by Anya Seton
Merewyn was humbled by this brave old man who had patiently given so much information, and who had in essence agreed to her continuance in the role of Lady Merewyn.
She was uncertain, miserable, but she reached over and took the mottled hand and kissed it. "Thank you. Brother Finian. I shall try to submit to God's Will, whatever it brings."
Merewyn and her children arrived at Romsey Abbey in Hampshire three days later. After many waits, and the observance of protocol, they were received by the Abbess Elfled. Not in Merwinna's parlor, that had been burned by the Vikings, but in one very like it, except that Elfled had her walls painted a buttercup yellow, instead of the usual whitewash. This was a peculiarity which Merewyn later discovered disturbed some of the nuns.
In twenty years, Elfled had changed. She had grown meager, the Abbess's black habit hung lankly about her — the habit once worn by Merwinna, who was never stout, but never as skinny as this either, even at the end.
Elfled constantly disciplined herself. She still bathed in the freezing carp pond, and ate only a chicken wing, or a morsel of fish on fast days.
She spent so many hours praying on stone floors that her knees had stifl^ened and developed calluses.
When Merewyn finally got in to see her old-time friend, Elfled welcomed her warmly enough, and smiled when Thora, who had learned this game before, made a grab at her hand and kissed the gold ring.
"Ah, there, Merewyn —" said Elfled. "Where have you been all these years since you set forth to carry your sainted aunt's heart to Cornwall?"
Merewyn explained briefly — capture by Vikings, a forced marriage. She omitted reference to either Iceland or Greenland, places she had now discovered that the English knew nothing of.
Elfled made a rather perfunctory sound of pity. "So now you're back, and welcome, of course. These are your children?" Her sharp mouse face turned from the frowning Orm to Thora who was happy and stroking the yellow wall.
"Pretty . . ." said Thora, "like a butterfly." She had seen a brimstone butterfly outside of Bristol, and Merewyn had explained what it was. One never knew what Thora could or could not learn.
Elfled knew that the yellow in her walls had been criticized by many; she was not sure herself why she had ordered such a deviation to be made. She had searched her conscience about it; now she saw that Thora was one of the simple, and perhaps holy ones in this world. Elfled, swamped by the problems involved in running a large abbey, was touched. She looked kindly at Thora, and allowed her old affection for Merewyn to revive.
"I never wanted them to elect me Abbess," she said. "The job scarce leaves me time for worship, but they couldn't agree on anyone else."
"Can't you resign, lady?" asked Orm, suddenly interested. His mother kept dragging him to black-robed clerics, male and female, and it startled him to think that they might have feelings.
"No, I can't," said Elfled. She turned back to Merewyn. "So
the dream I had about you and the great big yellow-haired man came true?"
Merevvyn nodded. "Orm looks just like him. Do you still have those dreams, Elfled?"
"Not since the one which warned of the second Viking raid, when we got all the treasure to Winchester in time. It was your Aunt Merwinna who sent me that dream, I expect."
The church bell began ringing for Tierce, and Elfled glanced rather nervously towards the open window where tree shadows were lengthening. She tinkled a cow bell, and when a nun appeared, said, "Fetch Sister Herluva." At Merewyn's exclamation of surprise, Elfled said, "Yes, she's still here, and runs the hostel. The Infirmary got too hard for her, she's over sixty now. — Do you remember, Merewyn, that twenty years ago we thought Herluva was already old?" There was a faint ghost of the elfin smile which had suited her name.
"I remember," said Merewyn, "but look. Reverend Mother —" she added hurriedly as Elfled smoothed her habit and adjusted her cross preparatory to entering the church, "we mustn't be a nuisance to you, but I do need advice. I don't know what to do, and I've no one. No one^^ she repeated with frightened emphasis, "but you to turn to."
"You could pray," said Elfled acidly, "or perhaps that's one thing you dori't remember." She turned in the doorway and said more gently, "Go to the hostel, I'll see you again after supper."
During the next days at Romsey much happened fast to Merewyn and her children. Thora developed an attachment to Sister Herluva, who was kind, protective, and discovered that the girl could be put to gathering herb leaves and flower petals for drying in wooden frames; that if carefully directed, she would neither spill nor damage.
Then Orm, being very much bored at the nunnery, went
riding by himself in the countryside, and had a lucky encounter with one of the King's thanes, called Wulfric, who was stag-hunting in the forest with his housecarls. When Orm heard the approaching gallop of many horses, he drew his horse aside from the path and waited for the others to go by.
But Wulfric spied Orm waiting behind a giant oak. "Hola, friend!" he said jovially. "Did you see anything of a stag? The hounds've lost the scent." He indicated the hounds which were sniffing here and there, and running in circles.
Orm shook his head and blushed. He knew nothing of hunting in a forest. A seal, or a walrus would have been another matter. He wasn't even sure what a stag was.
"You're a likely-looking lad," said Wulfric. "Are ye hawking? No, ye can't be," for there was no leather gauntlet on Orm's wrist.
"I'm just riding," said Orm.
Wulfric was a kindly soul, stout, middle-aged, with a red nose, and no perplexities. He owned land in a dozen counties, all inherited from his rich father, Wulfrun. All the reeves who administered his properties seemed competent. Wulfric had no need to bestir himself except on quarter days when he was presented with the revenues. On his home Mangr at Ashley he liked to have a handsome well-bom retinue around him — drinking and hunting companions.
He was at once pleased with Orm, whom he found exceptionally good-looking with his blond hair and steady blue eyes. A very big youth he was too, as tall a man as Wulfric had seen. "We've lost the stag," he said. "Come on back to my Manor and dine with me."
Orm was pleased, and said he would like to.
The ensuing visit was a revelation to Orm. He had never seen such fine lands, such a huge stone manor house, so many retainers, housecarls, servants. He had never tasted such food. Eel pies, beef and kidney pies, custard pies, and marchpane sweets studded
with raisins. All washed down with either mead or wines imported from across the Channel.
Orm asked how wide that "channel" was. Wulfric answered, "Oh, I don't know — half a day's sail; sometimes I think a bit near to those villains in Normandy. I don't see why they don't leave us alone. They've got plenty over there for themselves."
Orm accepted this in silence. He had already explained himself in the way his mother wished. He said that he was half descended from a royal British line, and his accented English was due to years in Ireland.
Wulfric scarcely listened. He grew befuddled with mead, wine, and huge helpings of the excellent food. He liked Orm, as he did almost everybody, and anyone staying at Romsey Abbey was naturally to be received. Soon he wanted his nap, and yawning, said to Orm, "Would you hke to join me here, lad? As one of my retainers? I can find something at Court for your mother, the King's a good friend of mine."
Orm said "Yes ..." in a hesitant voice. He knew that this was great good fortune, and exactly what his mother had hoped for, but he saw nothing exciting about joining Wulfric's entourage. Except good meals and whatever this kind of hunting might be. Also there were no girls to be seen except the servants.
Wulfric was a widower of some years standing, his children had married and gone to other parts of England. He had not bothered to find a new wife. He enjoyed himself on the Manor while occasionally attending upon the King. Wulfric was a placid man.
Orm waited until the Thane had his nap. All around the Hall on cushioned benches, the housecarls and thane's men set to sn
oring. Orm did not sleep. He went outside and walked around the gardens, slightly aware of the beauty of the English countryside while wondering what to do. He thought mostly of himself, but he was also trying to understand what his mother's life had been before his birth. He began to realize that it had been
a grim life in Greenland — even before that in Iceland. He had promised his father to take care of the women, he had made a vow to Thor. Yet nobody here beheved in Thor. It was confusing.
Later he consented to become one of Wulfric's men, on condition that his mother was given a place at Court.
Wulfric amiably agreed, and suddenly remembered that because of Queen Elgifu's illness — she had been ailing a long time — there was probably room for another lady at Court. It would be simple to arrange, said Wulfric. The King was due back from a foray in Cumberland, in which he had been fighting his vassal prince Malcolm.
"What did he do that for?" asked Orm, puzzled by everything he had heard of this English king. "Why fight one of his own? Why not pull the country together, and fight the — as you call them — Danes?"
"Oh, I don't know," answered Wulfric. "Those Norman pirates have gone away again, the King gave them some money. I had to pay in a hundred pounds m'self, but it's worth it for peace. Have a bit of wine?"
Orm courteously declined. He rode back to Romsey Abbey, and at dawn roused his mother to report on the day's events.
Merewyn was at first enchanted. These were certainly the steps towards importance she had hoped to get through Rumon. They had happened by chance through Orm. Elfled had done nothing during the days they'd been there, except to say that they could stay on indefinitely at the hostel, and to pray with Merewyn. Merewyn mumbled along with Elfled the old familiar Latin prayers but they gave no warmth. Nor did Elfled. The two women had lost much of their old attraction for each other. Their lives for twenty years had been too different. Elfled's had been entirely bounded by the Abbey, and the administrative duties there, for which she had no real bent. Merewyn could
see many untidy details which had not happened in her aunt's time. She still thought of Merwinna as her aunt.
When she went to Mass on the morning of Orm's return, she said special prayers to Merwinna, who had been canonized in the Abbey; whose body was enshrined in an elegant marble coffin; and whose obit day. May 13, was observed with due ceremony. She spoke directly to Merwinna, reminding her that the requested expedition to Padstow with the heart had resulted in Merewyn's capture, and that therefore she wished for blessings on the new venture.
She did not know whether St. Merwinna heard her or not, but there was a feeling of peace when Merewyn left the church, and later in the afternoon there seemed to be a definite answer, for Thane Wulf ric turned up at the Abbey with an invitation to stay at his manor house while negotiations with the Queen at Winchester were concluded.
Merewyn was impressed by the stout little man. He was kindly, he had kept his word, he was hospitable, and useful. Moreover, though she had thought herself finished with all that, it was pleasant to see a kindling in his small bleary eyes when he first met her. Pleasant to hear his remark to Orm, "You didn't tell me your mother was a beautiful woman."
Orm smiled a Httle, and shrugged. "It might be," he said, hoping that his mother would deal with another amorous thane as well as she had handled Odo.
In the end they left Thora behind. The girl did not want to leave Romsey. She clung to Sister Herluva, and prattled of all the pretty leaves she had gathered today.
Elfled had little to say. She was worried about a muddle in the accounts which would have to be shown to the Bishop. She was worried about one of the nuns who had been found in a novice's cell after Compline, her habit ofF, her wimple crushed into a ball, and her remarks of a kind that the Mistress of Novices said she was ashamed to report.
Elfled was not sorry to see Merewyn and Orm go. Rooms were always needed in the hostel. Nor did she mind that Thora stayed. Sister Herluva would care for her, teach her what devotions the child's mind could understand.
"I wish you very well, Merewyn," said Elfled at parting. "Your rank is such that you deserve the best of a secular life. I shall remember you in my prayers. You and your son," she added, with a tight, rather disapproving, smile.
Merewyn thought of Astrid, of the warmth, understanding and womanly experiences they had always shared. Motherhood. Wifehood. But Astrid was on Greenland, months of sailing away.
She immediately extinguished thoughts of Astrid, or Greenland.
"Thank you, Reverend Mother," she said, "for all your hospitality. I've given silver to the church, and if I get to Court, I shall try to use influence for the advancement of Romsey xbbey. I've seen that you do much good here amongst the neighboring poor. And then there is Thora. You shall be recompensed for her board."
Elfled glanced anxiously at the pile of vellum sheets on her table. "I don't seem very good at keeping accounts," she said. "Nor does my CeUaress —"
They kissed each other on the cheeks, and Merewyn rode off with Wulfric and Orm.
Like Orm she was dazzled by Wulfric's Manor. She was given a whole Bower to herself — the one formerly occupied by Wulfric's wife. She was assigned a skilled maidservant to tend her. She enjoyed the food she had dreamed of during all those years of dried fish and whale blubber.
She enjoyed being called "my lady," and the deference in Wulfric's attentions. There was never anything violent or lustful about Wulfric. He never tried to enter her room as Odo had. But she knew from his looks that he admired her. That was
agreeable. He might, she thought, want to marry the Lady Merewyn — this round, good-natured little thane.
Well, that might be not so bad, sink into a luxurious peaceful life. She began to be instinctively alluring with Wulfric, but in a very dignified way. Orm felt differently. Already he was bored and restless. One day he attacked his mother. "What about your place at Court? Wulfric won't move until you make him. What about your promise to me that I could become a thane myself? This is the same thing, day in, day out. I hear," he added quietly, "that King Sweyn of Denmark has landed in England with a vast host. Sweyn is a man I'd like to meet."
"Don't you dare! "she cried. "You're English now. You must fight for England."
"But they don^t fight here," said Orm plaintively. "And my blood. Mother, whether you like it or not, is Viking."
"Hush!" she said sharply. "I'll get us to the Court at once. Then you'll see things differently. But first we'll baptize you very quietly in the little parish church over the hill."
"No," said Orm. "King Sweyn was baptized, and it didn't last. He now believes in the old gods again, and they are giving him victories."
Mother and son glared at each other. Merewyn gave in. He looked so much like Sigurd. Her thoughts ran this way and that, and from the muddle one thing emerged clearly. She wanted to see Rumon, but oddly enough she wanted to see Alfrida again. Why? She wasn't sure except that hatred and jealousy made a deep-lying canker which had festered underneath for years. She would like to rid herself of it.
"We'll go to Court, I'll see that Wulfric arranges it. Be patient another day, Orm; for tomorrow I shall ride to Wherwell Abbey."
"What's that?" he asked. "What for?"
"To see the old Queen — Alfrida, to whom I was once a lady-in-waiting."
"You think she'll help you at Court," asked Orm eagerly, "if she's the King's mother?"
"No. I don't know —" she repUed. "It's not for that, it's for a reason I can't explain. She was evil once, she caused the death of Edward, but Elfled says she's bedridden with dropsy, and has done many good works. I loved her once — for a time."
Orm's neck blushed. He was uncomfortable and barely condoned his mother's eccentricity. She had shown several eccentricities since their arrival in England. Yet critical as he might be, she commanded respect.
They had no further conversation.
The next day there was a drizzle, but Merewyn, taking one of the Thane's men with her,
rode to WTierwell.
She was appalled by her first sight of Alfrida, who \as propped up in bed, panting a httle and enormously bloated. Her golden hair had been cut short, and had turned a muddy color. Her belly raised a hump under the sheet. Her fine-boned face had become a full moon, the eyehds puffed over the sunken violet eyes.
She greeted AIere\yn, but said at once in an invahd's whine, "They tap and they cup, and I've had dozens of leeches put on me, but still I SAvell. They gave me the last rites again last night."
"I'm sorry," said iVIerewyn awkwardly, wishing she hadn't come.
"You look well," said Alfrida with a flash of maUce. "Not changed much."
"Thank you," said xMere^'>Ti temperately. "I've had a rather rugged twenty years out of the country, perhaps they were good for me."
"Did you marry Rumon?" asked Alfrida. "After I got through with him I did think you might."
"No, I did not marry Rumon. I married a Norseman who captured me in Cornwall. Don't you know that Rumon is now a monk?"
Alfrida moved restlessly, and a hovering infirmaress came rushing over to put a fresh leech on a swollen vein in the Queen's leg.
"I don't know anything about Rumon," said Alfrida. "I don't know anything about Ethelred either, and considering what I did for him —" She stopped and had a choking spell. "Nobody comes to see me, and yet I helped raise Ethelred's son by that mewling little Elgifu."
"Well, Vm here —" said Merewyn briskly. "Would you like me to comb your hair as I did once?"
"My hair —" whispered Alfrida. "My long golden hair, and you used to stroke me all over. You were the best lady-in-waiting I ever had." She added in a faltering voice, "I shouldn't have taken Rumon from you, should I?"
"I don't know that you could help it, I'm not sure what we can or can't help. I think that humiHty and trust in God, are all there is to guide us."
