Chapter Five - Kendra
The dweorg continued to sneak about the village and it seemed to the children that he was almost sniffing at each door, like a dog after a bone.
“What’s he doing?” Anna asked.
Raedann shrugged. “I don’t know. Dweorgs are strange fellows, but talented too. They spend their time down mines digging up precious metals and stones and making them into beautiful objects. Wondrous and magical items too. Things like Thunor’s hammer and Woden’s rings, and also Freya’s necklace, the Brisingamen.”
The tinker laughed. “It is almost as if he has lost one of his treasures the way he is carrying on. I think I will go and see what he wants. Dweorgs can get mighty angry if they lose something magical. I wouldn’t want any harm coming to old Nerian or any of your folk.”
“Anna ...” Hild gasped, her eyes wide and frightened, but Anna gave a quick shake of her head to silence her. She knew what the younger girl was trying to say. Did the horn belong to Gurthrunn and if so, would he be angry at them for taking it? Anna began to wonder if he already suspected that she had it. After all, he had been staring at her so very intently last night.
“Oh, Raedann, please don’t go,” Anna caught hold of the tinker’s arm. “Tell us about ... tell us about barghests. Have you ever met one?”
Raedann’s eyes widened and he shivered, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. Then he smiled and removing Anna’s hand from his sleeve, sat back against a tree. “Have a mind for tales of scary monsters do you? Well indeed, the black dogs are frightening enough. There is something otherworldly about them and they are like some spirit come from Helheim. Yet they are solid enough and their fangs and claws can inflict real harm.”
Exchanging glances with Lar, Anna noticed he was holding his wounded forearm while he listened, the bandages hidden under his tunic.
“Why do they appear? What are they after?” she asked, trying to make the question sound innocent enough, but Raedann gave her an odd look as if he was wondering why she was asking.
“Well, in some cases folk say they carry messages of doom and they appear to people who are going to die soon.”
“Die?” Hild muttered fearfully.
Raedann nodded, “Other times they seem drawn to crossing places - crossroads, fords, mountain passes, borders and so on. Indeed, they seem attracted to these locations as if they sense movement from one place to another.“
“Are they magical?” Ellette asked.
“Certainly, or at least they are drawn by magic, particularly magic to do with comings and goings, travel and so forth.”
Raedann gave Anna another long stare. “Why all these questions - dweorgs, black dogs, magic - eh? It seems to me that you have something on your mind. Do you want to let me know what it is?”
“Er...,” Anna mumbled, unsure what to say. She stared at the others. Hild just looked frightened, which was not unusual. Ellette was excited and Anna was concerned that the little girl might just come out and tell Raedann the whole story. The two boys both shook their heads, for once in agreement about something, although Anna suspected they had different reasons for not wanting to tell Raedann about the horn. Lar was probably still trying to decide how much he could sell it for and Wilburh was keen to know more about its powers.
The tinker stared at each of them in turn in a way that seemed to suggest he knew something was going on, and then he smiled. “Very well, I won’t pry.”
He jumped up from the ground and started back towards the road, calling over his shoulder, “I am off south. I will be back in a couple of days. If you want to talk then, I will be happy to listen.” He gave a wave and was off walking through the trees, singing to himself.
Anna looked after him and then back at the village, but of the dwarf, Gurthrunn, there was no longer any sign. There was, however, someone else. A rider, who as she watched, dismounted from a white stallion and stood beside it glancing around as if waiting for someone to notice her presence.
“Who’s she?” Ellette squeaked, gazing at the woman who now stood in the centre of the village.
The contrast with the little man who had been there moments before could not have been more striking. She was an imposing figure, tall and startlingly beautiful, and at the same time giving the impression of possessing great strength. Her long, blonde, almost silvery hair cascaded onto her shoulders and down her back. Her gown was pale blue, with a silvery pattern at her wrists and down her front. Over this she had thrown a cloak of deeper blue, which was fastened at one shoulder by a silver brooch. Around her neck there hung an amulet that caught the sun’s light and glittered with all the colours of the rainbow.
“Whoever she is, she is beautiful,” Lar said.
Someone had clearly spotted the lady, for now they saw Nerian coming out of the headman’s hall to stand in front of her. He gave her a respectful bow and it was plain to see that he and the other villagers, who now emerged to join him, believed her to be a woman of rank: perhaps an earl’s wife or even a queen. At that moment Nerian, his head jerking left and right as if searching for someone, looked straight at Anna and waved at her and the other children to join him.
They did so, running back through the orchard and pushing through the throng of villagers that now surrounded Anna’s father and the stranger.