Chapter 28
Next day dawned bright and breezy. I spend the morning helping wash clothes and other things in the nearby stream. The villa had a wash room, yes, but it was moldy, cramped, and damp most of the time. The women much preferred washing in the clear running water, airing the heavy cloak, mantles, tunics, and trousers in the sunlight whenever they could. Nonus had sent me along to help. Not at all an onerous chore, I enjoyed the idle banter among the women. Though I caught only part of what they were saying, the sound of their twittering laughter lifted the clinging gloom and cheered me.
We had been at the river for some time and the day was beginning to dwindle as we finished and made our way back up to the villa. Walking with the others, a bundle of still-damp clothes in my arms, we came around the corner of the wall and saw the lathered horses in the yard outside the gate. Some of the grooms and bondmen were tending to them, but the riders were nowhere to be seen.
“The warband has returned,” cried one of the women. Another said, “I wonder if there was a battle . . .” Or something like, and everyone began chattering about that and were eager to rush back to find out what had happened. Everyone except me, that is. I wanted nothing more than to keep out of Cunomor’s sight.
The moment we entered the villa courtyard, I handed my still-damp bundle to one of the other girls, saying that the warriors would be hungry and I must go to the cookhouse to help prepare meat and drink for them. This I did, busying myself with such tasks as Lydia gave me. I allowed myself to hope I might yet evade the hateful encounter, but that half-formed hope was quickly dashed. Cunomor came striding into the kitchen—which he never did—and announced in a booming voice that he and his warband were dying of thirst and demanded jars of beer be brought to the hall at once and without delay.
At first glimpse sweaty features, I hastily turned away and hid my face. He was back! And so soon! Don’t let him see me . . . please, don’t let him see me. . . .
And then came the loathsome tap on my shoulder and a hot breath in my good ear. “Tonight, girl.” He gripped me hard. I froze. “Do you ken? Tonight!”
He departed, leaving the servants to their work—and all of us, myself included, trying to make as if nothing unsettling had happened. Aedita had heard and put a reassuring hand on my arm and gave me a look of such sympathy I drew her to me in a hug. Then, she and I ferried beer to the hall and, when the meat was ready, platters of roast beef, great steaming bowls of pottage, and piles of black bread, and blackberries sweetened with honeyed cream to fill the bellies of hungry warriors.
In the hall, the talk was high and rowdy, loud with boasting and laughter. So far as I could tell, the warrior’s great good spirits were the result of what they considered a victory in that a mob of Irish raiders had been halted and engaged before any attack could be formed; a brief chase had ensued, and the raiders fled. Blades had hardly been lifted and, aside from the horses, it seemed no one had been anything more than inconvenienced by the encounter.
Though they boasted and crowed as if they had defeated an entire Saescen horde rather than a mob of Irish marauders, I suppose we must thank the Good Lord for any triumph no matter how small. At the very least, a few would-be thieves had been shown that the hills and valleys had eyes and little passed that we did not mark. Britons meant to protect our lives and lands.
As usual, the men roistered far into the night, celebrating what they considered an estimable success in preventing a ruinous raid on one of King Ederyn’s client chieftains. I watched and waited, filling each cup as soon as it became empty, hoping to keep the merriment going so that I might hold off my odious reunion with Cuno as long as possible. In this, I was mostly successful—not that it required much effort, mind, for they were young men, exulting in their strength, and only too ready to enjoy themselves beyond any restraint whatever. Accordingly, more than one head was resting on the board before King Ederyn rose and thereby ended the feast.
Jar in hand, I was standing at the far end of the table when Cunomor staggered to his feet. He gazed blearily around, saw me, and pointed his finger. “I’ll be waiting,” he slurred and then stumbled from the hall, followed by those of his men who could still stand up on their hind legs and walk.
The moment had come, and now that it loomed stark before me, I was filled with calm determination. While the board was cleared and scoured, I returned to the kitchen and retrieved a bundle I had stashed there earlier in the evening. I gathered up my cloak, the small bag of food I had collected, and, spying a small kitchen knife someone had left on the board, I slipped it under my belt. After making sure there was no eye to see me, I stole across the courtyard, opened the gate, and slipped out into the night.
The wind was up and the darkness now seemed darker to me than ever it was, the moon wan and cold, small and distant. With as much resolve as I could muster, I set my feet to the track, walking quickly and with purpose. I did not run. I made it beyond the furthest edge of the outer wall when the dogs came after me.
I had expected this, prepared for it, but the sound of their barking and the sight of their dark forms bounding towards me at such alarming speed still set my heart racing. This time, instead of trying to flee, I stopped and turned, and called them to me. Their pursuit faltered at the sound of my voice. They still came on, but now became something of a greeting.
I called again, this time, summoning them to me with the command Mab had used. I told them how brave and strong they were, and how good they were to protect the villa at night when everyone was safe asleep. I brought out the parcel of meat scraps I had filched from the night’s feast.
“To me!” I called, using the same tone I normally used when speaking to them. “To me, lads. See what I have for you?” I unwrapped the parcel. “I brought you something nice tonight.”
The creature’s lowered their ears and approached at a trot. They knew me now and were eager to see what I had for them. The first dog reached me—the big gray shaggy brute named Orm—and he leaped up on me, almost knocking me over. “Down!” I said sternly. “Orm, down!”
To my relief, the excitable beast obeyed my command. I praised his obedience and tossed him a scrap. He caught it out of the air and swallowed it in two bites. He begged for more, and I tossed him another. The other hounds came trotting up and also begged. “Sit!” I told them, and they likewise obeyed. I tossed them their treats and the soon had the entire pack sitting on the ground around me, begging for the morsels I had brought.
Ursa appeared out of nowhere, and came padding up. She made no sound but paused a little way off and stood looking on with her head cocked to one side. As always when I was around, she watched me with particular intent—as if evaluating a fellow creature she found of particular interest. “Ursa, come,” I called. “I saved the best for you.”
I did not have to call her twice; she obeyed at once. I held out the morsel of meat on my palm. She sniffed it and, like the others, took it and gulped it down. “Good girl,” I said, and stroked her head, which she allowed. “We’re friends, you and I.”
“You want to be careful there.”
I gasped and looked up.
Mab stepped out of the night and stood in the road with a stick in his hands.
“How long had he been watching?” I asked, my voice quivering.
“Long enough,” he said. He took in my little bag of provisions, my cloak and heavy shoes, and nodded. “Long enough to know.” With that he simply raised a hand, turned, and faded back into the night the way he had come.
Turning my attention to the dogs once more and ordered them back to the kennel. At first they looked at me, but I told them again to go back and—God be praised!—they obeyed. First one, and then the others. Ursa was the last to go and when she turned to follow the pack, I resumed my escape.
I had almost reached the main road, intent on making as much distance between myself and the villa as possible and feeling very proud of myself, imagining that all was falling out just as I had planned—when I felt a cold, wet, something pressed against my palm. I gave a little yelp and, jerking my hand away, I glanced around to see who or what had assaulted me.
There was Ursa. Again. The rest of the pack had followed her, too, and stood a little way off, watching us—waiting, I suppose, to follow Ursa’s lead.
“Go back!” I told her sternly and, in my most imposing manner, ordered the animal away. Instead, she came closer. “You heard me, girl. Go back.”
The stubborn beast refused.
The night was speeding on and the longer I tarried with this recalcitrant creature, the more likely it would be that someone would notice my absence and come looking for me. I turned around and started walking quickly, glancing back to see if she had obeyed. But the big hound remained in place. And then, two things happened I will never forget: she came to me and licked my hand, then returned to her pack where she stood before Orm, the huge black male, and licked him on the face. Orm lowered his head and she put her foot on his neck, then released him and came trotting back to me.
In utter disbelief, I could but marvel at what I had just witnessed. Ursa took her place by my side. Orm and the pack remained where they stood, watching silently, but making no attempt to follow.
“Well, old girl,” I told her, starting once for the road, “if you are determined to come with me, so be it. You can be my shadow.”
Ursa would be all that and, God knows, so much more.