5
An Unexpected Invitation
After a light lunch of bread, cheese, and fresh tomatoes from the small patch behind the hut, Tanyth returned to Mother Alderton’s to begin the long process of sorting through the jars, crocks, and packets on the shelves. It was a legacy of sorts that belonged to the village, and Tanyth felt drawn to discover what might be useful in the collection. Unlike the dusty, dried materials, which held little value beyond fireplace tinder, these jars and packages might still hold potency, depending on what she found and how it was made.
She spent a pleasant afternoon sorting through the collection and discovered blocks of bee’s wax, small crocks of various salves and ointments, as well as a collection of dried and powdered materials. One crock on the floor held sweet olive oil. She also found a couple of bottles of neutral spirits as well as two well sealed bottles of lamp oil. Each jar, bottle, or packet was labeled neatly in a firm—if sometimes thin and spidery—hand. There was even a small alembic for distilling essential oils from various herbs. Tanyth concluded that Mother Alderton could have taught her a lot and she offered a prayer to the All-Mother in the late woman’s name.
The shifting light from outside reminded her that the days grew shorter very quickly and that the current one was fading fast. She pulled her bedroll from its lashings under her pack and eyed the cot dubiously. The rope webbing didn’t look that comfortable with just a thin bedroll to pad it and she was of half a mind to sleep outdoors when Riley came up to the door and hallooed.
“Mum? I’ve yer tick here. Ma had me’n the other kids fillin’ it up with sweet grass all af’ernoon!”
She looked up to see the boy, surrounded by his pack, dragging a canvas ticking with odd bulges. She smiled at the flushed and sweaty faces. “Thank you, all!” She waved an arm to invite them in.
The small tribe of children—she counted five but it seemed like many more—wrestled the heavy canvas bag of sweet grass through the low doorway and onto the bed frame in the corner. Riley was the largest and eldest by what looked like a year. There were a pair of tow headed twins—a boy and a girl—next in line and then a couple of younger children who regarded her shyly through dark eyes. They were all nut brown and infused with the puppy-like energy of small and healthy children. They were also covered with grass litter and other assorted grimes. Tanyth smiled and remembered her own Robert, fondly this time—without her normal pang of regret.
Riley gave the corner of the straw-filled mattress one last tug into place and smiled up at her. “There you go, mum. Bestest tick in the village!”
“Thank you, Riley. I do appreciate the help you and your friends have given me.” Tanyth beamed around at the flushed and sweat smeared faces smiling up at her.
Riley stepped into the silence. “Alright, you lot! Out!” He waved his arms toward to the door as if shooing chickens and they all pelted for the open door way. In an instant they whooped and hollered outside, running off toward the barn.
Tanyth smiled to herself and spread her bedroll. She resisted the urge to lie down on it and try it out, half worried that, if she did, she wouldn’t get up. The short night and stressful day had conspired to exhaust her. “Soon enough,” she thought to herself. “Soon enough.”
In the meantime she looked around for the pantry and what she’d been trying to figure out earlier struck her forcefully. There was no apparent pantry or root cellar. The hut itself was practically bereft of any kind of storage, other than what could be hung from the rafters or stacked on the shelving. Naturally anything useful would have been taken out, which raised an additional question about the table, chairs, and oil lamp. Surely those were valuable, but there they sat. She screwed up her mouth in consternation as she peered around the darkening hut. The sun drooped below the tree line in the west, robbing her of needed sunlight. Crossing to the hearth, she laid a pile of the dry and dusty vegetation down, with several small sticks on top. A flint and steel from her pack got the tinder smoldering and soon a small cheery fire shed light on the inside of the hut. Standing on the hearthstone, she spotted an iron ring set into the floor to one side. She crossed to it and pulled open the trap door revealing a hollow in the dirt under a simple door. It looked big enough to store several bushels of root crops. She dropped the door back on its hinge and stepped down the two steps to investigate further. It was noticeably cooler and the floor was lined with coarse river gravel to keep moisture from the bottom of the baskets, when there might be baskets in it. The whole thing was barely 2 yards square and a yard deep, but a clever arrangement of boards under a thin layer of tamped dirt kept it from being obvious when viewed from above. It was, of course, empty. Any food stuffs would have been salvaged first, but it gave Tanyth an idea of just how well thought out these little huts were.
She clambered up the steps and stood there looking at the empty larder, thinking ahead to winter. There was little enough room there to keep tubers from freezing and she wondered if there was enough food to see the village through. The equinox was only a few days away and the hours of daylight would soon be very short. She considered the food in her pack, and what she’d be eating if she were on the road. While walking the byways, she frequently found apples, pears, and berries this time of year. She wasn’t above snaring a rabbit or two along the way and she was rather adept at fishing. While she could spend a few coppers to purchase tea and replenish her oatmeal supply at outposts along the road, the All-Mother provided much of what she needed.
She closed the back door of the hut, went to the front and climbed up the steps to the front of the hut. She stood there in the shadows as dusk crept across the vale. A group of men appeared from the narrow track back into the woods. Amber had pointed it out earlier as the path to the clay quarry. It was just wide enough to get the lorry wagon back there to load it. Judging from the looks of the men coming down the trail, clay was a dirty business. They all appeared to be in good spirits, laughing and chatting as they swung along. At the edge of the village they separated, heading for the various huts. Movement on the road caught the corner of her eye as William and the oxcart made a plodding return, the cart heaped with wood.
William’s smile flashed white against his sun-stained face and Tanyth was a bit surprised by how quickly dusk had gathered.
“Is everythin’ satisfactory, mum?” William called as the cart made its slow way up the path.
“Thank you, William. Very.”
He knuckled his forehead in acknowledgment. “If you need anythin’, just ask, mum. You’re a guest of the village.”
She nodded her thanks and the ox pulled the load of wood past and on toward the barn.
She waited and eventually heard the clatter of wood on wood as William dumped the load of firewood from the cart. In the forest surrounding the clearing, Tanyth heard the day birds settling. The soft noises of the wind through the branches died down as sunset progressed. She knew the night wind would begin soon and with it, night birds would begin to call. Standing there, with the sounds of wood and village all around, she found herself caressed by a gentle peace.
She stayed until the night chill began to work through her clothing before stepping back into the hut to pull her heavier, outer coat from the backpack. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was mostly waterproof and stopped the wind from stealing her warmth. She checked the hearth once, to make sure the coals were well contained and added a smallish log to the andirons. She needed to check on Sadie and felt a trifle guilty for not having done so sooner.
When she arrived, Tanyth found Sadie up and about, sitting on a stool at the family table while Thomas turned a pair of grouse over the fire. “My goodness, you’re not going to eat those, are you, my dear?” Tanyth asked.
Sadie smiled and shook her head. “No, mum. I’m having this nice bit of broth and some bread.” She nodded to a heavy earthenware mug on the table along with some crumbs where a loaf might have been. “My poor body isn’t ready for grouse yet.”
“You’re doing well
enough to be up and about, then.”
The younger woman shook her head. “Not really up yet. Enough to make it to the outhouse, and back. That’s about all, mum, but I’m beginnin’ to feel more like myself.”
Tanyth pressed the back of her hand against Sadie’s forehead and found it cool and dry. “Your fever has broken.” She nodded to herself. “A good night’s sleep and you’ll be ready to begin working with us a bit tomorrow.”
Sadie looked uneasy. “Do you think I could, mum? Mother Alderton always did for us and she was so smart and clever with her salves and ointments and all…” Her voice trailed off.
Tanyth smiled. “You rest easy on that score, Sadie. We won’t deal with anything complicated. Just the simple things that you all should know anyway living way out here on your own like this. At least until you get another healer to join you.”
“Do you think we could, mum? Find another healer, I mean?”
“I don’t know why not. It’s a lovely place and the cottage is very well built. It wouldn’t surprise me if somebody didn’t come along to fill it.”
“Would you do it, mum?” Sadie looked up at her.
“Oh, merciful heavens, child, I’m no healer. I know my limits. I have some rough knowledge from workin’ with the plants, but I’m just a poor herbalist.”
Sadie looked crestfallen. “Oh.” She sighed. “Well, it was worth askin’.” She looked up once more. “Thank you, mum, for all you done for me. I knew I wasn’t gonna pass on, but it was a might scary there for a time.” Her eyes blinked rapidly a couple of times as if she were holding back tears. “Having you come back made a world of difference to all of us.”
“You’re welcome, my dear. I’m just glad I was able to help.” She looked to where Thomas was still turning his grouse and smiled at him. “You take good care of her tonight, Thomas!”
“I will, mum, and thank you. Do I need to give her any more of this tea?” He nodded at the iron pot with the dregs of willow bark.
She shook her head. “No, and that should probably be thrown out and the pot cleaned before you try to cook with it again. It’s a trifle bitter and you won’t want that in the next pot of soup.”
They all laughed and Tanyth headed for the door. “You sleep well tonight, and I’ll show you how to scrape willow bark tomorrow.”
She slipped out and closed the door behind her. The grouse had looked and smelled delicious, but two grouse were little enough to feed Thomas and the kids without her mooching from them. She sighed. Yes, food was going to be a problem. She needed to get supplied and soon.
Before she’d taken three steps toward Mother Alderton’s hut, Riley came pelting out of dusk. “There you are, mum!” He sounded jubilant at having found her, if a bit breathless.
“I am, indeed, young sir.” Tanyth smiled at him. “And now that I’m found…?”
There was an answering flash of white in the dim light as he smiled back. “Ma says you could come to dinner wif us, if’n you’ve a mind, mum.”
“Would you like that, Riley?”
“Oh, yes, mum. It’s a treat havin’ company for dinner.” He fairly wriggled with excitement.
“Well, then I accept. Lead on, young sir. Lead on.”
He turned and walked toward the Mapleton hut, glancing over his shoulder now and again to see if she were keeping up. Inside the hut was an island of warmth and light in the gathering chill of evening. Amber and William looked up as Riley led her into the cottage and both smiled to see her.
“See, ma? I found her!” Riley’s voice carried proud triumph as if there’d been some doubt.
“I see that, Riley. Now go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready and I’m hungry.” She smiled at her little one as he scurried out the back door to wash up.
William chuckled as he rose to greet Tanyth. “In one door and out the other, that one.” He gave a little nod in her direction. “Thank you for comin’, mum.”
Tanyth nodded back. “Thank you for askin’. I was just wondering about my supplies. Perhaps you two can advise me.”
He waved her into a seat as Riley belted back in from the back and took his seat beside a sleepy looking sister. Tanyth smiled at the little girl who grinned back with eyes down cast.
Amber brought earthenware bowls of a rich smelling stew of venison and root crops, liberally sprinkled with fresh cut chives. She sat bowls in front of each of them, and then unwrapped a loaf of fresh yeast bread. As she settled in her place she gave a little nod to William who spoke loudly and sincerely. “Thank you, All-Mother and All-Father for the bounty you’ve provided and the protections you’ve extended. We thank the Guardian of the North for protecting the land. We thank the Guardian of the East for the blessing of the air. We thank the Guardian of the South for the fire in our hearth and the Guardian of the West for clean water and the blessed rains that nourish our crops. Blessed be.”
In the heart beat that followed, Amber and the children repeated, “Blessed be.” Tanyth added her own belated, “Blessed be.” It had been a long time since she’d heard a formal prayer and the rhythm of it soothed her.
The children quivered over their spoons but waited for Tanyth, as honored guest, to take the first morsel. She smiled and tasted her stew, releasing them from their bonds of etiquette to pounce on their suppers like the small, hungry animals they were. It was a rich broth, flavorful with meat and vegetables, and Tanyth found herself three spoons in before she knew it.
“Amber, this is wonderful stew!” Tanyth smiled to her hostess and accepted a thick slab of warm, crusty bread to go with it.
Amber beamed with pride. “Thank you, mum.”
William grinned at his wife in some secret communion, and they shared a short laugh. Tanyth didn’t ask and they didn’t offer, but she suspected that a goldsmith’s daughter didn’t learn to cook at her mother’s apron strings. Her mind filled in a lot of possibilities involving fires, iron pots, and meals gone awry.
They ate in a comfortable silence for a time, giving proper attention to the hot stew and warm bread, washing it down with fresh water. Tanyth had been on the road long enough that the settled meal tasted very good.
William broke the silence. “Supplies? How can we help, mum?” He turned his intense brown eyes on her.
She sat back on her stool, suddenly aware that she’d been shoveling the stew almost as fast as young Riley. “When I travel, I can only take what I can carry.” She looked back and forth between them. “I normally restock my tea and some dried grains as I pass through the various villages along the way and the All-Mother provides nicely, especially this time of year, so I don’t need to carry much.” She nodded at the bowl in front of her. “Meat like this isn’t something I see a lot of while traveling, nor yeast bread.” She smiled at Amber. “It’s wonderful and I thank you for supper.”
“You’re most welcome, mum. Thank you for taking time from your journey to help us.”
Tanyth turned back to William. “I expected there to be a village somewhere along here—an established one—where I could buy a bit of tea and some oatmeal, perhaps some raisins or dried apple.”
William’s look turned inward as he thought. “Fox Run is about five days on toward Kleesport. You must have come through Mablesboro last week sometime.”
“Such as it was, yes.” Tanyth agreed. “Lovely little village and the innkeeper brews a fine ale.” She smiled as she remembered the innkeeper’s reticence about selling ale to a woman, but didn’t mention it, or the episode with her staff on his instep when he got a mite too friendly. In the end a few coppers worth of ale had tasted fine with her meal of roasted pork and potatoes, and the innkeeper’s lovely wife nodded approvingly as Tanyth donned her hat and pack and struck out once more. “There are lots of things to eat along the way, and streams full of fresh water and fat trout, if you know where to look.”
“Sounds like you’ve got this down to an art, mum.” William said.
“Well, I’ve been doing it for a long time. If I hadn’t lea
rned how to travel well by now, I’d still be back in Fairport.” She smiled demurely and her tone was faintly self-mocking. “My first few years on the road were somewhat less successful than they might be now.” She grinned at him. “Tender feet, sore shoulders, and peelin’ skin were constant companions for quite a while.”
Amber spoke up. “So, what is it you do, exactly, mum? If you don’t mind me askin’…? I mean I know you travel and learn from herbalists, but how does that work exactly?”
Tanyth shrugged. “It’s nothing set in stone, my dear. I started on the road with Mother Agnes Dogwood in Fairport. I spent a season with her and learned the basics. She knew of a woman who specialized in blackberry who lived in Shreeve. So, after a couple of letters back and forth, I arranged to spend a few months with her. She knew a woman further down the road who knew more than everything about burdock and cattail, and I wintered over with her. She was getting on and needed help through the colder months. In the spring I moved on to the next, then the next. It’s been going on twenty winters now. Seems like I’ve always been on my way somewhere, all that time.” She smiled at the two of them. “Now, I’m a tough old boot and heading up to the northland to meet with somebody that I’ve heard tales about but never thought to meet. Gertie Pinecrest is her name. She’s a legend down south for what she knows about medicinal plants and their uses.”
William shook his head. “Never heard of her.”
“I suspect not. She’s not well known outside of the small circle.” Tanyth shrugged a shoulder. “No reason for you to know her. I thought she was a story myself for the longest time and then I met a woman who’d learned from her.” Tanyth stopped herself from saying much more about that. Barbara Myerston had been a bit frightening in her abilities, vigorously competent and seemingly tapped into an unseen world that gave her amazing insights that she’d never talk about, even to her students.
“So, she’s expecting you, mum? This Mother Pinecrest?” William asked.
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