But the girl could not form the word.
“Breath in and relax,” Leola said, in a gentle voice. “Take your time. Now what is it?”
Ead inhaled deeply. “Britisc ridends!” she screamed.
“What?” Erna screamed.
“Riding up here!” Ead screamed. “I saw them! Two of them on horses! They’re coming! They’re coming!”
They have come to ruin the village!
Erna ran to the window.
“Stay away from that!” Leola hissed. “Put out the fire.”
Both girls went to the hearth to do it and collided in the attempt.
Leola leaned against the wall and peered out of the small window. She saw other women and children hurrying into the huts, and the smoke from the chimneys disappearing one by one.
“Jesus Christ, the Son of God, protect us all,” she whispered.
It seemed that an eternity fell between their frantic preparation and the sound of horses’ hoofs beating on the dirt road. Leola saw the scale armor and tall conical helmets of Britannae knights. Her quick ears caught two men’s haughty voices, and although she did not know how to speak in Latin, she understood enough to know what they said.
“You were correct, Catocus,” one knight said to the other. “This place is empty.”
“Not entirely, Diras,” Sir Catocus replied. “It seems we are both correct.”
Leola could not see where he was pointing to, but suspected that it was poor Bebbe who was probably still sitting on the barrel in the garden in front of her hut.
Please do not hurt her!
“Does she count as living or dead?” Sir Catocus said.
Leola heard the mocking in his harsh voice.
“Ha! Dead, I guess,” Sir Diras replied. “What a banshee.”
Leola shivered.
“Here, water for the war ponies,” Sir Catocus said.
Just let the horses drink and go. Just go.
They were out of Leola's view, for she dared not open the window more than the crack that it was, but she heard them draw up some water from the well and fill the trough for their mounts.
“Here is the living,” Sir Diras said.
Leola held her breath.
“What is it?” Sir Catocus asked.
“A pretty thing,” Sir Diras said.
The town filled with a violent scream.
“Ic bedece the!” a young voice cried. “I beg you!”
Leola did not have to see the speaker to know that the pleading words were Drudi's.
“No!” Leola gasped, and then covered her own mouth lest the knights hear her as well.
“Do you want her, Catocus?” Sir Diras asked.
“No. She’s yours,” Sir Catocus replied. “Enjoy.”
Leola breathed in deeply, pulling together all the courage she could. Her right hand went to the apron knot tied at her back and pulled out the intricate knife she had taken from Owain’s tent.
“What is it?” Erna asked.
“Shh!” Leola whispered. “It’s Drudi. I have to help her. Stay here.”
Erna and Ead clenched each other and huddled in the far corner of the living room.
Leola pulled the door open and crept outside. She noticed the other women peering out of the windows of their huts, yet none ventured outside but the little dryhtcwen.
Fridiswid glanced at Leola and showed her the rope in her hand. Leola showed the dryhtcwen the knife. They knew each other’s intentions.
Jesus Christ, Son of God, help us.
Leola’s slow footsteps brought her just behind Sir Catocus. His broad hand stroked the side of his animal, and his head leaned off to one side. His relaxed manner showed her that he was not aware of anything except for the commotion before him. Drudi's plight was clearly entertainment to the man.
Leola's fingers felt the smooth leather grip of the knife in her hand. Her quick eyes caught sight of the bit of exposed skin, where the leather gorget around his neck did not reach up to his ear.
I cannot make the same mistake I made with Owain. For if I do, we shall all die.
Leola crept up close behind Sir Catocus and held her breath. Then she made a quick step forward and plunged the blade deep into his white neck. His arms flailed and batted her away. She backed off, her left hand holding her protruding stomach to guard the baby from the attack.
The knight gasped and seized his neck as blood splattered from the wound and his gaping mouth. Leola watched in horror as his body contorted and finally collapsed in the dirt. She glanced down at the knife in her hand. Though covered in red blood, it gleamed back at her with a sort of sinister zeal.
Sir Diras was still struggling with Drudi. He tried to grab both of her wrists, and she tried to scratch his pale face.
Fridiswid was on him in an instant.
She caught his neck in a loop in the center of her rope and pulled the ends taunt. His head flew back at the force, and his arms flailed, releasing Drudi who fell over into the dirt. Sir Diras chocked and scratched at the twine under his chin.
The women finally ran out to help.
One took up one end of the rope, and Fridiswid tugged on the other.
“Beat him!” Fridiswid cried, pulling hard.
Redburga rushed to obey and struck the knight’s armored body with the spade she had just brought in from the field.
Sir Diras struggled against them, gagging and kicking at the women who now formed a circle around him. His right hand slipped a gleaming knife from his belt.
“Beat him!” Fridiswid yelled.
Redburga whacked at his forearm, hitting his metal armplate over and over until she caught the space where the iron ended, leaving his wrist exposed. The ridend's hand broke, the knife fell to the ground, and blood squirted from the deep wound the spade created in his wrist.
Sir Diras opened his mouth wide to scream, but Fridiswid yanked the rope with all her little body. His head flew back then forwards again and hung limp.
Drudi peeked her head out from under her arms and looked over at the ridend.
“Is he dead?” she asked, in bewilderment.
“Yea,” Fridiswid replied, her voice coming in halted gasps. “He is most certainly dead.”
Her hands were covered in her own blood, where the skin had been ripped from her fingers by the rough rope.
“I hate Britisc!” Drudi screamed.
She pulled herself to her feet, spit on the knight’s horrific face, and began to curse him.
“Frige torment you! Saexnaet slay you! Hel take you!” she cried.
Her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away to their own hut.
“Everyone, go wash,” Fridiswid said. “Clear your minds and meet me in the evening at the mead hall.”
“Where are you going?” one woman asked.
“To get rid of these horses,” the dryhtcwen replied.
“What?” another woman cried. “But we have no horses! All of ours were taken off to war by the men! We can use them!”
“Certainly not!” Fridiswid replied. “If any other Britisc come looking for these ridends, they would find the horses here and know that we have killed them.”
Some of the women seemed disappointed but others stared at the dryhtcwen in complete dread.
“We shall all die!” they cried.
“Silence!” Fridiswi said. “Do not lose your resolve. Clean your hands and calm yourselves. I shall ride the horses out three miles and tie them someplace where the wolves shall get them. No one shall ever connect these ridends with this town.”
She mounted one animal and took the reins of both, coaxing the animals forward, out of the village.
Leola had watched everything that happened after the first knight collapsed. She now doubled over on the ground and vomited until her throat burned.
She felt a gentle hand take her by the shoulder. “Leola,” her aunt said. “I’ll help you wash.”
Redburga helped her to her feet and they went back towards the hut.
<
br /> Leola's weary eyes caught the blank expression of the woman Bebbe, who was still sitting on the barrel in her own yard, oblivious to the commotion.
What a mess this is!
It was agreed between Redburga and Leola that the twins should stay in by themselves for the duration of the women's meeting. The twins protested.
“What happened?” Erna asked.
“Where are the knights? Ead asked.
“Go to bed,” Redburga said.
“But it’s not sleeping time!” they cried.
“Why can’t we go to the meeting too?” Erna cried.
“We can be quiet and not interrupt!” Ead cried, as if anticipating their mother’s next response.
“You shall stay in the bedroom,” Redburga said. “Stay!”
She gave them the stern eyes of a mother who was not to be crossed.
“Yea, Mama,” they said, slipping back into the bedroom.
Redburga and Leola wrapped their shawls around their shoulders and walked out.
The evening was fast approaching, as they made their way down the road. The bodies of the Britisc knights were still there, lying idly by the well in the center of the village. Leola noticed the shine from the polished blade of Sir Diras' knife and the blood splatters on the ground from Sir Catocus' neck. The stench of her vomit made her queasy once more.
“Come on, Leola,” Redburga said.
Leola started at these words for she had not noticed that she stood there still.
They walked to the far end of the village to the mead hall, which was already ringing with noise.
“We shall all die!” the women cried.
“Women,” Fridiswid said, “we must be calm if we are to weather this storm.”
“What do we do?” one asked.
“They’re going to kill us!” another replied.
“Silence!” Fridiswid cried. “Enough wailing!” the dryhtcwen's voice became calm but determined. “We are not going to die. We are going to stay here and rebuild this town from the start.”
“But what about the bodies!”
“We must hide the bodies.”
“Hide? They shall be found, and then we shall be killed!”
“No,” Leola said, suddenly finding her voice. “The dryhtcwen is right. We can hide them where they cannot be found.”
“Where?”
Leola glanced at Fridiswid, who seemed to indicate to her to continue.
Leola took a deep breath and willed her tongue to speak.
“Under the Britisc’s trophies,” she said at last.
“Trophies?” Fridiswid said, bewildered.
“What do you mean?” Redburga asked.
The news would be disheartening, but now Leola was compelled to reveal it. As Drudi was both absent from the meeting and seemed to have forgotten the entire discovery, Leola purposely left out the girl’s involvement.
“The boys,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I found them.”
“Their bodies!” one of the women cried.
“Their heads,” Leola replied.
She cringed as the sound of their weeping filled her ears.
“If we put the bodies beneath the boys’ heads, the Britisc shall never look for them there,” Leola said. “It is the only safe thing to do.”
“I agree,” Fridiswid said.
“But we cannot do that!” the women cried. “They are our sons!”
“Then what better way to honor them then to give them an offering of Britisc ridends?” Fridiswid replied. “We shall do it. It is the only safe and just thing to do. Who is ready?”
“I am!” one cried, and the rest soon followed.
“Leola,” Fridiswid said, “you must show us the way.”
“Yea,” Leola replied.
As they went out, Redburga seized her arm.
“You found them and did not tell me?” she cried, her eyes swelled with tears.
“I didn’t want to upset you, Aunt.”
“Oh, Leola!” but her aunt could say nothing more.
The women wrapped the bodies in rough blankets and dragged them off into the woods. Leola led them to the pit where Drudi had found the boys’ head but a few months before. The heads had already been ravaged by wild animals, yet there was still enough flesh to decompose and the cold air would not mask the heinous smell.
Leola stood at a distance while the other women, who were not pregnant and far less queasy as she was, moved the heads and rolled the bodies down into the pit. They wept as they placed the heads on top.
“Which one is my brother?” one said.
“Which one is my son?” said another.
Redburga was too upset to speak.
Fridiswid came to Leola’s side.
“I commend you,” she said.
“As I do you, dryhtcwen,” Leola replied.
It was a true statement, for Leola was impressed by the tiny woman’s courage and fortitude. She knew that neither Ardith nor Ardith’s long departed mother could have completed any of Fridiswid’s difficult tasks. The dryhtcwen may be disliked, but Leola felt that she was exactly what Anlofton needed at that time.
When they returned home, Redburga went into the bedroom to find the twins fast asleep. She was weary and upset from the horrible day and immediately joined them, but Leola's active thoughts would not let her rest.
She stared at the blade in her hand with the tree letters scratched on it. It was Owain's knife, and she had killed a Britisc ridend with it. Perhaps even one of his own men. If he should come looking for her and discover the bodies, what would he say? What would he do?
“He shall not come,” she said aloud. “He has a hundred wives and cares nothing for me.”
Yet why then had he given her his father's ring? It was certainly both a unique and valuable piece of jewelry that she had not ask for. Would he really have been so generous with his precious things if he did not care at all about her? He was a Britisc aetheling, a ruler of her hated enemy. He and his men had destroyed her town, and with that, her parents' hut, which they had painstakingly built with their loving hands. He was her master and master over her people, and yet he had treated her with kindness.
Leola laughed as she thought of how Raynar, a Gewissae as herself from her own town, had tried to murder her. Then one of the Britisc should call her “Beauty,” feed her good food, give her of his valuables, and think nothing of it when she tried to kill him.
Leola could not come to any conclusions on the matter and thus stayed up much of the night pondering it.
“Prince Iestyn,” Britu said.
“Ie, Prince,” Prince Iestyn replied.
They were in one of the sitting rooms along the main hall of the castle in Venta. Britu had maps unrolled and letters out in disarray. His studious finger ran the course of the roads drawn across the paper, trying to determine the surest way to travel.
“I have had a report that one of the war ponies belonging to the two missing knights has been found,” he said, speaking of one matter and staring at another.
“Ie,” Prince Iestyn said. “Sir Diras’ war pony has returned to its stable. It seems to have been attacked by wolves but has escaped.”
“Do you know where the knights were going?” Britu asked.
“I heard from another knight that they meant to see something of Gewis, Prince,” Prince Iestyn said.
“Why, I should wonder?”
“Forgive me for a hasty judgment, Prince,” Prince Iestyn replied, “but both knights have a reputation.”
“What knight does not?” Britu replied, with a long bemoaning inhale. “They go here or there and cause trouble, picking fights, chasing common girls, and stealing cattle. Now some village has had their revenge on them and we must find their remains for their families to bury.”
It was the same story with knights. They just could not control themselves. Power and no responsibility made them violent hateful people towards those beneath them in society.
“Unfortunately,
Prince,” Prince Iestyn said.
“What is closest to here? Anlofton?” Britu asked.
“I believe so” Prince Iestyn replied.
“Start there and work your way southwest,” Britu rubbed his tired face. “Just find the knights.”
“They may have been devoured by animals, Prince.”
“Then be sure of it. I do not want their bodies dishonored by these pagan Saxons.”
“As you wish, Sir.”
“God keep you, Prince Iestyn.”
“God keep you, Prince Britu.”
Prince Iestyn bowed his head in respect and went to the door.
“And Prince Iestyn?” Britu said.
“Prince?”
“The knights you take with you,” Britu said, “do not let them out of your sight.”
“As you wish, Prince.”
Prince Iestyn left, and Britu tried to focus on his maps.
Chapter Twenty Two: Caught
Leola strode out of the hut and across the front yard to the little wooden gate. Erna and Ead were sitting in the grass whispering between themselves, and she noticed that they stopped to watch her.
“Where is your mother?” Leola asked.
“One of the new babies has turned all yellow, so she has gone to sun him,” Erna replied.
She is doing what?
“I'm going to see Drudi,” Leola said aloud. “I shall not be gone long.”
The twins just stared at her with the awkwardness of two guilty consciences.
“What is it?” Leola asked.
“Tell her!” Erna cried.
“Shh!” Ead hissed back at her sister.
“You have to tell her, Ead!”
“What is it?” Leola said.
Ead opened her apron to show a small knife she held within its folds. Leola's eyes grew wide with horror as she spied the strange markings across the blade.
“You took the Britisc ridend's knife!” she cried.
“They’re dead!” Ead cried. “They need it no more!”
“That is not the point!” Leola cried. “You cannot keep a Britisc knife!”
“But you do,” Erna said.
Leola was flabbergasted.
She had not realized that her young cousin could tell the difference between her knife and the ones their mother had. She had never thought that the child would prize a foreigner’s possession because of seeing them among Leola’s things.
The Beast of Caer Baddan Page 15
