For Me Fate Wove This is the eighth book in The Circle of Ceridwen Saga by Octavia Randolph
Copyright 2021 Octavia Randolph
ISBN 978-1-942044-29-1
Book cover design by DesignforBooks.com. Maps by Michael Rohani. Photo credits: Image creation, textures and graphics by Michael Rohani; Raven in flight © Erik Mandre/Shutterstock; Long exposure of Milky Way © Anakin Fox/Shutterstock; String © xpixel/Shutterstock.
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Pyewacket Press
The Circle of Ceridwen Saga employs British spellings, alternate spellings, archaic words, and oftentimes unusual verb to subject placement. This is intentional. A Glossary of Terms will be found at the end of the novel.
For Me Fate Wove This
Octavia Randolph
Contents
List of Characters
For Me Fate Wove This Maps
Chapter the First: A King’s Daughter
Chapter the Second: The Riches of Oundle
Chapter the Third: Nothing to Bring Him
Chapter the Fourth: Quick, and Certain
Chapter the Fifth: Leave Room to be Surprised
Chapter the Sixth: The New Lady of Four Stones
Chapter the Seventh: Much to Protect
Chapter the Eighth: Never Would It Be Me
Chapter the Ninth: Blossom and Thorn
Chapter the Tenth: To the Mouth of Hell
Chapter the Eleventh: Ever Deeper
Chapter the Twelfth: Always Ready to Die
Chapter the Thirteenth: I Will Come Back To You
Chapter the Fourteenth: The Forest Duel
Chapter the Fifteenth: A Prize of Great Price
Chapter the Sixteenth: Ashild of Four Stones
Chapter the Seventeenth: Ceric of Kilton
Chapter the Eighteenth: To Gotland
Chapter the Nineteenth: The Welcoming
Chapter the Twentieth: Tyrsborg
Chapter the Twenty-first: Paviken
Chapter the Twenty-second: A Favoured Home
The Wheel of the Year
Anglo-Saxon Place Names, with Modern Equivalents
Glossary of Terms
Notes to For Me Fate Wove This
Acknowledgements
About the Author
List of Characters
Hrald, son of Ælfwyn and Sidroc, Jarl of the Danish keep of Four Stones in Lindisse
Asberg, uncle to Hrald, brother-in-law to Ælfwyn, in command at the fortress of Turcesig
Jari, a warrior of Four Stones, chief body-guard to Hrald
Haward, a young Danish war-chief
Dagmar, a young woman of the Danes
Inkera, a young woman of the Danes
Siggerith, a child, daughter of the late Thorfast, killed by Hrald
Ælfwyn, mother to Ashild and Hrald, widowed of Yrling; marriage dissolved with Sidroc
Burginde, companion and nurse to Ælfwyn
Ashild, daughter of Ælfwyn and the late Yrling, Hrald’s older half-sister
Ealhswith, daughter to Ælfwyn
Kjeld, a body-guard to Hrald
Sigewif, Abbess of Oundle
Bova, consecrated nun and brewster at Oundle
Æthelthryth, sister to Ælfwyn, wed to Asberg
Bork, an orphan boy, taken in by Hrald
Wilgot, the priest of Four Stones
Styrbjörn, second in command at Turcesig
Onund, a warrior, formerly of Four Stones
Ceric, son of Ceridwen and Gyric, grandson of Godwulf of Kilton
Worr, the horse-thegn of Kilton, pledged man of Ceric
Eadward, Prince of Wessex, son of Ælfred
Ælfred, King of Wessex
Raedwulf, Bailiff of Defenas in Wessex
Modwynn, Lady of Kilton, widow of Godwulf
Edgyth, Lady of Kilton, widow of Godwin, mother by adoption to Edwin
Edwin, Ceric’s younger brother, Lord of Kilton in Wessex
Eorconbeald, Captain of Edwin’s body-guard, and Alwin, his second
Cadmar, a warrior-monk of Kilton
Dunnere, the priest of Kilton
Begu, a woman of Kilton
Aszur, ship master and captain
Rannveig, a brewster on Gotland, mother of Tindr
Ceridwen, Mistress of the hall Tyrsborg on the island of Gotland, wife to Sidroc
Sidroc the Dane, formerly Jarl of South Lindisse
Eirian and Yrling, twin children of Ceridwen and Sidroc; Rodiaud, their little sister
Tindr, a bow hunter, and Šeará, his Sámi wife
Juoksa, their son, and Jaské, their daughter
For Me Fate Wove This Maps
You have given yourself to something, know it or not. A deeper pledge, a sacred claim, dwells in the heart of all. Whether gold-crowned King or wretched slave, you must go into the vault of your own soul, and see what lies enshrined there.
Chapter the First: A King’s Daughter
Four Stones, South Lindisse, Angle-land
Summer, The Year 893
HRALD turned in his saddle to look at the ranks of men behind him. The ruddy clay road was dry and well-worn, and with twenty horses they had kicked up considerable dust this morning. Hrald and his troop were close unto the gates of their neighbour Haward’s hall, and his men who had been fronting him had all shifted to the rear. Whenever he travelled past the reaches of Four Stones’ lands, his chief body-guard Jari insisted that Hrald stay in the middle of the files of men riding with them, so they might quickly close up around him in case of attack. As ever, Jari was fast on his left, where his broad shield, held in Jari’s right hand, would supply added cover for Hrald.
Now that the gates of their destination were in view, Hrald could approach as was his due, fronting his men.
The young Jarl’s anticipation had only grown during the ride. He was come to escort Dagmar, daughter of Guthrum, the late King of the Danes in Anglia, to Four Stones, and thence on to view the religious foundation at Oundle. When he had escorted her back after her first visit to his hall, he had asked her to extend her stay with her cousin Haward a few more days, so he might take her to see the famed stone church at Oundle, and be presented to the esteemed Abbess Sigewif. This would not only allow Hrald more time in the young woman’s company, but permit his mother, Ælfwyn, Lady of Four Stones to know her more. There was a third reason he had sought this visit. Hrald had great respect for the Abbess’ opinion. After Dagmar had voiced her interest in seeing Oundle, he knew this outing would provide both chance and setting for Dagmar to win her approval, as well.
Yet Dagmar had hesitated. She was travelling with her half sister, Inkera, to whom she also had an obligation. Inkera’s uncle expected them at Cruland, had undoubtedly made preparation for their reception. But perhaps the Cruland visit might be made rather shorter, and then the sisters return to Haward’s hall. So it was that two weeks after Hrald had first seen the elder daughter of Guthrum, he rode once more to bring Dagmar to Four Stones.
Hrald’s uncle, Asberg, also rode with him this morning, flanking his nephew. Hrald had placed him in command of the lately-won garrison of Turcesig, but on hearing of Hrald’s plan to again see Dagmar, Asberg would take advantage of a call on the maid’s cousin, Haward.
The guards on the palisade ramparts had a
lready whistled their arrival, and the double wooden gates were swung open to admit Hrald’s party. Haward was just within, at the door of his hall, and next to him stood his young cousin Inkera, beaming at the newcomers. On Haward’s other side stood Dagmar. Her smile was modest, her fine teeth covered by her full and well-formed lips, but her interest real, for her deep blue eyes found Hrald’s and held them for a moment in welcome.
Once off their horses, the beasts were led to water, and the men into the hall. They wiped the dust from their clothes, washed their hands in the offered basins, and all took up ale with their host and his cousins. Further refreshment was brought from the kitchen yard, in the form of small oaten cakes. Fast behind this platter was the person of Siggerith, Haward’s little niece. She took a cake in each small hand and with a shy smile ran out of the side door of the hall. The brilliant Sun which had shone all during the ride was still shining, and most of the young people followed the child out into the work yard.
It was their host Haward who stayed behind, with Asberg. Haward, though not much older than Hrald, felt sure that the older man wished to speak to him. Haward nodded dismissal to the serving woman who remained by the table. Whatever Asberg wished to say should be heard only by him.
Once she left, Asberg would brook no delay. He tilted his head toward the door through which his nephew had passed.
“Dagmar,” he began. “Is there anything a man who would wed her should know?”
Asberg’s abruptness was so great that Haward might have grinned but for the seriousness of his guest’s tone.
“You speak as though Hrald has made up his mind about her,” Haward answered.
Just now his cousin and Hrald were walking toward the paddock together, and could be seen through the open door. They were laughing about something, and no one looking on could have faulted them as a couple. Strikingly tall, both dark-haired, they suited one another.
“He may have,” Asberg allowed. “And the times push men to action.” He did not need to say more, with war so near at hand. He gave Haward a searching look.
Asberg’s clear blue eyes demanded answer. Haward broke that look by glancing again at the couple as they walked in the sunlight. He recalled a rumour, some repressed scandal concerning one of her father Guthrum’s body-guards, but knew nothing factual of it. And whatever it had been was over, over and done. If Dagmar had caught the eye of the young Jarl of South Lindisse, his would not be the staying hand. He would not destroy his cousin’s chance at this marriage, which would benefit him as well.
After a pause he gave his answer. “I know of nothing.”
Asberg did not respond at once. The younger man’s hesitation had been enough. Had it been caused by a thoughtful searching of Haward’s memory, or by a decision to conceal, Asberg wondered. At any rate, Hrald’s uncle would not now broach the topic of bride-price. Haward had been more than candid about the girl, admitting to Asberg that her late father, despite his Kingship, had left Dagmar and her sisters nothing. Asberg would wait. The girl was still to spend more time with Hrald’s mother Ælfwyn, and meet the Abbess Sigewif. No discussion could be begun this soon, despite Hrald’s growing interest.
The horses having been watered, the party made ready to leave for Four Stones. Hrald saw that two saddle horses awaited Dagmar and Inkera. He was more than glad that Dagmar could thus ride at his side, but wondered about their serving woman.
He looked about, expecting to see a waggon or cart readied, which would carry such a woman, and the sisters’ necessaries for their stay. Leathern packs had been fastened to the saddle rings of the sisters’ mounts, but he saw no more than this.
“Your serving woman,” he asked, glancing about for such a one.
Dagmar gave the slightest pause. Then she smiled at him, a frank and open smile.
“I travel with none,” she admitted.
Hrald nodded. Of course, he thought, once you are in the halls of your kin there is no need; there will be many women there to serve you. Yet, given the travelling the sisters had been doing, it puzzled him, too. All ladies of estate had at least one serving maid or woman with them to care for their clothes and person. Her not requiring one surprised him, and added to his admiration. It was another proof of the self-sufficiency of her nature, that when travelling she could live almost as simply as a man.
She was dressed just as he had recalled her when they met, in a green long-sleeved shift, over which a gown of midnight blue was fastened at the shoulders with large oval bronze brooches. These brooches Dagmar bore were unlike any Hrald had ever seen before their first meeting, for they were studded with pearls set in silver mounts, four pearls to each brooch. Between those brooches were strung strands of fine silver chain, and one doubled strand of rare rock crystal beads, spaced by pierced beads of silver. It was these roundels of crystal that the long fingers of her hands often returned to, when she was thoughtful. Attired thus, and with her height, her abundant dark and glossy brown hair, and the dark and strongly arched eyebrows, she was arresting in every way. And Dagmar had something rare in a woman her age, presence. She lent a kind of maturity to Hrald’s youthfulness. Dagmar made him feel older, more assured, as she was. Her assurance gave him confidence in himself.
Hrald helped first Inkera and then Dagmar to their horses, giving them his hand as they stepped upon the mounting block, and holding steady the animals’ heads as they mounted. Inkera was also just as he recalled, smiling and laughing. He smiled back, remembering he had met her first, and wondering how he ever found her mere prettiness attractive, even for a moment. Charming as she was, Inkera’s airling and girlish charms now seemed trivial.
Dagmar had wanted her half sister to accompany her on this outing. Inkera was the only chaperone she had, and would make her visit to the Jarl more seemly, even though Hrald’s mother be with them the whole time. Inkera was glad at the prospect of returning to Four Stones, a hall in which she had found much to admire, not the least being the appreciative eyes of the young men housed there.
Of the trip to Oundle she was less certain, for as she laughed to her sister, “It is nought but nuns and monks.”
The sisters would spend two nights at Four Stones; the first so that they might get an early start on their way to Oundle, and so return to Four Stones on the same day; the second to set out at leisure back to their cousin Haward’s hall.
When the party arrived at Four Stones they were greeted by Ælfwyn and both of Hrald’s sisters, his older sister Ashild, and his younger, Ealhswith. The importance of this visit was reflected in the care with which these three were dressed. As Lady of Four Stones, Hrald’s mother was attired each day in a gown and head wrap appropriate to her station. Her gown today was of an almost moss green, the veil-like wrap upon her head of ivory hue, and fastened into her hair with straight pins with golden heads. She had been the possessor of rare and costly jewellery in her life, much of which she had granted to the Cistercian foundation of Oundle for its growth and endowment. Yet today she had added to the richness of her garb by pinning on a golden pin which she had owned since girlhood. It was one her own mother had given her, she who was now a nun at Oundle. Although Ælfleda had left the world to live as a cloistered sister, it was important to Ælfwyn that she meet the young woman who had quickly come to dominate her grandson’s thoughts.
For Ashild’s part, she had consented to wear one of her mother’s fine linen head wraps rather than those of far sturdier weave she typically tied about her head. Unlike her mother, who had never forsaken the Saxon style of long-sleeved gown, Ashild had early adopted the Danish way of dressing. She was thus dressed as Dagmar and Inkera were, in a long-sleeved shift, over which was pulled a sleeveless over-gown, fastened at its shoulder straps with bronze brooches. Ashild possessed two pairs of these brooches, both large and oval. She had selected the more cleanly wrought pair, her better set, to wear for their visit, and these held the long straps of her deep yellow gown. Her young sister Ealhswith dressed as did their mother, and this mor
ning in a light blue gown looked as lovely as any maid nearing fourteen years could be. About her slender wrist she wore a silver bracelet she favoured, one brought her by Ceric of Kilton the same day he had given Ashild a gown of golden silk.
After the welcome ale taken in the hall, the sisters were shown to the timber house of Asberg and Æthelthryth, where they would sleep. Since Hrald had won the garrison keep of Turcesig his aunt and uncle had moved there to run it. Ashild, who lived with them here at Four Stones, had gone with them at first, to aid her aunt in the setting up of Turcesig’s hall, but had returned home to Four Stones. She surrendered the small house now to their guests, to sleep in the bower house with her mother and her mother’s nurse-companion, Burginde.
That night both Dagmar and Inkera would sit with Ashild at the women’s table. This was the table where the unmarried girls and women of the hall sat, and was presided over by Burginde. Ashild sat always by her right side, and Ealhswith at the nurse’s left. As she waited for their guests to arrive Ashild looked about her.
Ashild had never travelled to Headleage, where Guthrum had kept his main hall, but she doubted that any having seen that royal residence would find Four Stones wanting. She was herself often late to the evening meal, hurrying in from where she had been at the valley of horses or at some other activity which absorbed her. Tonight she well knew she must be there at table to welcome Dagmar and Inkera when they arrived, and had not needed her mother’s reminder as she combed her hair in the bower house. Being there early as the hall filled allowed Ashild to take in its sights and sounds, and as the procession of serving folk began massing in the kitchen passageway, the smells of approaching food as well. The dark red and creamy white blocks of the stone floor had rippled in waves away from her as she entered from the side door. The lower portion of the walls were stone, giving the hall its name. Upon this foundation thick oak planks made up the rest of the walls. Her mother had them lime-washed years ago, and the whitened boards reflected much light as a result. Ashild had no memory of them being dark. The alcoves pocketed about the long sides of the hall were draped with thick woollen curtains, and the fire-pit ran along the centre, warming all during Winter’s cold. Tonight in Summer’s warmth the smallest of fires burnt there at either end, to lend more light to the oil cressets upon the tables and the iron torches angled out from the walls. At the far end from the front door stood the high table, which was left up day and night, unlike those of trestle make which were knocked down after supping. Behind this, affixed to the wall, was a length of linen fabric which her mother and Burginde had worked years ago, to replace a drawing done in charcoal upon the bare wood boards. It was a raven in flight the two women had worked, laid down in coloured thread work, the emblem of the Danes. Also upon that wall, hanging in honour, was a round red and black shield, a deep crack in one of its alder boards. It had hung there but a few months, and was that which Hrald had used in his single contest with Thorfast. Ashild’s eye, falling on it now, thought how strange it was that Hrald now courted the cousin of a man he had killed.
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