A Cup of Blood

by Troy A Hill

  There wasn't much I could do, so I shifted my attention to the bard. He let his song drift off to applause. His audience cheered and banged their cups on tables. He bowed and then gestured to Lord Penllyn who stood and waved for quiet.

  “I have asked our friend Ilar, whose music you’ve been enjoying this evening, to allow a special guest to share a story with you.” Gwen, who sat on a stool behind the abbot, stood and walked into the open area near the tables.

  “Lady Gwen, would you be so kind as to share a tale of the time from when your namesake, Good Queen Gwenhwyfar and King Arthur oversaw these lands?”

  The crowd fell silent and leaned forward on their seats. Gwen bowed to Bleddyn. Her voice was loud, yet composed.

  “In honour of the bridal couple,” Gwen said with a smile at Enid, “I shall tell a small bit of the tale of Geraint and his bride Enid, who bears both the name and the beauty of our lovely bride here today.”

  Lady Enid blushed and gave a little clap of encouragement. Ilar, the bard, nodded to her and tapped the strings of his harp in time to the cadence she set as she recited the poetic verse.

  The tale Gwen wove was one of a young man at arms, Geraint, who accompanied Queen Gwenhwyfar. When she was insulted by a passing warrior, Geraint sought redress for the queen’s honour. The story told how Geraint met Enid and her family. They helped him defeat the man who had insulted the Queen. After that Geraint took Enid to the court of King Arthur where they were married.

  By the end of her story, the townsfolk and the nobles followed her every word. Ilar mouthed the words of the verses with her. As she finished, he was the first on his feet and bowed to her. The crowd banged their cups and hands in applause. Gwen accepted the recognition in a dignified manner and bowed toward the crowd.

  After Gwen finished her story and came back to sit next to me, several of Enid's relatives ran up and grabbed hold of the young bride. They hoisted her onto their shoulders and ran out the gate, down to the village below the fort. Enid played the part of the abducted bride but grinned from ear to ear.

  I pointed at the small mob. “Custom?”

  "Cadoc will follow," she said. "He will have to perform silly and impractical feats for their entertainment to win her back. They'll hide her in a house down in the village. Cadoc will eventually be allowed to find her." She chuckled and pointed up the hill.

  “Once they’re back here, she’ll run, probably toward the grove. The first of the girls to catch her will get married next, according to custom.” Her eyes grew distant. She laid her hand on my shoulder before she continued.

  “My wedding had a similar custom. Times haven’t changed much,” She projected.

  “Did they make your new husband, the King… was it Arthur… perform silly tasks to rescue you?”

  “Yes,” She looked down the hill before she resumed our mental conversation. “Though, he wasn’t king yet. He had a few battles to win before enough of the British warlords would bend their knees to him.”

  “You told an interesting story. Were you really insulted by a noble in black and the lord’s man?” I asked.

  “Actually, yes,” she sent, then said. “I’ve gotten so used to the bard’s retelling, I have to pause to remember the real story. Arthur lead a hunt for a white stag. I rose late that morning. Geraint stayed to accompany me to the hunt.”

  “Was Geraint that good a fighter?”

  "Precocious. He was very skilled but was a condescending brat. I felt sorry for that Enid. There is more to the bard's version I didn't tell tonight. It would have shown just how cocky he was. The previous Enid deserved to be sainted for her efforts to keep him on task."

  "Is this where we're supposed to shake our heads and mutter ‘men!' under our breath?"

  Gwen chuckled. Around us, folks at the festival danced around the bonfire. We watched Fadog stumble his way around the festival. Most of the nobles, landholders under Penllyn or the other Lords, tried their best to avoid Fadog.

  I half-expected Fadog to push an issue or cause a ruckus. Tonight had been too smooth so far. At his worst, so far, Fadog and his men had been loud and off-key when they sang bawdy songs. That earned them a stern glance from Illar. Fadog just smiled and kept singing.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I remembered our other guests. The guild's Seeker and his servant.

  42

  Friends

  Mist formed atop the hill. Thin tendrils wafted from the grass as the nighttime air brought a chill.

  The seeker drifted through the crowd. He tried to chat with townsfolk and servants who lived in the hillfort. His companion sat on their bench. His fingers idly twisting the black staff with the silver and iron Witch Hunter’s sigil atop it. The sight of the guild’s symbol sent another shiver down my spine.

  The aged guilder's eyes scanned the crowd. I turned away after a second or two. No sense in making eye contact. Most of the people the seeker tried to make conversation with listened for just a moment, then turned to head to where others danced to the bard's music.

  "Let us help," Gwen said and pointed at where the servant girls worked to clear away the remains of the feast. We found the aprons we had used earlier. I tucked the cross Gwen had given me under the fabric. It was a shield, more so than just to have villagers and nobles connect me with their religious notions. With the Witch Hunters in the area, I could also claim church connection, limited as it was in this remote land. Just like Ruadh, I had found a home in the religious group that encouraged my destruction for being different.

  "Do the Cymry nobles usually help with mundane chores at feasts?" I asked Gwen as we lifted a large wooden platter off the table. I nodded toward where Bleddyn and Caerwyn helped pull chairs and stools back from the ever-growing crowd around Ilar and his harp.

  "Some more than others," she said. "Our customs in this part of Britannia are that no man or woman is above work. Our notion of hospitality means you'll often find Lords and Ladies serve their guests, peasants and nobles, before they sit to a meal." She glanced to where Bleddyn helped clean the remains of one of the roasted boars. "Penllyn nobles are amongst the best. That includes being among the first to dirty their hands with a task."

  "Many of the European nobles I have met could take lessons here," I added. Nesta and Rhian, along with Dylis, the Lady Mechain, gathered plates and mugs from the tables and carried them to where kitchen girls were scraping leftovers and crumbs into buckets for the hogs.

  I tried to keep an eye on the seeker. He made his way to where the men gathered the smaller tables and stools. The Seeker lifted a small table and walk alongside the Lord of Penllyn. Bleddyn kept walking. He carried two of the tables for each one the Seeker grabbed. Bleddyn refused to stop to talk, which forced the guilder to help with the cleanup, or follow along and do nothing as he tried to converse with him. Bleddyn’s stoic expression let me know the seeker wasn’t having much luck ingratiating himself or his guild with the noble.

  Two of the kitchen girls had finished scrubbing out one of the largest metal cauldrons and had just moved onto another almost as big. Rhian was there and motioned me toward her.

  “Two of us can handle this,” she said. I helped her lift it. We carried it back to the main building. Rhian kept her eyes on her husband while he conversed with the Witch Hunter.

  “Problems, milady?” I asked. Her eyes still lingered on Bleddyn and the Witch Hunter. They only moved off once we climbed the short set of steps into the kitchen. We set the large cauldron back in its place.

  “My husband had better not send for water and offer those guilders hospitality in the fort,” Lady Penllyn said. No matter what she had said before, her forceful personality still made me want to use her title instead of her name.

  I remembered the girl who washed the mud off of our shoes when Gwen and I had entered the main keep with Cadoc.

  “Gwen came to me tonight,” she continued. “She let me know some of their guild had captured and tortured you. We hadn’t heard of them until this spring, and
now they’ve attacked people in the name of all that’s holy?” Her eyes, even in the dim light of the few oil lamps they had lit in the kitchen sparkled with an inner fire.

  “As long as I am Lady Penllyn, they will find no hospitality beyond the bare necessities in this land. I’ve already told my husband not to extend a welcome.” She said, thoughtful. “Would you like to make formal charges? Between the power my brother and my husband hold, we could run them out of the cantref, and out of Britain for good.”

  "No…" I shook my head. There was so much that I couldn't tell Lady Penllyn though she meant well.

  “There is much about Gwen and I that we don’t want the Roman Church to scrutinise.” Her eyes got a glimmer of recognition though I doubted her understanding of my situation was anywhere close to the truth.

  “Your relationship with Gwen…” she let that trail off.

  “Be careful,” I said and motioned toward the door to outside. “The Guild is adept at spreading coins and favours. Any of the servants or villagers here are likely to have been promised enough to get them to listen and report back. I’ve seen it happen everywhere the guild has gone.”

  The Lady of Penllyn held my gaze for a moment. Fire burned behind her eyes. She untied her apron and tossed it on a table in the empty kitchen.

  “Perhaps I should be sure my husband gives them only the welcome they deserve.” Her face was grim, and I pitied the man, lord or not, who crossed the Lady Penllyn tonight.

  Another serving girl came into the kitchen, so our conversation ended. I went back out and continued to help clean up. The two Witch Hunters were still in the courtyard, though they retreated as Rhian approached. I glanced at the seeker and repressed a shiver.

  Instead of embracing my flight instinct, I searched for another chore. More dirty pots stood waiting. I grabbed a bucket and went to get water from the well. When I returned, the girls with the scrapers had already moved onto another large pot. The hogs in the village would eat well tomorrow.

  Ruadh found me as I leaned on one tables made from long and heavy planks set on wooden horses. The men hadn’t yet gotten around to carrying them out of the courtyard.

  “Tis a heavy one, milady,” he said. “Let me help you with it.”

  I laughed. With our preternatural abilities, either Ruadh or I could have lifted and carried the thick plank with ease. These were thick cut timbers, used for outer walls of stout buildings. Few of the men used to hard labour could have managed one alone. I pretended to struggle with the weight.

  Here we were, the two people least likely to need help due to our preternatural strength, helping each other. Ruadh winked at me. We made a show of lifting it high to stack it with the other planks, just in case someone wandered by the dark area between the buildings.

  “I dinnae know what got into Lady Penllyn, but she is not kind to them Witch Hunters,” he said as we walked back toward the courtyard and lifted another plank. I noticed the servants seemed happy to leave the heavy job to Ruadh and I.

  "Gwen talked to her about my experience," I volunteered once we were out of earshot of others. "She told how the witchers had accosted me in the woods." By now we had a second board back at the pile. I sent my senses out through the area, but found no one close enough to hear our conversation.

  "Aye. Gwen said the same to the abbot," Ruadh said, his own voice quiet. "She told him they had accosted you in the woods. The abbot nae be happy with them right now."

  “Gwen didn’t mention my other… nature, did she?”

  Ruadh shook his head.

  "Nae," he said, his voice quiet. "Lady Gwen is smart enough to say just enough to show how bad these Witch Hunters be." He glanced around, to make sure no one was close to us.

  “What did she tell the abbot?”

  "That your womanhood had been threatened, and two of the guilders had tortured you. She didn't share the details and said he was treat it as if it were under the bonds of confession." He stroked his scraggly beard and pulled down on it as he pondered. "I've not seen the abbot that mad, ever. I could hear his blood pumping hard and fast."

  “When he heard about what they did to you,” Ruadh added, “the abbot wanted to oust them right away. Lady Gwen convinced him to make them move on, and show them no welcome.”

  I slumped back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. My urge to run was back and growing. I didn't need the Witch Hunters anywhere near me. Onion Breath… Hunchback… I didn't want to go back to the memories of my ordeal with them.

  Ruadh must have seen me shake. He lay a hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, as I brought my tremors under control. “They made me feel vulnerable, in ways I hadn’t for centuries.”

  “Tis all right, lass,” he said, letting his toothy smile break through his beard again. “The Lord and Lady Penllyn be friends. They and the abbot won’t be lettin’ them do harm to anyone here.”

  Now, two more people, Rhian, and the abbot knew enough of what had happened at guilder hands. Tonight, a happy occasion had gotten somewhat complicated because of the Guild.

  “Perhaps we should dump those two in a ditch somewhere…?” I asked, half joking. With a shifter like Ruadh with me, we could catch the two guilders out away from other eyes and end their incursion into Penllyn.

  “Aye, that could be arranged.” Ruadh grinned. “You’ll need a bigger ditch. There be a score of them down the hill camped between the town and the abbey. Those two just be the leaders.”

  My heart sank. I did not want this, did not need this. Just when I was comfortable in a new relationship. I had found Gwen, or she had found me. She knew what I was and didn't mind. She was already over a century old and didn't show signs of ageing. That meant we could have a very long time together. Time in which I wouldn't have to watch her wither with age and die while I stayed the same.

  “Damn that Seeker to hell and back,” I breathed.

  “He probably already has been there, lass,” Ruadh chuckled. “I can see why you be concerned. He is dangerous as long as he’s here. One wrong word, one little slip by any of us with secrets, and we’re all in trouble.”

  I tightened my arms around my chest. Every time I found family, found love and companionship, it was ripped away from me. I didn’t want to flee again because of the damned Witch Hunters. I came to Britain to avoid them. Then they were in Mercia. I escaped them there. Gwen found me, they made it even farther west. And the damned Seeker, no less. Right here!

  “Aye, lass, you be thinking of running…”

  I bit my lip, and gave him a weak smile. I wanted another month, or a year before I had to make that choice to leave or stay.

  "Now, lass." His voice rumbled, but still quiet. "You have friends here. Lady Gwen be excellent at seeing the true person inside of us. If she likes you, then ye be a fine person." Ruadh said. He wiped a red tear off my face. "The guild won't be causing us problems as long as we stand together, here with our friends."

  He and I stood to lose the most with the bastards from the guild in this land. If he wouldn’t run from them, neither would I.

  I peeled the apron from around me and used it to wipe my eyes. An extra bloodstain or two from my tears wouldn't be noticed on its already greasy and stained surface.

  Damn those Witch Hunters. They would not disrupt my life again. I stood straight and looped my arm through Ruadh's for the short walk back to the courtyard.

  43

  Chasing the Bride

  Hollers of excitement told us that Cadoc had found his bride. Family and friends of the couple surrounded them as the groom carried Lady Enid back to the festival.

  I tossed my apron on a table. Mead mugs in hand, the lords and ladies conversed with several of their retainers. Einion, Lord Mechain, his head as bereft of hair as the abbot’s, stood talking to Lord Emlyn. Bleddyn was nearby and chatted with Penllyn landholders. He had a jug of mead in hand and refilled a man’s mug as they joked.

  All three of the noble Ladies were toge
ther with Gwen, each had a cup in hand. Rhian laughed and offered a one-armed hug to one of the kitchen girls that passed by. The courtyard still brimmed with revellers. Ilar, the bard plucked a merry tune on his harp as townsfolk sang a bawdy song about a wedded couple's first night together.

  My eyes chanced across the Witch Hunters. The two guilders huddled by themselves at the lonely table near the outskirts of the festivities. They seemed to be impatiently waiting for someone to clear their table.

  The younger folks, friends and relatives of Cadoc and Enid surrounded the happy couple as they came into the courtyard. They chanted a countdown, ready… set… go… and the bride was off in a flash, just as Gwen had predicted, Enid ran away from us, and up the hill. She darted to and fro across the field and tried to avoid the outstretched arms of the young girls. Enid was smart enough to steer clear of fires in the iron baskets around the weapons field. The yellow glow gave light for everyone to watch the chase. Many of those in the courtyard yelled encouragement to their favourite maidens.

  Even those down to six or seven winters joined in the fun and raced after the bride. The older girls, those closest to marrying age, were the ones closest to catching the bride, though. Their giggles and laughs filled the night air with fun and joyous sounds.

  The laughter gave way to shrieks of panic. Revellers in the main yard gasped. Several glowing wispy white figures darted down from the grove. More rose from the ground behind them and cut off their escape.

  The young women collapsed, amid shrieks of fright. Enid pulled a few of the girls close to her and tried to shield them from the ghostly figures.

  Overlapping strips of ghostly metal wrapped around the chests of the spectres and additional strips lay across their shoulders. Crested helms covered heads that yelled soundlessly at the frightened lasses. I recognised them from my time in Rome and my travels through the old empire. Centurions.