Nature's Tribe

by Jacky Gray

  As he rushed to open the door, a giggle on the other side alerted him to the problem. Instead of terror, he was met with pandemonium as the noble offspring led their harassed governess in a merry dance. He could not believe only one girl would be employed to look after so many children, especially one so young. The older boys looked almost as old as she, and were certainly as tall. The smallest child tried to slip between his legs and, as he caught him, another one barrelled into his side, making him overbalance.

  Kernan proved adept and, between them, they had the entire troupe rounded up and out of the hold. He thought no more of the matter until the following day when they pulled up in the northern Frankish port. Amid great fuss and complaints, the Italian envoy departed, making no secret of his destination being Paris. As two of the rigging monkeys carried his baggage off, a woeful figure caught Jarl’s eye.

  The young governess scuttled off with nothing but a small bag, her downtrodden demeanour suggesting intense misery. He dashed after her, but Kernan called him back.

  “Cap’n Holt wishes your presence. If it please you.”

  “No, it does not please me.” Despite his muttered words, he hurried to the cabin where the man seemed in great agitation.

  “I’m sorry to do this, but Cavendish has demanded your presence while he performs an inspection. He heard about those youngsters getting below decks yesterday and is fretting that they may have damaged his cargo.”

  “Can it not wait while …”

  “No it cannot. We are setting off in five minutes to catch the tide.” He frowned. “If you are fretting about the lass, don’t. Trust me, you can do nothing to help. Cavendish’s wife got it into her head that her husband had taken a fancy to the girl, and convinced Van Artevelde to sack her.”

  “But that is …” Many adjectives ran through Jarl’s mind but prudence stopped him venting his displeasure.

  “Nothing we can do when it comes to nobility. And they dare not upset Cavendish because ...” The Captain broke off, frowning at the inadvertent indiscretion.

  “… his cargo is destined for the palace.” Jarl finished his sentence. “No doubt for the impending nuptials.”

  “Aye, but … how did you know?”

  Jarl tapped the side of his nose. “You hear things.”

  “Not from Kernan, I hope.”

  “No. Despite his dull demeanour, I think there’s a smart brain in there somewhere. As long as you don’t …”

  “… look too hard.” The captain nodded. “Good. I must confess to a few doubts.”

  “Forget them. He thinks quickly under pressure.”

  Without the governess shepherding them, the children created even more chaos, running around until the bosun, a dour Kentishman, threatened to set them all “swabbing the decks.”

  The oldest one stood proud. “You wouldn’t dare. My father is …”

  “Your father might be King Edward himself, but even he knows the rules change aboard ship. Do as you’re told or I’ll personally make you walk the plank.”

  The lad looked to his gang for support, but none would meet his eye.

  Jarl grinned as the man adopted a piratical growl.

  “Now get out of my sight or I might do it anyway. Children should be seen and not heard.”

  After Cavendish’s inspection found no irregularities, he stayed in his cabin. Anger fuelled Jarl’s speculation at the fate of the poor girl his wife’s jealousy had left without home or occupation. He vowed to enquire after her whereabouts when he returned to Frankia a few days hence.

  As the two rigging monkeys helped Van Artevelde’s manservants unload the plentiful baggage accompanying the nobles, something tugged at Jarl’s memory.

  “I cannot persuade you to accompany my haul to the palace? It is less than a day’s ride, and you would be handsomely recompensed.”

  He turned as Cavendish caught his arm. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s wife, beaming at him flirtatiously from behind a fan. Curbing the urge to bring back his lunch, he frowned. “I’m sorry, but my services are not for sale.”

  “Are you sure about that?” The merchant retrieved a large purse from his belt, weighing it in his hands like a coveted prize.

  It took all of Jarl’s self-control not to punch the man to the ground and slap the silly smile from his wife’s face. He had no time for anyone who thought a few coins gave them the right to use and abuse people.

  “Can you report to my office, please?” The captain all but steered Jarl out of the room, adopting a measured tone. “I will be there presently. The bosun seeks your advice about the next stage.”

  Taking his leave with a perfunctory bow, he heard Holt apologising to the merchant for denying Jarl’s services.

  “It’s crown business, you see. Otherwise he would be happy to oblige.”

  As the captain tried to divert the man’s attention, Jarl wished he hadn’t used that particular reason. Although Holt probably thought he was helping, he had actually hit on the truth. A truth Jarl didn’t want publicising.

  The dream ended here, but he was confident its purpose was to direct his thoughts toward a key incident which had happened during the journey. At least he had narrowed it to a specific time period.

  June 1340. Somewhere, on that lucrative cruise to Denmark, something of great import had occurred which impacted on his current situation. Or maybe someone.

  Running through the list of people he had met, he dearly hoped it wasn’t the awful merchant or his wife. He couldn’t see it being the foreigners. Maybe the lad, Kernan, or the piratical bosun, whatever his name was. The young governess did not figure high in his list. He couldn’t wait till the next full moon, hoping more of the story would unfold in his dream.

  ~*~

  Eanje

  Scrambling to her feet, Eanje scanned around as her mind sought clues as to where her babe might be. At little more than a moon, the babe had no strength in his limbs to move of his own volition, and the carriage stood upright so it could not have fallen. If a wild animal had attacked, she would see signs of a struggle, but the fleece still neatly lined the bottom of the carriage. And anyway, she would not have slept through that. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area. Why had the willow not alerted her?

  Her first thought was that whoever took her son was known to the willow. Maybe Lyran had awoken early and come looking for her. Or anyone from the house. The willow had seen them all often enough to understand these were her tribe and would pose no danger to her or Tryslan.

  Hugging the trunk, she placed her cheek against the warm bark and asked for help. The hazy image seen from a great height, showed two hooded figures, of different height and build. A female hand reached out to touch the branches and she felt the powerful sense of peace. No wonder the willow had let them through. Watching as they skirted around her inert body, she tried to reason it out.

  If it had been Senna or Shayla, would they have left her sleeping? Most definitely – they knew how much she needed rest. Would they have left the carriage? Possibly.

  Her head hurt with the effort of trying to figure it out. Kissing the tree, she asked for an alert if anything further happened. The sky had brightened enough for her to make a quick search of the surrounding area, but in her heart, she knew this would be fruitless. Better to run home where she was sure he would be asleep in his cradle, safe and sound.

  No sooner had she reached the footpath, than the willow crooned to her. As loving warmth filled her heart, she raced back, scouring for a glimpse of the shadowy couple in every direction. The sight of her son, fast asleep in his carriage, as though he’d never left, drove all reason from her mind. Resisting the urge to gather him into her arms and squeeze tightly, she collapsed on the hide and wept out the tears of fear, frustration and remorse until they turned to joy and gratitude.

  Instead of berating herself for her negligence, she resolved never to allow either of her children to be unattended for a single moment. Sealing the pact with a couple of her hair
s wound around a stub on the willow’s trunk, she thanked her for her vigilance and promised to leave an offering. Too ashamed to admit her carelessness to anyone, she buried the incident deep in her subconscious.

  At the next full moon, she slipped away to perform a private drawing down of the moon. Pouring all the acquired energy into the ground around the willow, she pushed it deep into the roots as the once again gave thanks for the tree’s help.

  11 – Harvest Moon – September

  Harvest moon: Enhance ambitions/goals. Wrath/Rage. Collaboration/mentor. Balance. Reorganise/move within.

  Bernadine

  Like everyone else, Bernadine had fallen under the spell of Ranly’s bride-to-be, Nadeena. Even though more proof of her sweet, caring nature was not needed, it came in the form of her daughter. Roseena shared her mother’s quiet intelligence and total connection to nature.

  Unbelievably, she had brought out the lighter side of the dreary, pedantic Ran. Over dinner, he competed with Ranly to entertain them with tales of his stay in Oxford.

  “It wasn’t merely the Dean. He introduced me to every person we met, as Ran-not-my-son or Ran-no-relation. Like that, as though all one word. I’m sure some of them thought it was.”

  Osman grinned. “That sounds like Ranly.”

  “I swear I actually began to think of myself as Ranno.”

  Ranly clapped him on the back. “It suits you. Anyway, whatever they called you, they certainly thought you a smart young man.” He addressed the grinning audience. “Ran has impressed many a doughty academic with his breadth and depth of knowledge.”

  “One even called me a sharp wit. Who would have thought it? Next to them, however, I am quite speedy.”

  Bernadine watched the young man’s friends swapping grins of disbelief. The former pedant’s new-found ability to make fun of himself obviously impressed everyone.

  Shayla voiced the only topic Bernadine cared about when it came to discussion of old scholars. “Are they intending to allow women into the hallowed halls, or will it be as in the old world where women are deemed an inferior species?”

  Both Ran and Ranly’s expressions told the tale as they shifted in their seats, their gazes following an identical path as they roamed the room. It would be comical if it didn’t anger her so much. In deference to the upcoming nuptials, Bernadine let it drop, instead inviting Nadeena to visit their educational establishment.

  “You mean you have a school, here?” Her eyes widened. “I am surprised this came so high on your list of priorities.”

  Shayla’s passion beat her to the draw. “We call it a lehren, rather than school. The emphasis is very much on the children learning, rather than teachers teaching.”

  Ran glanced over. “I would very much like to see this. May I be permitted to visit as well?”

  Bernadine chuckled. “You would have to ask the headmistress. Eanje is in charge.”

  Roseena cuddled her friend’s arm. “Please say you will let us. This sounds wonderful. If we would not disturb the children too much.”

  Eanje chuckled at the three pairs of pleading eyes pointed her way. “All right. I am outdone. Maybe you could come in the afternoon when we do not teach the academic topics like lettering and numbering.”

  Ran frowned. “I cannot imagine what is more important than learning to read and count.”

  “Which is why we do it in the morning. The children get tired in the afternoon, so we do practical things.”

  “That sounds logical. Might we come tomorrow afternoon?”

  Eanje glanced round the table, getting affirmatory nods from Lyrelie, Alfun and Quinn. “As long as Dagda hasn’t planned anything, I will say yes.”

  Unfortunately, Dagda had planned something. They bumped into her on the way out of the dining room. Apparently, Tasker had proclaimed the new building fit for use, and she had hoped the other adults would be happy to move in the following afternoon.

  “Oh dear. I don’t want to put anyone out. I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, but he and I only just finished inspecting the great hall.”

  “They’ve fixed the problem with the floor?” Bernadine raised her eyebrows – this had been the delaying factor.

  “Yes.” Dagda spoke emphatically. “They have covered the chalk with cement to stop it from rubbing off on the children’s legs when they all sit for the daily prayer.”

  “I see.” Eanje nodded. “And it’s perfectly dry?”

  “Yes. The men have been working hard to get all the benches into the classrooms. And they have rearranged their busy harvest duties so they could help in packing up all the equipment and moving it across.”

  Another nod. “Their energies would be very useful.” Eanje’s mouth tightened. “I can see they might be upset if we leave it empty after so much effort on our behalf.”

  “We can do it the following day if it causes a problem.” Dagda’s shrug conveyed her concern for compromise, and Bernadine was about to weigh in when Roseena tugged on Eanje’s arm.

  “No, please do not change the plans on our account. We could maybe come along to watch the last half hour of the morning lessons, and then help out with the move. The more hands the merrier.”

  Dagda beamed her approval. “That’s settled, then. I’ll tell the men; they’ll be delighted.”

  Bernadine frowned, choking back her natural reaction. Was it unreasonable of her to be angry that no one had bothered to ask her opinion? She was the leader of the council, for goodness’ sake. But they had behaved as though she were not even there, making decisions without so much as a by-your-leave. Not proud of her actions, she stalked away, striding toward the henge, hoping the rage would boil away before she reached it.

  By the time she’d walked all the way round the outer bank, she felt sufficiently calm to enter. The setting sun blinded as she climbed down from the ridge, and its power burnt her left cheek as she walked to the massive portal stone. Smiling at Gaia’s manifestation of her wrath, she sat in the priest’s seat, feeling the calm energy cool her spirit.

  With a snort, she remembered her preparation for the blessing she had recently led for the harvest moon. She had focussed on the aspects of collaboration, balance, and moving inside to recognise yourself. She had scoffed at the notion of wrath and rage, and yet here she was, resonating with that very energy. Maybe she did not know herself as well as she thought. She would learn that lesson carefully.

  Osman approached at the end of her meditation, expressing concern. When she explained her reaction, he nodded wisely. “It was my lesson, too, when I first took office. My mentor said having power can go to anyone’s head. Look what it did to Domenyk.”

  She shuddered as though a spirit had walked over her grave.

  The following day’s events went well, and Bernadine happily let Dagda take full credit for the excellent building, even though the woman herself proclaimed she could not have done it without the guidance of so many superb mentors. Bernadine was almost ashamed to be first on the list, meeting Osman’s knowing grin with a blush.

  The three visitors were very impressed. Nadeena, in particular, asked lots of questions about things, showing she had the benefit of a good education herself. Eanje encouraged her ideas about creating something similar in Oxford. She and Dagda offered their services as consultants, and took every opportunity to suggest how she and Roseena could influence Ranly and Ran to include women in their higher education plans.

  ~*~

  Eanje

  The day after they moved the lehren from the church to its new premises, the heavens opened, reminding Eanje of the storm which had followed the very worst experience of her life. If anyone noticed her absence that night, they did not comment, nor on her three-week obsession with not letting either babe out of her sight, even for a moment.

  It made life a little awkward at the lehren, but having Quinn and Elspeth helping Lyrelie on the morning sessions took some pressure off her. And all the older children were caught up with the harvest, so the afternoon
s were a lot easier to schedule, and she could take her turn in supervising the younger ones. They were keen to know everything about babes, and she frequently swapped the planned activities for an impromptu session on how to change a babe’s linen, or aspects of healthy diet and safety around open flames and other dangers facing a growing infant. She loved watching their solemn little faces as the girls played make-believe mothers and the boys pretended to shear sheep or chop wood or take on the roles they had seen their fathers perform.

  Eanje watched with delight as the village became swept up in the plans for a handfasting, and every person stepped up to do their bit for their former council leader. Under the codename, “Uncle,” Ranly had led the crusade to rid them of the corrupt powers threatening to outlaw their observance of the old ways. They owed him a debt of gratitude, none more so than Senna and Lyrelie, the main targets for Domenyk’s vicious campaign.

  Cora had designed the bridal outfit, dyed to a rich purple and incorporating Nadeena’s own lace design on the bodice. She created matching gowns in a paler lavender colour for Roseena and the two bridematrons, Rielle and Dimia, who had returned from Marlborough for the event. Taysen had crafted smart suits for the groom and his two supporters, Lyran and Osman.

  Eanje wished she could do something to help, but everyone assured her she had enough to do with the twins and running the lehren. Many shared tales of the lavish event Ranly had provided for his son, two decades earlier, including a nine-course meal created by a chef to royalty.