I reached in and pulled out my leathern satchel. In the bottom lay the tiny scrap of linen in which I had wrapped the green and gold glass vial filled with rose oil from Sidroc. It was, I thought, the finest and rarest thing I possessed. Sidroc had said that it was far costlier than gold. My hand touched the pouch, but I could not draw it forth. I could not give this gift to Modwynn; it was the gift of a Dane, and a Dane had robbed her son of his sight. And I could not give it for the memory of the Dane who had given it to me, desiring that it would give me pleasure.
Instead I drew forth the wool pouch into which were rolled the silks. I shook out the gown of dark red silk and the gown of blue silk, and held them up, gorgeous and shimmering. I pressed them into Modwynn’s arms. “Please to take these. They are the best I can offer you, and little enough.”
“How beautiful. I rarely see such fine silk. Thank you, daughter. I will wear them in memory of this most happy day.”
“It is you who have made me happy,” I told her, as we embraced.
She crossed to where Gyric stood, and stroked his hand lightly. “Rest now. We will not meet in the hall until dusk.”
She left, and we sat down upon the bed. It was covered with a blanket of blue-dyed wool, so dark that it was as midnight. The wool was soft, and the feather mattress under it softer still.
I took Gyric’s hand, and lifted it to my lips, but could not speak. My heart was too full.
As we sat there I saw a movement outside the open door, and Godwin stood in the opening.
“Godwin,” I said, and stood up.
“Come in,” said Gyric, and Godwin crossed over to us. Gyric still held the spear, and Godwin looked at it and understood why Gyric carried it.
He touched the shaft of it and asked Gyric, “Do you want this?”
“I just want it close,” answered Gyric.
Godwin sat down next to him, and Gyric turned his head towards him. “It is good of you to give us the bower-house,” he said.
Godwin shrugged. “I do not need it anymore. It is only right that I sleep in the hall with the rest of the men.”
He looked at me, and said by way of explanation, “My wife has gone to her home shire, but there is no trouble between us. She is a good woman.”
I did not know how to respond to this, so just said, “I am sure she is a very good woman. I hope she will come back soon so I can meet her.”
He looked at me for a little while before he answered. “Yes. She would like you.”
He kept looking at me, and I felt the warmth come into my cheeks. Then he seemed to realise he was being bold, and looked away himself.
It felt awkward in the room, and I wondered once again if I should go. In the hall Godwin had told Gyric that on the morrow he would pledge to avenge the harm done to his brother. There must be much he wanted to say.
I glanced at Godwin, and saw he fingered a heavy gold bracelet on his wrist. It was made of braided bands of yellow gold and red gold, and his finger traced the pattern of the braid.
Of a sudden he stood and began to pull it off. It fitted tightly about his wrist, an unbroken circle.
He looked at me as he drew it off. “This belongs to you,” he said, and took up my right hand and pressed the gold bracelet, warm and heavy, over it.
Before I could speak he said, “Gyric, I give your wife my bracelet.”
“Your gold bracelet?”
“Yes,” he said, but he spoke now to me. “It was only one part of the treasure we wanted to offer for Gyric’s life. So it is rightfully yours.”
I touched Gyric’s hand, trusting he would speak. “You must accept it,” he told me.
Godwin looked at the ring of bright metal I now wore. It moved freely upon my wrist, but would not slide off.
“The gold-smith will fit it for you,” he said.
“I would never cut such a piece of gold,” I told him.
“Then you accept it.”
“Yes, since Gyric bids me to.”
I did not smile, nor did he. The bracelet was magnificent, perhaps the most costly thing Godwin possessed, yet he gave it away more than willingly, almost forcing it upon me. His first words to me came to mind: ‘Who are you? You have done what no one here could do.’ I wondered what he thought of me. I even wondered for a moment if he resented me, or resented that I had not somehow brought back Gyric unmaimed.
We stood looking at each other, and then a serving woman came in with a tray with ale and cakes. Godwin touched Gyric on the arm and said, “I will see you tonight at the hall.”
Chapter the Sixty-eighth: Of My First Night in the Hall
GYRIC and I sat alone at the table, and I poured out ale for us. The door was still open, and the Sun and light of the garden outside entered the little bower-house. I could hear birds twittering as they flew from branch to branch, and under it all the low roaring boom of the sea.
Gyric said almost nothing, and put down his cup and lowered his head. All about us was beauty and comfort, and most of all, safety; and those who loved him now knew he lived, and as we sat there were preparing a feast for his return; and his parents had showed naught but kindness and regard for me. I wanted to speak of these things, for they mattered greatly to me, and I valued them beyond measure; but I was silent, for I saw that he was sunk in his own thoughts.
He took my hand, and his fingers fell upon the gold bracelet, and he traced the braided design of it with his finger tip. “I too had a gold bracelet that you would wear now, if it had not been wrenched off by the Danes.”
For answer I lifted his own hand to my lips.
“Will you lie down with me?” he asked. “I just want to hold you.”
I crossed to the door and closed it and we walked to the carved wooden bed. We lay down together on the top of the soft wool blanket, our arms about each other.
The bed posts with their dragon heads curved up over us. Their mouths were open and a flame of carved red-painted wood shot out from each. But they did not look angry or fearsome; it seemed that they were only guarding their own treasure. Then I realised that those lying upon the bed were the treasure they guarded, and how clever this was.
“This dragon bed is very magical,” I told Gyric.
“Yes, dragons. You will like it. But it was not magical for Godwin. He had it built when he married.”
“It will be magical for us. We will be happy with each other all our lives. I know I will be happy with you.”
He did not answer, and I wished with all my heart that he would. But I did not press him, but only lay in his arms, stroking his face.
We fell asleep like this, for when I woke the light had faded in the room. I heard a slight tapping at the door and rose and opened it to a young girl who smiled and curtseyed to me. She passed me a basin of warm water, and then left us.
The time was thus near for us to go into the hall, and Gyric and I washed our hands and smoothed our clothes.
Gyric said, “Modwynn told me she had my things brought here. There should be a small bronze casket amongst them.”
We went together from chest to chest, and found the little casket. Gyric put it on the table and lifted up the lid. From the top he drew out a narrow circlet of gold and placed it about his brow. Then he dug about and found a tiny leathern pouch, the contents of which he emptied into his palm. They were gemstones, of all colours and sizes. He fingered one, and held it up to me. “Is this the emerald? I will have it set in a ring, as my morning gift to you.”
“Yes, and it is most beautiful.”
He pressed it into my hand, and we kissed, a kiss of passion and love. He took the emerald stone and laid it back in the jewel casket. As I began to pinch out the cressets we heard footsteps outside, and a strong rap at the door.
“Enter,” called Gyric, as I went to open it.
It was Godwulf and Modwynn. Both had put off their mourning clothes and were gorgeously arrayed. Modwynn wore the blue silk gown I had just given her
, with a yellow head-dress. Godwulf wore a tunic of cloth of purple, very rich, and trimmed all over with silver thread-work. And each of them wore, about their brow, the same thin fillet of gold which Gyric had put on.
Even tho’ I myself wore silk, I felt I stood before a King and queen, and felt abashed as I gaped at them. Modwynn came to me, and without a word lifted a circlet of shining metal she had in her hand and set it upon my brow; so that I too was crowned with gold.
I took Gyric’s hand and guided it to my brow, and he felt the thin fillet which his mother had just bestowed upon me, and he kissed the golden circlet I wore. And every night we wore these golden circlets when we sat at table in the hall.
This first night the four of us walked together into the great timber hall, a hall crowded with men and women and the clatter of plates and the rich savour of good food in the air. And there was music, too, for the wizened-faced man who had sat near us before was now walking, brightly clad, amongst the throngs, striking a small harp, and he was followed by a young woman who beat upon a little drum to keep time, and next to her a boy held a cymbal.
And all the folk within wore their best and gayest clothing, like a true wedding-feast; and save for the fact that all the many thegns wore their seaxs strapped at their waists and never took them off, one might think that only peace and joy reigned here.
One thing also was different; for silence fell when we four walked in, and the new husband was not greeted with a wedding-cheer from his companions. Every torch was lit, and cast its dancing light over the faces of those who stood and looked upon us, and they each wore the look of sorrow and wonder and tempered gladness.
Serving men stood ready behind the chairs of Godwulf and Modwynn, and we four came to the head table on the stone platform. Godwin was already there, wearing too a circlet of gold upon his brow; and the dark priest, Dunnere by name, was there; and the same thegns who had sat with us in the morning. Godwulf sat down, and we too, and all the rest of the hall took their places.
Godwulf gestured to the harper, and he began to play again, and the serving men came in great numbers to every table and began to pour out drink and bring great trays of food; and so the noise of the hall was restored.
The steward began to pour out mead for us, for its sweet smell proclaimed itself even before it touched the lips. I looked at the cup which had been set before me and saw that it was the match of Gyric’s in every way, silver with a golden rim. It only lacked the lettering which named Gyric’s as his own.
“Gyric, my silver cup is the same as yours,” I told him.
He reached out and I put the cup in his hands. He fingered it and touched the plain rim. “It is my wife’s cup,” he said, and his voice held real pleasure. “My parents gave me two silver cups when I was fifteen. The second has been wrapped away all these years, waiting for the woman I wed to drink from it.”
Gyric pressed the cup in my hands and said, “Tomorrow I will have the gold-smith cut your name into it.”
I looked over to Modwynn, who was watching this with joy in her eyes.
Our beautiful cups were filled with mead, and Godwulf stood and lifted his gold goblet in the air, and for a moment the hall again was silent, and each man and woman took up their cup. Godwulf turned to his youngest son, and raised the cup to him, and in a voice hoarse with love and grief gave the simplest and most ancient of toasts: Wes Hal; Be Whole.
I looked at Godwulf’s face as he so blest his son, and could see nothing else. We drank, and I took Gyric’s hand as we did, and when we put down our cups they were filled again, and my heart was brimful of love and joy in him and his folk.
Food began to come, and Gyric and I ate from a silver salver and a silver bowl that night and every night since, and used spoons of silver; and Godwin too ate from silver, and Godwulf and Modwynn from a salver of pure gold. And what we ate was this: Roast salmon, and boiled eels, and funny sea creatures I had never seen before which Gyric told me were winkles and whelks; and a sweet frumenty made of white wheat boiled with sheep’s milk; and thick browis of new and dried peas; and then trays of cracknels, like onto the cakes we had eaten in the bower-house, but hard and fried and dripping with honey; and then the milk-calf, which was roasted whole, and of a wonderful savour. And we drank first the mead, and then many cups of the bright ale brewed by Modwynn.
I looked about the hall, crowded with the thegns of Godwulf. At some of the tables women sat amongst them, the wives or sweethearts of the men. They looked back at me shyly and dipped their heads and smiled. In the very back was a long table, thick with the thegn’s children who were old enough to have earned the privilege of eating in the Lord’s hall.
When the serving men had cleared away the last of the good things to eat, and we sat with our cups being ever filled and refilled, the harper came and sat upon his stool at the very end of our table, and took up the little harp into his hands, and held it close against his breast.
He struck the harp so that the sound rang out into hall. All turned and looked at him, but he looked at no one and no thing save the strings which trembled under his fingers. All eyes were upon him, so I knew he was no common harper, but a true scop, a keeper of the word-hoard, skilled in all manner of saga telling. The first song was of his own making, the story of Gyric, for the saga he sang was of the return of a beloved lost son to his father’s hall. And I was in the saga, too, for the scop sang in his song much of what both Gyric and I had told in the hall that morning, and changed little. The song ended at the wedding-feast of the returned son, but the last lines warned of blood to come, and Fate unrealised.
When the scop first started this saga, none of us knew of what he would sing, and when line by line he revealed his story, those who sat at Godwulf’s table could not turn from the harper’s voice. Gyric sat rigid next to me, scarce breathing as he listened, and I put my arm around his waist and held tight to him. The scop praised the courage of Gyric, and damned the treachery of the Danes, and praised too the courage and fairness of the maid who fled with him out of danger to face more danger upon the road. And tho’ all in that vast hall knew by then that the scop spoke of me, I did not blush nor lower my eyes, but listened as if I did not know the end to our story, now turned by this harper to song.
When the scop finished, he struck hard upon the strings of his harp, and at last raised his eyes to Godwulf. Godwulf stared at the man, and I thought his eyes burned. Then Godwulf plucked off a small golden pin from his tunic, and threw it to the scop in answer to his work. And after the scop had caught up this rich prize, he bowed low and long to his Lord.
The scop sat again upon his stool, and again opened his word-hoard, and sang snatches of the sagas that all in the hall had heard before, for he sang of the hero Widsith, and of Weland, the artificer of the Gods; but this night he had added a new song to their store.
The torches had burnt themselves out and been renewed many times when at last Godwulf rose and gave the sign that the night had come to an end. Some thegns began to take down the tables, and others to bring out pallets on which to sleep.
Modwynn took Gyric and I each by the hand, and spoke to us. “Your father and I will come and bless your union tonight,” she said.
She sent a serving man with a torch to light our way. The night air was warm and still and the pleasure garden full of the sweetness of night-blooming blossoms. When I opened the door of our bower-house, the roar of the sea followed us in. I left the door open and lit the cressets. In the flickering light I saw the loving work of Modwynn before us, for upon the dragon bed was a mound of rose blossoms, pink, white, and red, heaped in sweet profusion. I lifted an armful of them to Gyric’s face, and kissed him, and he grasped me about the waist and pressed me and the blossoms to him.
We heard Godwulf and Modwynn as they walked along the stone path to the door. Gyric and I stood before the bed, and I held the beautiful roses in my arm.
They came in, and Modwynn’s eyes were filled with love and tende
rness as she looked upon us, and upon the roses on our marriage bed. I took Gyric’s hand, and his parents raised their arms above our heads.
Godwulf spoke first, in his low and gruff voice.
“I acknowledge the union between my son Gyric and this woman Ceridwen, and that she is truly his wife. Welcome, daughter.”
Modwynn lowered her arms, and touched each of us on the golden circlet we wore. “I bless you, my son, and bless and welcome this woman as your wife into our hall, and into our hearts.”
They took our hands, and I tried to praise and thank them for their great goodness; and Gyric too began to praise them for all the love they had shown us. They would hear none of it, and with many tender embraces they bid us Good-night.
That night I lay long awake in my husband’s arms as he clasped me hard to him; and we gave our bodies to each other with kisses mingled with sighs, for all that we had said and heard that day. And the carved dragons looked down upon us, guarding us as treasure.
Chapter the Sixty-ninth: The Oath of Vengeance
A serving woman came to the door in the morning, and brought us hot water and a brass tub. As we made ready for the day I thought that it was the first morning in so many when I did not rise and build a fire, and pack and saddle horses.
We went into the hall. Godwin was there, and his golden-green eyes fell upon Gyric and followed him. A door opened, and Godwulf and Modwynn came out of the room that must be their chamber. They sat in their carved chairs, and we ate slices of wheaten bread and toasted cheeses and drank weak ale.
No one said much at this meal. All knew what was to come, but Modwynn smiled upon Gyric and I, and made the silence easier to bear.
Godwulf raised his hand to Godwin, and Godwin stood and followed him out of the main door of the hall.
Modwynn leaned forward, and put her white hand to her brow, but said nothing. The three of us sat there, alone and waiting.
We heard them return. Godwulf came first, and behind him in single file walked five thegns, all with their hands upon the hilts of their sheathed swords. Then walked Godwin, and behind him too were five thegns, also with their hands upon the hilts of their swords.
The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 53
