The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga

by Octavia Randolph

  I stood before him, and then one of the other Danes dragged a bench over behind me. He pointed at it as if to say, Sit.

  I mumbled my thanks and sat down. None of the men had ever done me a service before, even one as slight as this. I held the warm cup in my hands and sat alone before the sleeping Sidroc. My hand lay on my lap, reddened with his blood. I looked again at the silver disk on my wrist. I wondered what woman grieved over the man who had worn it. Perhaps she herself had come to the place of battle and took his body home, and had sat before it, watching it in death as I watched Sidroc, that he might live.

  The ale in the cup looked dark, and a bitter smell came from it. I held it until it cooled, and kept on holding it, breathing in its sharp bitterness. Then Burginde came, with a platter of food and my silver goblet, and placed them next to me on the bench. I turned and saw that the table that Yrling and Ælfwyn sat at was empty, and they were gone.

  “Eat now,” she urged, “and then come to bed. He’ll not be alone, surrounded by these brutes as he is.”

  I felt numb, but put the bronze cup down next to the platter, and stood up. “I will leave this here, lest he awake and be able to drink or eat,” I answered. It was only when I rose that I found how weary I was.

  “Good, good,” encouraged Burginde. She gave me a little push towards the stair. “I will fetch water; we will soak your gown.”

  “No,” I answered. “Tomorrow I must wash it myself in a flowing stream.”

  “Ach!” she chided. “That will never leave him go from your grip.” But she said no more of it just the same.

  Chapter the Thirty-sixth: Of the Ambush

  IT was mid morning before I saw Ælfwyn in our chamber. She looked a bit tired but also slightly flushed. “There you are,” she said, kissing me warmly.

  “Forgive me,” I began. “I went to wash my gown.”

  She looked puzzled. “That is Burginde’s work,” she said.

  “She is busy enough.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “She is down with Sidroc now.” She touched my hand and said, “It is not right that you should tend to him all the time.”

  I could not help but ask, “By ‘not right’ do you mean ‘not just’ or ‘not seemly’?”

  “Both. You are not his wife or sweetheart, or even sister; therefore it is not right that you must tend to him after all that you have already done.”

  “I did nothing more than you yourself would have done,” I said.

  “That is not true. I admire you so much for searching and dressing his wound. Burginde said it was bad. I am sure I would have been sick.”

  “I almost was sick,” I answered.

  “Yrling is still asleep,” she went on, and gestured to the table. “Come and eat, and let us talk before I go down again.”

  There was an ewer each of broth and ale, bowls of boiled eggs, bean porridge, and dried apples. I was very hungry and fell to.

  She took up a cup of broth and said, “Yrling is well, only worn from lack of sleep. His shoulder will be sore for some days, but there was no real hurt beyond that.”

  I looked into her face. “I think you must need sleep as well,” I said.

  “O, I am fine,” she answered. “And I did sleep, but tried to be so careful not to bump him that I lost some rest.”

  “Perhaps you should sleep here until he is better, then,” I suggested.

  “No,” she answered quickly. “That would not be right. He needs me, and I want to be with him.”

  She lowered her eyes, and spoke softly. “Yesterday, when you and I stood together in the hall, waiting for the men to come in, I was of a sudden fearful that he would not return. When I saw him, I felt glad - glad that he lived.”

  Her voice was earnest, and she looked me full in the face. “I know now that I want him to live, and be well,” she said.

  I took her hand in mine. “I am sure that you do, and am happy to know it,” I answered. “He is blest to have such a wife as you. I will not forget the look on his face when he saw you last night.”

  She smiled and said, “And I too am fortunate, for I begin to care for him.” She took up her cup again, as I did. Then she recalled something else.

  “One man did not return,” she said gravely. “He was killed in the ambush.”

  “How did it happen?” I asked, realising I still knew nothing about it. “Was it when they went to fix things?”

  “No, it was not, and I myself know little about the first part of their trip. I think they had done what they could, and then, five or six days ago, were ambushed.”

  “Who ambushed them?” I asked.

  “Thegns of Æthelred, and some common ceorls as well,” she started. We heard footsteps on the stair, and I rose and went to the landing. It was Burginde, wiping her hands on her apron as she climbed the heavy wooden treads. She came into the room, and Ælfwyn asked, “How is Sidroc? Is he improved?”

  “Aye, somewhat, but the fever still be greater than it should be. He will neither drink nor eat, for it pains him too greatly to move. If he were on his back he could be given some drink from mouth to mouth; but he must lie on his belly, off the wound.”

  I felt troubled by all this, and thought to rise. Burginde finished by saying, “I think I will be off to the dyer and see what she says. She be the closest there is to a leech.”

  “Stay a moment and eat something before you go,” invited Ælfwyn. Burginde drew her stool up to the table and sat with us.

  “I am telling Ceridwen of the ambush in which Yrling and Sidroc were hurt,” continued Ælfwyn. “Also one man was killed.”

  “More than one man was killed, by the looks of all the booty,” replied Burginde with her mouth full.

  Ælfwyn paused. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I mean one Dane was killed.”

  The nurse shrugged her shoulders. Ælfwyn went on with her tale. “They were not far from the borders on their way back when they were attacked by thegns of King Æthelred. I asked Yrling why it happened, but he would say little.”

  “Why it happened?” echoed Burginde, and her eyebrows rose so high they nearly touched. “The Danes be ranging over the lands of the King, raping and pillaging on their way home, and you wonder why they be attacked?”

  Ælfwyn did not answer at once, but pressed her hand to her forehead. “I did not say they were raping and pillaging,” she started. “Yrling did not say that...”

  “Of course they were taking food along the way,” I said, trying to sound calm about it. “All warriors do that.”

  “It is that Toki’s fault, I know it,” blurted Ælfwyn. “Since Yrling returned Toki has been slinking about like a whipped dog. Even Yrling said something about it to me, that Toki had been too greedy.”

  Burginde spoke again, and spoke firmly. “Like as not he ravished the wrong woman, one of the wives or daughters of the thegns. Or just drove off too many cattle, or trampled too many cottars under the hooves of that great beast of his.”

  “Perhaps the thegns attacked only because the Danes were in Wessex, and they did not want them there,” said Ælfwyn.

  “Yes,” I agreed, and tried to put some heart into it.

  We were all quiet for a moment, and then I asked, “How did Yrling get hurt? Burginde said his horse fell.”

  “That is right,” said Ælfwyn. “He was riding in advance through a woodland trail. They were going quickly to get out of the woods as soon as could be. The thegns had stretched a line across the path, and hid amongst the shrubs and trees. When Yrling’s horse stumbled, they rushed out on the men from all sides.”

  “Clever,” nodded Burginde. “They had the brains but not the brawn to outmatch the Danes.”

  “Yrling was lucky not to have been killed at once. He rolled off to one side, and was trying to rise, but his arm had been put out of joint at the shoulder in the fall. Sidroc came up behind him and fought off the two men who went for Yrling.”

  “And killed them,” said
Burginde.

  “Yes, I suppose he killed them,” admitted Ælfwyn. She looked at me. “They were being attacked.”

  “Yes,” I said, and tried to make steady my voice. “Any group of men would have done the same. They had to defend themselves.”

  “And they killed them all?” questioned Burginde. She had finished eating and was putting on her mantle to go out.

  “Yes, all,” said Ælfwyn, in a faint voice.

  “They had to defend themselves,” I said again, and felt anger at the nurse for the bluntness of her speech. She beyond all women should know how painful it was for Ælfwyn to repeat this.

  “‘Twill not be gone long,” said Burginde, as she started for the door. “All be well with you both?”

  “Yes, go ahead, we want nothing. If Wilfrida can help, have her come herself, with you,” answered Ælfwyn.

  Burginde left, and we returned to our meal. I passed more apples to Ælfwyn, and she saw my wrist for the first time.

  “It is beautiful,” she said, fingering the shiny disk. “How fine is the interlace! Is it from Sidroc?”

  “Yes,” I said. The beauty of it made me smile, but not with any real gladness. “It is part of the battle-gain he won.”

  “O,” she said.

  “I did not want to take it, but he made me by saying he did not want to be in my debt.”

  She thought about this. “Then I think you did well to accept it,” was all she said.

  “You have not told me how Sidroc was injured,” I went on.

  “I do not know exactly. Perhaps when he was fighting for himself and Yrling, too. Either way I owe him great thanks.” She looked at me. “Did he himself not tell you of it?”

  “No, nor did I ask. I only know, as you do, that he was wounded by a spear thrust. It was skilfully driven, for it went in the arm opening of his ring tunic.”

  “One man was killed, and Yrling nearly so, and Sidroc truly hurt. And Toki was not injured at all,” she said, with bitterness in her voice.

  “And some thegns and many ceorls of your King are now dead; we do not even know how many,” I added, and placed my hand over the silver bracelet on my wrist. “And now I wear this, which a man of Wessex was killed for.”

  So we were silent.

  “Where did you two go last night?” she asked.

  “Sidroc wanted to go to the place of Offering, and destroy his sword. I could not keep him from going so I walked with him.”

  She nodded. “A few of my father’s thegns still do such things, tho’ they be baptised.” She rose and said, “I will go now to the treasure room and see if Yrling be awake. You can stay here if you like.”

  I said, “I will sit with Sidroc until you need me. I do not think he should be left unwatched.”

  “That is good of you,” she said. “I will not let you stay there long.”

  I picked up the ewer of broth; perhaps Sidroc might drink of it. We went downstairs together, and Ælfwyn crossed to the treasure room door and went in. I stood in the hall and looked it over. The hide packs of the returned men had still not been cleared away, and around each I saw the booty they had pulled out the night before: swords, seaxs, leathern tunics, linen tunics, even shoes, all stripped from the bodies of the dead and dying. The only pack unopened was that of Sidroc.

  On the bench before him was fresh food and drink, untouched. I walked over and stood before him. A wool coverlet was pulled around his shoulders. His face was turned towards me, and his lips were parted. I could just hear his breathing. His hair was damp and I could see the fever was still strong upon him. I did not want to touch his face and so disturb him, but sat down before him as quietly as I could. I began to feel real fear that I had not cleaned all the fester from his wound, and that it would need to be opened again.

  “You do not have to sit here,” he said, without opening his eyes.

  “You are awake,” I said in surprise.

  “Yes. You do not have to sit with me.” He spoke slowly, but clearly enough to see the fever had not gone to his brains.

  “I sit with you because I want to,” I said, and then added, “The Lady Ælfwyn would sit with you herself if Yrling did not need her.”

  It took a long time for him to answer, and he still did not open his eyes. “So you sit with me as a service to her?”

  “No,” I said, in some little anger. I recalled Ælfwyn’s words. “I sit here because I want you to live, and be well.”

  He laughed, but feebly. “I am in no danger of Death.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “You wear the bracelet,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said more calmly. “This and every day I will wear it. It is precious.”

  He was quiet, and closed his eyes again.

  I reached over and touched his face. “You are still so hot, Sidroc.”

  I pulled back the coverlet and looked at his tunic. A pale yellow stain showed on the clean linen above the wound, but no blood was there. The tunic was damp from his sweat.

  “You must try to drink, and eat,” I said, trying not to sound frightened. “Try to sit up.”

  He opened his eyes. “It is hard. My side and arm is stiff.”

  “Try to stand then,” I urged.

  I pulled the coverlet back and off him. He pushed himself up with his good arm until he sat on the edge on the table. Then he stood upon the floor.

  I picked up the cup on the bench and held it to him. By the smell I knew it was the ale made bitter with feverfew. “Drink this; it is bitter, but then drink this broth after it.”

  He drank it down, and then I filled the cup with broth, and he drank this as well. Some colour came into his cheeks.

  “Will you eat something now? I do not want the bitterness of the ale to make you sick,” I said, and looked at the platter. There were eggs and loaves and roast fowl. I tore one of the loaves and handed it to him. He took it and ate, and ate also of the fowl.

  As I watched him I thought of Ælfwyn, and her belief that the ambush had been in some way caused by Toki.

  “Was it Toki’s fault, that you were attacked?” I asked of a sudden.

  He looked at me. “Toki is often too greedy, and often at the wrong times,” he answered.

  I looked around the hall, convinced that this meant Yes.

  “Why then does Yrling keep him with him?”

  “Toki is a good warrior,” he said, “better than most. Also the men like him, for he is always bold. Even when it is stupid to be bold,” he ended.

  “You could have been killed. Yrling could have been killed.”

  “Each day I fight I could die in battle, or Yrling.”

  “Ælfwyn says you saved his life.”

  “I killed those trying to kill him, but in truth no man can save another. The shield-maidens choose you or not.”

  I stood silently, thinking of all this. Sidroc leaned back against the edge of the table, and closed his eyes.

  “I am sorry to make you speak so much,” I began. “It must be hard, with your wound.”

  “Today all things are hard,” he said. “I will lie down again now.” He lowered himself onto the table. In a few moments he was breathing deeply and again slept.

  I felt heartened that he seemed so much improved; at least the fever had lessened and he could rise and stand. I thought of how weary he must be, and of how long the ride home must have been for him and Yrling, in pain and unable to stop and truly rest.

  I sat before him as he slept. The hall was empty and felt chilly; the smallest of fires burned in the firepit. As I was waiting thus a shadow fell before me from the doorway. I turned and glimpsed Toki, and cursed Fate for being found here alone by him watching over Sidroc. I did not look at Toki, but resolutely kept my face away from him. He came into view at last, walking with mock quietness so as not to rouse Sidroc. He stood a few paces behind the table on which Sidroc lay, and grinned at me in silence.

  I had decided to leave when the tortoiseshell
kitten scampered in from the yard. She lifted her tail in greeting and picked her way over to me. She disappeared under the skirt of my gown and wrapped herself around my ankles, and then came out again. At this I blushed greatly, and knew that Toki watched it all. I bent down to push the kitten away so she would not do it again, and my eyes met Toki’s as he leered at me from where he stood. I hated him at that moment more than I had even on the village road, for he tried to shame me for a silly thing when Sidroc, who was hurt due to Toki’s greed and probably cruelty, lay injured before him.

  I heard noises from the doorway, and turned and saw Burginde coming in with her basket. Toki moved off and lounged about by the fire as she came to me. I rose to meet her, and she set down her basket and spoke.

  “Sorry I be so tardy. Wilfrida was out a-gathering and I had to go after her. My legs be as tired as pups.”

  I looked in the basket. A few of the plants and roots within I recognised, but many I did not. There were the young and fresh leaves of dragonwort, and comfrey, and something like Lady’s mantle.

  “We can make a poultice from the comfrey, and lay it over the wound to help it draw,” I decided. “There was a monk skilled at leech-craft at the Priory, and I saw him do that on a ceorl who had been slashed by a boar’s tusks.”

  “Good, good,” muttered Burginde. “Then I will leave you in charge of the basket.” She lifted her head and looked across the hall. “Is the Lady out yet?”

  “No, but I am sure that Yrling still sleeps, as does Sidroc. I think she only sits by him so that he will not wake alone.”

  “Then I be going up to start my laundry. Do you want work? I could bring your spindle; ‘tis light enough for that.”

  “No, I will go with you now.” I did not want to leave Sidroc alone, but even less did I desire to be left in the hall with Toki as well.

  Chapter the Thirty-seventh: Valuable for Ransom

  IN the morning when I went down Sidroc was standing before the table. He wore a clean linen tunic and I could see that the wound beneath it had been wrapped. He had his hide pack open and was sorting through his battle-gain. I saw a leathern tunic, leg wrappings, clothing that looked like mantles, a set of bronze shoulder clasps, and a small opened pouch in which several silver rings sat. Off to one side were two swords, both sheathed in fine scabbards. He moved slowly and with care, and regarded each item well as he set it out.