through the snow, but I pushed her on up the hill.
We came to a forest about a mile away from the road. The canopy was thick here, and it grew dark very quickly. I rode for about an hour, and just as the sun was setting, I found it at last.
This place had been almost completely untouched by humanity. I was unsure if anyone had ever visited this place before me. It was a grove in the forest where the canopy was thinner, and so needles of light from the setting sun filtered through the branches. The ground here had little snow, just patches here and there and a thin layer of frost. At the centre of the grove was a stone fountain. A fountain built by no man.
It was small and bland, nothing more than a stone basin with a pillar in the centre spouting water from the top. Yet it had a kind of peaceful tranquillity. This grove was somehow sheltered from all wind, so there was absolute silence aside from the birdsong and the trickle of water pouring into the fountain’s basin.
And sitting in that basin was a woman. She was naked, washing her hair under the water. I did not know her age, but she looked to be young. Her impeccable skin was as pale as snow, and her hair was almost as white, though it had a slight orange glow. She had a face of absolute beauty, and to look upon her was like being put under a spell.
She was singing softly to herself in a strange language. The water must have been freezing, but she did not mind. She sensed my presence, and her eyes opened. They were big and round; her left eye was a gorgeous green, whereas her right was a pale blue. Her eyes fell on me, and a soft smile appeared on her lips.
“Edward,” she sang. “The birds told me you were coming. I wanted to wash for you.” She looked down at herself and then back up at me. “It would seem I am too slow.”
I said nothing, only stared. The woman stood, shook her hair, then pulled it over her shoulder. It was very long, and the tips rested at her belly button. Water flowed down her chest and over her breasts. She had a perfect waist, which curved out to form her perfect hips, which then curved back inwards towards her feet.
“You told me you would not come here again,” she said. Her head tilted slightly to the side, as if teasing me.
“You are poison to me,” I replied.
She giggled and bit her lip. “My offer still stands. You could join me, and we could live here among these trees forever.”
“Every night I consider it,” I said. The woman stepped out of the basin and walked over to me. “I have brought you something.”
“Oh?”
I pulled a silver torc from my belt, which I had taken from my hoard under the fireplace. I held it out to her.
“Come put it in the fountain,” she said. I put my hand in hers, and she guided me over to the water. I dropped the torc, and it sank to the bottom. She took my other hand. “I have missed you, Edward. Will you love me?” When she spoke, it was almost like she was reciting poetry.
“Yes, but this will be the last time,” I said.
She moved her face close to mine, and we kissed. “That is the seventh time you have said that, E
dward.”
I grinned. “And I am sure it won’t be the last.”
She laughed at that. We kissed again, and as promised, I loved her that night. When I touched her, the cold disappeared, and so we were able to roll around on the frosty pine needles late into that dark winter’s night. For Aoife, as this woman called herself, was an elf.
I stayed with Aoife for three nights. We slept in the open under the stars, holding each other close. Her warmth protected me from the cold, and although light snow fell through the trees, I did not feel it.
She was not always naked. She wore a plain white dress, which was really just a piece of fabric she had wrapped around herself. She wore a variety of jewellery, including the torc I had brought for her. Some of it I had brought her in the past, but many other pieces came from elsewhere. All of it was silver. Aoife would often wear a crown of wildflowers in her hair, and she walked everywhere barefoot.
During the day, Aoife would bring me fruits and animals — mostly apples, rabbits, and pheasants — that she had found in the woods. She was the guardian of this forest, after all, and so its inhabitants gave their lives willingly if she commanded it. Being a creature of the Otherworld, Aoife did not need to eat, but my horse and I did.
We lay on the ground together on my final morning with her, watching the snow fall through the trees. Her head rested on my shoulder, and an arm rested on my chest.
“You will leave me today,” she said, reading my mind.
“Yes,” I replied.
“You do not have to go back.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Justice,” I said.
Aoife rolled her eyes. “Vengeance, you mean.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes. Are you certain it was this character called Hakon that scorched your home?”
I nodded. It was Hakon. There was no doubt about that. The description Dughlas gave me of the raiders was similar to the men that Hakon spoke to in Oldford. They came for my sword, but when they could not find it, they destroyed my home instead. I could think of no one else that would raid my lands without taking any wealth or captives with them.
