Seventeen
“WHERE’S DA?”
Demairo looked up from the group of pale stones he held in his hand to find a flushed and indignant Ceri glaring down at him.
“I’ve looked for him everywhere, but I can’t find him.” She stamped her foot in clear frustration, no doubt still annoyed that Mihal had beaten her in the pattern dance.
Staring down at the stones, Demairo tossed them in his palm and looked at his cousin again. He wasn’t sure it was wise to tell her, but she’d find out soon enough. “He’s with Briallen.”
Ceri frowned and looked around the fires, where the rest of the family were spread out amongst the smoke. It was late, everyone was finally starting to get tired and they were almost out of ale. “Where? I don’t see him.”
He waited for her to look back at him, then raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “They went into the woods.”
“In the dark?” He watched as the confused wrinkles on her forehead slowly flattened out and her eyes widened. “Oh.”
Though they were only children, they’d been around livestock enough to learn a few things. Then there was this large family, all living so close together. Demairo might not understand everything that went on between adults when they went off together, but he had a general idea.
So did Ceri. “Oh!” This time she squeaked with delight. “Does this mean they’ll get married? Is Bria going to live with us?”
Demairo didn’t know for certain sure, but he was fairly confident. “Most like.”
Her squeal was almost painful as she threw herself at him, hugging him tight. “This is the best First Frost ever!”
Since it was the first they’d celebrated, Demairo snorted at her enthusiasm, but did nothing to dampen it. Not even when a thoroughly dishevelled Elisud emerged from the shadows, an equally rumpled Briallen by his side. Still squealing, Ceri dashed over to them, making both adults blush a fiery red. Luckily everyone else was too exhausted or drunk to pay much attention to Ceri’s high spirits.
“All well, Mairo?” his uncle asked, once Ceri had finally calmed down enough to lead Briallen off somewhere or other, chattering merrily.
Demairo looked at Elisud, saw that some of the tightness of recent moons had finally faded from his face, and smiled. “All’s well.” Then he held up his hand. “Pick a stone.”
Elisud frowned, but dutifully picked out a large grey pebble. “Any reason?”
“Dama Wynn says we put them in the wake fires, and come morning if any are missing then –” He didn’t finish, couldn’t bring himself to. He knew about traditions and ceremony, but this was one he really didn’t want to think about.
His uncle sighed and hugged him in tight against his baggy tunic, where his belt hadn’t been properly tied. “No one’s going to die this winter, Mairo, or in the year that follows. All our stones will be there in the morning.”
“Promise?” Demairo asked, burying his head against his uncle’s chest, knowing it wasn’t anything Elisud could promise, but wishing with all his heart that he could.
There was a slight pause, before the man’s arms tightened, holding Demairo even closer. “I promise,” he whispered.
“Then make sure you mark yours, so we’ll know how to find you in the morning,” Demairo told him, pulling back with a hard sniff. “I’ll go give Ceri and Bria theirs.”
Elisud put a hand on his shoulder, holding him when he would have left. His uncle looked unusually grave. “About Bria. Do you mind? Is it… is it all right?”
“Would it change anything if I said no?” Demairo asked, trying to hold back a smile.
His uncle looked sheepish. “Probably not.”
Demairo laughed. “I think Ceri and I would mind more if you didn’t marry her. We like Bria. She’s family already.”
Elisud’s smile was full of relief. “Thank you, Mairo.”
Demairo smiled and put his hand at the pouch on his belt. Pulling out a small piece of bread – all that remained of his loaf – he offered it to his uncle. “Happy First Frost, Uncle Elis, and a life of luck to you.”
“Happy First Frost, Mairo,” Elisud replied, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “And I think I’m fully blessed with luck already.”
Ducking his head bashfully, Demairo gripped his handful of stones and hurried off. He had Ceri and Briallen to find before everyone put the hearth fires out.
IT WAS A STRANGE feeling to walk from house to house, checking that each of the hearth fires had gone cold. The one rule Elisud had always lived by was to never let the fire die.
There was always a fire at the heart of each house. It provided light and heat, somewhere to cook, somewhere to dry, somewhere to gather: it was the life of each home. Yet here, now, tonight on the first night of winter, he had to stand by and watch the fire in the heart of his house die out.
Then he walked with the others through the space between the two large wake fires, feeling sweat break out on his skin at the combined heat, his eyes stinging from the smoke of the herbs Dama and Sira Wynn had tossed on the twin blazes. The smoke cleansed, purified and blessed, washing away the ill-fortune of the passing year, leaving them fallow and clean for the cold winter ahead, ready to be reborn with the sun at midwinter.
It wasn’t like anything Elisud had experienced before, yet it felt good, walking through the smoke and imagining all the hard luck and bad things of the past year being burned away, washed off by the heat and sent spiralling harmlessly into the sky amidst the fragrant smoke.
Then he stood with Demairo and Ceri, and Briallen too, and threw his stone into the larger of the wake fires, along with the rest of the family. He felt a flash of worry as he watched the four stones clatter together down amongst the embers, then shook his head.
No, there was need to worry. Come morning all four stones would still be there; he knew it, he could feel it. They’d had enough hurt over the last four seasons to last for years. Now was their time. The bread of First Frost would work for them – he would make sure of it.
Finally it was time for one person from each house to receive a burning brand, which they carried carefully into the homes and laid in their hearths. Light was rekindled, life was resumed, and the wake fire of the whole family had now spread to warm them all.
Elisud had never felt part of something so big before, but he liked it. It warmed him just as much as seeing his hearth fire flicker cautiously back into life. Ceri grinned as she helped him place their burning brand amongst the embers under Demairo and Briallen’s watchful eyes.
“Make it grow,” he bid the children, and the two of them raced to throw on kindling and dried grass to help the flame catch and feed.
Elisud’s eyes caught Briallen’s and they simply looked at each other in the growing glow. They’d kindled their own fire between them tonight, but it was up to Briallen to decide whether it would be allowed to grow and be placed in the hearth of their house, or if it would fade to cold embers and ash.
“I am so sleepy,” Ceri yawned, startling Elisud when she walked smash into him, arms going about his waist in a weary hug. “Night, Da.”
Stroking both hands over her dark curls, Elisud bent and kissed her forehead. “Night, puffin. Sleep hard.”
“Mm,” she agreed, eyes half-closed as she staggered towards the bed, needing help from Demairo to steer her into the right one. “Night, Mairo. Night, Bria.”
“Night, Ceri,” came the soft replies, before Demairo made his own excuses and climbed into his bed, wriggling out of his clothes beneath the covers.
Elisud glanced at Briallen, wishing he could ask her to stay, but knowing it wasn’t appropriate. He respected her too much. Until it was announced to the family, until Briallen said the right words and everything was official, he wouldn’t do anything to shame her. They had done nothing to regret, and he wouldn’t do anything to make her feel that way now.
Instead he held out his hand, smiling with relief when her fingers slid against his. “May I walk you home?”
/> Casting a last glance at the children, Briallen leant her head against his shoulder and sighed. “I suppose you should.”
Her obvious reluctance to go almost got the better of his good intentions, but he clamped down on his wants and needs. He wasn’t interested in having Briallen for just one night or two, he wanted her forever, so he would do this right. No matter how much he didn’t want to at that moment.
Raising their joined hands, he kissed her fingers and matched her sigh. “I should.”
Everything was quiet in the yard now, with only the wake fires crackling sleepily to each other, burning through the last of their fuel as the sky lightened overhead. Empty mugs, jugs and platters lay scattered everywhere, the latter licked clean by sneaking hounds. It was a scene of perfect abandon and brought a fresh smile to Elisud’s lips. It had been a good night, full of wonderful memories. Some even more special than others.
Reaching the door to Dama and Sira Wynn’s grand roundhouse, Elisud paused and turned Briallen to face him. There was such peace in her gaze that he longed to pull her into his arms. Just to hold her, nothing more; to stand in the silence and sleep for the whole winter.
He resisted the impulse, knowing it wouldn’t be enough for him and that Dama Wynn was likely awake inside, waiting to see how long it took before Briallen returned. Determined to give his beloved nothing to blush over, Elisud restrained his wicked impulses and planted a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek, pressing something into her hand.
Clearly surprised, she looked down at the loaf he’d given her. It was hard now after a day in the cold kiln – rough, misshapen thing made from his clumsy hands – yet it felt like he was handing over his heart.
“Dream of me,” he whispered against her lips, unable to resist one last taste, then pulled back into the smoke and shadows between the wake fires.
Turning, he watched Briallen cradle the bread against her breast and smile. Then she slipped away into the darkness of the house, taking his hopes along with her.
He hoped she dreamed and dreamed deep. He hoped he filled her entire night and left her unable to think of anything else. Because certain sure she would fill his.
“Sleep hard, anwylyd,” he murmured to the quiet night, then turned and went in search of his own bed. Day would break soon and he had an important meeting he could not afford to miss.