Ealhswith moved to face me. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing indeed!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a field of burgeoning wheat, far away from prying ears and prattling tongues.
At the edge of the field she stopped. Tidy rows of new shoots peeked through the soil, their long, slender green leaves swaying in the cool breeze.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at me expectantly.
“I may have met someone.”
“Really? I never would have guessed.”
“He was just passing through … a merchant.” I danced, walking a fine line between divulgence and full disclosure. “He was very handsome, and when we met there was a connection. I can’t really explain it, except to say it was very powerful. It afflicted both of us … and we kissed.” I squirmed under the scrutiny of her gaze.
“Avelynn! Who is he? Where is he? Is he coming back?”
“He promised to come back. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t possibly see him again.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because nothing can come of it. I’m betrothed to Demas.”
“So?”
I gaped at her, and she laughed. She tucked my arm in hers and led me to the large rock I had seen earlier. She hauled me down on its broad sloping surface. “Did I ever tell you about Regin?”
“No.”
“Just after my betrothal to Alfred, but several months before our celebrated nuptials, my father sent me to Leicester to live amongst the nuns, in an attempt to further my refinement.” She sniggered at the thought. “But alas, I wasn’t there long before I became rather distracted with a handsome young rogue named Regin. He quite thoroughly dishonored me.”
“Ealhswith!”
“I didn’t know Alfred. I didn’t know what my life was going to hold, and I was terrified. I hated my father for matching me with a complete stranger. I was angry and a little rebellious. Regin swept me off my feet. He lavished me with praise and flattery and quite literally charmed me into his bed.” She stroked my hand. “I cannot feel what I did was wrong. The opportunity to experience life in all its passion and vivacity was too good to pass up. So I jumped in and savored every last drop.”
“But you were betrothed.”
“Who was hurt by my transgressions? Alfred doesn’t know, and my father never found out. A little chicken blood on the marital sheets appeases even the most meddlesome priest. I had a beautiful, passionate love affair—a memory I will cherish all my life.”
I fiddled with the fringe of my cloak.
“Why can’t you have the same thing? In your heart, you know the type of marriage you will have with Demas. Why not pluck a little fruit from the tree of life and taste its sweetness before you commit your soul to hell?”
Gods, how easy it would be to give in to the temptation.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Everything. Getting caught…” Getting hurt.
“There’s an old woman who lives near the swamps. She deals in secrets. She knows how to keep things hidden or stop them from ever transpiring. If you’d like to see your paramour again, you need to visit this woman first.”
“Why?”
“The last thing you need is a child to announce to the world your indiscretions. The key is to be discreet, tell no one, and don’t give anyone a reason to doubt you. She’ll give you a tincture to stop the man’s spirit from conquering yours, and no child will grow in your womb.”
“I hadn’t even thought about that.” I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.
“That’s why I’m here, to help you think of everything. Now, when’s he coming back?”
“Full moon,” I answered dismally.
“Then we have much to do between now and then.” She rose. “Do you want to see him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Really, you don’t know? If he isn’t worth it, then perhaps we should let the matter lie.”
“But I’m afraid.”
“That just makes it all the more thrilling.” She pulled me to my feet. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you. You can say you’re coming to visit me. I’ll go to the manor at Chippenham. That’ll be near the babe’s expected time of birth. It would be only natural that I would want you there. And once you arrive, I’ll say you have taken ill and need bed rest. You can sneak away under cover of night and meet him.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Chippenham is too far, it would take over a day to reach our rendezvous point.” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was considering this. “Bath might work.”
She clapped her hands and embraced me. “Bath it is, then.”
* * *
Ealhswith’s words rang in my mind, swooping and diving, leading me in tangled circles. I clasped my head in my hands and moaned.
“Is everything alright, m’lady?” Nelda asked.
“I’m fine. Just a headache from staring too long at these records.”
Afraid that Bertram would see through my erratic moods and start asking questions, I insisted that we divide the difficult task. While I tried to sort through this year’s accounts, Bertram, comfortable in his own home, would see to last year’s tally.
I rubbed the furrow between my eyes. “Nothing some fresh air won’t cure.” I stood, brushing down the wrinkles in my dress, and grabbed my cloak.
The sun was setting, a bloodred orb hovering just above the horizon. It had been more than a week since Ealhswith’s visit, and I couldn’t think of anything else, except of course our conversation’s terrifying implications—I would see Alrik again. At the thought, my heart raced and my throat constricted.
The previous few days had been intense. Each of my senses was heightened. Colors were brighter, sounds louder, flavors and textures of food more pronounced. I felt the slightest stirring of the hairs on my arms, the restless brushing of my clothes against my body. And I felt as though everyone were watching me, as though they knew what I planned to do.
Black clouds clung to the sun, their dark razing claws piercing and dragging the brilliant red sphere from this earthly plane, pulling it to the underworld. Once the clouds vanquished the light, the world would remain in darkness. It was the new moon tonight—half a month had passed.
I wandered to the stables. Marma was nosing the straw when I entered, but her ears perked up when she heard me whistle. She turned and poked her head over the gate of her stall.
“Hello, beautiful.” I patted beneath her forelock down to her muzzle. Her head bobbed up, lifting my hand.
I laughed. “I’m sorry, sweeting, I didn’t bring you an apple.”
She snorted her disapproval.
“How about a good brushing, instead?”
Her nostrils flared and she nickered. I took that as a yes.
I grabbed a metal curry comb from the bucket just outside her stall and started at her shoulders. The stable doors opened to the west, and the last rays of the setting sun bathed the space in a warm glow. I let myself relax with each long and languid stroke. Marma, too, seemed content, her dark eyes full of trust, her strong body easing into the rhythm.
But the distraction didn’t last long. While dust motes flitted silently around me, my mind filled with noise. Try as I might, my mind was firmly fixed on Alrik.
Ealhswith had left me detailed instructions on how to find the mysterious old woman, and I was to set out in a week’s time to procure her services.
“When did I decide to go through with all this?” I asked Marma.
The muscles under her coat shivered, rippling beneath my hand, and she whinnied. I sighed. I didn’t know either. I tried to ascertain the exact moment that I had agreed to see Alrik again, and recognized with chagrin that for all my dismissals, I had only been fooling myself. I think I knew the first moment I saw him that I would do anything to see him again. I knew what he meant to do and realized I wanted quite badly for him to do it.
Mar
ma stomped her foot, protesting my drifting attention.
I laughed. “Perhaps I should just bring you an apple.”
She snorted her agreement.
Despite the late season, the storehouse held several crates of apples. Some of the fruit would be rotted, others soft, but Marma wasn’t picky. I pulled a crate out and lifted the straw, rooting around until I found one. I returned to the stables, tossing the red sphere up and catching it, realizing sardonically that my own future was very much up in the air, but it, too, had the potential to be very sweet indeed.
I gave Marma her treat and headed home, visions and thoughts of Alrik dominating my mind. In only a fortnight, we would be together again.
* * *
Beyond the highlands, deep in Somerset’s northern levels, I found the old woman’s cottage. A towering oak stood sentry to the home. Hundreds of bones, dried and bleached by the sun, hung from its branches. They swayed and tinkled in the light breeze. No Christian would dare display such crudities. This woman was pagan. My heart skipped a beat. Other than my mother and Bertram, I had never met another pagan. I knocked on the door. A small stool sat beneath the single window; a knife, edged with blood, dripped soundlessly into the grass.
“Who’s there?” a hoarse, crackling female voice called from behind the door.
I cleared my throat. “I hear you deal in secrets, mistress. I’ve come to procure your services.”
The door opened a crack, and I heard shuffling as someone moved deeper into the home. I pushed against the heavy door. It was very dark inside; a single muted beam of light filtered in through a small hole in the roof. The air was thick with peat smoke, and the acrid smell of fresh blood reached my nostrils, coalescing with the unpleasant reek of at least one unwashed body.
“Close the door.”
I reached behind me and swung the door shut. The room was muted into eerie silence. Only the sound of my own breathing, swift and shallow in my ears, disturbed the preternatural quiet.
“Sit.”
I looked through the thick, gray haze. Near the middle of the room, I found a stool, the light leeching in from the roof just barely outlining it. I sat as directed.
“You’re a pretty thing.”
I had no idea where she was. Her voice floated in the gloom.
I tried to speak, but inhaled a lungful of gritty smoke. I coughed, my eyes watering. “I have come to—”
“I know why you’re here,” she interrupted. “Who sent you?”
“A friend.”
I could hear more shuffling around the periphery of the large room.
I turned my head in an effort to follow the sound, but it was impossible to discern where the disembodied voice lurked or where the sounds originated.
A shadow passed in front of me right before something grabbed my arm. The sting of a hot blade sliced across the back of my hand.
I jumped off the stool, knocking it down in the process. “What are you doing?” I hissed into the shadows, wrapping my hand tightly with my cloak. The blood pooled and soaked into the thick fabric. Panic swept over me. I scanned the blackness, but couldn’t find the door.
“Sit.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. I demand you show me the way out.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Show me the door.”
“No.”
“Then I shall find it myself.”
I started to move, but something blocked my way. It was large—gigantic, in fact—shaggy, and reeked of fresh blood and dried urine. It growled. My heart hammered against my chest.
“Sit.”
I backed up, fishing around the floor with a blind hand until I found the stool. Setting it upright, I sat back down.
“Good.”
“I beg you, let me take my leave.”
“Silence.” Her voice echoed off the walls. “You’ll get what you came for.”
There was a great deal of rustling. I recognized the sounds of pottery being knocked about, a pestle grinding, a mallet pounding. When she finished her ministrations, she chanted in a strange tongue. I didn’t recognize the language but sensed tremendous power in her words. The hairs rose on the back of my neck. Who was this woman? Why had I never heard of her before? Openly declaring oneself pagan was suicide. How had she kept herself hidden?
She appeared in front of me, holding a knife wet with blood. I scrambled back, standing. My mind raced to formulate a plan of escape or attack. I reached for the knife tied around my waist.
“Steel cannot help you.”
I couldn’t make out her face. It was shrouded within a black hood; only a few strands of long gray hair were visible.
“Your blood.” Droplets fell from the knife’s point into the bowl she held. “Now drink.” She pushed the bowl into my chest.
“No.” I adjusted my cloak so she could see the full length of the knife, its silver hilt visible in the murk.
“Steel will do you no good here. I have only to cry out, and my pet will make a quick meal of you.” Her teeth clicked together, and the beast appeared by her side. It was a brown bear.
I had seen a bear only once before, in a passing caravan when I was young. Restrained by thick ropes, the beast had lumbered behind its master’s wagon, and I had felt tremendous sadness watching the creature endure its keeper’s relentless whip. However, seeing one this close up, its sinister, pointed teeth, its muzzle flecked with bloody gristle, I felt only terror.
“Drink.”
My hands trembled, and I took the bowl from her thin, wrinkled hands.
“Drink.”
I placed the bowl near my mouth, terrified to put the vile liquid to my lips.
“Drink. Or we’ll mess up that pretty little face of yours, won’t we, precious.” She stroked the huge beast’s head, its black, beady eyes watching vigilantly.
I tilted my head and downed the contents in one swallow, gagging on its foul taste. I heaved, but managed to keep it down, too afraid of what might happen if I brought it back up.
“Good girl.” The beast disappeared back into the shadows. “Now, where’s my payment?”
“Payment? For what? Intimidation? Threats? Injuring my person? Poisoning me?”
She laughed—a shrill, shrieking sound. “Silly child, I was merely toying with you. Had I meant to hurt you, you would be dead. A lesson.” She waggled a pale, skinny finger at me. “You rush into things without thinking, girl. You are too willful. One day your behavior will get you into trouble.” She shuffled back into the dark. “You won’t ripen with child this month, and you have until the next new moon to do as you please; no babe will cling to your womb. I’ll give you enough herbs to last the full lunar cycle. If you need more, you must come back.”
I grabbed the small leather purse that hung from my belt. I shook it, coins jingling, and threw it onto the floor. “There.”
She scuttled over to the purse, grabbed the bag, and opened it. She stepped into the light, her back to me.
“Hold out your hand,” she croaked.
Afraid she was going to cut it again, I hesitated.
“Now.”
I offered her my right hand.
“Not that one.” She pushed it aside.
I thrust my left hand forward. It was shaking. I clenched my teeth while she rubbed some paste on the wound. It smelled sweet and fresh.
“That will heal by the morrow.” She turned it over, palm up, and dropped four small linen packages into my hand. “Empty the contents of one packet into a cup of boiling mead and drink on each of the next four Sundays. Do this and you will stay barren.” She disappeared again.
The creak of metal hinges and wood brushing over dirt caught my attention. I turned to find the source. A faint crack of daylight outlined the edges of the door.
“Go.”
I edged closer to the door, petrified the bear would suddenly lunge at me and tear me to pieces.
I crept sideways until I had both feet on the other side, back in the daylight.
>
She swung the door open. I unsheathed the knife from its scabbard and held it in front of me, daring her to take a step closer.
Still shrouded in shadow, she laughed. “Headstrong and beautiful. Just like your mother. Good luck, Avelynn,” she croaked, and slammed the door behind her.
“How do you know my name?” I yelled at the dark wood planks in front of me.
There was no answer. I waited a moment and repeated the question, banging on the door. “How do you know me?” Still no sound, no movement.
It was disconcerting enough to have a witness to my disobedience, but for this woman to know me, and possibly my mother, was entirely unsettling. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t force the woman out, and I definitely didn’t want to try to reenter the cottage.
The sky was darkening; a waxing quarter moon hovered above me. I needed to leave this wretched place. With a final glance over my shoulder, I left my question hanging in the air, mingling with the chattering bones, and mounted my horse, hell-bent for home.
NINE
APRIL 870
True to her word, Ealhswith sent for me two days before the full moon, but I had one last matter to settle before I left. I needed to address the grain inventories and had called a meeting of the council, inviting the townspeople as witnesses.
I wanted a written record of the matter and had asked Father Plegmund to record the proceedings. He wore a monk’s robe of brown wool with a simple corded belt. His head, neatly tonsured above a mass of bright red hair, bent over a small table to the right of the dais, his quill suspended over a crisp piece of parchment.
Leofric escorted Sigberht, Milo, and Walther into the hall.
I took my father’s seat. “Thank you all for attending on such short notice. A great injustice has been committed against Wedmore and cannot wait for my father’s return.”
An excited hum rippled through the crowd. Appetites for gossip and scandal were gluttonous.
“After careful review of the grain inventory, I discovered significant discrepancies in the accounts. Over twenty bushels of grain went missing this year alone—that’s equivalent to half an entire year’s bread tax due the king. There were similar losses represented in last year’s accounts as well.”
Avelynn Page 11
