by Diane Magras
“Da,” Drest whispered, “people died in Birrensgate from that water. Jupp’s sister and her bairn, and more.”
“Nay, they didn’t. Not from that well.”
“I was there, Da. I saw the stones in the doorways. And Jupp told me.”
Grimbol stared at his big, rough hands in his lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t mean for his family—ah, Jupp, poor lad.” He sighed. “Even your old da makes mistakes, lass. And this is one that will haunt me.”
Drest put her hand over her father’s.
The old warrior took a long, deep breath. “Where is Lord Faintree?”
“The healer took him.” Drest paused. “What will happen to him, Da? He has enemies in Faintree Castle. Like his uncle. And they’ll be hunting him.”
A subtle change came over Grimbol’s face, a new, thoughtful look. “Oswyn?”
“Aye, Da. He sent that Sir Maldred to slay Emerick. Twice.” She paused. “He’s the knight I sent off the castle’s cliff.”
Grimbol stared. “My own wee lass? We trained you better than I knew.”
“Maybe you did, or maybe it was just me. But we have to think of Emerick now. That Oswyn wants him dead.”
“He’s become bold,” Grimbol murmured. “To send a man like Maldred to slay the lord in his own castle—he’s sure of his support, sure he won’t be punished.”
“Aye, Da. So Emerick can’t go back. And we can’t leave him alone here, either.”
“Let me think, lass. With luck, we can stay here for a few days, maybe even a fortnight. I see a solution before us, and Oswyn is at its center, but reaching him—that will be the problem. But you’re right; we can’t leave your battle-mate behind.”
The old warrior kissed his daughter, and let her go.
Drest sat back and watched him walk ponderously to his sons. He had listened to her—as his daughter, brave and strong in her own right, and as a member of his war-band. And he loved her—of that she had no doubt.
* * *
• • •
Much later that night, when her father and brothers were settled around the big room’s floor, Drest left her blanket and slipped outside with Tig.
“What was it like for you in the castle?” Drest asked. “They were beating on me when they took me in, and I didn’t see much of anything but the floor.”
“It was beautiful. The paintings on the walls, the carved stone everywhere, the rich cloths all the servants wore—” He stopped. “They didn’t hurt me, but they led me aside for questioning. Two burly guards and that traitorous knight. I’m sorry; I pretended I didn’t know you.”
“Nay, I don’t blame you. They’d have put you in ropes too, if you’d told the truth.”
Tig gave a little bow. “Thank you for that. By the by, I lied to them about everything: I told them I was the brewer’s son from Soggyweald and had been helping Emerick ever since he staggered into our town. I also told them that my name was Drest, but my casual name was Tig—so if Emerick asked for one of us, there wouldn’t be any question—” He broke off. “I wasn’t trying to pretend I was you, Drest.”
“You wouldn’t have done very well if you had. I am a legend, you know.” She pointed at his rich blue tunic. “They gave you fine clothes. Did they give you a post at the castle?”
“No, they sent me to Emerick. He’d been asking for Drest. He was frantic with worry, and when he saw my face—he—he looked as if I had murdered you.”
Drest laughed. “Well, you did steal my name.”
Tig did not smile. “No one knew where you had gone. Emerick called for a squire and made him look for the farmer to find out. I had the idea to ask the guards, and when the one who’d caught you came up to his chamber—you should have seen Emerick. There he was, still wounded—a woman had shaved his face and bandaged his shoulder, but not his ribs yet—and he—he flew out of his bed and grabbed that guard’s shoulders, hauled him to his feet, and cried, ‘Find that boy and take him to me now, or I’ll see you hanged!’”
Drest stared at Tig, who was watching her expectantly.
“That’s a good story,” she said, “but he’s too wounded to have done that. What did he really do?”
Flushing, Tig looked down. “It was a good story, wasn’t it? But very well, if you must have the truth. When the guard said you were in prison, Emerick fainted. And he didn’t wake up until that knight came to kill him.”
“Sir Maldred. He’s the one who murdered Emerick’s sister, Lady Celestria. And no one knows why.” Drest glanced at the river, which was flowing rapidly, turning the water wheel on the mill behind them. The splash was comforting, almost like the waves at home. “Can you take me to Emerick?”
* * *
• • •
They went past the river to a path through the trees and to the stone hut in the small clearing where Tig had stopped many days ago. Mordag joined them when they reached it, and landed on Tig’s outstretched arm.
“We’ll stay out here,” Tig said, “Mordag and I.”
Drest pushed open the hut’s door and crept in.
A pot sat on a crackling fire in the center of the room, and, from a stool, Wimarca stirred it. She nodded toward the back wall. In a bed festooned with fragrant herbs, Emerick lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling smoothly, his face at peace.
Drest went to his side. The rotting smell was gone, replaced by a clean and herbal scent. She knelt and touched his hand.
His eyes fluttered open. “Drest?”
“Aye, I’m here. Your wound’s been treated at last, has it?”
“Yes. I feel no pain. I feel very little.” His words were soft. “Wimarca gave me something quite strong to drink.”
“Maybe it will help you sleep. You deserve a good sleep, after all I’ve put you through.”
A weak smile rose to his lips, then faded. “Do you forgive me, Drest?”
“Of course I do. Do you forgive me coming in to murder you?”
His lips twitched. “I’m grateful that you came in to murder me; if you hadn’t, Sir Maldred would have done it. Just as he murdered Celestria.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“Though perhaps it would have been best if you hadn’t come. Or at least you should have left me. I can do no good in this world, Drest, and will always draw danger to those around me.” He shuddered. “They’re hunting me. All my knights. They won’t stop until I am dead.”
Drest leaned close. “Emerick, if Jupp could be loyal to my da, there have to be some loyal men at your castle.”
“They’re all loyal, but to the past. Most of my knights have followed Oswyn in battle. Many of them were with him on Crusade.” Emerick was trembling. “I shall never see my castle again. There is not one man in this world who is loyal enough to protect me.”
“Aye, but there’s a lass.” Drest squeezed his hand. “I’m not leaving you, Emerick. When I said I was your guard, I meant it. Don’t even think of doubting me.”
The young lord turned his hand up to grasp hers. “Of course. There is not a knight truer or more chivalrous in Faintree Castle than you, Drest. I could not ask for a better guard.”
“And friend. I’m your friend too, am I not?”
“I could not ask for a better friend.” Emerick swallowed, breathed, and started to speak again, but something caught in his throat. He shook his head.
“Get some honest sleep, lad.” Drest started to rise.
His weak grip tightened. “Don’t leave yet. Please.”
Drest settled back on the floor beside the bed, her hand still in Emerick’s.
She watched the young lord’s pale blue eyes close, then closed her own eyes and rested her head on the blanket by his arm.
Drest told herself to not think of the knights streaming from the castle in chase of her family, nor the home that Emerick had lost,
nor her new role in the war-band. Emerick would be safe with her brothers around him, and her whole family would stay in Phearsham Ridge until he was well. And no knights would bother with that sleepy little town so far from Faintree Castle. They might not even remember that it existed.
With that comforting thought, Drest at last drifted to sleep—deep, blissful sleep as she had not experienced since she had left the headland.
Code of the Mad Wolf’s War-Band:
Shuttle your courage back and forth with someone you trust.
Always carry a weapon.
Never falter before yourself or the enemy.
Accept no defeat: Always fight.
Honor and protect all matrons and maidens.
* * *
• • •
Wulfric’s Three Rules of Battle:
Prepare yourself with weapons.
Control your anger as its own fine blade.
Get your rest, and stay warm, for the field will be cold and you will often need to draw on the memory of that warmth.
* * *
• • •
Drest’s Code:
Sometimes words alone can save your life.
Glossary
Arrow loop: A narrow opening or slit in a castle’s wall or battlement, used to fire arrows from within.
Bailey: The inner yard of a castle, between a defensive wall and the inner tower.
Bairn (pronounced BERN): Scots for “child.”
Battlement: The top of a castle wall or tower, usually featuring spaced openings through which its warriors fight.
Crenulated: Used to describe a piece of stonework, such as a battlement, with thick square pieces (merlons) with wide gaps (crenels) between them.
Crossguard (part of a sword): A horizontal piece of metal on the hilt just above the blade that protects the hand on the grip.
Curtain wall: The defensive outer wall of a castle. There can be more than one.
Demesne (pronounced de-MAIN): The lord’s share of crops, designated as specific sections of a field. In feudal societies, lords own many individual towns and villages, and the people of those places pay to live there with those crops.
Grip (part of a sword): The middle part of the hilt between the pommel and the crossguard; it’s what you hold.
Hauberk (pronounced HALL-berk): A shirt of chain mail that covers the neck, shoulders, arms, and chest, and reaches past the hips.
Helm: A helmet, part of a knight’s armor that protects the head.
Hilt (part of a sword): The entire top section of a sword (everything that comes above the blade itself).
Hull: The underside or body of a boat or ship.
Inner bailey: The fortified inner wall of a castle directly before the tower or keep.
Keep: The inner building or tower of a castle, protected by outer fortifications, and thus its safest place.
Pommel (part of a sword): The shaped end of a sword’s hilt, which sticks out beyond the hand and serves as a counterweight.
Portcullis: A gate made of metal or wood (or both) with a series of spikes across the bottom. It slides between two grooves in a gatehouse, raised and lowered from within. It’s an essential part of a castle’s defense.
Surcoat: A long, loose, sleeveless garment worn over chain mail, reaching the knees, usually with a heraldic emblem on the front (Faintree Castle’s is a blue tree).
Author’s Note
The Mad Wolf’s Daughter takes place during a period of relative peace in medieval Scotland. By this point in history, Scotland found itself a poor country (compared to England), yet a strong one. England was a natural aggressor, but Scotland was far enough north, remote enough, and fierce, and hadn’t been easy to subdue. So English kings and Scottish kings came to an agreement: England would technically be in charge, but Scotland would have its own king and system of autonomous government.
In 1210, that agreement was in full force, and Scotland was near the end of the reign of William I. He was an old man who could look back at a reasonably successful kingship: Law and order and town life had grown beneath him, as had feudal society, and there was stability overall. The country was experiencing a long, peaceful lull, although on the horizon, Scotland would be the site of a series of famous battles that would define its identity.
I didn’t write about famous battles, or royalty, or any famous people. I wanted to depict the kinds of ordinary people around whom local legends would spring. To this end, all my characters and their conflicts are fictional. But they’re based on history.
Feudalism and Village Life
Lord Faintree’s relationship with the villagers reflects the feudal society that existed in the early thirteenth century. Villagers were officially tenants, and, to pay for the privilege of living and working in the village, had to tend the lord’s demesne. This was a section of land that villagers planted, farmed, and harvested along with their own. Villagers were assigned to work in the lord’s demesne on certain days each week or month, and had no choice, which could mean neglecting their own crops.
Mills, like the one Arnulf manages, could be another source of income for the lord: By requiring villagers to grind their grain at the village mill and not at home, the lord could demand a portion of each share of milled grain. The miller would collect these shares by the lord’s order, as well as his own shares. (Millers were not always well liked in their villages and were often the richest people in town.) Arnulf clearly cares about his fellow villagers more than the money he can make from them, and is as eager as they are to throw aside Lord Faintree’s control. If Phearsham Ridge had been a real town, its remoteness might have helped save it: Faintree Castle would have been too busy with its other towns, and with wars, and the small amount of grain from the fields and the mill wouldn’t have been worth the manpower.
Villages also paid their lord through their residents themselves, providing men to fight in the lord’s wars—though they were untrained, armed with their own weapons (spears and knives), and often had only wool or leather armor or no armor (chain mail was expensive and worn only by knights). This was the “brute force” part of the army.
Knights like Sir Maldred might live an honored life at a lord’s castle, but could also have owned land. Knights were always subjects of their lord, like villagers, and paid their dues through their own (and their villagers’) military service. Knights who didn’t personally lead their own men in battle were considered cowards.
Small war-band invasions of towns and settlements weren’t unusual during this period, particularly in the Scottish Borders, the region of Scotland that directly abuts England. Knights or lords might send a war-band over to pillage, often as part of a larger act of aggression. Grimbol would have served in such a war-band and learned its ways.
War-Bands
Different kinds of war-bands existed during medieval times. Some war-bands were part of a formal army. Grimbol served in a formal army when he fought for Faintree Castle, and, like other men-at-arms, lived at the castle. Some men-at-arms might live outside in one of their lord’s villages. Grimbol’s later war-bands (such as his war-band with Jupp, for example) were different. Composed of outlaws, the members in those war-bands often did not live in the same village, but generally lived as normal people did—in houses, and might have even been tradesmen. When Grimbol formed a war-band of his sons, he gave up a so-called civilized life in exchange for one of constant training—though his war-band doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping in beds or under roofs. They sleep outside on the beach, armed and ready to rise at a moment’s notice. In poor weather, they crowd into the sea caves, which isn’t too comfortable. For his family war-band, Grimbol set up a life like the one he must have known when en route to a battle for Faintree Castle.
Women
Idony, Wimarca, Celestria, and Merewen show some of the varied levels of freedom that matrons and maidens had
in medieval society, often more than you might think.
In villages, unmarried or widowed women could own property and have jobs like blacksmith, miller, carpenter, and more. But while women could do what were considered men’s jobs, they often didn’t; there was a great deal of daily backbreaking household labor—laundry, food preparation, and cleaning—done by hand and with limited supplies (think fat, lye, and ash for soap). Women typically took this on, and also helped with the farming.
A noblewoman like Celestria would have had a different life. She could inherit, but only if she didn’t have a brother. Yet her father had complete control over her future and could dictate whom she married, even if she hated the man. Noblewomen were often used as pawns in political games, their marriages forming family alliances. While she would have been taught how to behave at court, as well as read, weave, and heal, she would have also been taught that obedience to her father or husband was her greatest virtue.
Girls like the two in Launceford had more freedom than just about anyone else: Living on the street, survival was more important than gender roles. They would have been asked to steal, along with their brothers. Yet like many children in their situation, if they couldn’t earn their keep, they would be seen as just more mouths to feed.
Few maidens would learn how to fight with a sword like Drest, yet some learned how to use other weapons. Longbows were the popular option for maidens to learn, especially in castles. That’s something that Drest and Celestria would have had in common.
Healers like Wimarca, Merewen, and Elinor (Tig’s mother) might choose to remain unmarried to retain total control of their lives. Yet that made them vulnerable to a village’s whims and ire, even as they played such an important role. Most women knew basic healing techniques, but a dedicated healer was special.
Healing
Medieval medicine wasn’t perfect: yarrow, for instance, was said to help heal wounds; and gillyflowers could cure paralysis. But astute healers knew effective remedies, such as willow bark, which contains a substance like one prominent in modern painkillers, to soothe pain. Some medieval concoctions included what we know today as poisonous plants, but a tiny dose could work wonders, and a good healer would know how to use them.
