Chapter 26: As Silver Refined
In a dream, three silver-gray wolves lay close about her, warming her body; she could actually feel their smooth fur and caught a whiff of musk. As if at some signal these rose and departed. Her bed was a pile of fluffy, dry moss on pine boughs, and her garment was silver-white gossamer. A fire burned brightly nearby, reflecting warmly from the boulder behind her.
In the wolves' absence, cool air was rushing in against her skin, waking her. She sat up, and was startled with joy to see the figure that sat, one arm about her knees and ankles crossed, close by. "Queen Charis Tiralounde!" Margaret gasped, rising to her knees and bowing her head.
"No need of that here, Margaret." Margaret stared at Charis, then looked about her. A few white pottery vessels- plain ware, but elegantly shaped- sat near the fire, steaming fragrantly. "Is it well with you, Margaret?"
"Aye, it is, my Queen. But what…how…"
Margaret had noticed a square cloth which held small piles of dried plants. Among them were herbs Margaret knew would prolong sleep. She sat back down in the moss, feeling her aching muscles and lungs, and trying to think clearly. A horrible recollection came to mind. "How have I come to be here with you? I was drowning in the Brad River. . ."
"And so I found you, drifting in shallows." Charis ladled fragrant broth into to a bowl and handed it to Margaret. "Drink this, Margaret." Margaret gratefully downed the steaming broth, and accepted a flatbread from the Queen's hand as well.
"You found me?...And what of Willa, and Squire Ramsaidh, where are they?"
"They are well, but they have left the forest. More than that I know not." Margaret looked stricken; she felt weak and Charis reached over and laid her hand on her head, as a mother does to a child. Her anxiety melted away. Charis smiled at her, and Margaret found herself smiling in return.
"I am grateful to you for tending to me, for saving my life from the river. How may I thank you?"
Charis looked gravely into her lap. "I do have somewhat to ask of you, Margaret, and it is no small thing. But a few summers will pass ere we Folk depart this land forever." Charis straightened one very long leg, and Margaret now saw that Princess Féarna lay nursing at the Queen's breast. "Let me tell you something of my people.
"When we first came over the sea, our destination was not these shores. Our ship carried the house of Finrel our king, husband of Galorian. Many, many were the deeds of Finrel's folk, valiant and brave, but many were rooted in vengeance and vainglory. The great wind that blew the ships of our people drew us apart and away, and though we struck sail and rowed until our hearts would burst we could not prevail against it. So it was that our ship was cast hard upon the shores of Ardinéa, and broke upon the rocks.
"We were in great dismay, and wept to be parted from our kin, and for many days we sat on the shore, gazing into the sea, silent before the wind, asking for what reason he had taken us hither, rather than to those shores that we desired with all our hearts.
"Then King Finrel stood and faced us, and said that this was a judgment, visited upon us for his sake. That even as we had left the shores of Middangeard, the wind had spoken to him, that he would either drive their ship beneath the waves, or bring them to the place where they might serve mortal Men who were yet to come. This was in repayment for the men whose fates they had trampled and whose lives they had not held valuable, in the land from which they sailed. Finrel said, 'My heart was crushed within me, and I told the wind that I could not discern which was more just, and only the great King whom wind and sea obey could judge such matters. So it is He who has brought us here. Let us be strong and face the task that has been laid upon us, whatever it will show itself to be. For when it is accomplished, then we will be as silver refined, and will cross the oceans of heaven itself and find our kin among its lights. Kind is the grace of our High King!'
"So we arose, with hope before us, and from the wreckage that strewed the sand we took such things as remained to us, and went up into the great forest that stood before us, and gazed no longer at the sea. It was not long before we knew our task. For great, horrible beasts inhabited the land here, and ten thousand mortal Men could not have withstood them. But our hearts were kindled with joy, for such we had faced many a time in Middangeard- though they had been vanquished there long before. And these were not evil-spirited such as we had known, but only of teeth and claw and strength that came out of the dim past, and men could not have survived in Ardinéa. So for an age we have hunted here, and joyous has been our quest, and hopeful is its end. We hunted in forest and plain, under mountains and over muirs.
"Then came Brendan and Kilda hand in hand, with their followers. We saw that our task, though still great, was nearing its end. We had served them well, and the beasts were driven far into the mountains. But it was at this time that we lost Finrel, for when he had met with Brendan he loved him, and repented so that he had ever despised the children of Adam, that he leapt on his horse Hara and rode straight for the lair of the most ferocious and dreaded of the beasts. But Hara returned to us without him, and we knew our king was gone.
"And we knew already that Finruan his son would not be king after him. Already he was called Moruan, and had sundered his path from ours. Though born on these shores, the hatred of Men was in his blood, and only grew with time. He began in his youth to be the most fell of hunters; before he understood why we hunted. He loved the chase and the bloodshed for itself. He became as a wind that drove the beasts into the mountains. He learned the ways of flight, and it was he who slew the last of the flying beasts. But when he understood that none of this was for us, but for the ones who would come after, his face fell. And when he was told of Men, who are frail, and their days short, he hated them. He called them Usurpers and refused any more to hunt the fell beasts. He wandered for a long time by himself. His friends sought him, to give him counsel, but he only tried to instill in them a hate for men. They would not listen to him.
"Even Sievan Tamlyn besought him, at Galorian's behest, to turn him back from his evil path; for this was the task she had laid upon him with the giving of her ring. Moruan may perhaps have seemed to tender friendship, but I do not believe he was sincere, though Sievan loved him. I am sure that it was for slaughter that he led him as a lamb. It was only the ring and all it represented- the power and authority of his father, Finrel- that he was after."
"And this Sievan gave me as a token…"
"An impulsive and unwise gesture. Still, had it been in his possession the night you claimed him, Galorian could not have relinquished him. Instead you too would have become part of our world. She knew it was even then on your own hand, and that ill would come of it. But the ill end- that Moruan is no more- is perhaps not an unmixed evil.
"Of Moruan and his deeds after that I will speak no more. He smote our hearts, and tainted the joy we had known of these forests and meadows. The choice of Moruan left many scars, most of which cannot be seen. Deep is the sorrow of Galorian and great have been her losses in Ardinéa."
For a moment Charis was silent, and heaved a heavy sigh. Then she lifted her gaze again, and was smiling.
"Then, we had no king but the One who made us, and to Him we cried. And He answered us, and reminded us of our hope, to be as silver refined, and to cross the oceans of Heaven.
"Brendan's people grew strong, and have all but filled this land. We have diminished and retreated apace until we live only in our mountains, among the last of the beasts who are too strong for men. But great is our consolation, for the time of our great hope draws near. It is as though we hear already the call from Heaven sounding!
"But as for me, my joy is bittersweet. For my daughter Féarna may not go, for she is of mortal flesh. When the time comes I wish to entrust her to you and Tamlyn Sievan. Sorrows there will come also, from the choice of Charis."
Margaret was awed and for a long moment found nothing to say.
"How would I find her?"
"She will come to you. I know not when it will be, but she w
ill find you. That is, if you consent."
"Of course, my Queen."
Charis lifted Féarna and handed her over to Margaret, who lay the child in her lap, to look her over. The infant gazed at her in the same way that Ryanh did and Sunniva before her. Margaret was deeply moved, and she sniffled. Something sets her apart...Margaret wiped her eyes.
"Dearly do you long for your own son, aye? So do all the Folk long for their own. They are few and very far between for us."
"I fear greatly for my son."
Charis looked into her eyes. "Do not lose hope."
"How will she live among the sons of Adam?"
"She is one of you. Yet time will have to tell what she may have of her other nature." Charis was gathering things together, the tiny silver bells jingling on the hem of her robe. She handed Margaret another small loaf with a sweet taste, and she ate it slowly, watching Charis.
A question occurred to Margaret. "When your people leave- if a mortal Man was among you, what of him?"
Charis smiled. "Sievan could not have gone with us. He would have been released, and become only Tamlyn again, mortal as you. It was thought wisdom that he was never told this. Still, though the test was hard, are not Sievan and Margaret glad of it? Did it not prove many things?"
Margaret shivered at the memory, but nodded. "Yes, my Queen."
"I am not Queen in this place, but my sister is." Margaret started with surprise. Then she realized that Charis was readying to leave. "Though I saved your life, you are not bound to me. You were given no choice. And as you have now learned, whatever Sievan taught you of Elvenkind, there is much to which he was blinded."
She bent and lifted Féarna to herself, and smiled at Margaret, who smiled in return, but then cried out, "But I am lost and defenseless here! Where will I go, what will I do?"
Charis leaned over and took Margaret by the chin, leaning in close, her eyes burning. "Margaret, you have a weapon, which you have already learned to use; and you have the Bright and Morning Star to follow. May His face shine upon you, Margaret. Christ beside thee, Christ before thee, Christ behind thee, Christ within thee."
Margaret joined her in the familiar words. "Christ beneath thee, Christ above thee, Christ to the right of thee, Christ to the left of thee." She was moved, knowing that she would never again see this Queen whom she loved in her heart, who had sewn her child's fate to her. "Christ in thy lying, thy sitting, thy rising. Christ in heart of all who know thee, Christ on tongue of all who meet thee; Christ in eye of all who see thee; Christ in ear of all who hear thee."
Leaning over to kiss Margaret on the cheek, Charis suddenly vanished.
The pots were gone, the fire out. Over a tree branch, her own river-washed garments fluttered gently. She pulled them on over the pearly robe; the silken shift, the linen dress, the woolen overdress, the woolen hose and leather boots. She was neither cold nor hungry, and she knew which way to go.
It was late in the afternoon when she stopped and listened, hearing a churchbell far in the still distance, and her step quickened on the damp forest floor. The sun set straight ahead of her, but a waning yellow hunter's moon was already peering through the trees behind and there was a glimmer from some bonfire that played hide-and-seek beyond the trees ahead. She emerged from the forest into pasture, barren and black in the moonlight. She stumbled forward and realized that the ground had been burned over. It was getting colder and she wished for her cloak. She wrapped her arms against her chest, feeling it withered and empty with her milk gone. The thought of Ryanh propelled her onward.
A glimmer ahead turned into a stone cottage. An acrid smell of burning was still about the place. Margaret was disturbed by the loneliness and the mystery of its emptiness. It was silent but for a quiet scuffling that began after she had stood nearby for a few moments, seeing stars where rafters should have been tied with thatch. Not wishing to see what night creature was already making itself at home in the abandoned house, she turned and almost ran down the path that led to it, her mouth dry and her heart pounding.
She passed two more like it and was nearly in tears when she saw the glow of the light she had earlier glimpsed ahead of her. She slowed and approached very quietly, and finally stood still, straining to hear and see. She prayed, a dry and desperate prayer.
There were faces in the firelight, several of them. Others moved in and out of the light, to become ghost shapes shifting in the shadows beyond. Then she heard a small child's wail.
There was such need and sorrow in the sound that she started forward, regardless. She was but a dozen yards from the fire when a voice barked, " Hold! Who comes?" She was still trying to swallow her heart when a brand was snatched from the fire and thrust near her face.
"What is this? It's a woman!"
"Bring her over here!"
"What woman?"
"Where did she come from?"
The men in the group were on their feet, pulling her close to the fire and crowding her with questions. She searched the faces and saw them thin and pinched, their clothing plain and worn. Margaret found her voice.
"I am Lady Margaret Aldene, wife of Lord Tamlyn of Brycelands, daughter of the Duke of Briardene. I have escaped my captors and I am lost. I want to go to my home in Bryceland Village, in Cynrose."
There was silence. A child's voice came from somewhere. "Does the lady have any food?" The child was shushed.
"My lady," a man with grizzled whiskers rimming a kindly, intelligent face spoke up, bowing slightly before her, and gesturing as though to remove a hat which was no longer there. "They call me Gairn Bowen. We are farmers, vassals of Lord Urian of Oxbow. Our homes were burned but what, three days ago now. Lord Urian has not returned from King's Leigh, and we are trying to find any stock the Southards might not have taken, and are moving on tomorrow. We would be glad to take you as far as we may, and share with you such as we have."
"But how have you come to be here, my lady?" said a thin creature by the fire. The question was echoed around, and faces peered into hers.
"I was abducted by Southards, and taken into the forest, and...I escaped. I have walked alone all the day, and found you good people here, and I thank my God that you are Ardinéan. And what brings you out of your homes, into the night around this fire?"
A woman of short stature and a lined, but goodly face with green eyes spoke first.
"We have no homes. The Southards. They have come with fire and destruction. Today we buried our priest and his wife. They don't like that in the Fiefs, you know, they want us to be good Romans like they aspire to be, just like the Vallards they're so taken with. They took everything we had for winter's food and clothes. We've eaten the last of our bread, My lady, but we're just now cookin' up some porridge for you and the bairns."
The kindly man, Gairn, spoke next. "They were all around all day long. Those of us who could, hid in the woods and watched while they took what they wanted and burned the thatches off our roofs. I don't think they meant to burn the fields, and what would be the point, this season? But the wind blew burning thatch all over the place. Jaffret, here, got scorched bad." Margaret turned to see a tall young man laying, his face and shoulder smeared with grease and clay. She wished for some of her balm right then, to be crushing and steeping herbs in fragrant beeswax and clarified tallow in her redolent pantry in Brycelands.
A younger man spoke next. "We expected that Urian, or Tynal, lord of Deep Wells, the next village over, to come, but no one ever did, nor has yet. I expect they are all gathering in Salimont--"
"Or in King's Leigh, squabbling over who will be King!" put in the short woman.
"--But all of a sudden, the Southards were clearing out in a big hurry. The bridge in Hearthbrough is supposed to be destroyed, but they came from that way and left that way. We've had no news from there to know what goes on. Anyway there are places where a crossing might be made between there and Salimont."
"The Brad River is not such a barrier after all," said Margaret. "I crossed
it myself, I and my companions, and --was separated from them, but it can be crossed...so what will you people do? Where will you winter? You will need clothes, food, animals, everything."
There was silence for a moment. "That is the question," said the woman.
There was talk, and thin porridge which Margaret sipped from the bowl though it was unsweetened and smoky-tasting, and she wished she could let the large-eyed children have it, but her every move fascinated their politely averted gazes.
The woman stood at length, stretching her arms. "Your good woolens will have to be your best blanket tonight, my lady. Come, you can sleep by me and the bairns. It's only hay in a rick, but it's dry and warm, and no fleas. Come, Robin, come Linnet, come on, Larkin. Good night, kinsmen." The children complained to leave the warm of the fire to walk to the low byre where in the moonlight they bedded in the loft over the sheepcote.
"Good woman, what is your name?" said Margaret.
"Oh, Rossignol, Rossignol Bowen. I am Gairn's daughter. My husband was a footsoldier killed oh, four years ago, and I live in my father's house. If you don't mind, my lady, what of your own husband?"
Margaret smiled in the dark. "My Tamlyn is a bonnie knight. He was preparing for war, and sent me to my father's castle--"
"Knight!. . .Castle!" she heard gasps and whispered exclamations from the children.
"Aye, I was born in a castle, and live in a manor, but my bed is no warmer nor my company finer than the present company. So I set out for Caer Aldene, and was in the woods when my sister and her companions were attacked by a bunch of Southards. My handmaid and I carried my baby all night--"
"Baby!" This from Rossignol herself.
"--To Saint Savior's abbey, in Deermont. But the Southards were in the abbey and took us captive. They had already sent my sister and her children off. They took away my son and sent us off through the forest.
"After some days we arrived at a great loch in the forest, which we crossed to where they were building a new castle. Then we found out that the south is being attacked by the Vallards! One of our captors, who had been kind to us, repented of abducting us and began to take us back. When we crossed the river-- I -- I fell from the horse, washed away in the river, and I lived to tell about it. For here I am, thanking God to be alive."
"That is a tale. That must be where you got that bruise on your head, aye?" Margaret pressed her temple, for the first time aware of where her head had banged a river rock. "And that explains why the Southards left so sudden. You have bent the bow, that is for sure. But it was the river of God that bore you alive to your own shores."
"I have somewhere to go back to, and God willing, somebody to take me in as well," Margaret thought. "Do you pray, at bedtime? Then let us pray together." They knelt in the straw, and said the Paternoster. Then Margaret prayed aloud for the Bowens, for her family, for Willa. They then laid down in the straw, close by each other, and slept under the yellow moon.
"Heavens, Tamlyn, will you ever get old? You were in my service back when Fearnon found his Queen, but you're hardly looking near two score years. Your brother had something to say to that. I told him I would never forget the face that stood between me and death on Towmoor! By God, you were my angel that day, nothing between me and the earth but my mail coat, nothing between me and the sky but flailing hooves and flashing swords, and here you appeared. I thought of the sword that guarded Eden, turning every which way at once; that was what your sword looked like. Ha!" Clewode slapped Tamlyn's shoulder.
"You rewarded me well for that, getting Fearnon himself to knight me there on the field, and very honored I was and still am." Tamlyn bowed his head reverently over the glittering burden laid over his arms. "My lord, these past many years, I have done nothing to earn your regard, being entangled in affairs outside your concern. Yet you have always remained for me very much my champion and my friend, defending my wife during my absence. Only as a small token of my regard do I offer you these gifts, and renew to you my homage." He knelt and laid the gilt mail coat and jeweled dagger at Clewode's feet. Then he stood.
Clewode's squires moved forward to lift the presents up and lay them with Clewode's armaments. The great, grizzled warrior laid two heavy hands on his shoulders. "Well met, Tamlyn. I accept with gratitude. Now, as for tomorrow. You will lead your century and a cavalry detachment, mostly of Lowlanders, under your brother Coltram's division. As I am now Chief Commander, Coltram is over the Cynrose army. I know you well enough to trust you will be an obedient Esau. The older shall serve the younger: though no one would believe you the older. Though it seems you pay dearly for those years, son." It was not possible to know whether or not he alluded to his daughter, whom Tamlyn had nearly married.
"God has worked it for His good. I have no regrets." Tamlyn met his gaze unflinchingly.
Satisfied, Clewode slapped the shoulders again. "Good. I will look for you just after Lauds, then. When Prime rings we will be on our way to Salimont!"
Tamlyn bowed again and watched Clewode leave, pounding the war-horse's flank as he passed in the same affectionate way he had Tamlyn's shoulders.