I came up to him and said, “I am glad you are so much better.”
He turned and grimaced as he did. I moved over to his left side so he would not have to turn so much.
“Yes, I slept well at last.” His voice was steady and strong, and his colour was returned.
I suddenly felt that now that he was better I would not make so bold as to touch his face to check his fever. It was strange, for a day ago I had touched him without fear or shame. Now tho’, he was growing well, and strong, and so all between us must be as it had been before.
“Who wrapped your wound?” I asked.
“Your Lady did.”
I looked across the hall. The door to the treasure room was still closed.
“They are out in the yard. Yrling is choosing his new horse. His red stallion broke its front legs when it fell so we killed it in the woods. It was a very good horse, as good or better than my bay.”
“I am sorry it was lost,” I said. Sidroc went on with his pack, and drew out something that looked like a baldric.
I regarded the things before us, and asked, “What will you do with this?”
“Those things I do not want I will trade or sell for that I do.”
I thought of the costly bracelet I wore. I did not think much on the table could compare in value to it, save for the swords. He now picked up the swords, and drew them out of their sheaths, and examined them closely. One sword had a grip covered in ivory or bone, into which were carved many small figures. The hilt was polished steel, cut all over with grooves into which was set bright copper wire in spiralling designs. He lifted this sword for a moment, and then set it down.
The second was longer, like onto the swords of most of the Danes, and had a long and massive hilt. The pommel of the hilt had coils of silver and some darker metal, coloured bronze perhaps, set into the steel.
This sword he lifted and held for a long time. Then he took up the shorter sword, and laid it flat in the air so its tip just rested on the table. He took the larger sword and laid it, just where the blade shot forth from the hilt, upon the flat blade of the one beneath. He released his hand, and the large sword lay still upon the other without falling.
He regarded this well, and caught up the sword and tossed the smaller aside. He glanced at me. “It is large, but will never grow heavy in the hand, for the blade and hilt balance each other.” He held the blade closer to his eyes and ran his fingers over the carvings on the blade.
“This one had good things,” he said, as if to himself. I wondered if the thegn he spoke of also had worn the silver bracelet.
“I will take this sword as my next,” he decided. He squinted at the figures and letters carved into the blade. “This is your speech,” he said, and held the sword before me.
“Yes,” I agreed, looking at the lettering. The sword carried both runes and lettering. The runes were crooked and hard to read, but the lettering was clear.
“This is the sword of a Christian,” I told him. Just beneath the hilt, carved into the steel of the blade, were the words ‘Agnus Dei’, the Lamb of God.
He shrugged. “Tyr does not care, nor do I. I will have the smith mark it for me. Besides, most of your people are Christian, so we have much that is marked by them.” He took his own scabbard and slid the new sword into it.
“Do you want to sit down? You should not get too tired at first,” I reminded him.
“It is easier to stand than sit. I am not tired.”
I sat down on the bench and looked up at him. He leaned back against the edge of the table and regarded me steadily. The pain and fever had left his face, but it looked thin and worn beyond his years. Yet he smiled, so slightly that his scar did not move.
“Will you tell me what happened in the South, and why you rode to Yrling?” I asked, feeling very bold.
His eyes narrowed, but he did not take them from me. At length he said, “Yes, I will tell you.” He shifted his position and began. “There were two amongst us, two brothers, who were not long ago Yrling’s men. Last year they left together, and sailed North up the coast to set up for themselves. They found little but gathered more men on the way. Then they sailed South, to Anglia, and had much success on raids. Their numbers grew, and the brothers quarrelled and split up. One of them, Svein, sailed to join his father in the Kingdom of the Franks. The other, Hingvar, drove deeper into Britain, into Wessex, and after some good fights made peace with the reeve of that place, who gave him much gold.
“Then Svein, who had sailed, returned, for he had heard of the riches of Wessex. He attacked the reeve who had made peace with his brother Hingvar, and killed him. The brothers fought again, and their men against each other as well. Then Æthelred of Wessex and his men came and fought against both brothers together, killing many of their men and capturing much booty.
“This was bad, but in the battle one of the brothers had captured some of Æthelred’s closest men, those who were his own kin. These are valuable for ransom, and also a way of escape, for we have learnt the chiefs here will pay to have their men restored, and will not risk the lives of those captured. That is why Yrling went, not only to see what should be done next, but also to help make the trade, for he is skilled in this and has gained much by it.”
He shifted his position and went on. “But when Yrling arrived he learnt that in anger Hingvar had killed or maimed the men his brother Svein had captured, so that their price would now be nothing. This he did to punish his brother, but to do so was stupid and costly, for no one can now gain, and the anger of Æthelred when he learns of it will be great.”
He paused, and I asked, “Why did you ride to Yrling? To give him counsel in this?”
“Yes, I rode to him to argue that he should come away quick. It was not our battle, and we had little to gain once the men he meant to sell back were dead.”
“And he did heed your advice?”
“Yes. Toki argued the other way, but Yrling had seen enough.”
“So you left to return here, and all went well until the ambush?” I asked.
“Yes. All went well. Toki took too much upon the road, and so we walked into a trap.”
I thought about what this truly meant. They were a small band of men, riding fast, taking food and whatever else they saw along the way. After Burginde’s speech that morning it was not hard to imagine what excesses Toki or any of them had committed. I did not want to ask, and looked away from him.
He spoke after a while. “I think now you are angry. I should not have told you this.”
I felt sick and sorry about everything. “Please do not say that, Sidroc. I do feel anger, yes; but many other things as well. Perhaps because of the worry and the long wait and your own anger when you rode; and we were left alone and shut up in our room, and did not know what was happening; and then you returned at last, and you and Yrling were hurt, and I - feared for you.”
He laughed and said, “Then I am glad I was not the one killed.”
“Do not laugh at me,” I said, feeling close to tears at all I had heard and was feeling.
“I do not laugh at you. You show no fear in your speech, and this I admire.”
We were both quiet, and I composed myself. “What will happen now?” I asked him.
“Nothing soon, for us. We heard that Æthelred was injured in another battle, a great one. But we will not strike against Wessex until Summer.”
“You mean, Yrling will not strike?”
“Yes, Yrling.”
I asked my next question carefully, and with as much calm as I could. “Do you think then Cirenceaster will be attacked? If not by Yrling, then by another Dane?”
He came close to not answering, and took a long time before he replied. “Yes. I think that if Yrling does not move quickly he will lose Cirenceaster to another.”
“Cirenceaster belongs to Ælfsige,” I said, and felt my voice was very small. “Yrling made Peace with him so it would remain so.”
“Sometimes it is better to be given things than to have to take them,” he began. “A gift arrives in good condition. Booty often times does not.”
My lips could scarcely form my words. “And Ælfwyn and the tribute were the gifts. Now that Yrling has them, he will attack and take the rest...”
“I do not say that,” he countered. “Only that if Yrling does not move, he will lose much.”
“Ælfwyn said her father would die before he surrendered his lands,” I recalled.
He nodded his head. “Then he will die.”
Then Ælfwyn and Yrling walked, smiling and talking, into the hall, and we were silent.
Chapter the Thirty-eighth: The Golden Fleece
THAT night the hall looked again as it did of a normal night. The fire blazed up, crackling, in the pit, and the torches shed their dancing light from their iron holders on the walls. Sheafs of ash-handled spears rested upright in the corners, and the heavy tables were set on trestles in the middle of the hall. Most of the Danes were already inside, standing before the tables or talking in groups. A hoot of laughter made us turn our heads. Toki was jesting, cup in hand, with another man standing by the kitchen passageway, and being very loud about it.
We saw Yrling, standing in speech with Sidroc near the head table. Sidroc was leaning against the wall as they spoke. I wondered if it was due to his wound; he had said it was easier to stand than sit. Both wore leathern tunics over their linen shirts, tho’ Yrling’s arm was still wrapped close to his body with a wool shawl.
We approached the table, but they did not join us. It was clear from their faces that their talk was of serious concerns. We sat down, and since no man was there between us, turned to each other.
“From tonight I am going to try to speak more at table, so that you and I can speak not only to each other, but to Yrling and Sidroc as well,” Ælfwyn began.
“Too bad Toki understands our speech,” I said, eyeing him as he downed another cup of ale.
The serving men began to bring out platters of food, and the men drifted to their places. Yrling sat down next to Ælfwyn, and I looked up at Sidroc.
“Would you rather stand?” I asked. “I can break your food for you, and hand it to you, if it would pain you less.”
He smiled a little at this notion. “I will sit now, until I must stand again,” he answered, and slowly swung his long legs over the bench.
“How much better you look,” I could not help but say.
“Yes, because of you,” he replied simply. “I told you it would heal twice as fast.”
I lifted my cup to hide the flush on my cheek.
More platters were set before us, and I watched Ælfwyn choose and break up food for Yrling, since he could not use his hurt arm.
Yrling did not stand and speak to the men that night, and I guessed it was because the trip had not been a successful one. Still, neither Yrling nor any of the men seemed in bad spirits. Perhaps the pleasure of arriving home dulled the disappointments of the journey.
After a little time had passed, and we were mostly finished with our meal, Ælfwyn turned to Yrling and spoke in a way that we might all hear.
“While you were gone we warped the looms,” she began. Yrling nodded at this, and she went on. “We have been busy spinning, and it is good that I brought with me sacks of carded fleece from Cirenceaster, for I was sorry to learn that the flocks that once belonged to Four Stones are now almost gone.”
Yrling looked at her in a way that showed his doubt of where her speech was headed. I sat forward, trying to show my interest, and Sidroc shifted on the bench and rested his chin in his hand, watching her. Toki was leaning back from the table, cup in hand, staring at nothing on the hall ceiling.
She took a breath and went on. “The fleece I have brought will not last long, and the wants of the hall are great. We all will need wool, and even more so when those you expect come this Summer with their wives.”
Yrling did not say anything, either to stay her speech or bid her go on. Toki now was listening, and grinning as he did so.
“It is important that we build up our flocks again,” she said boldly. “Lindisse was once good sheep country, and must be again, for without our own sheep we must barter or buy fleece, which is very dear.”
Toki held his cup in his hand and bleated, “Baaa.”
Ælfwyn glanced at him but went on. “Sheep bring everything good, and many things that we now lack. With sheep there is milk, and cheese, and tallow.” She stopped and looked about at us. “And fleece to line the scabbards of swords,” she said, looking from Yrling to Sidroc, “and parchment from lambs,” she went on, with a nod at me, “but most of all the wool itself, which we can spin and weave and so meet our own wants for cloth, and sell what we do not need.”
“Baa, baaa,” bleated Toki again. The other men at the table who could not understand Ælfwyn’s speech laughed along with Toki.
She rose from the bench and turned on him. “Wool is the whole wealth of my people,” she said fiercely.
Before her sat a small dish of pure gold. It had come as part of the treasure she brought. She lifted it in her hand and asked, “Where do you think this came from?”
Toki rolled his eyes, but was silent. She turned back to Yrling. A smile played about Yrling’s lips, but it was one of admiration. She set the golden dish before him.
“This is only fleece, changed to gold,” she said softly. She sat down again, and was still.
Yrling fingered the dish. “Sheep are costly, and must be cared for,” he said.
“Cloth is more costly, and we can raise and spin wool of greater fineness than we can buy,” she answered.
Toki snorted at this. She kept her eyes upon Yrling and spoke calmly and with authority. “Besides, we have a few sheep to begin with; it is a start. There are nearly thirty in the yard, and the village women have seven. We must stop killing the ewes for food, and instead breed them up with the best of the rams.”
For answer, Toki swung his feet up so they hit the table with a bang. Ælfwyn turned to him and said, “If this one thing had been done last year there would be more meat and wool too, today.”
She turned back to Yrling, and her voice was more gentle. “And as for care, the villagers will do it. We must give them a share in the success of the flock, and then they will care for them well, for their own gain depends on it.”
Yrling nearly laughed. “You have thought much on these things,” he said.
Her answer was serious. “It is only my birthright. Do not forget where I was raised,” she murmured.
Yrling narrowed his eyes at the golden dish and said, “That I never forget.”
Then Yrling said no more. Lost in thought, he gazed at the dish. Toki began talking to the man next to him. The moment seemed to be slipping away. Ælfwyn looked over to Sidroc with a plea in her eyes. He rose from the table slowly; it was clear he was sore and stiff from the careful way in which he moved. He faced Yrling and spoke.
“If the Lady can spin wool into gold, perhaps you should let her,” he began.
Yrling jerked his head up to look at Sidroc. Ælfwyn smiled at them both, and took heart.
“Not into gold, perhaps,” she answered, “but into much silver; silver that will be saved and silver we will soon earn from the sale of our extra fleece.”
“Where will the sheep come from?” asked Yrling.
Ælfwyn was quick with her answer. “I think that more may be found in the forests, left from those that went wild. They could be driven out, and the best of them added to the flock. The others we can slaughter for meat and hides, so we will gain both ways.”
Sidroc looked at Ælfwyn and then to Yrling. “It is clear she has a head for profit,” said Sidroc. “I think your Lady will save you much silver, if you let her. She has also a plan for the making of linen.”
And Sidroc touched the sleeve of his own shirt and spoke in their shared tongue to Yrling.
Æl
fwyn grasped Yrling’s arm and said, “Yes, and it will cost nothing at all, for flax and pond are already here. You have only to keep the horses in the valley from trampling the flax and we can cut it at Lammastide.”
She looked pleased to have had the chance to bring this up as well, but did not forget her goal. “But tho’ linen is good next to the skin, nothing is more important than our sheep.”
Yrling considered this. “And to eat in the meantime -?”
Ælfwyn did not have this answer, but Sidroc did. “We have time now to hunt. There is deer and boar in the woods.” He smiled at Ælfwyn. “We will be hunting out ewes and rams there anyway.”
“We could lay snares for hares,” I ventured. “There are many about, breeding, as it is Spring.”
“Yes, hares; and wild birds such as pheasant and woodcocks and partridges, which would be good on the table,” agreed Ælfwyn.
Yrling listened to all this, and finally spoke; and it was with decision. “If it will save silver, we will do this thing.” He looked at Ælfwyn as he touched the small golden dish. In his voice was now a challenge. “And if, by your sheep, you bring me more gold, I will be made glad.”
Ælfwyn smiled at him, a smile of triumph, and grasped his hand.
When we finally rose from the table that night Ælfwyn motioned that she would go up with me for a moment. Yrling and Sidroc were talking together, with Sidroc still standing. Toki sprawled at another table, watching the gaming and calling out advice to those who played. He had never stopped drinking all evening and looked as if he barely kept from sliding off the bench he sat upon.
On the way up the stairs I took Ælfwyn’s hand. “How proud your parents would be of you,” I said, with all the warmth I felt.
She laughed, and it was clear she too was pleased with her success. “Yes,” she said, as we gained the room, “but I am not out of the woods yet.”
The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 27