A Cup of Blood

by Troy A Hill

  “Would you care for refreshment?” I asked, and bent to retrieve the water jug and cup. “Gwen left an extra cup for you.”

  “Tis impolite to drink before my hostess,” he said, a cagey smile breaking through his beard. He wanted to stretch out our little game. I smiled back, as I poured a cup of water for him, and rose to pass it to him.

  “I have already dined. Gwen left berries for you,” I pointed at the reed basket. A handful of Gwen’s breakfast still sat in it.

  He reached out and tapped my hand with a single finger.

  "Aye, ye have dined, or the skin you wear wouldn't be this dark."

  His statement didn't surprise me. Shifters like he could smell the blood I had dined on. Their preternatural senses were excellent. Exceptional strength and agility. I'd rather take on Onion Breath and the hunchback, and half-a-dozen of their Witch Hunter friends than have to fight a single shape-shifter.

  I held the cup out to him. He took it and set it next to him on the log. His eyes stayed on me, and I got the sense he was ready, waiting, on the edge of shifting forms if he needed to. Deodamnatus! I didn’t need a fight with a shifter here. Especially not with one Gwen said was a friend. I kept smiling.

  “Your name be… if you want to give me a real name…?" His accent was from the northern part of the island.

  I remembered Gwen’s comment about charm. If he could sense my nature by smell, I had little to lose by being open with him. So I bent at my waist, holding my skirt out as I curtseyed.

  “My name is Maria, a daughter of Rome. I have travelled here from several lands, most recently that of Francia.”

  “And Lady Mair is my guest,” a voice called out from the trees.

  29

  The monk

  The man rose and bowed toward her.

  “I beg yer pardon, Lady Gwenhwyfar,” he said.

  “Oh, Ruadh,” she said with a light chuckle as she hugged him.

  He bowed again, toward me. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance, your ladyship.”

  “Why have you come this far, Ruadh?”

  "A wedding," he said, and drained the water I had poured for him earlier. "I don't be supposing you have any ale or wine about do ye?"

  She laughed and reached for the basket of berries. “No, but you can ferment these if you need some.”

  Her sly statement brought forth another chuckle, and he poured himself another cup and emptied it with a toss of his head.

  “Who is getting married, and when?” she asked once he had filled the cup a third time and drank it.

  “Yer pardon,” he said. “Running up here the past few days is thirsty work.” He ran the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the drops of liquid that clung to his beard. He slid forward off the log and sat on the matted grass. With Gwen here, all of his hesitation and concern had disappeared.

  "I didn't know what to believe," he said. "I found a stranger, like one of the boabhan sith, with the smell of blood thick about her, and well fed, with no sign of the fair Gwenhwyfar around."

  There was still an uneasy truce between he and I. Gwen’s presence had lifted the worst, though. “You are nae like the last of the banshee we met,” he said.

  "The Lady Gwenhwyfar neglected to tell me I would greet a shifter." I peered at him and sniffed the air again. "Bear? I've never been around one whose form is a bear."

  "Aye," he said. "You found out me secret, and me curse."

  “You two can exchange stories in a while,” Gwen interrupted. “Who is getting married?”

  "Tis always a lady be worrying about weddings and such," he said as he shook his head and grinned. His teeth peeked through the heavy waves of his beard. "The Lord Penllyn's son, Cadoc. He is marrying Caerwyn's daughter Enid. The wedding is tomorrow at the festival at Caer Penllyn. Both families asked that you to do the hand-fasting. The abbot sent me to see if I could find you," he said. "Ye be high in the hills, as far away as the crow flies, I'm not sure we can make it back in time..."

  “Of course, we will attend, The Lady’s representatives should be present at such a momentous event.”

  I raised an eyebrow in question at that statement.

  "The two families marrying are from two different cantrefi," Gwen said. She misunderstood my concern about what she said. "Caerwyn of Meirionnydd and Bleddyn of Penllyn are two independent lords. Their cantrefi are neighbours, between the kingdoms of Powys and Gwynedd. They tie themselves to one or the other kingdoms, albeit rather loosely."

  “Aye,” Ruadh said, and filled his cup with the last of the water from Gwen’s clay pitcher. “Lord Penllyn be very independent now that the King of Mercia cut his neighbour Fadog off from the rest of Powys.”

  “The bride’s family is from Meirionnydd. The Lord and Lady are without a male heir,” Gwen said. “I’ve tried for the last ten years to get them to commit to marrying their children. The Holy Lady has let me know those two cantrefi are important for Britain’s future.”

  “So, you get to play royal match-maker, too?” I grinned at her, teasing.

  "This has the potential to blend those cantrefi into a rather large holding and raise the heir into a higher status," Gwen said. "And with Brother Ruadh to accompany us, we shall be able to move freely in the area without being stopped by every man or brigand out to make a name for themselves that see two women alone on the road."

  “Brother? Are you a monk?”

  "Aye," he fished around in his pouches. He pulled out an ornate dark wooden cross, delicately carved with Celtic style curves and swirls native to the artwork in this land. He draped its leather cord around his head, so it hung on the outside of his tunic.

  “Have your brothers, back in your homeland, settled their feud, yet?” Gwen asked.

  "Nay, not yet." He winked at me. "Me da', the clan chief, was murdered by one of me brothers. I be the fourth son and don't want any part of me brothers blood battle. So I renounced all of them and tossed my sword into the middle of the clan hall. The only path left was to find an abbot and ask for a home." He leaned back and rested his meaty hands across his barrel chest. "Course, I waited till I got good and far away from their feud to find a new place to call home. No sense in getting drug back into the bloody mess."

  “Is your curse hereditary?” I asked, not sure if I was overstepping.

  "Aye," the large man said. "My gran's grandad travelled to the Nordic coast and fought there. He came back all feverish from his wounds but dinnae die. He lived and married. Each of us, his descendants, are born with the curse. Since then, each generation's sons fight amongst themselves til only one is still alive. He takes the clan leader's sword. I be done with all that. My brothers can kill themselves if they want. I want to live." He raised his eyebrow at Gwen and tilted his head toward me.

  “I found Mair, dying in the wood,” she explained. “Brigands had attacked her.”

  "Witch Hunters are no mere brigands," I said. That elicited a nod from Ruadh.

  "Witch Hunters not be nice," Ruadh growled. "I've met a few these last few months. Fortunately, they didn't recognise me curse and thought me a poor Cymry monk. Where did they come from?"

  “The continent,” I said. “They formed about a century ago and gained strength in the church ever since.” I shook my head. “It’s not just our kind,” I waved my hand to include all three of us, “that need to fear them. They’ll take coin from a jilted suitor, or merchant who feels wronged, and level accusations at the innocent among the common folk.” I shuddered.

  "The ones I've met," Ruadh said, "were not local. They all had strange accents. And silver weapons." He looked steadily at me and held my gaze for a solid minute. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. He tested me. Who would blink first and lose the dominance battle? I stared back at him — long enough to show metal. Then I winked at him. He began a deep belly laugh.

  "They must have been good, to get harm on ye, lass." He said, respect in his tone. "Do we need to find this filth, on our way to the wedding?"
>
  Another cold chill ran up my spine. I needed to banish the memories of Onion Breath and Hunchback.

  “I had the land swallow the bodies before I brought Mair back here,” she said. “We had two rough weeks until she was herself again.”

  While we talked, she had scooted closer and slid an arm around my waist.

  "Ye said ‘The Lady's Representatives' earlier," Ruadh said. His words were both a statement and a question.

  "The Lady brought Mair and I together for a reason,” Gwen said. “We both received messages, divine dreams where we face a fight for the land on The Lady's behalf."

  “Dreams, ye say?” He swallowed hard. “I been having a dream that won’t leave me, of late. Of death, and battle. It bothers me. I see another beast, and I have to fight.” He licked his lips, a nervous gesture. “I thought it was my brothers I be fighting, for the clan chief’s sword and chair. I want no part of that,” he said. “There be a maiden I’m supposed to protect through all of this, but I cannot see her face. She wears a great cloak with the hood up. She has a ring, with a dragon in it. I don’t know who she be.”

  I thought of the claw slices on the dead shepherd. They were about the right size for bear claws. There was a shifter… a bear… in front of us. Gwen seemed to trust him. I was sure he wasn’t the only bear on the island. He was the only shifter I knew.

  "The Lady has blessed you, too, with a vision dear Ruadh," Gwen said. "And thus, we are three. The Lady is building her forces and bringing together that which she needs. Trust your heart, Ruadh. The Lady will give you all you need when it is time."

  If Gwen trusted him, I could too. Until he gave me a reason not to.

  “Not to spoil the moment,” I said. “I am more worried about attending a wedding as the representative of a goddess than an unknown battle somewhere in the future.”

  Ruadh leaned back, and a loud, deep laugh erupted from him. Gwen looked back at me and squeezed my hand.

  “Thank you, dearest,” her smile lifted my spirits again, and her eyes began lightened back to their cheery light blue. She stood and smoothed her skirts. “We will need to pack more courtly clothing than these for our journey.”

  “Do ye have anything to eat, other than unfermented wine?” he asked.

  “There is some of small game in the smoke shack in the gully. Do you remember the way?”

  “I kin smell it, if not.”

  “Help yourself to what you find, and,” she said. “Please prepare the smoker for a long absence.”

  A few minutes later, Gwen and I were back at the big oak in the forest. She reached into the otherworld and handed me items she thought we might need, including headscarves to drape over our hair.

  "We will be back in more noble society today. We shall have to conform to their expectations on dress, I'm afraid." She helped me adjust my scarf, which was a beautiful deep blue to match my dress. I helped her with her own, golden-green scarf.

  “Ruadh can be trusted,” she said. “Once we leave The Lady’s lake, howebver, we'll need to follow societal norms and customs.”

  “I will do my best,” I replied, “to be a proper lady and to not embarrass you too much with my heathen Roman ways.”

  30

  Penllyn

  Ruadh sat on a log and licked grease and salt off his fingers when we walked back to the lake.

  “I closed yer smokehouse up. There wasn’t much left after my meal, so I had seconds to finish it for you,” he said. “Ye said you be packing?”

  “Our bags are by the trees,” Gwen replied.

  “I suspected as much. Lead on your Ladyship.”

  When we emerged from the tree at the far end of our journey, Ruadh glanced around unconcerned. I suspected this wasn’t his first trip with Gwen through the mists.

  We were at the foot of a large hill. A rare day of sunshine pounded into the countryside. Up til now, I had stayed in the shade, or the sky had been overcast. But here, the day was bright and full of light. I hadn't walked in this bright of a day for centuries.

  Ruadh took several steps out, away from the trees into the sunshine. He glanced over his shoulder at me and let a toothy white grin spill out of his beard. The large monk wandered out along the dirt road and found an old stump to sit on.

  A field of grass separated us from the muddy dirt lane that led toward a village to the right. To the left, a fort stood atop a large hill. An occasional empty wagon rattled its way down the dirt track from the fort. That must be where the wedding and feast were to be.

  “Welcome to Caer Penllyn, my dearest,” Gwen said with a quick kiss.

  “Caer?” I asked.

  “In the language of the Cymry, Caer denotes a large fort,” she said. “The Lord and Lady of Penllyn make their home here.”

  "I almost forgot," Gwen said. She touched the tree. Another red slit appeared. She reached into the otherworld and pulled out a silk wrapped bundle. She knelt in the grass and placed the package before her.

  A bird swooped in and landed on the grass in front of her. It cocked its head and chirped toward her before she could untie the cord around the silk.

  "I know," she said and waved a hand to make the little fellow hop back.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “She wanted to tell me about her hatchlings,” Gwen said and smiled up at me. “She’s quite proud of them.”

  I hadn't imagined it earlier when I thought the birds were talking to her.

  She spread the silk open before her. Inside were holy symbols, crosses, designed with the Celtic pattern of sharp curves. She selected an ivory cross and handed it. She chose another, made of a greenish wood for herself. We tied them around each other's necks. This left them visible on our chests. Gwen refolded the silk and opened the small portal to her storage in the otherworld.

  “So, we’re supposed to be nuns?” I asked. “The abbess better not visit us at the lake…”

  Gwen blushed a bit at my reference to our intimacy the night before.

  “Technically, dearest,” she said as she refolded the silk and reopened the small portal in the tree, “I’d be the abbess as the senior Disciple of the Lady.”

  “So I’m the fetch and carry, sweep out the nunnery, do the laundry, and the cooking nun,” I teased.

  She laughed and pulled me in for a quick hug.

  “Just like Ruadh,” she said, “I’ve hidden by adopting the role in the religion of the current time. We’re safer if we appear as part of the church.”

  Ruadh waited on his stump by the road when we emerged. He saw the crosses and nodded his approval. He had his own out on his chest.

  "If you're a monk," I asked, "why no tonsure?" I pointed toward his head where most monks shaved most of their hair away but left parts to show their devotion to their order. His hair was full and covered his head with thick reddish waves.

  “The abbot himself tried to shave it,” the big bear of man let a laugh rumble in his chest. “But each day it grew back jus’ as long as it was the day before he cut it. The next day he tried again and said a prayer with each stroke of the knife.” He laughed harder.

  "My kind has a similar problem," I said. "I only cut my hair once. That was enough to learn it would be back the same length the next night."

  “Shall we go?” Gwen asked, “Or do you need to talk more about your peculiarities before we are among normal humans?”

  Ruadh and I glanced at each other. I giggled when he winked.

  “Lady Mair can talk at me whenever she needs,” he said. “We be the normal ones. The rest of the folks are different.” He laughed and stepped out onto the cart path and into the sunlight.

  “We’ll keep each other’s secrets?” I asked.

  “Aye, lass,” his voice rumbled. “There be good people in Penllyn. Only you can decide who to share yer nature with. You’ll learn who ye can trust soon enough.”

  I glanced at the sun-drenched hilltop and the road that lead to it. Centuries of walking only at night crashed down on me. That fille
d me with dread. I would have to pull energy from my blood-demon to function at a normal human pace.

  "Trust The Lady, dearest," Gwen said. I turned my sight inward and found the black and gold cord. It hummed with energy. I shaded my eyes with my hand and stepped out into the sunlight. The hum continued. My connection to the goddess fed me energy. The crushing weight of daylight didn't press on me. I had to squint against the bright light. This day walking would take time to get used to.

  Our walk through the fields was short, and we emerged onto the winding road that led to the hill fort. Off to the south, on a smaller hill, I could see another walled enclave of buildings. Ruadh noticed my observation.

  “That be the abbey,” he said. “The abbot and some of me brother monks be coming tomorrow for the celebration.” From here, I estimated a walk of perhaps two hours to get to the abbey.

  We hiked up the muddy road, and well worn by the trampling of hooves, feet and carts. Once we had to step aside as an ox-cart heading down out of the fort came by us. Ruadh raised his hand in greeting and got a cheery “Hallo!” from the cart driver. Gwen and I received a neat bow from him.

  The guard at the gate waved us through. Gwen motioned Ruadh to let us rest in the shade just inside the entrance. I doubted any of us needed rest, but I was grateful for a few moments to survey the fort before we ventured farther in.

  Men manned the watch posts on either side of the main gate. Dressed in leather armour, each had a broad-bladed Celtic sword on their hip. Two men up on the palisades next to the gate stood next to longbows that leaned against the railing. But for all of their trappings of war, everyone around the gate seemed jovial. One of them called a welcome to our bearish guide.

  Inside the walls of the hillfort, the ground sloped up toward a large flattened area, where the buildings stood. People moved about for their chores between the buildings. Grooms picked the hooves or brushed down the coats of horses outside a large stable. Children and dogs played together between cottages that stood near the walls around the open courtyard next to the largest building, the keep. The ring of metal tamping metal came from a building near the keep.