by Smith, Skye
"T'was the elders who sent us to bed last night, and it was the elders who roused us this morning,” the woman with the suckling baby told him. "Something about a big freeze coming, so we have to get the ships out of the river water and into the sea water, so we must use them to go home today."
Daniel rolled out from under the comforter and off the bed mats and found his clothes. Moments later he was fastening his winter cloak and looking for his sea boots. He didn't bother with weapons, for this wasn't that kind of emergency. This was something far more dangerous ... a big freeze. That was why the geese had been flying in the moonlight. They were getting the hell out of here. He tumbled out of the door and hurried to find any of the elders. All of the punts and dinghies were already being hauled out of the water up to dry land. The flat bottomed punts were being flipped over in the low spaces between terp mounds, so that they could be used as walkways between houses.
He found the elder, Cleff, arguing with Leslie Scudds. "No, you can't leave the Alice in the ship's pool,” Cleff was telling Scudds. "The pool is about to freeze solid. Take her down river to Lynn. The furthest of the river quays is washed by salt water. It likely won't freeze, so the Alice won't get stuck."
"Nay, never,” Scudds replied stubbornly. "Me cap'n is sick to the death in one o' them huts, and we ain't leaving without him. If the river freezes over we don't want to be stranded in Lynn. We know nowt o' Lynn and will have to sleep on the ship during the freeze. We's stayin' here."
"Right then,” Cleff didn't have time to argue. "See the ship drawn up on the mudflats at the end of the pool. We've been doing her bottom. There's spare rolling logs and posts over there, and the tackle to pull her out of the water. If you are going to stay then beach the Alice. If nothing else, at least you can use your time by sealing her bottom."
Scudds threw Cleff a half salute and then began throwing orders at the rest of the Lynn men. Meanwhile Cleff began throwing orders at the crews of the other five floating ships. "Load 'em up and get them down stream, as fast as you can. If the weather holds then make for your own villages, otherwise hole up in Lynn and wait out the storm. I don't care where them ships is so long as they ain't in fresh water, got it."
Seamen and visitors ... men, women, and children were crowding the dock, all carrying their belongings. The first ship ran up along side and the commander began yelling out, "Freiston, folk for Freiston, climb aboard! Carry yer gear as far for'd in the main cabin as you can and claim a place to sit. Hop to it! Get a move on!"
Off in front of the longhouse it was Venka who was yelling orders, these to her Wellenhay clanswomen, "Empty everyone and everything out of the small cottages and move them to the large ones. Anything of value. Any mats or clothing or draperies or bedding. Folk will sleep in the long house or the larger cottages. The smaller cottages we'll use for the animals.” To the clansmen, those not on the ships, she began yelling, "Gather the herds, gather the animals, bring them right into the village! The small cottages will save their lives. Hurry!” To the young teens she yelled, "Go to the drying stacks in the fields and fetch back all of the cut peat and fire logs and kindling! We'll need them in the village."
"But they aren't seasoned yet,” a lass called back.
"We'll have to dry them in front of the fires before we use them,” Venka replied. "We have no choice. The Yule feasting used up all of our dry fuel. Go. Don't argue. Bring it all into the village. We don't know how long this big freeze will last. Remember last year. The standing water was frozen for three weeks in one stretch."
Everyone was busy with their tasks except for Daniel. He was the odd man out because he had spent a total of less than three months here over the past year. The activity swirled around him and he felt a bit lost. In truth he felt more than a bit thirsty, so he went in search of hot ale. The first woman out of bed would have put a cauldron of ale on the fire to heat everyone's innards up. He made for the longhouse and once inside its gloom he stumbled about hoping not to step on anyone's bed mat. He needn't have worried. Every bit of bedding had already been packed up. "Ale,” he called out hopefully.
"D'ya expect me to bring it to ya, then?” came a raspy old voice from the direction of the communal kitchen at the back. "A strapping lad such as yourself, and me with two canes.” It was Oudje, the seer, the wise-woman, the eldest of the elders by far. Daniel made his way towards the voice and accepted a half full steaming pot from her gnarled hands.
"So is Cleff right?” he asked her between puffs of breath to cool the surface. "Is a big freeze coming?"
"The birds never lie. They know,” the old woman put the ladle back down and then gave him a cuff across the back of the neck. "I told you. Didn't I tell you. Move the village south, I said. How many times have I told you. We even sent you to the New World to find us a new, warm island, and you found one ... so why are we still here?"
"The war overtook our plans,” he explained weakly.
"That's no excuse. We have the ships, we have the knowledge, and we have the coin. Why are we still here? If anyone dies because of this storm it will be your fault."
"Why me. I'm the one who has been trying the hardest to get the village moved."
"Because you know better,” she said and cuffed him again. "You're the only one who has seen paradise and know that it truly exists. You know that winter is not necessary. Every year the winters are harder, colder, longer, and the growing seasons are shorter. Every year. What do you think is causing this war?"
"Er, the king, er greedy nobles, er the politics of the Empire. What about religion?"
"It's this new age of ice, that's what. My runes describe two of these ages of ice, and both times the crop failures set loose the four horsemen. This time is no different. You speak to me of kings and nobles and emperors. They are but chaff blown by the wind of the age of ice.” She cuffed him again. "Don't you have anything better to do than swill ale. Be off with you.” She raised her hand again, so he ducked, put down his empty pot and fled the building.
Outside the large open terp that served as the village common was emptying of folk and activity. The first two ships were away and the other three were being loaded. His clanfolk were off on those ships, or off rounding up the animals, or off fetching fuel. He looked around for something useful to do, and decided to untie and roll up the duek windbreak around the fire pit in the centre of the common. The big freeze may come with horrendous north east winds which would rip them and snatch them away. Though they were no longer good enough to be used as sails, they were still valuable, and endlessly re-usable.
He had just finished stowing the last of the rolls of duek under the overhanging roof of the longhouse when it began to rain. The temperature rose and it began to rain. He laughed to himself. So much for the big freeze. The prevailing westerlies had won the battle with the nor'easter, and so they would have heavy rain rather than frigid cold. Cleff was on the dock, the only man on the dock, though there were some women waving to the last ship as it left the pool. He walked over and slapped him on the back and told him, "Oh well, you can't be right about the weather all the time. You did the safe thing, but it was all for naught."
"The birds don't lie,” he hissed, but then pulled the deep hood of his winter cloak up over his head to keep the rain from trickling down his neck and face. "I just hope our ships get them all safely home before it starts."
Daniel nodded and said, "They had to go home soon anyway. They've eaten out our larders, and burned up all our wood.” He decided to go back to Venka's bed. It was a good plan. He could catch some more shut eye while the folk were out doing Venka's bidding. He was taking his boots off before entering her cottage, before he realized that despite losing the visitors to the ships, this cottage would still not be quiet and peaceful.
Everything out of three smaller cottages had been dumped along the walls of Venka's. There was barely a place to step that was larger than his toes. He tiptoed to the bed, hung up his cloak, pulled off his work-a-day clothes and slipped under th
e comforter. Ahhh, sleep. On the outside of the wall, the drip of the water running off he sedge roof sung him to sleep. Somewhere in the far, far mist of the Fens, or his dreams, a church bell was ringing.
Slam. The slam of the door opening in a hurry had him sitting straight up and trying to open his eyes. It was Teesa, but he must still be dreaming for it was the Teesa of last year. Teesa the huntress, dressed in forest clothes of buckskin, rather than Teesa the healer dressed in skirts and aprons. "Is Teller with you?” she asked him. He just stared back at her trying to understand the words.
"Wake up. Is Teller with you?"
"Umm, I last saw him in the tower standing watch, but that was last night. Why are you a huntress again? Is there trouble?"
"Are you deaf?” she asked, "didn't you hear the alarm bell and the horns. Cleff is in the tower calling everyone back from the fields."
He was immediately on his feet ramming his legs into his sea britches. It took him seconds to dress, and then without thinking he reached for his weapons. No, not this time. He grabbed his sea boots and his cloak and followed Teesa out the door and immediately lost his footing and went ass over tea kettle. The ground was coated in a thin layer of ice.
"Stop effing around,” Teesa told him. "The rainstorm has turned into an ice storm. We must find Teller. He's a townie, a dry-lander. He knows nothing of ice storms in the marshes.” She saw two men hurrying out from between two cottages and put two fingers to her lips and gave a shrill whistle. They turned, saw her and scurried in short steps across the icy paths and to her.
"We were told that Teller went out with the peat gatherers, but then disappeared along a track."
"He went out into the Fens fields!” Teesa exclaimed, and then told them, "We must spread out and find him. He's lived all his life in Cambridge. He knows squat about the marshes."
"One of the lasses said he left them to chase a contrary ewe. She last saw him running up the abandoned bridle path that leads to Ely. You know, the one that leads to the old peat trenches."
"Oh the fool. He went out to fetch peat and then took off after a sheep. The reason that trail is abandoned is because the peat trenches have flooded and undercut the path. One wrong step and he'll be in six feet of water with no way out up the steep sides.” As she stood still talking, she noticed that ice was forming on her buckskin sleeves. "We have to go after him. I'll go ahead and find his spore, while you lot find some spare cloaks, a rope, and one of the balance boards. We'll meet at the peat stacks.” With that she turned and scurried, slipped and slid towards the foot bridge off Wellenhay island towards the fields.
"I'll get the cloaks,” Daniel told the other two, and disappeared back into Venka's house. By the time he found some old cloaks in a sea trunk and got back outside, the other two were back. One had a coiled ships line resting over his shoulder while the other one had a one foot by eight foot warped plank across his. They set off with the rope in front, and Daniel in the middle, for he hadn't been to the peat stacks for a year. Teesa was waiting there impatiently for them.
"I've picked out the trail, but we'll have to hurry before this sleet turns to snow and covers it,” she told them, but didn't wait for an answer before turning and racing along a track that was more a game trail than a bridle path. "There's cuts on both sides so don't wander from my footsteps,” she called out over her shoulder.
The men tried their best to keep up to her, but it was tough going, slippery and treacherous, made more so by the sleet hitting your eyes. She was tracking the whole time and yet she never seemed to need to bend and take a closer look, or ponder at a turn to be sure of the next direction. For five years she had been the best hunter in the clan, and this was why. She had a sixth sense as if she was an animal, and it allowed her to see and hear and smell things that others could not. Other people anyway.
She had stopped so they could catch up. "Now it gets tricky,” she told them. They looked at her as if to say, "When wasn't it tricky?” She pointed off into the marsh reeds. "The ewe went off the path here, and Teller followed her. I'll go first. Step only where I have stepped."
Their pace now slowed because stepping off a Fens path during a rainstorm, never mind an ice storm, took foolhardiness to the extreme. Teesa looked about and thought before each step. Each foot must be placed somewhere solid, or almost solid, like on a root ball of a plant, or a local high spot. The men followed her one at a time matching her footsteps, but this time with the plank right behind Teesa in case it was needed to provide her with a path over a gap. The man with the rope suggested that she tie one end around her waist, but she refused.
"Shush, listen,” she called out over her shoulder. Everyone stopped and stood perfectly still. The only sound was the hiss of the ice rain, and then it too stopped. The sky had changed, lightened. And then the first snow flakes fell in front of their eyes. The flakes were big and heavy and wet, and at first they melted as soon as they landed on something, but after a moment they began to turn the plants around them white.
"If we don't find him soon, we'll have to turn back,” the plank man said, and with good reason. This heavy snow would soon hide all the safe footfalls from sight, would soon bury the old path, and would soon lose them in this dangerous marsh.
"I said shush,” Teesa snapped irritably. She was well aware of the heightened danger they were all in.
Daniel watched her from the end of the line. Should he take command and order them all back to the village. The men would obey him, but would Teesa? She had her hands cupped to her ears and was slowly, very slowly turning her head.
"There,” she pointed. "The bleat of a sheep. There!” In a hurry now, she stepped to the next root-ball and the next while keeping her hands cupped to her ears. She reached a drier bit of marsh. She could tell this because it was whiter than what surrounded it. She began to trot, carelessly trot, fool hardy.
Daniel was about to call to her to slow down when she stopped, turned, and reached for the plank. "He's there, in the bog ahead. Only the plank man could see what she had seen, and he was moving forward as he changed his grip on the plank so it could be run out in front of him. The rope man had unshouldered his line and was uncoiling it and tying a loop at each end. By the time Daniel could see what Teesa had seen, the plank was already reaching out into the snow flakes ahead of them, and one loop of the line was being offered to Teesa.
The plank man let the far end of the plank drop, and then he tested it. The plank was in the shape of the ship it had been curved for and that curve was facing up. "All right, it is solid on the other side. Do you think I can move it closer to the lad?"
Daniel looked along the plank. At mid span and just to the left he could see two faces floating in a pool of water. The ewe with her face out of the water and held up there by the air in her winter coat of wool, and Teller, with his nose and mouth just above the water level, and kept there because he had a firm grip on the ewe's wool. The ewe bleeped weakly at the presence of the men, and tried to struggle away from the plank.
"His hand moved,” Teesa exclaimed almost with glee.
"Give me the rope, I'll go,” Daniel told them. Someone had to inch out along the plank and tie the rope around the lad.
"Don't be a fool,” Teesa told him. "I'm half your weight, and more agile.” Without waiting for a response she grabbed the loop and began to cross the plank on her hands and knees. The bow in the plank flattened with her weight, but because of the curve it did not slip under the water. She inched forward, the plank was holding, but then she turned back to the bank. Once off the plank she told them, "Move the plank as close as you can to them, else I won't have the reach or the balance to put the loop over them."
They shifted the plank and she started out again, on hands and knees still, but faster this time. When she was within reach of the floating bodies, she expanded the loop, made sure of her balance, and then half threw, half dropped the loop over them. She tugged the rope carefully one way and then another to seat it and draw the loop tight. "L
et me get off this plank before you pull them in.” It took her a moment to back off the plank, and in her hurry she twice almost fell off.
Once she was clear, the men hauled the lad and the ewe to the edge of the pool and then reached into the freezing water and grabbed handfuls of his clothing and hauled him up. She spread out the spare cloaks and said, "Pull him onto these cloaks so that I can see to him."
Daniel took a look around. The falling snow was now so thick that he could barely see beyond the end of the plank. "Nay, lass, we haven't the time. Here, lift my cloak up so they can hang him around my neck, and then cover us both with my cloak and another. As I carry him, my own heat will keep him warm.” He stooped down and the others did as he asked. The lad was soaking wet with ice water, and now the water ran down his neck and back and he almost cried out at the shock of it. With the cloaks in place, and the other men steadying him, he stood up and turned away from the deadly pool.
Teesa had recoiled the rope and had hung it over her shoulders, and now she stepped in front of Daniel to pick out the way back to the old bridle path. She kept having to blow the snow out of her eyes, for she had no hood, and no cloak. The plank man picked up the remaining spare cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled the deep hood up for her. "Yer freezin' lass,” he said. "Buckskin ain't warm enough for weather such as this.” Then he picked up the plank and said to the other man, "Bring the ewe. If it lives, good, if not, good for the pot.” The other man lifted the weakly bleating animal over his shoulders and cried out as some of the water cascaded out of the wool and seeped through his cloak.
The way back to the bridle path was treacherous in the extreme, or would have been if anyone but Teesa had been in the lead. Step by step she made her way. Once at the old path they sped their pace, and once they were beyond the old path they began to trot ... putting all their effort into getting the lad to the sweat lodge so they could warm some life back into him. The temperature was dropping; they were losing feeling in their feet; they were tiring; all of which made their loads and their legs feel heavier.