As William and Bester approached, Jakey and the boys picked up a tripod arrangement from the ground, brushed off the snow and then stood it up to straddle the north-easternmost hole in the ground. By the time William had Bester in place, Jakey and the crew had positioned the stone over the hole and it sat there on its handles.
The men stepped back and nodded as Tanyth approached. She surveyed the ground as she went, making sure she knew where all the holes were so she didn’t fall into one. William smiled and nodded a greeting.
She stopped and leaned on her staff, peering down to look in the hole. It wasn’t as deep or as dark as she thought and she saw a bed of gravel in the bottom of it—wet-looking but unsullied by snow. She looked around at the men who were looking at her. “So? You’re going to start laying stones now?”
Jakey nodded and spoke before William could. “Yes, mum. It’ll be good if we can sit the footers on the sand while it’s wet. It should help stabilize the stone and keep it from shifting.” He shrugged. “We won’t wanna fill in the hole until it’s had a bit of a chance to dry, but this should make a good solid footer.”
Ethan, the building expert was bobbing his head, and William stood at Bester’s traces, getting ready to use the muscular animal to do what the men would have trouble doing on their own.
She looked at William who shrugged. “That’s the plan, mum. Would you say a blessing on the space, please? I have a feeling we’re going to need all the help we can get.” He grinned boyishly.
She looked around at all the serious faces before sighing to herself. “Alright. Give me a moment.”
The sun was warm, but it was on the way down and it had been a cold, cold day. She was tired and still scared by the raven dream. As she stepped to where the men had marked out where the chimney would be she had to stop and gather herself. She leaned heavily on her staff, holding it with both hands and leaning her head against the top. The iron foot was stabbing through the snow and into the yet unfrozen ground below. “Mother give me strength.” It was more than a whisper, less than a grumble, and none of the men standing around seemed to notice.
She lifted her eyes to the northern sky and began. “We ask the Guardian of the North, Bones of the Earth, to bless and protect the foundation, to make our stones as solid as the mountains, unyielding in adversity and strong as the earth itself.” Turning to the east, she spoke again. “We ask the Guardian of the East, Breath of the Earth, to bless and protect the walls, to fill them with life and spirit and to welcome all who enter our doors in good will.” Turning to the south, she felt a tension growing in her that she couldn’t name. “We ask the Guardian the South, Spirit of the Earth, to bless our hearth, to keep our fires warm and welcoming and our hearts open to all who sit before them.” The tension mounted as she turned to the west. “We ask the Guardian of the West, Blood of the Earth to bless and protect our roof, to shed the rain and snow and to protect those who seek shelter beneath it.” She closed the circle by turning to the north and she felt the tension tighten more. It was something behind her eyes and the blood pounded in her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear the wind in the trees any longer. “We children of Earth beg your help, your protection, and your blessings in the name of the All-Mother and the name of the All-Father. So mote it be.” With that she raised her staff and struck the stone that was resting beside the central hole. The iron shoe rang against the rock and a bell-like note echoed through the village. She grounded the staff again and didn’t so much lean on it as hung from it to gather herself while the tension inside her leached away into the ground beneath her feet and radiated into the air around her.
It took her a few breaths to get her strength back and when she looked up, William was standing just feet away from her, concern on his face. “Are you alright, mum? You looked like you were about to fall over there for awhile.”
She nodded without speaking and smiled faintly. “I’m fine, William. I’m just a bit tired and I think I’d like a cup of tea.”
He smiled and offered her his arm. “Amber has a pot ready, I’m sure.”
She took his arm and let him lead her off the building site. As she walked she noticed that the men were taking down the scaffolding. She nodded. “Did you change your mind?”
He shook his head. “No, mum. We just needed you to show us where to start.”
By the time he’d gotten her to the sunny nook behind the house, Amber had brought out a chair for her and the men had re-built the scaffold over the central hole. They muscled the stone she’d hit into position. William walked Bester to the middle of the lot where they tied heavy woven ropes to the patient beast’s yoke. William urged him forward a few feet and he lifted the stone gently off the ground. He held it while the men quickly removed the lashings and handles. As it spun slowly on the end of the rope, the slanting rays of the sun glinted off a silvery mark that her staff had left on the surface. When the way was clear, William backed Bester slowly and lowered the footer gently down the shaft of the hole. Jakey and Ethan stood at right angles to each other and shifted the stone slightly by leaning on the ropes as it was lowered until finally it rested where they wanted it in the sand at the bottom and the tension went out of the line. Jakey tugged a release cord. The men hauled the heavy lines up and got ready to do the next stone. In all, it had taken less than a quarter hour.
Tanyth felt somewhat refreshed from the mug of hot tea that Amber pressed into her not quite trembling hand. She glanced at the sun and then at the men getting ready to work on the second stone. “Well.” She announced it suddenly and so loudly that the women around her jumped at the sound. She handed the mug back to Amber and then levered herself up from the chair. “This is all well and good, but I think I’d better go check the fire in my hearth.”
Megan stepped up and offered an arm. “Would you like me to help you, mum?”
Tanyth smiled and waved her off. “No, no, my dear. I’m quite refreshed. I’m pretty sure I can walk that far, even in this slush.”
Megan grinned as Tanyth stabbed the wet melting snow with her staff. “Alright, mum.” She paused and then looked up at her shyly. “Thank you, mum.”
That took Tanyth by surprise. “Thank you for what?”
Megan waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the men working. “That.”
Sadie stepped up and nodded with Amber close behind. “Yes, mum. Thank you.”
Tanyth regarded them, each individually, looking into their fresh young faces, their clear young eyes. She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She headed carefully along the path. The footing was a bit slippery in places with melting snow turning normally stable ground into the consistency of soft cheese. She made it to her door without mishap and paused to look back at the construction.
Megan stood at the corner of the house. She waved. Tanyth returned the wave then opened the door to her hut. Before she went in, she looked up at the sky. “Thank you, All-Mother.” It was less grumble than prayer and she made her way carefully into the house, ducking under the low lintel to keep from banging her head.
She shrugged off her wrap and stood her staff beside the door. Her hat went on the peg. She slipped off the wet, muddy boots before carrying them across the sweetgrass mats to the hearth. She looked them over carefully and brushed the worst of the dirt off with her hand before deciding that a more thorough cleaning would need a boot brush and saddle soap. She was pretty sure there was some in the tack room at the barn and she wondered if she could get Riley to run up and fetch them for her. Shrugging, she set the boots aside, pulled a couple of sticks out of the woodbox and poked up the fire. The sun would be down soon and she felt the need of a little comfort. The fire was a start and a nice pot of chamomile and mint would follow. There was plenty of bread and cheese and a bushel of apples waited in her root cellar. She contemplated that and wondered if Thomas would bring her a rabbit. “What would you do with a rabbit?” She smiled as she realized, she’d probably share it with the raven, and then stew the rest.
Th
inking of the raven reminded her of her morning’s activity and the terribly frightening dream. It chilled her and she stepped closer to the fire. There was something there. Something she didn’t understand. Perhaps it was something to do with having the raven do her will. Looking for Frank was certainly not something the raven would do on her own, especially not straying into another’s territory. The whole episode was troubling from the first blush of unreasoned worry to the final horror of the nightmare. She breathed deeply of the sweet, smoky air and then blew it out. She was so focused she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her door and was startled when the knock came.
“Mum? It’s Thomas!” His voice was muffled by the door. “I have some grouse for you.”
She padded across the mats in her stocking feet and opened the door to a smiling Thomas. “Hello, Thomas. How’s the hunting?”
He grinned. “Well it is Hunter’s Moon, mum. Hunting is good.” He reached into his game bag and pulled out a brace of grouse. “I thought you might like a change from rabbit, mum.” He handed them to her.
“Thank you, Thomas, that’s very considerate. I was just wondering what I’d do for dinner tonight.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the sun. “Well, it’s coming up on dinner time now, mum, and those might be better tomorrow after they’ve hung for a bit.”
She weighed them in her hands and nodded. “You’re right. And I’m not up to plucking them tonight.”
He shrugged and frowned in concentration. “Do you have enough for dinner tonight, mum?”
“Oh, yes, of course, Thomas. Thank you. Sadie has been stopping by every few days with fresh bread and cheese. What with what I’ve gleaned and gathered, and your game, I’m very well fed these days.”
“Well, if there’s anything you’d like in particular, mum. Let me know.” He held out his hands. “Here, mum. Let me hang these for you.”
She handed the birds back and he tied them up on the peg. She wondered if they’d be safe from the raven there. “Thank you again, Thomas. You’ve all been taking very good care of me.”
“We try, mum, now close that door!” He made a shutting motion with his hand. “You’re letting the heat out.”
She did and heard his boots crunching as he walked away. She padded quickly back to the fire. Standing there with the door open had let the evening air in and the warm air out. The fire burned cheerfully, though, so she filled the kettle and set it to heat. The grouse would be better on the morrow and she had a feast of bread, cheese, and fruit for the evening.
While the water came up to boil she crossed to the root cellar and pulled up a couple of apples. While she had her head down there, she looked around at the baskets tucked in the cool room under the floor. There were baskets of potatoes and carrots, onions and turnips. Several pounds of dried beans of different colors in bags rested on her pantry shelves along with flour, salt, and chilled crock of sourdough starter. Between them, the villagers had outfitted her handsomely to live on her own. She felt a bit guilty that she hadn’t done more to teach them the herb lore she was supposed to be teaching them.
She sighed. “Old fool.”
She shrugged and grabbed an onion along with an extra apple for her oatmeal and put it all on the floor. Her stocking feet were getting cold and damp on the dirty floor so she clambered quickly, if not too nimbly, back up and slammed the hatch. She gathered her produce and took it to the table, outlining in her mind how to proceed, concentrating on that and not on the raven—not on the dreams.
She pulled her belt knife and dealt with the onion, throwing it and measures of beans and water into one of her small pots, setting it back in the fire to simmer. She dealt just as quickly with one of the apples, peeling and coring it before chopping it up and putting it in another small pot with a measure of oats and more water. That left the cheese, bread, and apples for dinner. She placed a grate over the fire irons, raking some coals under it for heat and tossed another stick onto the fire.
As she moved about the hearth, she felt herself unwinding. The strangeness from the blessing, the visions from the raven, even the prophetic dreams and nightmares faded into the background as she found her center in the tending of the fire and in the preparation of simple foods. She felt the air moving in her lungs and the blood sliding through her body. It felt good.
The kettle bubbled over so she christened the pot and threw in a mix of rose hips, mint, and a touch of chamomile then poured the hot water onto the dried materials, smelling the aroma of summer wafting up from the open pot. She covered it and set it on a warming stone. She was about to address the issue of bread and cheese when she heard more footsteps.
“You’re popular tonight, old woman.” It was a good natured grumble and she wondered who might be visiting.
Crossing to the door, she swung it open as Frank stepped up to knock. He had a large bundle of firewood in his arms and an odd look on his face. “Good evening, mum.” His smile erased the odd look. “Sorry to bother you, but Sadie said you needed some wood and that I should bring it over.” He jerked his head in the direction of Sadie and Thomas’s house. Tanyth looked and could see a blonde head silhouetted in the open door way by the rosy glow of a fire. One hand waved to her before the door closed.
“That was very considerate of her, and of you for doing it.” Tanyth felt light headed. “Why don’t you come in and have some dinner. I’ve just put the kettle on and I’m making some cheese sandwiches.” She held the door for him and he tucked low, with his armload of wood and she closed the door firmly behind him.
He crossed to the hearth and stood there for a moment, confused, looking at the nearly full woodbox. “Mum? Where would you like me to put this wood?”
“Oh, just stack it behind the box for now.” She smiled at him. “And, Frank…?”
He dropped the armload of split logs on the floor against the side of the chimney before looking up. “Yes, mum?”
“Do you think you could call me, Tanyth?” She smiled at him and gave a little shrug with one shoulder. “We’re not kids and I’m not your mum.” Her breath caught a bit in her throat.
Frank straightened and dusted the wood chips off his hands and the front of his coat while he gazed at her, his mouth just slightly open. He looked a little surprised, a little confused, and then his face relaxed and his whole body followed suit. He smiled and his eyes seemed to shine a bit in the firelight. “Yes. I think I can.” He paused before saying it. “Tanyth.”
She liked the way his tongue flirted over his teeth when he said her name. “Thank you. I’m getting a little tired of being ‘mum.’” She shrugged. “Some tea? I was about to pour. Please, there’s a peg by the door. Make yourself comfortable.”
She watched him slide the heavy outer coat off and hang it on the peg beside hers but turned to tend the tea kettle before he caught her watching. “Thank you, Mother.” It was less a grumble than a prayer.
37
Solstice
Solstice morning dawned crisp and clear and Tanyth woke just as the sun filled the sky with a clean, glowing light above the trees to the east. Winter Solstice marked the shortest day of the year, an inflection point at the middle of winter when domination of darkness over light would reverse and the sun would begin to reassert her place in the sky. The holiday mood had been building for days as the villagers looked forward to a day of rest and play and the beginning of a new year.
As she lay there in the pile of covers, the cold air in the hut tweaked at her nose and she giggled a little to herself. “Where’s that man when you need him?” It was a good-natured grumble and she wasn’t sure if she was wishing he were there to warm her with his body or if she just wanted him to go stoke the fire before she had to crawl out of the snug nest of covers. She giggled again as she made her decision. “Both.”
Her longstanding habit of sleeping with her clothing in the bedroll to keep it warm for morning paid off as she fished around without getting up and found her trousers and tunic, slipping on the tun
ic without climbing out of bed and standing quickly to slip on her pants. She already wore her socks and she added a second pair—rather than her boots—to pad to the hearth and poke up the fire.
In a few moments she had the fire stoked, the kettle filled, and herself girded for the morning migration to the privy. The cold nipped at her as she scampered across to the small building and inside was even chillier. For a few moments she wondered if she’d waited too long but managed to get in, get the door closed, and her pants down before any serious accidents happened. On the way back, she stopped to admire the progress on the inn. As good as his word, William had frame, floor, and roof up. Sturdy posts and beams held up a sharply slanted, saltbox roof with the long slope toward the back. She could see the heavy chimney through the skeleton of the building with open maws where the ovens and hearthstones would go.
William was already up and walking about the place. He waved to her from where a pair of double doors would hang at the front of the building. “Good mornin’, mum! What do you think?” He spread his hands to indicate the edifice.
“I’m impressed, William.” Her voice echoed across the morning stillness. “Are you still plannin’ on lighting a Solstice fire there tonight? There’s no hearthstone.”
He grinned. “Oh, I have the stone picked out. Bester and I will be movin’ it today. We’ll be ready by sunset.” The sun began breaking through the tops of the trees and a ray speared him in the eyes so he laughed and had to raise a hand against the dazzling light. “Will you be joinin’ us for the vigil, mum?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good! I better go wake up Bester and get him moving.” With a wave, he turned and headed toward the barn, weaving his way through the shell of the building.
She made it back to her house just as the water came to a boil. She set about having her breakfast, following her morning routine which included starting some bread dough each morning for baking later in the day.
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