Last Tales of Mercia 1-10

by Jayden Woods

  *

  The Normans kept Elwyna tied up outside the stables when she was not hard at work on their castle. But even as Ralph led Osgifu closer, she did not immediately recognize the mud-sodden woman crouching on the dirt, her wrists worn bloody from ropes. So much dirt caked the prisoner’s hair that only upon close study did Osgifu see the golden-red strands winding down her shoulders. Her dress was ripped and unraveling, baring an unseemly amount of skin to any curious bystander. The gaps in her clothing also revealed the boniness of her frame, flesh practically sunken onto bone.

  Osgifu stared deeply into the down-turned face, the little bumped nose, and the long red lashes. Only then did her mind connect this dirty shell of a woman to the spirited girl who had once been her sister. Without warning, sobs rose up to choke her throat. Tears pricked her eyes and she fell to her knees beside her sister.

  “Oh, Elwyna!”

  She wrapped her arms around the bony form and cried helplessly. Never would she have expected this sort of reaction from herself. Over the last few years, she had convinced herself that Elwyna deserved her fate as an adulteress living in exile. She had also forced herself to believe that Elwyna might have found some sort of peace living beyond the normal boundaries of society. Now she realized that had all been a daydream she indulged in order to deal with her own crushing guilt. It had been Osgifu’s fault that Godric had committed to marrying one of Lindsey’s daughters. And it had been Osgifu’s fault that Godric married Elwyna instead of Osgifu, the woman he loved, because Osgifu had run off to a nunnery. At the time, it had seem like a righteous and self-less decision. But in truth, she had never stopped to think how she would affect the lives of people who cared about her before making such a significant choice.

  As if aware of the same truths, Elwyna did not respond for awhile, merely endured the weight of her sister’s sorrow. Then at last she leaned against Osgifu, returning the embrace in the only way possible with her arms bound behind her.

  Osgifu pulled back and looked Elwyna in the eyes. Despite the condition of her body, Elwyna’s eyes blazed with vigor. “Why have you come here, Osgifu?”

  “I needed to see you!” For a moment Osgifu was embarrassed by her own tears, by her own need validate that Elwyna’s situation was not entirely Osgifu’s fault. Perhaps her hidden guilt had largely contributed to this venture. She wanted to believe that Elwyna experienced some joy at the sight of her older sister. But perhaps Osgifu’s presence only brought her pain.

  She heard the sound of Ralph shuffling in the dirt behind her, and she wished desperately that the Norman knight would leave her alone so she could speak to her sister in privacy. Perhaps it was too late for that. Too late for Osgifu to apologize for everything that had gone wrong.

  So Osgifu took a breath and tried to contain her emotions. She attempted to focus only on how to move forward, rather than how to evaluate the past. She should not try to obtain privacy with Elwyna for the sake of having a heart-felt discussion. As Godric himself would say, what was done was done. But perhaps she should try to be alone with Elwyna for another reason.

  “I need to speak privately with my sister.” Osgifu turned her tearful eyes toward Ralph.

  “I can’t let you do that.” He looked aside to help harden his resolve.

  “I understand that you must keep watch over us,” said Osgifu. “I only ask that you get far enough away that you cannot hear us. I want to hear my sister’s version of what happened, and I worry that she will not tell me everything if you stand listening.”

  Ralph sighed. “Very well.” He made his way across the grounds. Osgifu watched all the while, and when she was satisfied, she nodded. The knight stopped far beyond the stables, where he could see but not hear her.

  Osgifu turned back around and spoke before Elwyna had the chance. “If you really killed this man Drogo, I don’t want you to tell me. I don’t want that on my conscience. But I want you to tell me everything else.”

  Elwyna scowled at her. “Why does it matter to you what I’ve been through?”

  Osgifu tried to ignore the sting of that question. “I think I might be able to help.”

  “It’s a bit late for you to be helping me, now isn’t it?”

  Osgifu did not back down. She glared back at Elwyna and waited stubbornly until the younger woman gave in.

  Elwyna sighed and sank back against the wall. “Dumbun and I built a cabin in the woods not too far from here. No one knew we were there until the two Normans came along. They ate our food, used our home like it belonged to them, and Drogo ...” Her breath caught. Then she pursed her lips and spat contemptuously, “Drogo seemed to believe he could use me as his own, also.”

  Osgifu’s stomach turned cold. “Did he … ?”

  Elwyna gave a terse shake of her head. “No. I k—” She realized her mistake and reconsidered her words. “He died before he could go through with it.”

  Osgifu shuddered as her own memories threatened to rise to the surface—memories of pain she had endured long ago, but could still sting as if she experienced it only yesterday. She had spent years burying the pain under layers of self-confidence and fortitude. Love and forgiveness had mostly healed the old wound. But never would she forget the feelings of humiliation, futility, and worthlessness that crippled her during and after the moments of her abuse.

  “I understand why you might have … wanted to kill him,” said Osgifu. “Though I hope, for the sake of your own soul, that you leave punishment to our Holy Father. Realize that God wants us to forgive our enemies, not strike them back.”

  “Or perhaps that’s what you tell yourself,” hissed Elwyna, “in order to deal with what happened to you.”

  Osgifu did not reply, did not react. After a long stretch of silence, she wiped the last of her tears and looked away, contemplating the lack of emotions within her. Either Elwyna’s words struck too deeply to acknowledge, or Osgifu had made peace with this possibility long ago, without even realizing it. Whether her ideals of God’s will had been the reason she joined a nunnery after the incident or not, she had come to believe them, and Elwyna’s jab could not touch her.

  Watching Osgifu’s calm face, Elwyna wilted. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Never mind. I still ask that you think about what I’ve said. If I am to to help you, I need to know that your heart is in the right place, first.”

  Elywna’s lashes fluttered, afraid to hope. “You still mean to help me? But how ...?”

  “Elwyna. Do you ask God to forgive you for all your sins? Will you do so every day henceforth?”

  The last of Elwyna’s defiance wore away. She sagged in her bonds, staring gloomily into the mud. “I do wish it had all happened differently. When he died, that look on his face ... I wonder if he really deserved it.”

  This admonition was enough for Osgifu. She reached out and clasped her sister’s arm. “But he died, and in the end, his death was God’s will.”

  Elwyna looked back up uncertainly.

  “Is it true that Drogo suffered no visible injury? Merely collapsed and died?”

  “No visible injury at all. It is why they accused me of sorcery.”

  “But I can vouch for you that you’re no sorceress. And as for his death, I think it’s quite clear that God struck him down because of the sin in his heart.”

  Elwyna blinked back at her sister in surprise.