“I think you have chosen well,” answered Sidroc. He looked at me, and then walked into the stable. He came back leading a bay mare. He stopped and said to me with a smile, “You do not have a choice. This mare is for you.”
It was a beautiful animal, with a delicate tapering head and the same long black mane and tail I had admired on the bay stallion.
“Thank you, but I will not ride Yrling’s mare but rather my own,” I said.
“It is not Yrling’s, but mine; and it is now your own, for I give it to you,” he answered.
I looked at Ælfwyn, and then back at Sidroc. I shook my head and said, “I cannot accept such a gift.”
I looked again to Ælfwyn for help, but she gave me none. She glanced at Sidroc, and then at the bay mare. “You cannot ride Shagg, Ceridwen; she will never keep up with us.”
I looked at her, speechless, but she went on. “I want to ride fast, and it will not be fair to me if you are poking along on that pony.”
Finally I shook my head again, and looked back at Sidroc. “No, no,” I said. “I cannot accept this from you.”
He stood there, looking back at me, and then said quietly, “Then I give this mare to your Lady,” and passed the lead to her.
She took the lead and said, “I thank you.” Then she looked at me and said, “Now I have two mares, and I can only ride one. So I choose to give one to my friend.” And with this she placed the lead rope in my hand.
I knew my face was flaming, but I did not know what to do. Ælfwyn did not wait, but simply kissed me on the cheek, and the two mares were led away to be saddled and bridled. She whispered in my ear. “Do not be silly. There is no harm in taking such a gift; he is now my kinsman.” She smiled and said, “Tho’ he wants to be your kinsman.”
When the mares were saddled Sidroc went off, and came back mounted on a handsome roan horse. As we moved off, Ælfwyn said to him, “You are not riding your magnificent bay?”
He answered with a little laugh, “No, for we would not have a good ride if I took him along with your mares. This horse is gelded, and will leave us all in peace.”
The bay mare felt big beneath me; certainly she was far taller than Shagg. She had a beautiful way of lifting her feet which made her almost prance. Her long mane spilled over her neck in a shimmering wave of black.
I looked over at Ælfwyn, sitting so gracefully upon her new mare. Its mane and tail were nearly the colour of her own hair. She glanced at me, and tho’ I felt a bit uneasy about this gift from Sidroc, I could only smile back for the sheer pleasure of the beauty of these two mares.
Once outside the gate Ælfwyn turned and pointed across the roadway. “That must be the retting pond,” she said, for the hollow there was still wet and boggy. “Not too close to our windows, as you wished,” she said to me, and I could but laugh.
Sidroc rode a bit before us, and now stayed his horse. As we came up to him she asked, “This was once the retting pond, where the flax stalks were soaked?”
He looked back at the hollow. “There was a pond there; for what reason I do not know. We watered our horses at it until we carried the spring that fed it into the yard.”
She nodded. “It is a retting pond, and we must allow it to fill again so that we might have linen.”
He did not respond to this, but she did not seem to expect an answer. She was now looking ahead along the road.
We went slowly, tho’ the road was fairly good. We neared women working outside their tumbled huts or digging in the wet Earth of their tiny crofts. Never was I more aware of the difference between those who can ride, and those who must walk. The beauty and value of our horses, and the height it gave us as we looked down upon the villagers made great the gulf that distanced us. They looked at us mutely, and some of them seemed to raise their hands in a sort of greeting to us, but just as many scowled as they saw who rode with us. I felt sorry that Ælfwyn should see this; she wanted so much to help them, and had given so freely of the secret silver to show them this. But one silver coin could not remove the grief from the hearts of these women, nor could all the gold in the world give them back the life of peace they had lost.
I tried to smile down at the women, but could not; and when I looked at Ælfwyn I saw her face was frozen too in a kind of quiet sorrow. She did not hurry through, as many would have done faced with such misery, but rode even more slowly.
One woman who was working at a tub outside her hut was bolder than the rest. She rose from her work, and stood at the broken wattles of her croft gate, her eyes fixed on Ælfwyn. She called out in a clear voice, “I bless your coming, Lady.”
And at this Ælfwyn reined her horse, and bent over and put out her hand that the woman might touch her, and the woman reached up and touched the soft gloved hand as if it were a holy thing. Ælfwyn spoke no word, but her eyes were full of the speech of pity and goodness.
All this time Sidroc rode slowly and quietly behind us. I could not tell his thoughts, or even see his face, but I felt grateful that he did not curse the village women or try to hurry us along the road. Few men like him, I thought, would have had this patience. Yet he was one of the men who had reduced these women to their misery.
When we had gone some way along the trail, we began a slow canter. Sidroc moved his horse forward and said, “This is a good place for speed; the ground is smooth.”
Ælfwyn looked over to me and asked, “Are you ready?” and I twisted my fingers into the mare’s mane as I grasped the reins more firmly.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Good,” she said, and then was gone, for she had of a sudden kicked the chestnut mare and was off.
Sidroc waited not an instant but was after her at once. I too, had no choice, for my mare fairly bolted after them, and I held on as hard as I could. Ælfwyn was far ahead, but Sidroc had the advantage, for the longer legs of his horse ate up the distance between them in a moment. They went neck and neck, and I could just hear Ælfwyn laughing and the laughter too of Sidroc.
I urged my mare forward and loosened my grip on the reins. She dashed to catch them, but the trail was too narrow to join them at full speed, so we ran a little outside and behind them. Sidroc began to pull ahead of Ælfwyn, and she kicked the mare forward even faster. But Sidroc began to slow, reining his horse down, and we all three began to canter again.
He turned to Ælfwyn. “You do not like to be beaten,” he said with admiration.
She was breathless and laughing. “Nor do you, or you would not have stopped,” she replied.
He laughed too, and we rode on at an easy pace, resting ourselves and the horses. Sidroc fell in next to me, but did not speak.
I felt I must say something to him, so I said, “This mare is wonderful. But you should not have given her to me.”
He was quiet, and then said, “I did not give her to you. You refused my gift, so I gave her to your Lady.”
Now I felt that I had truly acted amiss. “I am sorry if I have slighted such a noble gift,” I began. “It is just that...” I could not finish; I did not think I could make him understand that I did not want to be bound to him in gratitude for a gift of such value. So I only said again, “I am sorry.”
“It is all right,” he said lightly. “At least you are once again speaking to me. Since Yrling left you have hardly said a word to me, or looked at me.”
“It is only proper that you should speak with Ælfwyn,” I began uncertainly. “You are now her kinsman, and she has no one of her rank here.”
He looked as if he had not thought of it quite this way before. “Yes,” he only said.
The meadow was now giving way to slender trees and spreading bushes. The trail remained broad and smooth, and we three rode together along it.
Many thoughts were turning in my head as we went along. The Sun shone brightly down upon us, and the air was warming up. Our horses were beautiful, and it was a great pleasure to be out of the keep yard at last. Yet it was hard to feel any
real happiness.
The trail began to rise beneath us, and the low hills that could be seen from the window of our day chamber were before us. We went on, and Sidroc stood up in his stirrups and called out a long loud whistle of many notes. Ælfwyn and I looked all around the hills, and saw no man, but the whistle was returned none the less. The trail dipped down, and we rounded a clump of trees and looked across the wide expanse of a sheltered valley. The first thing I saw was a great timber longhouse, freshly made, large and of good and sturdy build. The roof was of sod, but other than this it looked very like the timber hall of my kinsman.
Beyond the longhouse were many paddocks, large and small, and in them were the horses that made up the great treasure of the valley. Perhaps two hundred horses were there; far more than the number of Yrling’s men.
The men by the longhouse were calling to Sidroc, and he said, “I will be back soon. Then we will ride up to see the horses.”
He cantered off, and Ælfwyn and I turned our mares. The horses in the paddocks were whinnying and nickering, and our mares called out in response. Mine wanted to join the others, and I had to pull her hard to turn her away.
“How beautiful your mare is,” commented Ælfwyn as I urged the bay forward.
“Sidroc says I should thank you for her,” I said, and then had to laugh a little. It was impossible to feel angry at Ælfwyn for helping me gain such a wonderful horse. Still, I said, “I wish you did not give her to me. I do not want Sidroc to think that I like him.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You do like him,” she said.
“Well,” I said, feeling flustered, “he is much better than Toki, but I do not like him; not in the way he wishes I would.”
Of a sudden she was serious. “I am sorry. I will not tease you about him. He is easy to like, despite his scar and all. He treats both of us well, and I believe I can trust him.” Her voice began to trail off. “But he is still a Dane...”
She went on in a quiet voice, “I do not even know what I say anymore. I am wed to a Dane. I am now a part of his life, and there are none about us but Danes, at least amongst men of rank.”
She sighed, and lowered her head. I looked down also, and began to notice the stubble through which we had been walking.
“Flax,” I said. “Ælfwyn, here is the flax. We are walking on it.”
She looked across the ground. “Yes,” she agreed, squinting at the shrivelled stems. “It is all over.”
We traced the perimeter of the trees, all the time looking down. “It is here,” she said, peering over her horse’s mane, “and here, and here also.” There was gladness in her voice, and we moved our horses forward at a trot.
“And more here, and here,” I called out, as our mares crossed the moist Earth. Everywhere was the Winter-dried stubble of flax.
“‘As thick as parsley,’ that is what Dobbe said,” she answered.
“If they do not move the horses, this will grow up well this Spring,” I said. “Do you think there is enough here?”
She looked across the unfenced portion of the valley. “I think so, at least for this first year. It will take awhile to get the pond ready, and to find women enough for the pounding and hackling of the stems. But we will not be able to harvest the flax until Hlafmessetide anyway, so we have time, and if all this field here remains untrampled, I think we will have enough.” She looked at me and beamed. “How glad I am that we rode out today!”
“Yes,” I answered. “First we are given beautiful mares to ride, then we find both pond and flax. It is a lucky day.”
Sidroc now rode up to us. He was smiling as he came, and we could not help but smile back at him. “What have you found?” he asked, looking down. “Gold upon the ground?”
Ælfwyn laughed. “Not quite gold, but something valuable just the same. This plant we walk upon is flax, from which linen is made. In August we shall keep many people busy with retting and hackling, and by late September have much linen thread to spin. Then we will weave, and so have cloth for all the men, and new tunics can be cut and sewn.”
Sidroc looked doubtful. “This is where we keep our horses. We need this as new pasture land.”
Ælfwyn still smiled, but her voice was steady. “And you also need linen.” She paused and said, “How else will the men of the hall be clothed? We will save a great deal of silver if we grow and make our own.”
He thought about this. “It will be easier, perhaps, if we have our own supply,” he agreed.
“Good,” she replied. “I will tell Yrling about it as soon as he returns.” With this she rode ahead of us.
My mare now turned her head and nibbled at the neck of the roan horse Sidroc rode. He laughed and said, “She is wise, and picks her company well.”
“Thank you for this beautiful mare,” I said, feeling that I must at last say so with the gratitude I felt.
He moved his hand as if to dismiss my words. “It is not my gift,” he said again, but his voice was without anger. He added, looking down at the mare, “She is about four years old, and this Spring should be bred for the first time. Choose well your stallion, and you will increase your riches quickly.”
These words, true as they were, made me blush, for I felt he spoke about me as well. Finally I stammered out, “Perhaps I will not breed her this first year.”
He turned in his saddle to look at me, but I kept my eyes down on the mare’s neck. “So she will not have a mate, just as you will not?” he asked. His voice sounded playful, but I did not want to look at him.
I did not answer, and he went on. “In my country every woman marries,” he said, as if to tease me with this.
“Every woman?” I had to ask. It did not seem possible. Of course I realised no woman there would be taking up the Holy Path, as they did here, but even so, it seemed hard to believe that every woman could find a husband.
“Yes,” he said, and I looked at him and he began to smile. “At home a man can have as many wives as he can support. Therefore there are no unmarried women.”
My mouth must have dropped open, because he laughed. “It is true,” he said, and I knew I must believe him. “Each wife is treated as an equal, and all children are equal too.”
I looked ahead at Ælfwyn and had a sudden thought. “Does this mean -” I began, but he answered before I could end.
“No, no,” he said, still smiling but speaking in earnest. “Yrling wants only one wife. When we came to this land we found your women would not accept this custom of ours. So since we are to settle here we too will take only one wife.”
He stopped talking, but I could not answer; I was still too surprised.
He spoke again. “Therefore it is more important than ever that the wife I choose be the right one.”
Again I did not speak. We went on, and nearly caught up with Ælfwyn. Then he said in a low voice, “You will be mine, shield-maiden. That is all I will say.”
As we rode by the longhouse Ælfwyn said to Sidroc, “Since you can build so fine a building, why do you not repair Four Stones?”
“It is not mine to repair,” he answered, but then went on. “We did some work on it, but when the fever came many men died. Other things became more important.”
Ælfwyn regarded the timber hall a long time. “If you can build as well as this, I hope it will not be long before Four Stones is rebuilt.”
“Yes, we can build such things well,” he returned. “You should go to Jorvik and see.”
I knew Jorvik was the fallen city of Eoforwic, the chief place in Northumbria. It had been taken by the Danes, and rebuilt, since so much had been destroyed in the battle. It was an old place, and had been a great city under the Cæsars, and had been ruled until just a few years ago by the Northumbrian king Osbert. Now it was wholly Dane, tho’ they had in name only a Northumbrian king of the Danes’ choosing.
She did not reply. We began to cross the field of flax stubble and head to the trail. When we reached it Ælfwyn loo
ked down at the hard clay under our horse’s hooves and said, “You have done a great deal in a short time.” She said this quietly, as if thinking aloud.
“Yes,” agreed Sidroc, “but we have just begun. Next Summer, and the Summer after, this land will ring with the hoofbeats of our horses, and many more cities like Jorvik will be ours.”
Ælfwyn said carefully, “You speak as if soon all here will be Dane.”
“Most will be, yes. Northumbria and Lindisse already are ours, and Wessex will soon fall. Mercia has little defence, and will follow.”
Ælfwyn waited a long time to respond. “If Wessex falls, what will happen to the Peace that was made with my father and grandsire?”
“I cannot say; I do not know. Yrling will honour the Peace he made, but he is a jarl, not a King. He cannot keep others from your home.”
It was simply said, but the words were terrible. Ælfwyn pulled up the reins of her mare, and turned her horse so that she faced Sidroc. She looked at him and said, “My father made this Peace on the belief that Yrling was a great jarl, powerful enough to keep his word by his own men, and to keep other Danes from Cirenceaster. Now you are saying this is not so?”
“Yrling will honour the Peace he has made. This is all I know.”
Ælfwyn took a breath, and I could see there was a war within her breast. But she did not flare up, and instead looked long at Sidroc. She only said, “I must and will believe this.”
She turned the head of her horse, and moved ahead of us down the trail.
I was greatly troubled by all this, first by the calm words of Sidroc, and then by the question of Ælfwyn which he could not answer. We rode on, with me thinking about this all the time, and then I said to Sidroc, “You think Mercia also will fall?”
“Yes, for it has fewer defences than Wessex, and cannot stand long against us once we turn our efforts there.”
I thought about this and said, “King Burgred has ruled a long time, and in peace.”
“Now he is old, and can no longer command as he once did.”
I thought of his wife, the good queen. “Æthelswith, his wife, is the sister to King Æthelred of Wessex.”
The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 21
