“And beautiful women,” muttered Gyric.
I thought to myself: They are men, like any other; but this I did not say.
“They are cursed heathens,” said Gyric with something like heat. He ended with an awful oath. “Christ blind them.”
“They are heathen, and worship the old Gods,” I answered softly.
He said nothing; I do not think he heard me, for his anger was come upon him again. He clenched his hands into fists upon his lap, and his brow creased deeply.
“Do you want to walk?” I asked, feeling helpless. “Or perhaps you are weary and wish to sleep?”
“I will lie down,” he said. I shook out the sheep skin to fluff it, and he stretched out on his back on the table, his hand on the hilt of his seax. He winced as he lay down.
“Your ribs must pain you very much.”
“I tried to escape, before I was brought to Four Stones,” he answered. “Hingvar’s men caught me and kicked me until I knew no more.”
“You tried to escape after... after they wounded you?”
“Yes,” he answered shortly. “I must have been out of my head. I was like a blind dog crawling along the ground, looking for a way out. It was good sport for those who found me.”
I said nothing, for I could think of nothing fit to say. I lay his green mantle over him and said, “Try to rest.”
The Sun was now high overhead, filling the camp with needed warmth. Gwenyth was nowhere to be seen, and all was quiet. I felt my own weariness, and went and lay down on my bedroll and slept.
Chapter the Forty-ninth: Leave-taking
IT took a long time for me to fall asleep that night, and I lay awake gazing at the waxing Moon. I did not know how Gyric and I would find our way out of Lindisse. It would not be safe to use any roads we might find, so we must go overland, which would be slow. Even then we might be seen by Danes, or brigands. If our horses could not outrun danger we would be lost, for I could not defend us. I did not know how long our food would last, or how we could find more. All these thoughts kept tumbling in my head, and I had answers for none of them.
In the morning I brought warm water and a linen towel to Gyric so he might wash. He turned away from me and untied the wrap around his wound, so that he might wipe his face. He reached again for the wrap, but his fingers missed it where it lay upon the table. I silently pushed it within his reach, and he found it and tied it over his empty eyes. I walked away from him, that he might wash more fully, wishing that he knew he need not hide his wound from me.
He walked now with the spear that Holt had fitted as his staff, and in my heart I praised Ælfwyn and her cleverness for providing it. It was tall and stout, and a good support for him as he walked, for he could place it before him and so be sure of his next step. But greater than this, it was a weapon, and a worthy one for a King’s atheling, wounded as he was. The seax, too, he wore at all times, and oftimes rested his hand upon its hilt as he sat.
That noon Gwenyth began to gather up kindling and place it under the little shelter. I went to the fir trees and began pulling out the dried twigs and branches beneath them, and laid them next to what she herself gathered. After a while she said to me, “Holt and I leave tonight.”
“Tonight?”
She answered me without stopping in her work. “The Moon will be near full, and give us light to travel.”
She guessed at my thought and said, “Stay as you need to.”
I thought of the debt I owed her. “I cannot repay your help to us, but only hope that you will take some silver for yourself, and Holt, and for Meryth, too; for she helped me greatly and I could not reward her.”
“It will be long before I see Meryth.”
“Silver does not go bad, and she would welcome it greatly,” I urged. I went to my satchel and drew forth the black pouch. I counted out ten new pieces of silver, and went to Gwenyth and pressed them into her hand. “Take them for the sake of your son, and your sister, if you will not take them for yourself.”
She did not look at the wealth in her hand, but regarded me closely. For answer she closed her fingers over the silver.
I went over to where Gyric sat at the table, knowing he must have heard this. As I sat next to him he said, “I will be ready to ride on the morrow.”
“There is no rush,” I said. “Gwenyth says we are safe here, and it is better that your ribs be more healed.”
There were indeed many comforts in the camp that we would soon do without. Here we had water, and a good firepit, much kindling, and the big iron cauldron. There was even the little roofed shelter should it rain.
“I will be ready tomorrow,” he said. “It is a long way to travel. We should begin soon.”
I knew he was right, for as the weather grew warmer, the Danes would be more likely to grow in numbers as they moved across the countryside.
“Then we will start tomorrow, if you feel well,” I conceded.
Gwenyth and Holt gathered their basket packs and took their leave of us just after dark. Gyric and I sat together at the table as the night deepened. It was a still night, and without Gwenyth and Holt the camp seemed silent and empty. After a while I rose and poked a few more sticks into the fire. It crackled in a welcoming way, and I stood near it for both its light and warmth.
“Are you there?” asked Gyric, of a sudden.
“Yes, yes, I am here,” I answered, coming towards him. I stood near him, wondering what more to do.
He lowered his head and said, “You do not say much.” The way in which he said this told me that he wished I would speak more.
I sat down on the bench next to him. “I am sorry. You are very quiet yourself, and I do not want to chatter while you are trying to mend.”
He moved his head slightly. “You do not chatter,” he replied. His voice was so low that it was if he questioned himself. “What will happen to Ælfwyn, and the rest of the Saxons who helped you, when they find I am gone?”
I took a breath and said, “By now they know you are gone; it has been three days. Yrling was away hunting, but he must be back by now. We did not think he would care much. Yrling did not want to accept you from Hingvar’s men and was very angry about - about what happened to you. So if he does not care about losing you, all he might care about is the black horse, and he has a valley full of good horses. One might not be enough to really hunt for us for.”
“What about you? You are gone as well.”
I did not answer at first, but then said, “Ælfwyn is clever, and I feel certain she would persuade him not to hunt for us.” I tried to give my voice a confidence I did not feel. “And I did all I could to make it seem as tho’ it was all my doing, alone and apart from Ælfwyn. I would not let her give us anything that made it look as tho’ she betrayed Yrling in helping you escape.”
He listened to all this, and then said quietly, “You are a good friend to her.”
It was easy to answer this, and I did so with real warmth. “She is the best and brightest of women to me, and like the sister I never had.”
“Yet you only met in February.”
“Yes, but much befell us since the day we met.” I looked into the fire. “I do not think the number of days matter when you share as much as we did.”
Now he turned his head away, and murmured, “I know what you speak of.”
When I awoke in the morning the sky was grey and low with clouds. I stood up, stiff and achy from my night upon the ground. The sheepskin beneath me was warm, but after sleeping so long on the feather beds of our chamber, the ground felt hard indeed.
Gyric was already up, or at least standing by the table. The spear, which he kept propped up at one end of it, had fallen to the ground, and he reached out with his bare foot to feel where it lay. I crossed over to him and picked it up and placed it in his hand.
He nodded his head for reply, and I said, “I will warm some water so we might wash, and boil some broth out of the partridges while I start to
pack.” It was Easter morning, but I could not speak any word of glad resurrection to one as sorrowful as Gyric.
He put out his hand and found the bench and touched the shoes he had left there the night before. I knew it was painful for him to bend. I dropped down and gently took them from him and laced them upon his feet. For thanks he only nodded again. He rose and began picking his way across the camp. He could find his way beyond the circle of trees, and also to the tiny upper creek where we filled the cauldron.
I wanted to bathe before we started our journey, for with the large cauldron in the camp it was easy to heat much water. I felt foolish as I looked around to see where I might undress and wash myself. I could just stand by the cauldron, but felt shy to do so. I had never been naked before any man, and Gyric might guess by the splashing of water what I was doing before him.
I took a basin of hot water to the creek and mixed it with some cold, and quickly stripped off my gown and shift. I wetted my whole body down with the warm water of the little basin, and rubbed myself hard with the towel to get both dry and warm.
I dressed myself and came back into the camp. Gyric was by the firepit, and I stood near him as I combed out my wet hair. I said, “I will begin to pack now, and then we will eat.”
He took a step forward and then stopped. I felt he wanted to help me, and I cast about in my mind for something he could do.
“Will you count out our silver?” I asked him, fetching the black leathern pouch. “It will be good to know how many pieces we have.”
He sat down again, and pulled open the pouch which I set before him. I watched him lift a piece and place it before him upon the broad table face.
I began gathering up all those things which lay about. I shook out and rolled up our hides and sheepskins, and tied them secure with leathern cords. The partridges Gwenyth had left us began to boil, and I fished them out and dropped a loaf of wheaten bread into the broth. I took it from the fire to let it cool, and then came over to Gyric. All the silver was back in the pouch.
“You are done,” I said.
“There are eighty four whole pieces, and four cut quarter pieces.”
“That is a lot of coin,” I said. I turned to my satchel and drew out the red pouch. “Here is much more silver, and some gold, too,” I said, emptying it before him.
He did not reach out to feel it, and I picked up one of the silver pins and touched his hand with it. “Here is a silver pin set with garnets,” I explained. “Here are three more, plain, but with good silver work, each.”
He slowly rubbed his fingers against these things as I spoke about them. “This is a wide bracelet of silver set with blue stones,” I said.
“Dark blue?”
“Yes,” I answered, glad he showed some interest.
“It must be lapis,” he said.
“Here are two gold rings,” I went on, and threaded one each of them on his littlest fingers. They fit, and as I looked on his slender hands thus glinting with gold, I was moved to say, “Wear these yourself, and also the silver bracelet. They are meant to be yours anyway.”
He did not answer, but reached out and found the bracelet again. He fingered the silver, tracing the bezels that held the three blue stones upon it.
“It is very beautiful,” I remarked.
He took it in his hand and pressed it over his right wrist. He gave a small sound, like a sigh, and lay his hands upon the table.
“I have had both pouches in my satchel,” I told him, “but perhaps it is best if we each carry one. You take the jewellery; it is small, and you can wear it on your belt.”
I scooped the rest of the jewellery into the pouch and pulled it tightly shut. Gyric unbuckled his belt and threaded the drawstrings through it. I was glad to see him wear the rings and bracelet, and to have him take the pouch into his keeping. Other than the small amount he had eaten it was the first sign he had given me that he had any interest in living.
“That is good,” I said, regarding now the large pouch of silver. “I think I will keep only a few coins in the pouch on my sash, and put the rest into my satchel for safe-keeping.”
He nodded his head, and I turned now to our food. The broth was cool enough to eat, and the bread had thickened it and given it savour. I sprinkled a tiny pinch of salt on the bowl we shared. For the first time since I had left with Gyric I felt some lightness in my heart.
“I am grateful for this day, and this food,” I said by way of blessing.
Chapter the Fiftieth: Following the Sun
I did not have an easy time saddling our horses, for they were both taller by far than Shagg and their saddles much heavier. Gyric tried to lift one of the saddles for me, but his face showed at once the pain it cost him to lift anything. I did not do a very good job, and tho’ Gyric held their heads firm, the horses skittered and neighed their displeasure at me.
This was how we set out: I tied the reins of the black gelding to the saddle of my mare, and I walked at her head, leading her. Gyric placed one hand on the saddle of his gelding, and used his spear as a staff before him. We left the clearing behind and started down the trail past the birch glade that led to the creek.
“We can ride now, if you think you are able,” I said, looking down the length of the creek as far as I could.
He nodded his head, and I held the stirrup as he lifted his foot into it. He took hold of the glossy black mane and swung himself into the saddle. He groaned as he did so, and his face twisted.
We went on a little way, with me turning in my saddle to look back at Gyric every few feet. I felt sure he was in pain from his ribs, but that was not the reason for the grief he wore upon his face. His head hung low, with his chin nearly touching his chest. The long dark mane of his horse spilled over his tightly gripped fingers. I thought he was miserable, and tho’ he said nothing, his misery showed in every part of him. I could not speak comfort to him, for I felt I had none to give, and the only sound was our horses splashing through the water of the little creek.
After a while the creek widened a bit, and the grassy space surrounding it opened. “Here are green branches before us; duck down,” I warned Gyric.
I watched him flatten himself over his horse’s neck, and then straighten as I called, All clear.
So we went on like this, picking our way through the little creek, sometimes coming up to walk upon the grass, but mostly staying in the water, for the passage was easy and we left no track on its sandy bottom. Gyric said nothing, and tho’ I looked back at him again and again, he never changed in the way he sat upon his black horse: rigidly upright, but with his face cast down.
We went on all afternoon, sometimes crossing larger streams, but always keeping in our Southerly path. We saw not a soul, and heard nothing but the song of birds busy with their Spring nest-building. Many hours had passed when I stopped my mare and turned back to speak to Gyric. “Are you hungry? Would you like to stop and rest?”
He shook his head slightly, and then answered, “I am not hungry.”
I looked at his face, and at his fingers, still twisted tightly in his horse’s mane. “Well, I am hungry and tired too,” I said, deciding we should stop.
As I finished saying this a doe with her fawn crossed the creek not a horse length in front of us and flashed into the woods. My mare tossed her head and snorted and I let out a gasp of surprise as they did.
“What?” called Gyric in a sharp voice.
I turned back to find him sitting up anxiously in his saddle, his drawn seax grasped in his hand.
“Nothing,” I answered. “I am sorry. It was a deer and her fawn. They ran in front of us, and startled me.”
“O.” He slid the seax back into the black scabbard.
“The Sun will set soon. Do you want to stop now and make camp?” I asked again. I looked around us. “There is room about us, just here, for the horses to graze all night.”
For answer he nodded.
I guided our horses unto the
grass and slipped out of the saddle. The ground seemed to rise up very fast under my wobbly legs. Gyric swung down from his gelding and began untying his spear. As I loosened his horse’s reins from my mare’s saddle I said lightly, “I feel I can scarce walk. I am not used to riding all day as you are.”
He stopped in his work and turned his head to me. I wished he would say something; it was hard to try to speak to him when all day he had not spoken in return.
“You must be tired, then,” he said, and there was concern in his voice.
“No, I am fine,” I countered, not wanting him to worry about anything so silly as my tired legs.
“Our horses are good ones, as you said,” he went on. “Your mare is steady too, if she did not shy at the deer.”
“She is a good animal, and beautiful, too” I replied, glad to engage him thus. “She was bred for the first time a few days ago,” I recalled aloud.
He now had his spear before him in his hand. “Then you will have two horses next Spring,” he answered.
I had somehow not considered this fact before. It was hard for me to think of next Spring; to think of where I might be or what I might be doing so far from now. I did not want to think of it, and just said, “Yes, you are right.”
I untied the packs from the saddles as Gyric held the horse’s heads. He moved forward next to his own horse, running his hand down the animal’s neck to his chest. His fingers found the saddle, and he reached beneath to find the girth buckle, and unfastened it. He pulled the saddle off, and set it upon the ground. I watched his face as he did this, to see how much pain this caused him.
“Is the soreness in your ribs better?” I wanted to know.
The Circle of Ceridwen: Book One of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga Page 38