by Jacky Gray
~*~
Jarl
Patience was a virtue Jarl had learnt at great expense during his military career. It meant he created several different contingency strategies for when things did not coalesce according to plan. As yet another full moon denied him his wife’s touch, his dreams resumed.
When the King’s agent he was supposed to meet did not turn up on the appointed day, he lost no sleep. Instead, he channelled all his energies into helping the perplexing creature who warmed his bed each night and brightened every morn with her guarded smile and pithy tongue.
Not that she warmed his bed in the conventional sense of the term, merely in the literal sense. After serving the less-than-grateful customers in one of the port’s more salubrious auberges, Coline came to his room every night, as arranged with the mercenary innkeeper.
She never again offered her body, nor did he make any move in that direction. Although they slept in the same bed, he kept the largest distance the bed would allow. Instead, they shared a bottle of whatever liquor Jarl had procured and set the world to rights, swapping tales, anecdotes and observations of their day and their lives.
Never had he found himself so in tune with someone he dropped his guard sufficiently to share intimate details of his childhood and adolescent adventures.
“So you have never forgiven your cousin for taking the girl you saw first?”
He saw why she might see it that way. “No. It’s more complex than that. Although I met Senna first, she is more suited to Lyran than me. They are both healers, in tune with Mother Nature and capable of truly astonishing feats.”
“Whereas you have done nothing of note in your life. You haven’t saved any lives nor enabled our King to achieve life-changing victories.”
He stared at her. “Did I say all that? “
She snorted. “No, you didn’t. I got fed up trying to read between the lines of your modest tales. Luckily, there are several stories of the Viking who confounds the Frankish and Scottish forces, leading them a merry dance.”
“Really? I cannot think where you might have heard such rumours.”
“Truths, Danton. They are all truths. I imagine your only purpose here has to do with the gathering of the Frankish fleet near Sluys.”
No amount of self-control could stop his eyebrows from rising heavenward. “What have you heard?”
She lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “That is it. Two midshipmen – or the Frankish equivalent – boasted about this, trying to impress with their importance.”
Jarl shook his head with a quirky grin. “The British militia should employ someone like you in every port. They would gain so much intelligence from you.”
“I doubt they would consider paying enough to make the risk worthwhile.” She gave him a sideways glance. “At least, not to a woman.”
He wagged his finger at her. “You are in danger of sounding like a zealot. I’m afraid there has always been a huge disparity between the genders, and I doubt very much if you or I will be able to do much to redress the situation. At least, not in our lifetimes.”
She glared at him. “That is where you are wrong. I intend to do my part to change things so people will understand men and women can be equal.”
He gazed with new eyes. “I truly believe you will.”
On the fifth night, she mellowed toward him, sufficient that he plucked up the courage to ask the question which burned through his brain. “Do not take offence, but I would understand you better. Exactly what happened when you were a governess?”
She glared at him. “Which bit eludes you? Changing the babe’s linen or attempting to teach geometry to a boy who would rather be riding the milkmaid in the barn?”
“Ouch. I can only think this was a bad experience for you. My apologies. I quite understand if you would rather not speak of it.”
“I can think of few things more painful, but I suspect you are right. It will do me good to share this burden with someone. Then maybe I will be rid of it for ever.”
“I promise not to judge. At least, not to judge your actions. As for the men who have wronged you, they are already dead in my world.”
No matter how ready he thought himself, he was not prepared for her tale of injustice, coercion and horror. He ran through every emotion from disbelief and revulsion all the way to incandescent rage at those who had abused her. If ever he got his hands on the bastards who had …
“Danton. You are not listening. I said; do you have any more of this wine? We seem to have finished it.”
He shook his head. “I can get some more. It seems to me you deserve something to keep those memories at bay.”
She pulled him back down. “I can think of something much better. Give me some new memories. Show me what it is like to be properly loved by a man.”
Although he could think of nothing he would like more, the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of a woman not in her right mind.
“Do not insult me by asking if I am sure. I would not have asked otherwise.”
He needed no more persuasion, finally allowing himself to kiss lips which had beguiled, berated and bewitched him since he first set eyes on her. Never before had a woman had such an instant effect on his body. And never since had he spent a night of such intense, gratifying passion.
14 – Mourning Moon – November
Mourning moon: a time for meditation, energy work and dealing with spirit guides. Honour cycle of life/rebirth.
Paulina
Paulina stirred the mixture for the cake she was baking to celebrate her son’s first birthday, adding a large dose of love. Picking up an egg, she felt a lurch in her belly and put it straight back down. Ever mindful of Marena’s strict instructions about looking after herself, she immediately sat on the bench and placed her hands either side of her belly. Concentrating on the babe, she sent loving, calming energy.
“Hello?” A knock. “Paulina?” Are you in?”
“Come in.” She opened her eyes to see Freya, positively glowing with health.
“Sorry to disturb you, but Dagda sent me over to make sure you were sitting down while you worked. She told me to tell you it was important.”
“Please, sit. Let me make you …”
“No. That rather defeats the object. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you, not having you leap up to make me a brew.”
“You are every bit as pregnant as I.”
“Not quite. I think there are a few moons between us.” Freya filled the pot and hung it over the fire as she spoke. On her return, she glanced in the empty cradle, a question on her face.
Paulina grinned. “Do not worry. The other ladies are very good about giving me a little peace from him every day so I can do things like make him a cake without worrying about him pulling everything off the shelves.”
“Oh dear. I will have all this to look forward to.” She gestured at the bottom shelf which held nothing but a few cushions and a sheepskin.
“We cannot put anything on it which might hurt him if it fell atop him. Sawyer has promised me a new frame so we can have higher shelves.” She pointed to an existing set. “He’s struggling to keep up with the demand because everything has to be done six times over as all the babes start crawling.”
“And people tell me it gets worse when they can walk.”
Paulina sent her eyes heavenward and huffed a sigh. “I miss my old dresser, but I suspect my boy would find a way to topple that. He is so strong, like his father.”
Freya brought over the beakers, settling on the other bench. “Bryce could not be more proud. Verat says he takes every opportunity to tease the other men about his prowess in babe-making.”
“Do not speak to me of that. I get enough every eve, and Dagda seems ready to explode as each moon flux dashes their chances. Poor Sawyer is trying his hardest, but he is simply too exhausted by the time he gets home.” She shook her head.
“It is hard to imagine how we ever survived with only two carpenters in the village with
twice as many people.”
“Because back then, everyone had a house full of chairs, tables and every kind of wooden furniture you could imagine. But they had all been created over many decades; they weren’t all required at once. It is an impossible situation.”
“The lehren understands the problem. All the older children are being trained with furniture-making skills and they have all become adept at using natural wood shapes instead of the perfectly smooth planks we are used to.”
Paulina stared at her, an idea forming. “Who is teaching them? I know it cannot be Sawyer or Taron.”
Freya thought about it. “I believe originally it was Cooper, but Cal told us his methods of sawing up the trunks and only using the perfect planks took too long and created too much waste.”
“Of course. It makes sense Cal would help Jarl. I’m sorry. Do go on.”
“That is all I have to tell. I’m not exactly sure who came up with the idea of using the offcuts and misshapen wood, but both Cal and Verat are supervising the youths.”
“This is excellent. I believe we have enough trainers to extend these techniques to the farmers so they can create some of their own items now all the crops are processed and stored.”
Taking a sip of her drink, Freya darted a glance which suggested she was about to embark on the real reason for her visit. “I believe Zane and Wilona have been bringing back any fallen branches from their foraging expeditions.”
Paulina kept her tone light as she tried to determine the younger woman’s opinion of the subversive couple. “Their names seem to crop up in every scheme involving trees.”
“Yes.” Her tone flattened and the smile lost its glow. “Their methods fully support Gaia’s ruling.”
“I believe many people think so. They are charismatic and all the youths seem keen to follow their ways.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Which can only be good for the village.”
“Obviously.” Freya’s tone suggested the death of hope and she drained her beaker, her intention to leave apparent.
Satisfied her instinct had been correct, Paulina casually picked up the egg, cracking it on the side of the bowl. “However, just because their intentions are good, doesn’t mean they are good people.” She cracked another egg, waiting while Freya formulated her reply.
“I cannot think of anyone who has a bad word to say about them.”
“Although I believe there have been a few incidents where Zane has tried to cause problems, particularly for Cal.” Paulina crushed the egg shells for the compost.
“Unfortunately, nothing has been proven.”
Realising Freya would not give anything away until she made her opinion clear, Paulina took her hand. “Trust me, people who matter know of the snake’s capabilities and are keeping a watchful eye on him.”
Tears gathered in Freya’s eyes. “Thank goodness. Poor Lyrelie has become quite convinced the four of us are the only people in the village who see anything but the helpful, caring persona he exhibits.”
“Although Bryce cannot say anything officially, I am aware of a number of his colleagues who are alert to any possibility of a discord between him and anyone outside of the tithing he belongs to.”
“Thank goodness. Lyrelie has tried asking Jarl, but he maintains a professional neutrality and will say nothing against the rat.”
“However, from what you say, he is keeping Cal and Verat busy. What does Lyran think?”
She would not raise her eyes from the table, merely shrugging. “He is much too busy with council stuff. Lyrelie barely has time to speak to him.”
Freya changed the subject, chatting about the topic for the full moon Esbat as Paulina mixed the flour into her cake. Then she insisted in carrying the cake across to the communal oven where Aleksi’s wife was baking bread.
After the girl left, Paulina resolved to speak to Bryce. Freya was not the first to mention concerns about Lyran.
~*~
Jarl
The first day of November saw a bright, warm afternoon, and when he met with Bryce for their weekly exchange of observations about the state of the village, he was surprised to see Paulina.
They had kept this meeting secret from all but the other deputies who fed their reports directly to Jarl. He would never have thought of burdening Senna with these matters, and he quickly gathered Bryce had told his wife only that a stroll would do her good.
As they took the path north of the henge, he understood this gave them the gentlest route with the best visibility so they would not be overheard.
Bryce patted her hand as it linked through his arm. “Tell Jarl what you just told me. I think he needs to hear it, too.”
With a nervous glance around in all directions, she relayed Freya’s concerns about Zane, Wilona and Lyran.
“Really? I can understand the first two, but Lyran?” Jarl swapped a glance with Bryce, they had speculated about some of his odd behaviour in the beginning, but it had settled down lately.
She shrugged. “I know. I would never have dreamed of mentioning it, but I think one or two people are a little concerned about the way he welcomes the pair into so many things.”
“Aye. I’ve seen the way he encourages their efforts in so many endeavours. And the concern of people who have tae work with them.”
“I cannot deny they have good ideas, but they can be a little – shall we say, overzealous?” Jarl grinned as the other two picked up on the word. “I’ve seen first-hand how he baits Cal, trying to goad him into fighting. I’m doing all I can to ensure he and Cal are never alone.”
“I heard the pair have several roles at the lehren, it seems an ideal opportunity for them to influence the minds of our youngsters. Are they ever left alone with a class?”
Jarl considered her astute question. “Not inside, no. I’m not sure about the expeditions. I will find out.”
She nodded. “It becomes more important right now. Willow complained to Freya that they are campaigning to be included on the Yule committee. They plan to involve some of the younger children with the activities to decorate the communal spaces.”
As they walked back to the village, Paulina mentioned other people who had expressed concerns, and Jarl realised how useful it would be to have someone who could move among the places where women gossip without raising suspicion. He did not, however, want to make it official as it had been when Eanje worked for Uncle; that would add too much pressure.
Dropping his wife back at the house, Bryce asked him to have a look at the latest brew he had going in their communal bake house, saying he needed a second opinion whether it was ready yet.
With a heavenward glance, she left them to it, and they quickly moved somewhere more private where Jarl asked him to conduct an investigation. They figured some questions which would reveal the opinions of the other tithing leaders. By focussing on how successful they thought the council was, and their satisfaction about the projects assisted by the subversive pair, Jarl hoped to uncover any support or opposition for Lyran’s decisions.
Over the next couple of weeks, Jarl found himself paying much more attention to his cousin’s words and deeds, and it soon became clear he had lost a lot of the calm contentment he had shared with Senna when they were wed. Although always a lot more serious than Jarl about most things, back then his cousin had taken pleasure in jests and was generally slow to anger about anything.
But this was no longer true. On a couple of occasions, he heard Lyran becoming exasperated with Eanje over insignificant matters which he would never normally have noticed. It took a while before Jarl made the connection which had been festering in his mind for a while.
A number of the outbursts were immediately following some comment about of him “making an honest woman” of Eanje. Or the slightest reference to handfasting, no matter how obscure. Even the mere mention that someone had an anniversary coming up would cause his face to darken.
Unless he was much mistaken, Quinn had spotted this, and deliberately passed on overhe
ard gossip, leading to the three women discussing the topic frequently. Jarl wondered at his cousin’s continuing reluctance to make it official despite the pressure from so many different directions.
The other times linked in with Tasker’s frequent visits. Despite Lyran’s adamant protests otherwise, he still harboured a huge jealousy over Eanje’s friendship with the mason. If that weren’t enough, Quinn had taken charge of the creation of a communal building to include a hall big enough to seat the entire community. This often led to late sessions, so he invited the man to share their dinner. Lyran still did not appreciate the fact his son preferred the mason to him.
Jarl was not sure whether Quinn knew the effect of his actions on Lyran, and did not want to tackle the subject directly. A quiet word with Shayla revealed she had spotted the discord and was keen to reduce it. He felt doubly pleased when Senna noticed how the level of contention in the house had lessened, however, she still pleaded exhaustion when he tried to interest her in intimacy. Only then did he realise the moon’s cycle.
As his dream resumed, Jarl felt some remorse about the direction of his thoughts and his eagerness to connect with Coline. But the absence of anything but a public display of affection from his wife made him feel a little less guilty.
Unsurprisingly, his mind focussed on the three scant opportunities for intimacy, although only one proved successful. Their passion had been unfulfilled on the second night due to a number of people banging on the door, requesting entry. They reasoned the disgruntled landlord had deliberately sent people to the wrong room, but it spoilt their mood so they merely lay in each other’s arms, content to swap more stories and share each other’s warmth. One chat stuck in his mind as he’d tried to explore her adventure from ship to Auberge.
