Nature's Tribe

by Jacky Gray

  Several days later, Senna was invited to lunch with Cora, who was still enjoying the week of leisure granted for the honey-moon. Unfortunately, Alfun had not been able to spend much of it with his wife as his remedy was very much in demand in the outlying farms where word had spread.

  Paulina took the opportunity to visit her mother, promising to come round later as Dagda would also be there. Cora’s eyes shone as she welcomed Senna, making a fuss over the baby, and insisting on a cuddle as she led the way to the room Alfun’s parents had given over to them until their cottage was ready.

  “This is lovely, Cora. You are lucky to … oh.”

  “Surprise!” Four voices chorused as her mother, Bernadine and Dagda all stood to greet her.

  Lyrelie’s lower lip wobbled at the unexpected noise, eliciting a flurry of coos and ahhs as they apologised in the tone women reserve for small, cute creatures.

  Senna smiled at her daughter’s ability to reduce a roomful of strong, resourceful women into sentimentality.

  As the others fussed, Rielle hugged her. “I’m sorry not to have been around to visit more often, but we have had several exciting developments in the business. But with certain people,” she pretended to glare at Cora, “lazing around here all day, I’ve been rushed off my feet.”

  “Mother. Will you ever learn to stop teasing? Poor Cora looks distraught.”

  “Psh. She knows how much I appreciate her or I wouldn’t have given her a week of idle dallying.”

  Senna decided her mother could do with a taste of her own medicine. “Despite your total neglect, I have been coping, thanks to …”

  “Paulina. I know. Dagda keeps me informed.” She glanced around. “I hoped she might come with you. I’d love to hear how she’s getting on since I had to let her go.”

  Tightening her lips, Senna knew her mother’s strange behaviour merely covered her guilt because she’d only managed one brief visit since her granddaughter’s arrival. Even then she’d not stayed long because she did not want to wake the sleeping babe.

  Bernadine approached with a concerned expression. “I’m afraid I cannot stay long, my dear. I have employed a girl to look after the children, but my instinct tells me if anything were to go wrong, she would not be able to deal with it.”

  “Surely not.”

  “I sincerely hope not. But she does not fill me with the highest confidence. Unlike Paulina. From what I hear, she is a marvel with babes, and is not afraid of hard work.”

  “It wouldn’t be Dagda saying this, would it? You do know they are sisters.” Rielle held up her hands. “I’ll not dispute she’s a hard worker, but …”

  Senna jumped in quickly to defend the girl, addressing Bernadine directly. “I would not have got through the past few days without her. She has such patience, and is a fast learner, instinctively understanding what needs to be done. But more than any of that, she loves being with babes – I feel she has a connection to Lyrelie, anticipating her needs as though she were her mother.”

  “My, that’s recommendation indeed. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to part with her? Even if it’s just for the occasional few hours here and there, it would be a great help.”

  Senna thought this sounded like a fine idea as the girl would quickly broaden her experience. “Of course Paulina must agree, but I’m sure she’ll be happy with it.” She envisioned a number of women in Bernadine’s position willing to pay handsomely for a few hours respite, and maybe even a position at one of the grand houses in the nearby towns. As her dreams for the girl developed, she was barely aware of the discussion between the other women until Rielle touched her arm.

  She glanced up to find them all regarding her expectantly. “Sorry, I was wool-gathering. What was the question?”

  With a sigh, Rielle explained the plan Bernadine’s problem-solving mind had come up with to solve both her and Dagda’s immediate problems. “So instead of trying to fight against the exclusively male council to get a permit to make and sell her own designs for women’s shoes, she will come and work for Taysen and I.”

  Senna immediately saw the benefit. “How perfect. She will be able to use fabric offcuts to trim the shoes to fit your gowns exactly.”

  Cora’s eyes shone. “What a perfectly wonderful idea. And I shall have my friend to work with every day. It’s like an answer to all my prayers.”

  Bernadine puffed out her chest the way her husband did when he addressed gatherings about council matters. “I’m gratified to have been the facilitator of such good fortune. But now I really must leave. This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my daughter. But she has a fine pair of lungs on her – I’m sure I would have heard her displeasure if she’d awoken.”

  They all waved her off, enjoying the sunshine, and were about to return inside when Paulina stumbled round the corner, her eyes wet with tears.

  It took a deal of sympathy and a couple of beakers of Cora’s calming brew before the girl resumed her composure sufficiently to tell how she’d run into Kerise and her friend. She faltered through the ordeal of being called a beggar and other nasty names. “Th- then she said I’d only won the May Queen because I let the boys have their way with me.” Her face dissolved in tears.

  Dagda hugged her sister and Senna almost felt sorry for Kerise, thinking of the punishment the older girl would mete out. One thing was for sure: her mother and Cora would never have to worry about any more trouble in the workroom with Dagda in charge. All in all, it had been a fine day’s work.

  I don’t know about you, but I was really touched by the powerful sisterhood of these women surrounding Senna. It gives me hope for the future, and I look forward to seeing how they fare in the next decade or so.

  You are lucky enough not to have to wait that long as the next story catches up with some of these women several years down the line.

  A number of readers of 12 Days of Yule were extremely moved by the disturbing relationship between Lareeta and her parents, wanting to know more. Particularly what had turned her father into such a cold-hearted monster.

  Senna knew little of the girl who became a surrogate daughter to Rielle, Senna’s kind-hearted mother, when she moved to Marlborough.

  The only person who can do full justice to her story is Lareeta herself. She is helped along by a few words from a man I have a lot of respect for – a talented craftsman.

  Lareeta and Taron

  Part 3 – Ostara

  Fifteen years later

  10 – Unexpected Meeting

  Lareeta gazed around the beautiful chamber which had been her home for the past two days giving thanks for her good fortune. A lucky happenstance had led her to seek employment with the wonderful woman who was far more of a mother to her than hers had ever been. Her Christian upbringing frowned sternly at the idea of not honouring her parents, but she merely stated facts.

  Truth be told, she now had nothing but sympathy for the poor woman who’d borne her for nine months, then laboured for days, only to be scolded when her husband realised the mewling infant did not have the right equipment. Or so she imagined. But she was remembering it through a child’s eyes.

  Three years later, when his son entered the world with a scream fit to shake the foundations of the house, her father came the closest she’d ever seen to a smile. Lauded by all who knew him as a “God-fearing man,” he ruled his household with a rod of iron. Lareeta had little experience of adult men and women for whom warm smiles and uproarious laughter came naturally and often.

  She shuddered at memories normally kept suppressed under layers of the joyful ones she’d gathered since that first day her twelve-year-old self had stepped into Rielle’s workroom in Marlborough. Her father decreed she needed gainful employment, but his overbearing attitude proved too much for many of the potential employers – of what he considered reputable businesses – in the town. Thankfully, he was required on business that day, so she entered the shop with her mother and was instantly entranced as the charming woman had shown her int
o the back room with a twinkle in her eye.

  Lareeta found it hard to believe that was four years ago, or how much she’d learned under the guidance of this gentle woman and her husband. Now, she had moved on thanks to Rielle’s kindness, staying in a house the couple owned in Avebury. She and Cedany, a sweet-natured girl of similar age, slept in the chambers above the main house, now part of the workroom.

  Instead of going to church that Sunday, she would dine with her supervisor, an imposing woman called Dagda. She sighed at the idea of meeting the woman’s friends, especially if they were all like her. But at least she would know Freya, a younger girl from the workroom, and she would meet Rielle’s daughter, Senna. Wrapping a shawl round her shoulders, she walked a little way down the street, counting five houses before knocking on the door.

  Dagda welcomed her into her home with kind reassurance. “No need to look so anxious, my dear. It is merely an opportunity for you meet some of my friends. You barely know anyone in the village outside of the workroom, and people are eager to meet you.”

  The enormous table groaned with food prepared by many hands as each woman had brought along a dish or two. As Dagda reeled off the names, Lareeta struggled to remember any of the adults apart from Senna, who shared her mother’s warm smile. Freya sat next to Lyrelie, Senna’s daughter and thus Rielle’s granddaughter.

  Both girls were politely curious about Lareeta, making pleasant conversation, but a shared secret frequently distracted their attention. As soon as the meal ended, they gathered the dishes and disappeared out to rinse them under the pump, their intention plain. Lareeta had no desire to intrude on what was clearly a fast friendship.

  The three women gathered by the hearth, where two younger children played, and the men stayed at the table, sharing a bottle of brandy-wine. Trying not to draw attention to her isolation, Lareeta slipped out to explore the rest of the impressive plot, even bigger than Rielle’s. Where her sewing workroom was not much bigger than the main room in a normal house, the long, low building at the bottom of Sawyer’s garden seemed at least twice the size. Approaching it, she heard a noise and glanced back to see the two girls huddled over their task.

  She paused, holding her breath and heard it again, a low, rasping sound she could not place. With a houseful of people a short distance away, it didn’t enter her head to be concerned. Her instinct was that her hosts should know about a thief. Glancing round for something to use as a weapon, she spotted the branch of a tree. She picked it up, testing its weight and the range of its swing.

  With more courage than her delicate appearance might suggest, Lareeta pushed the door, which opened without a sound. Creeping in, she spied a lone figure bending over the workbench, using a tool on something resting in a clamp. Whatever it was seemed to hold his attention as he moved the tool backwards and forwards, making the rasping sound.

  Her first thought, due to years of conditioning, was distress at the idea of someone working on the Lord’s day. The second, as she crept closer, was the man seemed rather narrow of shoulders for a carpenter. Most of the craftsmen she’d ever seen had thick muscles hewn from many years of hard labour. Not that she’d seen many craftsmen outside of church; where they sat in the back rows, far behind the more gently-born. As the third thought, that no burglar would be toiling at a bench, tried to gain some attention, the figure turned.

  Her gaze focussed on the curve of his lips as his grin broadened until his cheeks dimpled. And the way the skin crinkled around his eyes as they fixed on the branch raised above her head. “Are you going to hit me with that fearsome weapon?”

  She became aware of the weight of the branch, and the vulnerability of her position. If she swung it, he could easily wrench it away. No matter how narrow his shoulders, he was likely to be stronger than her. Then he would have a weapon to attack her. As her brain worried about her self-inflicted predicament, she realised that his amused gaze had become more intense as it roamed down to where her raised arms tightened the material of her kirtle around her ribs, forcing her breasts to strain against her chemise.

  Bringing the branch down, she blushed. “I thought you were a thief.”

  He folded his arms. “You realise a thief would have no qualms about wrenching that branch from your hands and using it against you.”

  She nodded, staring at the shavings of wood curling on the floor by his feet.

  “And a thief would have even fewer qualms about forcing his will on you.” His exasperation diminished as amusement softened his words. “You don’t seem like a girl with no care for her virtue. Your appearance suggests a demure young lady brought up in a gentle part of town and attending church every Sunday like a good Christian.”

  She tensed as he leaned back against the bench, his tone playful. “So what would a respectable damsel be doing in a humble workroom, alone with a lowly-born stranger? Unless it is to seek a thrill?” He moved toward her abruptly, but she anticipated his move, swiftly raising the branch and aiming it a little below his midriff.

  He slowed his rush, but not before the sharp end of the branch had connected with a tender area of his body. Wincing, he swiped the offending article away, his hand clutching the front of his breeches.

  Wasting no time, she rushed to the door, but he recovered enough to reach it first, blocking her escape.

  Standing out of his range, she sought every bit of courage and mirrored his earlier pose, folding her arms. “You have had your fun. I suggest you allow me to leave or I shall scream and Freya will alert everyone in the house.”

  “Sorry, Lareeta. I did not mean anything by it. I merely meant to tease.”

  “I did not find it the slightest bit amusing.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait. How do you know my name?”

  “Sawyer is my cousin.”

  She frowned. “Dagda’s husband? This is his workroom.” Things began to make sense. “And it explains why you know so much about me.” Other things did not. “Why are you working on the Lord’s day? And why were you not invited to dine with us?”

  “Dagda suggested there would be enough people; she didn’t want to frighten you. Actually, I think she’s ashamed of me.” He gestured at the workbench. “As for the Holy Day; I was not working.” A shrug. “It is something I do in my spare time. My work is at the smith’s.”

  She glanced back. “May I see it?”

  “Of course.” He seemed pleased by her interest, but the moment he bent down to release the object from its clamp, she made her escape, running over to the house in time to help Lyrelie and Freya to carry the clean dishes back to the house. They said nothing about her sudden appearance and, when she glanced back, she could see no sign of her tormentor.

  During the next three weeks, she thought about him often, never quite sure of her feelings for him, nor the reaction his teasing had caused. Her father ensured she kept away from any young men of her own age, unless they occupied the first three rows at church, which they rarely did. He would have seethed with anger if he’d seen the young men who came calling for Rielle’s girls at the Marlborough workroom: mostly apprentice blacksmiths, carpenters and many in the clothing trade. So she had no experience of even talking to a boy, let alone all the other things the girls giggled about.

  As she worked, she listened carefully for any mention of Sawyer’s cousin, but no one mentioned him and she had no idea how to bring up the subject without explaining what she already knew. Each time a boy’s name arose, she would form an opinion of him based on what the other girls said. She watched Freya closely for her reaction, surmising that most of those talked about were far older than her, only a few names caused any reaction, so she noted them.

  Then Marena, an older girl, mentioned that Sawyer would be getting a new apprentice. All the other girls demanded details.

  “Is he tall and handsome?”

  “How old is he?”

  “What do his parents do?”

  “Is he walking out with anyone?”

  Marena held up her hands at the onsla
ught. “One at a time, please. I’m afraid you will all be disappointed to find out it is merely Taron.”

  “The smith’s ’prentice? How boring.”

  Lareeta’s ears pricked up. It couldn’t be the same boy. Boring was not a word she would associate with his twinkling eyes and shoulders she had decided were not narrow for a youth of his years, but rather nicely drawn. Unless it was merely her mind bestowing him with more fetching attributes than he actually possessed.

  Unfortunately, it meant she missed any further details as the girls had moved on to speculate about his potential replacement at the smithy.

  At day’s end, Freya invited her to dine at Senna’s. “Do say you’ll come. Lyrelie is keen to reacquaint.”

  “That would be wonderful. I was not looking forward to dining alone.”

  Freya winked. “Of course. Cedany spends Tuesday eves with the family of Baxter, her dashing young man.”

  Lareeta nodded. “What time?”

  “You could come now if you have nothing better to do. Lyrelie and I had a lot to talk about on Sunday, so we were a little rude. We wanted to make it up to you.”

  As they walked, Freya glanced at her. “What do you think of Taron?”

  “W-who?”

  “Sawyer’s cousin.”

  “What makes you think I know him?”

  “The way your eyes went all dreamy earlier when Marena spoke of him.”

  Lareeta skirted round a puddle on the muddy path. More than anything, she needed someone with whom to share these unfamiliar feelings. “I met a youth on Sunday in Sawyer’s workroom, but I did not know his name.”

  Freya’s eyes widened. “I knew it. I told Lyrelie you disappeared, but she was so full of what had happened with Cal when …” She clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oops. My runaway mouth. Please don’t say anything.” She glanced round. “To anyone. Lyrelie would scold me if she found out.”