Werewolves of Wessex

by J Cameron Boyd

  As horse and rider settled into a rhythm with each other, William felt the flow of the tuning to the horse that was always there when he dealt with a new horse. William had found that the animals were always willing to work with him if he could suss out their personality and physical strengths and weaknesses. The flow he felt coming from the black was stronger and faster than he had ever experienced before. The feeling was good.

  “Well there, black horse,” he said. “We need a name for you.” Though it was not the custom of the time to name their animals, it was the stable manager’s way. What came to mind first was the horse’s color. But then William thought of the way he came by the horse, and as he did, he remembered their bath together and the beautiful woman on the bridge.

  ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘the mud bath we shared brought us together.’

  “Mud,” William said and searched for the Latin equivalent. As his mare’s name meant brown in Latin, the black horse would be named for the mud he was covered in when William first saw him.

  “What do you think, Luto? Does it suit you?”

  The black snorted and pranced sideways. It was all William needed. He smiled as he welcomed the growing connection between them. He knew that this was a horse that, beyond all others, would move as one with him—joined wills with a common purpose.

  ***

  Several miles ahead of William’s little herd, a small wagon, with a large man sitting in the driver’s seat, rolled onto the grounds of Harold’s and Edyth’s keep escorted by several of the Earl’s armed guards.

  Harold Godwinson, just then returning from his stables, had the absence of his stable manager on his mind as the wagon approached. Looking up at the last minute, he stopped as the wagon came to a halt before him.

  “You are the Earl of Wessex?” the large man inquired.

  Harold nodded brusquely, sizing up the man. The girl sitting next to the man looked very apprehensive, and Harold was sure something was amiss.

  “I am Jorunn Thora, a friend of a friend of your wife, Edyth. Young Claire,” Jorunn nodded toward Claire, “and I have journeyed from Northumbria, Claire’s home, with a request and an offering.”

  “Is this business Edyth would recognize?” Harold asked.

  “Most assuredly,” Jorunn said.

  “Then join me, and we shall find the lady together,” Harold replied as he waved off his sentries.

  Claire found her legs to be a little unsteady as she got off the wagon. Six days of endless sitting on that torturous wooden seat made her feel cramped and old. Moving stiffly, she caught up with the men as they entered the keep and walked behind them into the main reception hall.

  Claire’s eyes took a moment to adjust as she stepped from the courtyard into the dimly lit hall. The torches on the walls helped to light the room. Claire took in the tables laden with food, and tapestries on the walls. A tall, thin woman left a small group of people and walked toward them.

  Without being told, Claire knew this was Edyth the Fair. Her skin was indeed milky white. But it wasn’t only her features that made Claire aware of who she was. It was the twinkle in her eye as the words, ‘Oh my … and you’re human!’ came with such warmth into Claire’s mind.

  Claire managed a weak smile.

  “Milady,” Jorunn greeted her as he bowed respectfully. “Can we talk freely?”

  The Lady Edyth walked over to her husband, whispered something in his ear and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  Harold gave her a quick smile, then turned to the others. “We need to speak privately,” his voice boomed through the hall. The room emptied, leaving the four standing alone.

  “Now, what’s this about?” Harold asked Edyth.

  “This is a Lascion hunter,” she explained, nodding at Jorunn. “I do believe he has brought us another mouth to feed.”

  ***

  From that point on, Claire spoke only when spoken to. For the most part, she listened as Jorunn Thora related to them how he had been tracking feran that had come from the north. Claire assumed he was speaking about the wolfmen with exploding heads. As everyone else seemed to understand, there was no explanation.

  “I expect they’ll circle the countryside and return the way they came,” Jorunn finished.

  “How many have you seen?” Harold asked.

  “The pack I followed is down to four. Though I’m almost sure there was another six that came to this land with them.”

  “You mean to tell me there are ten of those vile creatures roaming our lands?” Claire could tell from Harold’s voice that he considered that a serious threat.

  “Sorry Lord, I did not speak clearly,” Jorunn corrected himself. “I was referring to packs—with anywhere from six to ten feran in each.”

  Harold’s face told Claire that when she had seen Jorunn dispatch the feran so easily, she had not understood the situation completely. The Earl of Wessex’s reaction told her that the creatures with exploding heads must be horribly dangerous.

  As the men discussed the best course of action for defending the people of Wessex, Claire, unfamiliar with the names and locations, could not keep her mind from wandering.

  ‘If this bores you …’

  ‘I … I have no reference,’ Claire’s response was automatic. She had not thought to speak in this way. It was simply a reflexive thought to Edyth’s projected thought.

  Edyth sensed as much, yet the skill that it displayed impressed her. Knowing that Claire might have difficulty if asked to consciously project, she did not press her. Instead, she walked over to Claire, and speaking softly said, “Come, let us take a short walk.”

  Claire bobbed a quick curtsy. Lady Edyth took Claire by the arm and directed her into her private quarters. There she turned so she could see Claire’s face and asked, “Do you know what I am?”

  Claire, not knowing how best to proceed with this topic, decided to just plunge ahead with the little she knew. “Jorunn said you were an old one from the stars.”

  “Does that frighten you?”

  “He said you could help me nurture my unusual skills.”

  “Possibly … but again, do I scare you?”

  “No, ma’am,” Claire answered truthfully.

  “What about becoming and doing so much more than you are now … How do you feel about that?”

  The question robbed Claire of all the moisture in her mouth, ensuring that, even if she wanted to say anything, she could not have done so. Then again, by not being able to answer, she was pretty sure Edyth already had her answer.

  Chapter 9

  It was midday when William rode up to the stables. With seven new horses to care for and a day lost for his chores, he fell to work with no thought of telling anyone he was back. The six he had just acquired were placed in a small paddock. He mucked out the occupied stalls and switched horses around so that Luto and Brunneis were stabled next to each other.

  Only when he finished with his chores and had the Earl’s new horses groomed did he head for the keep to let the Earl know his new purchases were ready for his inspection. On his way, he saw a somewhat familiar wagon tied outside the courtyard. The horses had not been cared for.

  Irritated by the neglect, he unhitched the pair and walked them back to the stables, vowing that the two boys he had left in charge of the horses in his absence, would hear from him later. Satisfied that the horses were comfortable, William went back to the keep to see who the owner of the neglected team was. William was ready to give him a piece of his mind but knew it would not do to insult the Earl’s guest. He would see what the situation was.

  Walking into the main hall, William saw Harold engaged in an earnest conversation with a tall stranger who carried the muscles of a smithy but the bearing of a noble. Knowing the man who had disregarded the care of his animals was beyond his place to reprove, William held his tongue. It may be that he was thought of as family by Harold and Edyth, but as not one of their blood, he knew it was not appropriate to speak boldly to one of higher standing.
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  The Earl saw William’s approaching and greeted him, “William, I was worried. Was there trouble?”

  “One of Hardrada’s raiding parties hit the breeder’s holdings just before I got there,” William answered. “They killed Miles’ son.”

  “This is troubling news,” Harold responded. Still, there was something in the Earl’s demeanor which told William that Harold had other pressing concerns. “Are you sure they were pillagers from Norway?”

  “They were, sir. They seem to be testing England’s underbelly. If it weren't for Edward’s army, the King of Norway would have already launched a full-scale attack,” William replied as he turned his gaze to the man beside the Earl.

  “William, this is Jorunn Thora. He has brought us a gift from the Earl of Northumbria.”

  The stable manager took stock of the man, noting his size and strength. “You look to be a warrior, sir.”

  “Did you confront the raiders?” Jorunn asked, not bothering to acknowledge William’s comment.

  William stared, with a hint of a challenge, into the tall stranger’s eyes. “All but two died quickly,” he said.

  Jorunn’s eyebrow raised slightly at the lad’s response. Jorunn was aware there was a strong core in the intense young man standing in front of him, but he would not be distracted from the more important issues at hand. “They stayed down?” he pressed William with the rather strange question.

  “I have yet to see a dead man rise,” William responded and then got to the matter that was still stuck in his craw, “Just as I have never seen a thirsty horse be able to do its best.”

  ‘Ah, so that’s what’s bothering the horseman,’ Jorunn thought. “Oh yes. The importance of our problem distracted me,” he said with a gracious smile. “Thank you. The two tell me you were quite kind.”

  William was not sure how to respond. Twice now the man had implied something that was impossible. He studied the man carefully. The gray tunic over the standard linen failed to disguise the man’s considerable strength. Jorunn’s arms looked rock hard. But his loose, unbound trousers met the leather of the man’s shoes in the fashion of the Norsemen. The man looked dangerous, was dressed in the style of the enemy, and talked nonsense. Nothing about this Jorunn Thora suggested to William that he was a man to trust. Yet Harold had been talking with him as if he were a friend, or at the least, an ally.

  “Is this course wise?” Harold asked, looking questioningly at Jorunn. He knew that Jorunn had been testing William to see how the young man would respond to his unusual statements. To see if William had a latent knowing of what was possible.

  “With the odds being against us,” Jorunn replied with a shrug, “I wanted to see if he was open to how we must fight the invaders.”

  “You think to recruit William?”

  “He is young and strong and has a good head on his shoulders. He has sense enough to study his uncertainty before moving ahead.”

  Being talked about as if he were not there was beginning to irritate William. Yet he was aware there was much more being discussed than he could grasp. He would trust Harold, but unconsciously, his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

  “And the girl?” Harold asked.

  “She saw them release. But that is not why I brought her here. She is the first human I have encountered who has demonstrated the ability to mind-speak. With training, I daresay she could master animal-speak as well. She is also an accomplished healer. With your wife’s help, some of the magic I have been told lies within all humans might even awaken.”

  “We have need of a shaman,” Harold admitted. “But with six children and William here as good as the seventh, I’m not sure we have the accommodations.”

  “The Earl knows how extraordinary his granddaughter is, so he sends an offering in the hopes that you and Edyth will be able to guide her in ways that he cannot,” Jorunn said. “I’m sure that she would be more than capable of running a small hospital for you and those that are bound to you.”

  “So that is why you travel by wagon.”

  “The Earl of Northumbria would be most appreciative.”

  “Did he happen to include an apology with his offering?” Harold asked bitterly.

  “Sir, I know there is animosity between you,” Jorunn said quietly, “but the coming tide of events may make it wise to put that aside. And, if I may be so bold, was it not Godwine that was the first to attack?”

  “He had his reasons,” Harold snapped, thinking of the war his father had started with King Edward, and how Siward had sided with Edward. “And he paid his dues.”

  “His exile did take quite the toll on him,” Jorunn sympathized with him. “For you to have gotten him back after only a year when he was exiled for life, took a good deal of diplomacy.”

  “I did what I had to do. And still, he died the following year,” Harold said sadly. He thought about how much the ordeal had taken out of his father.

  William, listening to the exchange between the two men, felt that Jorunn thought too lightly of the death of the old earl. He was about to reprimand him when Jorunn turned to him saying, “Death is neither the end nor the beginning. One day perhaps it will be looked upon as the bridge between experiences that it is.”

  William was considering that statement when the sound of footsteps pulled his attention to the people entering the hall.

  ***

  Edyth passed into the keep’s main room, followed by a shorter woman William was not able to see. When Edyth stopped in front of the men, the younger woman came up alongside her. William gasped.

  Standing before him was the woman he had seen on the bridge. She wore no cloak or head cover. A simple long, brown tunic covered her shirt and half her skirt, which in turn, reached down to her footwear. She had strong, beautiful features dominated by high cheekbones and large, green eyes. All this was framed by long, strawberry blond hair.

  The smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye told William that she recognized him as well. Though, unlike William, she was able to speak her thoughts. “You were in the river with that black horse.”

  Knowing that he should say something, William closed his gaping mouth, and with an effort managed, “He needed a bath.”

  “William, where have you been?” Edith asked, knowing full well she was interrupting an awkward moment for William. Glad for the diversion, William turned his full attention to Lady Edyth and explained in detail what had happened. Talking about besting eight men would have sounded like bragging to the men, but to the woman who treated him as one of her own, William was merely reassuring her that he had not been in danger. Of course, Edyth knew better, and from the look on her face, so did Claire.

  “I would imagine Miles and his family were very grateful you turned up when you did,” Edyth said as she touched his cheek. “And you were also able to rescue the horse. An important deed for a horseman such as you.” She nodded approvingly.

  “The horse is quite magnificent,” William said, still a little overwhelmed that the horse was his. “You can see for yourself. Miles gave him to me as a thank you.”

  Edyth smiled. “Tomorrow, first thing. But my manners. Claire, this is William. William, this is Claire, granddaughter of Siward, Earl of Northumbria.” Then she turned to Jorunn. “Hunter, many have called William my seventh son. But like my other children, he has much to learn about me. For now, I would like to keep it that way.”

  “What are we speaking of, Lady Edyth?” William asked.

  “A story that speaks of the truth of my family. It has been passed from generation to generation. And though you are not my own, I have promised myself that on your twenty-first birthday you shall know of my heritage.”

  Her answer satisfied the young man as she knew it would. I also informed their guests that there would be no talk of Piretians or feran while William or any of her children were present.

  Edyth had listened to enough talk of feran for the day. Her short time with Claire had covered more about them than she cared to think about
in one day. Yet, even though they had to discuss that disagreeable subject, Lady Edyth could tell that Claire was extraordinary. The way she handled her exposure to the feran and the information that Jorunn had already given her, showed Edyth that she would be an asset when it came to fighting the invasion of feran. Her ability to mind-speak would be beneficial indeed.

  There were other areas where Claire would need a lot of preparation before she would be ready to help, though. She had no fighting skills. Edyth hoped that Claire would never need them, but to not give her the training might be to sign her death warrant. She had also professed a lack of talent when it came to riding horses. That too was a concern, and Edyth was adamant that Claire should get training in both matters. Edyth’s mind was churning with these and other thoughts as the men continued their discussion.

  Edyth, of course, would train Claire’s mind. They had many fine soldiers that could help Claire when it came to matters of the sword. And William was the first to come to mind for her training with the horses. But then there was what she witnessed when William first saw Claire. And though Claire was quick to respond to the situation, Edyth had heard the slight change in the young woman’s voice.

  Taking Claire to the side, she quietly asked her what had brought about that reaction from William. Claire, looking very uncomfortable, told her about their encounter at the bridge and what had passed between them. Edyth pondered where the connection they had might lead.

  ‘Ah well,’ Edyth told herself. ‘If she is going to help with this influx of feran, they will have to work this out.’

  With that thought, the lady of the keep turned back to her stable manager and smiled. “William, there is something I need you to do.”

  Chapter 10