“There is no comfort for me,” she said, “and my only counsel is to do what must be done.”
There was no answer to this, for she had already heard everything, first from her parents, then from Burginde, and then from me as well.
“Perhaps one day there will be comfort for you,” I said at last. “No one will deserve it more.”
We heard a step at the bottom of the stair, and I rose and looked from the landing. Yrling himself stood at the bottom, holding in his hands a small casket of some kind. He was dressed as he had been last night, with all manner of gold and silver bracelets and arm-rings. He wore his leathern tunic, but also his baldric, and the gold hilt of his sword shone above the black scabbard.
I was surprised to see him, and looked at him for a moment before I remembered myself, and dipped my head to him. He came up the stairs, and I did not know if I should stay or go.
I looked in the room and said to Ælfwyn, “It is the Lord Yrling,” and Ælfwyn rose from her chair.
He stepped into the room, and looked about it, which was his way, and then looked at Ælfwyn. The casket in his hands was made of ivory or bone, and it was a precious thing, for it was carved all around with figures and animals, and it carried runes upon it.
I looked on it and guessed that it was stolen, or perhaps come in the tribute from Ælfsige; and I wondered for a moment - I do not know why - if some terrible thing might be within it.
Ælfwyn bowed, and her pale cheek turned paler, but she raised her eyes to this man who she would soon wed. He held the casket out to her. She looked at him with questioning eyes, and looked also as if she were afraid to touch it.
He spoke to her at last. “I bring you my wedding gift,” he said, and again held it out so that she was forced to take it.
She lifted it in her hands and set it upon the table. She looked down at it, and then at him, and tho’ he did not smile or speak, he seemed to bid her, Open it.
She placed her hand upon the lid, and the ivory of the chest was the same as the ivory of her pale fingers. She lifted the lid and looked in and caught her breath.
I could see only a glimmer of gold, and took a step closer. She dipped her hands into the gold and brought forth a necklace that had many golden disks strung together with golden links, and each of the disks of gold had a different gem set in it, so that the whole necklace was alive with bright colour. And she brought forth also from this casket two bracelets, one for either wrist. Each had gem stones set in disks of gold and joined by golden links.
She held up these things and looked at Yrling, and it was clear she was moved by the worth of the jewels. “These are beautiful,” she said softly. “The nephew of Yrling has chosen well.” And she looked at him full in the face.
I did not believe her boldness. Yrling stepped towards her and I thought for a moment he would truly strike her.
He did not, tho’ his blue eyes stormed; but just smiled a hard smile. He stared at her. “It was Sidroc who thought to send you the pearl; but the pearl was always mine. These also are mine, and it is I who give them freely to you.” In his voice was a terrible warning, and threat. “Perhaps instead I should give you to Sidroc.”
Ælfwyn still held the golden necklace and bracelets in her hands, and her fingers had clenched around them. She lowered her eyes, and then let fall the jewels back into the ivory casket.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” she murmured, “I have been unwell, and most unwise.”
She said no more, but knelt down in front of him and bowed her head.
I looked at him standing before her, and saw how in her beauty she had humbled herself before him; and I saw again the plain unkempt Susa, and thought that he who had pleasured himself with a serving woman last night would today wed a Lady such as Ælfwyn.
He kept his eyes fixed upon her bowed head, and she moved not. He raised his eyes from her and looked at me, and said hoarsely, “Bring a spindle, or a weaving comb of this Lady’s.”
I looked at Burginde, and she went with me to the wooden chest that had come with the looms. We opened it, and on the top was a basket with shuttles and combs. One of the bone shuttles was charged with a small amount of blue wool. I took it to Yrling, and held it out to show him.
“This is, I think, what is wanted, my Lord,” I said.
He nodded and I lifted Ælfwyn by the hand so that she once again stood before him. I broke off a short length of the blue yarn it held, and then placed the shuttle in her right hand. She clutched it to her breast, but her hand was steady.
Yrling drew off the silver ornament he always wore, the one which looked like a blunted spear point, and placed it with its chain over the head of Ælfwyn. Then with both of his hands he pulled his gold-hilted sword out of the black sheath that held it. He turned the hilt so that she might grasp it, and the Lady took the heavy sword in her right hand. As she did she held out to Yrling the bone shuttle, and he took it in his right hand.
He reached out his left hand, and she reached out hers, and he clasped his large brown hand over her slender white one, and held together their joined hands before them. Then did I take the length of blue yarn, and bind it round their wrists twice, and in this simplest of ways were they Hand-fasted.
They spoke not; exchanged no vows, only the tools by which they lived, as was the ancient way of my people.
I unwound the yarn from their wrists, and gave it to Ælfwyn, as it is the woman’s charge to preserve the thread unbroken; and she gave back to Yrling his sword, and he to her the shuttle.
When he had put his sword back into its sheath he took the silver ornament from off Ælfwyn’s neck and placed it once again around his own. Then he turned to the jewel casket and drew out the golden necklace he had brought, and himself placed it around her throat. And she took up the bracelets and put them on, and the gold upon her glimmered and danced upon the brilliant red of her gown.
Then he turned and walked out of the room, and we three women followed him down the wooden stair.
Chapter the Nineteenth: Lord and Lady
OUTSIDE upon the first stone step Sidroc and Toki stood. Between them was a stooped, bald man in a shabby brown surplice; a man of Lindisse, perhaps, for I could understand his speech; and by the looks of him a lay-preacher. Upon his chest a simple wooden cross hung from a leathern cord. He had a high pitched, sheep-like voice, and was talking ceaselessly to the two Danes. They regarded him not, and stood looking out over the yard. The man in the surplice turned to look at Yrling as he came through the open door, and finally fell silent.
Yrling spoke to Sidroc, and the three Danes spoke for several minutes while we women and the lay-preacher stood watching. Then Yrling stopped talking, and he and Sidroc turned around, and Yrling looked at the preacher.
“What do you want to say?” he demanded. “Say it.”
The preacher began to splutter, and looked from Ælfwyn to Yrling. But Ælfwyn’s voice was calm. “My Lord and I have Hand-fasted. I would that you bless me in this undertaking.”
Yrling looked his approval upon her. The preacher stood before them, and said, “May you be blest in this union, and your Lord be a source of protection and strength to you, and you to him. And may your children walk in the path of truth. Amen.”
And save for this last word, he spoke no word of Latin, but did raise his arm over them and make a tolerable Sign of the Cross.
Yrling put his hand over Ælfwyn’s, and led her back into the hall. Sidroc and Toki followed them, but I turned to the preacher still upon the step.
“Brother,” said I, “If you will wait a moment, I will see that you have food and drink before you start on your way.”
At this Burginde nodded her head, and walked in a brisk way towards the kitchen yard gate.
I regarded the man more carefully. He had watery blue eyes, and skin deeply creased from weather; and his cheeks were as stubbly with grey prickles as his head was bare. “Tell me where you are from, for my Lady and I were
told that no holy man yet lived near here,” I began.
“That is so,” he answered in his quavering voice, “and the Abbey of Lindisse is no more rubble now than yonder chapel.” Here he gestured across the yard.
“And yet you live,” I said.
“Yes, I live; tho’ better men by far did not. I be a simple Watcher, and have no learning as the monks of Lindisse were famed for; still, I hoped to serve by my solitude and prayer. ‘Twas that solitude that saved me; I was in my forest retreat when the Danes laid siege to this place; only later did I see what had been wreaked upon the folk of this land. Now I must go out in the world, and wander, and do what good as I can, for the folk have no other, and too soon will slide into heathen ways if they have but heathen ways before them.”
“Yet you fear not the Danes that killed so many Brothers?” I asked.
“I fear them, but the killing frenzy is over in them; they have won this place, and they fear not and know not the True Word, and so take as little notice of such as me as if we were flies upon their horses’ backs.”
I thought a moment. “And the folk of Lindisse, they be all Christian?”
He rubbed his bristly chin. “They be nearly all Christian, in some degree. Few still go to the groves, for the Holy Men worked hard and long to conquer that evil.”
I could not stop my answer. “Do not call it evil. Those who go to the groves seek peace as much as those who worship in chapels and chantrys.”
His jaw dropped, and I felt ashamed of my answer, for who was I to so speak to a Brother, even if he be a solitary?
“Forgive me, Brother, for my speech; I too once worshipped in the groves, and tho’ I later lived with the Black Monks, I cannot believe that what I did was evil.”
He looked at me closely, “No, ‘twas not evil for you, being but a child. ‘Twas the fault of those that led you to that error.”
But here I wished he had said nothing, for I could allow no harsh word to pass against my kinsman; nor could I say aught against the Prior who had taken me in and taught me different prayers to say and given me the arts of wax and ink.
I was spared any further speech, for Burginde now came back, bearing a cloth tied up as a pack in one hand, and a pottery cup in the other.
“‘Tis good strong ale, drink it down, good Brother,” she said, passing him the cup, “and then best be on your way. Inside is supper for tonight and tomorrow too, for when the cook heard a man of the cloth wanted feeding, she stinted not.”
The preacher bobbed his head and took a mouthful of the ale.
“O! And Dobbe, the cook, that is, asks that you regard her in your prayers,” finished Burginde.
I glanced back at the open door to the hall. I could hear men’s voices coming from within, and the scraping sounds of tables being set upon their trestles.
“I must go in and join my Lady,” I said, and took the hand of the preacher. “I thank you for your blessing of her, and bid you to return here as you can, for she may find need of comfort such as you can bring.”
“I will be back, and keep all three of you Ladies in my humble prayers, and the good Dobbe will know no end of my praise,” he said, hoisting the pack to measure its heft.
So we said Fare-well, and Burginde and I went down the steps into the hall.
Ælfwyn and Yrling were seated at the long table, and serving men were heaping coals upon the fire, and carrying bronze ewers about. One of the Danes went into the passageway where the well was, and came back with a large brass gong, near as large as a shield, and held the gong in one hand and a wooden beater in another. He struck the gong, and it made a deep and yet bright sound that echoed through the hall, and all the Danes laughed as he struck it again and again
Burginde went and stood at the firepit, for she would not miss her mistress’ wedding feast; and I walked to the table, and since Sidroc was not there, I knew I must sit next to Toki.
But before I sat I went to Ælfwyn, and leaned over her and kissed her on both cheeks, and she embraced me. My heart was filled with love for her, and since she had no kin here, I must alone let her know that I wanted her happiness in this thing. We clasped hands, and smiled at each other, and tears glistened in both our eyes, but I laughed and kissed her again.
I did not know what to say to Yrling, and so said simply, “My Lord, I wish you joy.” I bowed, and he smiled on me a smile without scorn, and for the first time I saw him as a man and not just as a Dane.
Men began to come in from the yard, and the serving men ran to and fro. Toki leaned on the table with his elbows, and called out to the other men in the hall, and looked by turns amused and bored. When I sat next to him he brought his face close to mine and whispered, “Yrling has the first of his brides. I think Toki should have the second.”
I resolved not to feel anger, for this was my Lady’s wedding day; and I would treat all he or Sidroc said as an innocent jest. I turned to him in surprise. “You mean you do not know the Lady’s twin sister comes to wed you tonight?”
He jerked his head back, and his mouth twisted.
“O yes,” I went on, “Yrling has it all arranged.”
His eyes bulged, but here I could not keep on with my jest, and began to laugh.
He narrowed his eyes, but laughed also. Then he covered my hand with his own. “You are good, Lady, and show the same spirit as does Yrling’s mare.”
I did not know if Ælfwyn was the mare he spoke of, but I liked not his speech nor his tone, and regretted my jest. I slipped my hand away and put it in my lap, where he would dare not follow it.
Sidroc came to the table, and I looked up and said to him, “Sir, come with me to bid my Lady joy in her marriage,” and I rose and left Toki open-mouthed as I took the hand Sidroc offered.
As we stepped away Sidroc smiled down at me, and said, “Toki will be angry that you prefer my hand to his.”
I said, “You do not fear his anger; and for Toki any woman’s hand would do as well.”
Sidroc tossed back his head and laughed. “Your eyes are as sharp as your tongue.”
And tho’ I could not like him, I was glad that I stood with Sidroc and not with Toki as we came before Yrling and Ælfwyn.
Now all cups were filled, and Yrling raised his golden goblet to the men, and spoke to them, and drank. They jumped to their feet, and cheered. He raised his goblet a second time, and held up the hand of Ælfwyn, and spoke her name, and the men cheered and drank again.
Ælfwyn took her golden goblet, and lifted it to Yrling, and the men cheered even more. And never had I heard spoken in any tale of a bride honouring her husband this way, but knew that Ælfwyn did this through her courage and her will to please him.
Please him it did, and please all the Danes; and Yrling looked at her with eyes full of light. We all sat, and Sidroc led me to sit next to Ælfwyn, so that Yrling was on one side of us and Sidroc the other, of which I was glad.
The food came, and it was this: wheaten loaves, split and hollowed, and served as trenchers filled with a golden stew of fowl, like onto browis; and whole sides of roast pig, set about with roasted onions and turnips; and then a sweet porridge of wheat and honey and ground apples. And there were two kinds of ale, the nut brown kind of every day, and after we had eaten, a sweeter, stronger brew, almost like mead, but not. I asked Sidroc what it was and he said it was made from oats mixed with barley.
All through the meal I sat next to Ælfwyn, with Sidroc on my other side, and tho’ the Lady and I did not speak often, I felt much pleasure in her company. Yrling spoke to her at times, and I felt all was not lost with her, and that she might know some content in this life.
Then Yrling called out to Toki, and Toki laughed and went to the treasure room. He came back with a small wooden harp in his hands. Toki sat upon the table by Yrling, and began to pluck at the strings. It gave a low, thrilling sound; and Toki began to sing, and his voice had in song a sweetness it never had in speech.
I did not kno
w what he sang of, but the tune was tender and slow, and could not have been of war, but of love, or sorrow and loss. When he sang all looked at him and could not look away, for such was the beauty of his voice and face. I looked at him and saw why many women would want him, but seeing him so made me like him less and not more, for it seemed all part of his lie. I glanced at Ælfwyn and saw that her eyes were hardened as she watched, and that no song from Toki could overtake her hate for him. Then I looked at Yrling, and saw how he looked at Toki, with eyes full of pleasure, and felt for one instant a great fear of the danger that was in Toki.
The song ended, and my fear passed. Toki sang another tune, fast and gay, and then handed the harp to another, who sang, and then another. Many men sang, some with the harp and some without.
Then one man with fair hair was pushed and pulled by his fellows to stand before us. Laughing he took from out his tunic three flat rings of brass, about the size of apples, and tossed them one, two, and three into the air above his head, and touched them so lightly that they never fell to the floor but stayed in motion above him in a never-ending circle. This I liked much, and had never seen done before, and I laughed and clapped my hands. And he did the same with three sticks of wood, and the same also with three bronze cups; and then the men wanted him to toss three swords unsheathed, but the fair-haired man only laughed and took up one of the cups and filled it and drank deep for all his labours.
The Sun was now setting, and a few of the men left to perform some tasks in the yard in advance of night. But most of the Danes stayed in the hall, and gathered at two of the tables and began to play at dice. Yrling and Sidroc and Toki joined in these games, and Ælfwyn and I looked on for a while, and then went back to the table and sat together.
Burginde was at the firepit, and Ælfwyn gestured to her to join us, and the three of us raised our cups together. Burginde praised and petted Ælfwyn, and made much of the necklace and bracelets, and touched them over and over again, remarking on their beauty and worth.
The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 12
