by Ashley Fox
They all lobbed a last few handfuls of mud then turned tail and ran. Outraged shrieks from the girls followed them, with shouts of ‘get them!’ the girls raced after them. Their maid futilely called for them to stop and come back but they paid no heed. The bass rumble of laughter from the soldiers followed them.
They raced across the yard, aiming for one of the doorways that cut through the page’s wing into the Palace Gardens. The corridor was mostly empty, it being lunch time, just a few startled servants, whose shock turned to anger when the boys left a trail of rain water and mud in their wake. Heedless, the boys raced on, into the Gardens, down twisting paths. After a while they came to an unspoken agreement and stopped, panting and grinning at one another. Llew looked about himself, the path they were on was a short stretch, tall rose bushes on either side, where the foliage was thick and hid them from view. He strained to hear anything, but all was still apart from their heavy breathing. “We lost them! Stupid girls are too slow, they can’t catch us!”
“Llew, Llew that was such a good idea! Ha, did you see their faces, I landed a right big handful of mud on Holly’s face!”
“Yes, and then she shoved you into a puddle!”
“Shut up Lantana, I saw Violet shove you in the mud!”
“Yeah, face first!”
“Yeah I know, she’s pretty strong!”
They started to walk back, teasing each other. Llew loved the fact that his idea had gone so well, and they had all followed his lead, this just proved how…
“Hello stinky faces.”
They had come to the end of the rose bushes and Holly and Violet stood in front of them, holding a large bucket between them. The smell reached Llew’s nose, the dread stink of the midden heaps. He pulled a face and edged back, the others with him. The girls stalked them, their arms pulling back to chuck the contents over them. The boys didn’t wait for that but turned and ran once more, the girls at their heals. As they reached the other end of the bushes Holly shouted, “Now!”
The rest of the girls closed in from the other end, trapping them. Something warm and thick poured over his face, into his mouth and eyes. When he gasped it even went up his nose. Blinded he stumbled, tripping over someone and falling, Holver’s bulk softening his landing. More midden slops were thrown over him, he could hear the raucous cries of the girls laughing. Wiping….he didn’t know what, from his eyes he could see them still holding empty buckets, clinging to one another in their mirth. Violet was sitting on the grass, mud smeared across her cheek, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Llew and the others were all in a big heap, covered in the foul smelling mess and Gos looked at him, blinking owlishly. Lantana sat up, detangling her legs from Holver, she looked around and started making a funny noise. Llew thought maybe the trauma had driven her crazy, then he realized she was laughing. Llew gaped at her, laughing? They’d just been made fools of. Gos joined in, even Holver managed a chuckle, his sister using the only clean part of her dress to wipe the foul mess from his eyes. Llew looked over the group again, the pages in a messy pile, the girls like wilted, mud splattered flowers and felt a laugh bubbling up despite himself. Until a stern and furious voice boomed over them.
“By the Mother’s ever illuming grace, what do you think you are doing?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Eight of Cups
Mera shut the door behind her, and leaned against it, sighing heavily. She had met Cerid Wren at the crack of dawn and was exhausted. She opened her eyes and looked blearily into her rooms. She still couldn’t believe they were hers. The door led to a small corridor, with cupboards on either side. She opened one now, hanging up her coat and taking off her muddy boots. Tansy wouldn’t be happy when she saw them. Tansy had been assigned as her permanent maid now, it meant her only chores were looking after Mera. She thought that had meant Tansy would have less work and more pay and privileges, but Tansy had assured her that she was busier than ever. Mera didn’t understand how, but didn’t want to make her angry. She passed the door that led to Tansy’s room, stopping a moment and listening. She couldn’t hear anything, and when she was in she usually left it open and was busy bustling around. Mera was glad, she needed a little peace.
The main room was a large parlour, the centre of which a large hollow, four shallow stairs leading down into a seating area. She tossed her satchel on one of the three sofas that were arrayed facing the hearth, little tables and puffs scattered about. Her fingers luxuriated in the deep velvet as she took a moment to roll out her shoulders. Around the depression were more cabinets and mirrors than Meredith knew what to do with. There were two bay windows with balconies. In front of one sat a four seated table, of finely carved wood, delicate looking. At the moment her notes lay scattered all over it, Tansy’s cheaply printed adventure stories and political pamphlets from Merida, and some books she had snuck out of the library.
By the other window had sat a loom when she first moved in. She didn’t know why. She had never even sewn, and certainly didn’t plan on taking up weaving. She had Tansy get some servants to take it away, but not only had she done that, she had managed to dig up a dusty and rather bizarre table. It had been circular, a circle within a circle, the inner circle much lower that the outer, connected by lots of little round, square and triangular shelves. It’s legs had been odd, and in the process of cleaning it they had discovered that it separated into two semi circles. Neither girl, nor any other servant who helped carry it, knew what it was for it had been so long buried.
Now it sat with each semicircle curving to the light of the window. Mera already had some cuttings and bulbs growing in pots set on them. The two tier was perfect for allowing the best amount of light for the most plants. She had brought six long lengths of ribbon, all in different colours as a thank you. She was getting an allowance now, and she knew Tansy would love them. What she hadn’t expected was for Tansy to burst into tears.
Other doors led to a large bedroom for her, complete with fainting couch and beauty desk. Everywhere was open spaces and light. Her room was done in soothing green, the night sky painted on the ceiling. The parlour marble, the walls punctuated by frescoed trees, the upper branches supporting the ceiling which in turn was painted like a spring sky, complete with fluffy clouds. Polished wooden floors, the seating area softly carpeted. It was beautiful, but a little overwhelming.
Mera sniffed the air, drawn to the table on which lay a tray of covered dishes. Her belly gave a loud growl reminding her that she hadn’t eaten yet. Smiling, she thought Tansy knew her well. She pulled out a chair and sat, not bothering to wash her hands. It was only a bit of earth beneath her nails. She uncovered each dish to find a herbal salad with dressing, a cooling soup thick with onion and carrot and lamb and spices. Her mouth started to water, there was a roll still holding warmth from the oven and freshly churned butter. She uncovered the last bowl finding apples poached in liqueur with honey and cinnamon and a bowl of clotted cream. She covered the last back up, buttering her roll then ripping pieces off into the soup.
Mera thought on her time with Cerid as she ate; she had awoken one morning and found frost laying like an icy haze over everything, and had gone back to the rowan copse as soon as she was able to slip away. Cerid had been awaiting her, sitting still against a bowl of a tree, with her large brownish black cloak and white hair she had been almost unnoticeable until she moved. Since then they had met many times, on occasion Mera had been unable to make it but the crone was never disgruntled or surprised.
Cerid began by walking with her, naming the plants that flourished in winter and their properties, questioning Mera to find the extent of her knowledge. That first night Mera had sought to write down all she had learned. The next time they met she had brought writing tools, and bound paper. She had studiously written everything the crone said. Until the crone rather sharply told her to stop scribbling and pay attention, Mera needed to listen and to question if she was to learn. After a few more meetings they had come to the comfortable pattern o
f spending some time for Mera to ask questions of the last lesson, correcting her notes. Then she would put them aside and the crone would teach her some more lore, then they would usually walk once more. Perhaps finding a plant or fungi and going through its structure and properties in detail; what it could be used for, which parts could be used, when and how to gather it, what it was beneficial to mix it with, what could counteract it, what never to put it with. Not everything the crone taught her was beneficial, there were many poisons to be learnt too. When Mera questioned why Cerid was teaching her this when she wanted to learn how to heal, not kill, Cerid replied;
“Whether ye use it or na’ is your choice, child. Ye need to know either way, ye wouldn’t want to mix up a poison by mistake now, would ye? And ye never know when such lore may be of use to ye, the path of fate is a twisted one, child.”
Each night she lingered by guttering candle light, writing up her notes or making detailed diagrams of the plants. Her hand was becoming quite neat and her skill at water colour improving.
Mera wiped the last piece of bread around her empty bowl, spoon forgotten, then quickly began to eat her salad, picking out the pieces of beetroot. Once more she uncovered her dessert, leaning over and giving it an appreciative sniff. The first mouthful melted in her mouth and she let her worries ease away for a moment. When faced with the empty bowl she sighed. She supposed she ought to cut back on her sweets, of late she had put on a lot of weight. When she had mentioned it to Tansy, she had laughed it off, saying her body was changing, she was becoming a woman. That she herself had gone through the same thing, as does every other woman. Mera wasn’t sure how she felt about that, so she chose to ignore it.
Some part of her wished that it was her mother she had had that conversation with, but since her mama had remarried Mera didn’t see much of her. Even less since she was with child. Mera didn’t begrudge her, well not too much, she knew she was in love and was glad she had finally found some happiness. She just wished her mother would remember she existed every now and then.
So thinking she went to the bathing room, all smooth tile and marble in blues and greens like being on the surface of the sea just after sunset, to wash her hands before removing the items Cerid had given her from her satchel. It was too late in the season to gather and prepare most of what she needed. The few times she had been to see her mother she had been very swollen, complaining of aches and pains that came with being near her birthing time. So Mera had asked Cerid to teach her of those herbs which helped with such things.
She got out her little set of weights, a lovely plain brass with some minute scrolling, that she had bought in the market and was quite fond of. As she measured each quantity into the bowl she ran through the properties in her mind, her lips moving in an almost cant. First a small amount of root of Snakeweed, the form she was using was dried. Fresh it was short and thick, with black knobbled skin, smaller roots like tufts of hair sprouted all over it, inside it was a reddish colour. “Snakeweed strengthens the womb in firm prevention of miscarriage.” Next a large dose of powdered root of Avens. Cerid had said this was a very good all round herb. “eases headaches and a myriad of stomach complaints including obstructions, digressing digestion, and rupturings.”
Added to the mixture a generous dose of Motherwort, the name itself giving away its properties. Meredith knew that the Healers were already giving this to her mother but Cerid had reassured her that if she followed this recipe exactly each herb would work to compliment the other, improving the effects of all. And finally dried flowers and leaves of Camomile for calm. Cerid claimed that this also brought peace to the spirit, helping to give the body strength. She poured the mixture in an earthen jar and mixed it liberally with nourishing raspberry leaf, tightly corking it and setting it next to the pot of honey she had purchased. That should be plenty enough to last till after her mother’s birthing. She carefully put the remainder of the herbs into individual jars, checking the stoppers were in tight and labelling each. Cerid had cautioned her to always have her herbs and equipment cared for and organized.
Meredith rose, going to one of the numerous cupboards and removing a good red wine, still dusty from the cellar she had stolen it from. She knew it was of her mother’s favourite. She was going to make a fortifying wine. Most women were gifted one from a female of their family, usually bought from the healers. This was a wine to be drunk during the birthing, usually containing herbs to aid the passage and dumb the pain. She had brought one for her mother, as they were the only women left of their line. It had been this purchase that had led Cerid to teach her of the suitable herbs.
Mera scowled, remembering the near disaster. She had gone to the market before meeting Cerid, being due in the early afternoon, her lesson with Tomas finishing with the morning. When she had met they followed their usual pattern of things, until Cerid asked of her purchases. Once Meredith told her of its purpose a had frown deepened the creases on her face.
“Give it ’ere, child!”
She held the bottle to the light, gently swirling its contents, with an irate thumb she popped open the cork and gave it a sniff, long and snuffling. Meredith had been bemused by her actions, even more so when she took a swig. She hadn’t bothered to protest, the crone always had a reason for everything she did.
“Pah! Poppy, an’ a piss poor excuse for a vintage. Oh aye it’ll ease the pains! An’ leave the mother too sodden to push out the babe! Poppy, listen carefully child, is a potent tool. Prized for its ability to numb pain, even great pain. But it comes at a price. The user goes into a stupor, numb to the world, too big a dose and they never awaken, too often a dose and they develop a craving. Tis always to be used with caution, never for a birth! Perhaps a grave injury or such. Birthing with poppy! Is this what my lore have come too? Have they forgotten all the subtleties of the art? To only use brute force. Pah. Throw this swill out child, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Meredith still felt a creeping cold at what she had nearly done, and an increasing horror at the thought of the women who used these fortified wines. Is this why so many noble births were complicated? She knew the poorer folk could not afford to buy from the healers, they often went to the wise women for simples. Or made their own, under he healers instruction. She had sat by Cerid’s knee, listening carefully to each word. Now, in the comfort and solitude of her own thoughts it seemed odd that Cerid should say what she did. What did she mean by what had become of her lore? Had she once been a healer? She put the thought aside for now, concentrating on her task at hand. She had a feeling she would end up running late.
She plucked up an empty bottle and to it added some of the dried snakeweed. Adding to this the dried flowers, like fluffy brown buttons, of Mugwort. “To help will a speedy delivery.” She then measured out syrup of Arrach. She had been surprised by this, it grew in dung and stunk, like really stunk. But it was a herb which once was almost only used to treat the womb. Added also was a conserve of Betony. “for a swift and easy delivery, and also to ease the pains.”
To all this she decanted the wine, the rich aromas contrasting with the sharpness of the herbs, and fishy smell of the Arrach. It should be served warm with honey. She carefully stoppered it, admiring her handiwork. Meredith began to clear away, gently humming the strange melody she had heard the first time she met Cerid Wren.
Once everything was placed away neatly she took up a basket, placing the things she would need for her lesson with Tomas inside. Onto these she placed the honey, wine and tea. She should have enough just time to deliver them to her mother before her afternoon lesson. She heard the door open and Tansy appeared in the parlour. Her new attire suited her well. Much the same as the old but of finer cloth with the addition of a scarlet apron, the rose sigils embroidered on her breast and curving along each hem. It marked her as a body servant of the royal family. Behind the rose lay a twisted wreath of Samphire, deep green black, the sigil of her mother’s House. In her hair twined the pink and red ribbons. Tansy caught sight of Me
ra, her pretty lips pinched and her hands rose to rest on her hips. Her eyes swept everything; the room, the fuller workbench, the basket and content, and her. Mera felt a blush rise, that look never boded well. Lip caught between her teeth she noticed that Tansy’s soft boots were muddy.
“Where are you going? Oh, and did you enjoy your outing this morning? You woke me as you snuck out of the door, you knew you were supposed to be seeing the seamstress today! You need a dress for the Midwinter solstice, and your others need letting out. I followed you, you know? Yes! Don’t look so shocked. How am I supposed to do my job if you keep disappearing?”
“Tansy, I …”
“No! No more excuses or vague reasons. I know you go to the woods. Why? It’s dangerous! Do you know how much trouble we’ll get in? Do you really trust me that little?”
Mera was surprised to see Tansy’s bluff exterior melting, to reveal hurt. What was she supposed to do? She was supposed to keep her meetings secret, but she couldn’t let Tansy get upset, or get them both into trouble. She had forgotten about the fitting. She was so sure she had been careful to make sure she didn’t miss too much.
“And don’t say you’ve been running in the town with the children because I asked and they haven’t seen you for months!”
Mera turned away, putting down her basket and trying to think of what to say. It was true she hadn’t played with the children in awhile. Before she had met Cerid there had been difficulties because of her stature, then after she had been so busy with her studies. She had seen them when she went to market once or twice. They had seen her and her full purse and ignored all her greetings. She hadn’t had the courage to seek them out after that. “I don’t think they like me anymore, Tansy. And I’ve been so busy with lessons. You know I have to study with Tomas. And…and…oh, Tansy. I’m sorry. But I want to be a healer!”