A Cup of Blood

by Troy A Hill

  “Did you come to our side of Britannia to work on trade?”

  “Actually, I landed on the Saxon side of the land,” I shared a simplified story with them of a brigand attack, monks and merchants who left me behind, a need to walk for days, and even more brigands. I left out the Witch Hunters, the wolves and my berserk demon.

  “And that is where I found Mair,” Gwen interjected. “The Lady led me to her. Mair was injured, and I nursed her back to health. The Holy Lady herself has given Mair visions that another time of strife is coming.”

  "Another?" Lady Penllyn exclaimed. "I was afraid of such omens when you didn't react to Bleddyn's worries. Do you know how long we have, or what is coming?"

  “I’m not sure The Lady herself knows,” Gwen bit at her lower lip.

  "Perhaps those guilders that have popped up will make sense of it," Nesta volunteered. A chill gripped my spine, and my stomach clenched at the word guilders. Gwen found my hand and squeezed it.

  “What guild, dear?” Gwen asked.

  "Some guild that hunts witches and demons or such," Nesta said. She finished combing Enid's hair and shifted over to sit next to Rhian on the daybed.

  “Have they been in your Cantref long?” I found the voice to ask.

  "Caerwyn met with them right before we left to come here," Nesta said with a shrug. "He said they seemed different from our clergy here. More like the Saxon priests. Cocksure of themselves."

  “Did they bargain for anything?” Gwen asked. “Ask permissions?”

  "He didn't say, dear," Nesta said and shrugged. She caught herself fidgeting with the comb and leaned forward to hand it back to her daughter. Then her hand found Rhian's and squeezed it.

  “Caerwyn sent them off to find our Bishop,” Nesta added. “Said all religious matters have to have the blessing of our Cymry church fathers.”

  “Witches and demons?” Enid said. Her voice was full of mirth, so I suspected she didn’t put much faith into such beings. “I suppose I shall have to encourage Cadoc to spend his summer training more men for the teulu. Even if the only threat we face is Lord Fadog and his heirs.”

  “And you enjoyed every minute of watching him on the practice field when he was in Meirionnydd,” her mother teased.

  “I have kept one room of this house open,” Rhian said to Gwen and I, “just in case you could join us. There is but one bed in it, but I offer you our hospitality, Lady Gwen and Lady Mair.” Her formal tone suggested out gathering was at an end. She rose, so we did, too.

  "Of course, dear," Gwen said. "Any room is appreciated."

  "Welcome to Penllyn, Mair," Rhian told me with a smile. "I'm sorry we're disorganised with the wedding and the feast. All this talk of demons and witches, plots and plotting is no way to greet a new friend."

  32

  Troubled News

  The bride supped in her quarters. Cadoc made a show of staying away from the stairway. Instead, he received the good wishes of the household members and the various guests down in the keep's great hall.

  Gwen and I wandered through the hall. She pointed out the various nobles and lesser landholders for me.

  “There’s Lady Seren, now,” she sent. I kept my hand on her arm or shoulder so we could maintain our mental speech.

  “Rhian’s daughter?”

  “And her husband, Lord Dewi,” she replied as she pulled me toward a quiet corner of the hall. “Until he tells you otherwise, be sure to call him ‘Lord Dewi’. He’s rather presumptuous that way.”

  “I’ve met more than a few nobles with that same attitude,” I replied.

  Lady Seren glided through the great hall. Her resemblance to Rhian was clear in the sharp lines of her face, and in her reddish-brown hair, the same colour as her mother's. She did, however, seem to lack the strong will and demeanour that Lady Penllyn carried so. Like her mother, she tended toward dark reds and browns in her dress, though hers were of a higher neck and long sleeves. Where Rhian had added the weight of middle age and childbirth, Seren still had the youthful silhouette of thin arms and skinny hips. She was a finger width or two taller than her mother. Height must come from Bleddyn's side. Both of their children were tall.

  Dewi, I mean Lord Dewi, was just as tall as Lady Seren but was broad, muscular and thick. He had the normal dark hair and moustache that Cymry men liked. His hands were thick and meaty. He was a large man, but still smaller than Ruadh. He and his wife separated as soon as they were inside. Lord Dewi headed toward the food while Lady Seren stood tall to see over the crowd. She smiled and headed toward Rhian on the far side of the hall.

  They served the meal from a communal pot, from which a serving girl dipped out a scoop of stew for each guest. A young man at the next table kept the cups full of ale and wine. I begged off of the stew and claimed I had little appetite after the long journey, but let them pour wine into my cup. A cup in my hand helped me avoid most questions about my lack of appetite. Even though several dogs roamed the hall and nosed about for scraps, I preferred not to rely on them to hide my lack of eating.

  Gwen led me around the room and introduced me to the retainers of the various cantrefi. They were the men from whom the lord of the land could muster a force of men for defence, or raiding, in addition to each lord's own band of fighters or guards each kept.

  “The Cymry lords love their raiding parties,” she added, as we passed between social groups. “Give a British landholder an excuse to claim insult, and he’ll ride off with his men to extract a price for it.”

  “That is the way the world over,” I added.

  Most of those present sat on stools or benches in clusters of three or four. Each group sat around a small table. Gwen and I stood and let our shoulders touch as we watched the people in the hall. I raised my cup to my lips though the wine in the cup never passed my lips.

  Gwen moved us from group to group and provided the introductions for me. I met many a Milord and Milady as well as the townsfolk who lived atop the hill or down in the village. I noticed that two different young women sat at opposite ends of the great hall. Each had a harp in their laps and plucked and strummed the strings.

  “Most landholders get titles to assuage their egos, and to keep them loyal to the main lord,” Gwen’s thoughts continued as we drifted through the room. "Some of the nobles, though, are different. Bleddyn and Caerwyn, and to some extent Einion, are those who nurture the lands, and work to protect their people without cross-border skirmishes to grow their wealth. They only promote those who reflect that same care for their people. Einion isn't as calm as Bleddyn, though. He's had his share of raids on neighbours."

  "Nothing like a good wedding feast to bring out the relatives," I said. "What's the difference between ap and ferch in their names?" I asked aloud since we had found a quiet part of the hall.

  "Cymry custom is to use the father's name as her family name. So Cadoc is Lord Cadoc ap Bleddyn," Gwen explained "Once Bleddyn passes, he'd have the title and be called Lord Penllyn. Ferch is the female version of ap. Enid is Lady Enid ferch Caerwyn."

  The sun had just hit the horizon and cast its red glow into the great halls when Gwen cocked her head toward the main door.

  “Lords Penllyn and Meirionnydd come our way now,” she said.

  Two men strode in from outside, each with a mug in hand. The first man was almost as tall as Lord Cadoc and bore a striking resemblance to him. Thinner, with a limp in one leg. His tunic was light green, almost grey to match the streaks in his otherwise dark hair.

  The other man was tall, with a middle-aged belly. But he held himself straight and tall. Hair still covered his head though it was almost pure white. His moustache, however, was streaked with grey.

  “Bleddyn, the Lord of Penllyn is the taller one,” Gwen sent. “Nesta’s husband, Caerwyn is the one with white hair.”

  The two lords made their way to us before Gwen could reply.

  “Ah, time for our chat about the unease in the land,” Gwen said. “If he’s bringing Caerwyn with him, then the
y’ve both noticed things out of the ordinary.”

  “Milords, this is Lady Mair, another disciple of The Holy Lady,” Gwen volunteered.

  "A pleasure, milady," Bleddyn said. But his curt manner and the way his eyes shifted off me toward Gwen let me know he was more concerned with their business than with pleasantries. "Lady Gwen, may we ask your indulgence?" His eyes slid toward me, and Gwen cocked an eyebrow at his insinuation.

  "I believe I need more wine," I added. "I see Ruadh near the wine table. With your leave, milords?" I gave a little bow and stepped away.

  Ruadh leaned against one of the large logs that rose to support the roof overhead. Despite my earlier suspicion, I decided I’d follow Gwen’s example and accept him as trustworthy until he proved otherwise. I slipped an arm through the bend in his elbow.

  “Ah, Lass. You be trying to sneak up on me,” he said and grinned. “What be in your cup?”

  “Wine,” I said. “Would you like some? I simply cannot drink any more after my travels today.” I winked at him. His chest rumbled with mirth.

  "Hang onto it, lass." He waved his cup toward the room. "This lot will try to put another in your hand if it's empty."

  Rhian wandered by as she made her rounds as hostess. “Mair, have you supped?”

  “Thank you, Rhian,” I said and held up my cup. “Wine is all I dare try after travels.”

  “Of course, dear,” she said and touched my elbow. “One’s appetite is always a bit tempered after such a journey. Ruadh, you’ve made sure to get your fill? Perhaps you could take Lady Mair’s portion?”

  “Already have, yer ladyship,” he said.

  She chuckled and patted his arm. Her hand touched mine where it was tucked in the crook of his elbow.

  “Be a good escort for our newest friend,” she said. There was a spark in her eyes as she looked my way. Her eyes shifted beyond me, and her face went slack. I turned in time to see Lord Dewi drift behind us.

  “My apologies,” she said. “Please make sure you get your fill, both of you.”

  “She’s not fond of her daughter’s husband,” I whispered once Lady Penllyn had drifted out of earshot.

  "Lord Dewi is about the only one fond of Lord Dewi," Ruadh chuckled. "He always be asking for stern priests to come to their brin for services. Despite his pride in himself, he likes a good smell of brimstone in his church time."

  “Brin?”

  “Small fort,” Ruadh said and waved his mug toward the high ceiling. “Much smaller than this. Our abbot has to be careful who he sends down there. If the priest or monk doesn’t push the hard discipline for wages of sin, Lord Dewi sends them back right after mass is said. Not even a thank ye or have a cup o’ mead with us.”

  “Sounds like some guilders I’ve run into,” I said.

  "They not be here, lass," Ruadh said. He waved his hand around the room. "Except for Lord Dewi, there not be a man in here I wouldnae be happy to share a cup with."

  By now Lord Dewi had made his way back to the serving tables. He pushed his mug in front of a good man who had just stepped up to the table. The lad behind it hurriedly filled it, then bowed his apologies to those still waiting.

  “Heard anything of interest?” I asked. Ruadh had selected a good spot for observation. I knew shifters had preternatural hearing at least as good as mine. But with the drone of many voices, and the soft strains of harp music in the great hall, I’d be surprised if he could pick out much.

  “Not much, lass,” he said as he drained his cup. “Come, let’s get you a fresh cup of wine.”

  “Mine’s not empty,” I pointed out, but let him lead me toward the wine table. As we walked, he tilted my cup into his. He hid the action from view with his body. He drained his mug again as we threaded our way through the crowd.

  “This poor lass has an empty cup, lad,” my escort said.

  "Yes, milord. I mean, Brother Ruadh." The lad was barely old enough to shave, and I doubted he would say no to anyone. He poured me more wine from a pitcher in front of him. Then he moved the pitcher toward Ruadh's cup.

  “A bit of that special mead for me,” the monk said. The lad raised an eyebrow.

  “Aye, that one.” He winked at the lad. “Lord Penllyn told me you keep his personal jug down there.” The lad’s eyes darted to the far corner where his lord still talked with Gwen. He took the monk’s cup and knelt below the table. “Thank ye, lad,” Ruadh said.

  "Gwen has introduced me to almost everyone present," I said as we wandered through the hall. "But I can't remember the Milords from the aps and ferchs," I said.

  "Each one is about the same as the other, lass. But there'll be even more here for the feast after the wedding tomorrow. Just do what I do and say ‘Milord' to everyone who looks like they ought to have a sword. Most of them won't have swords on them since they be visitors and guests. But, you can tell who's used to having one on their hip."

  33

  A slap in the night

  Tables were full with four or five people seated around ones sized for three. Tonight was the eve of a happy occasion. Tomorrow a wedding, followed by the midsummer festival and a feast. Still, a sense of gloom seemed to hang over the day. I couldn't shake the feeling that the path Gwen and I spoke of, the path to help the goddess had begun.

  The hall itself reflected the dual nature of the day. Happy and joyful people laughed and talked under the dark, smoky ambience of a dark room. Even though there were numerous lamps lit and a cheerful fire burned in the circular ring of raised stone in the hall's centre, murky darkness still hung in the rafters of the great hall. The lamps made a valiant, yet feeble effort to dispel the gloom.

  Once we had found a quiet spot off to these again, my chaperone pointed toward the men with Gwen.

  "Bleddyn," he said, "spent time talking with the other Lords a bit ago when they were outside."

  “Many of the landholders along the borderlands say they’ve lost livestock to some beast.”

  “What kind of beast?”

  Ruadh shrugged. He sipped from his mug, nursing his drink now.

  “Usually only one or two animals killed. Mauled from what they say.” His eyes scanned the crowded room. “Scavengers get to the carcass first, so they’re not sure what kind of animal be doing the killing.”

  I recalled the slash wounds on the herd and shepherd. Gwen had said we were in Mechain when we found them. Bear. And I stood next to a shifter, a werebear. Someone capable of the carnage we had seen. I even had my hand on his arm right now.

  Then I remembered Gwen's sincerity and trust in Ruadh. She declared that the Holy Lady had chosen him to aid us. The hairs on the back of my neck were flat, not on end, even when I was this close to him. The few times I had been around shifters in the past, they always gave me that creepy predator about-to-attack feeling. I sensed none of that with him.

  “I’ve seen wolves in the area, are there a lot of bears?” I gave him a sideways glance.

  "Nay, not many bears," he said, his voice quiet. "But enough. Bears rarely kill just to kill. They have to be hungry or mad. Sheep and swine don't make bears mad."

  “Gwen and I found an entire herd that had been clawed apart,” I said, my voice quiet. “The shepherd too.”

  “When an’ where, lass?” The skin by his eyes crinkled as they hardened. He seemed to sense my question as a veiled accusation. I wasn’t sure if I had meant it that way. Perhaps I had?

  "A day ago. Gwen said in Mechain." I kept my eyes on him and watched for a reaction.

  “Aye, lass. I know what ye be thinking. Do you remember how long Lady Gwen said it would take a person to go from her lake back to here?”

  “A few days,” I said.

  “Aye,” he said. “Mechain is a different direction from the lake. I can’t walk between the trees like Lady Gwen. You nae be worrying about me doing anything like that.”

  “Brother Ruadh,” another voice said.

  “Lord Mechain,” Ruadh replied and cocked his head toward me. “Lady Mair, in
service to the Holy Lady with Gwen.”

  "My pleasure milady," the newcomer said. I could see the resemblance to Lord Dewi in him. Older, with more of a belly, but still thick and muscular. Unlike Dewi, his face shone with a smile, and his eyes glinted as he chuckled.

  “I do hate to interrupt,” he said, “but I’d like to leave a request with Brother Ruadh for our abbot.”

  Unlike Lord Penllyn’s earlier interruption, I didn’t get the sense I was being asked to leave. But, I knew I probably should.

  "If you will excuse me," I tilted my head toward the door. "I could use some night air to clear my head of all this conversation."

  Outside the evening had taken a chill. But, cold didn't bother me. Other than my feet. I preferred to have warmth around my feet. That was seldom possible. Especially here on this island.

  I drifted down the front porch toward the far end, away from a few others who had come out with their conversations. The porch was well-worn but seemed newer than the main building. A thatched roof overhead would keep the light of the daytime sun off the benches and chairs spread about on the wooden decking.

  Two men drifted by from around back, their laughter a few paces ahead of them. I took a quick glance back the way they had come. I was correct. The privy sat far to the back of the path.

  Another sound caught my ears. If it weren't for my undead senses, I'd not have heard it. Heavy breathing with some grunting. A softer, feminine voice breathed out a moan. I couldn't see anyone, but the moans came from behind one of the closer buildings. The smithy was that direction, I recalled. And just beyond that, the stables.

  Footsteps, soft in the night, told me another person had come out onto the porch. The shadows at the far end of the porch hid my presence, and Lady Seren didn't notice me. She leaned on the wooden railing and gazed out into the evening.

  The moaning off to the other side, faded. A moment later a young woman, probably one of the servant girls walked by. She was tugging her skirt, smoothing the wool fabric back into place.