On her way to church that morning, anger poisoned Hildred’s devotion. She knew that she was supposed to worship God with a pure and loving heart, but she also doubted that God would notice one way or another. After all, He clearly didn’t see—nor care—what was happening to her body, nor the bodies of her entire family, most of whom were dead.
The majority of the people trudging on the same dirt path to the church suffered more than she. Their skin lay flat on their bones and their raggedy clothes flapped loose on their joints. This was the worst famine any of them had seen in their lifetimes. Hildred fared better than them only because so many of her own family members had died in the last few years, leaving fewer mouths to feed.
Her eyes stung at the thought, but her physical discomfort overcame the torments of her mind. Her belly ached and her muscles trembled. For weeks she had lived on little more than nuts and water. What money she and her father had, they used to buy milk for the baby. A year ago, Hildred’s mother died giving birth to him. Somehow, little Coenred had survived, and lived still. He was growing sick, and he slept much more than a baby should sleep, and every instance he squirmed and cried came as a relief.
When she awoke this morning, she did so with the determination to save her baby brother no matter what. Perhaps that was why she dressed herself nicely today. She donned a soft linen dress that once belonged to her mother. She untangled her long brown hair with a pick and splashed her face with stream-water. She was not even sure why. It was a desperate clutch for pride and hope, she thought. When she knelt and prayed to God, perhaps He would notice her at last. Perhaps He would pay attention. And then He would show her mercy.
She heard a disturbance behind her and turned to see two horses galloping up the road. As they neared the pedestrians, the riders gave half-hearted tugs on their horses’ reins, but gave no indication that they would slow down to an agreeable pace. The townsfolk murmured and pushed one another as they tried to get out of the way.
The horses had little choice but to skid to a walk or trample some human beings, so they cast clouds of bitter dust into the air and snorted with dismay. Standing defiantly in place, Hildred glared back at the two riders shuffling closer. One of them was older and more rugged than the other, his wolfish hair and beard shaded gray, his large hand on the hilt of his sword as he yelled, “Make way for Thegn Eadric!”
Her glare fiercened. As the dust cleared she saw Lord Eadric, a man near her own age at some nineteen years, his red tunic blazing with color in the light of the sunrise. His long yellow hair was tied back, but still several strands sprang about his cheeks, thick and curly. Her heart gave a little leap at the handsomeness of his face, the bright blue eyes and slightly bumped nose, and she struggled to remember why she ought to dislike him. In truth people said the land-owning swineherd was a good lord: his own estate currently fared better than anyone else’s in all of Shrewsbury. But people also whispered that he was a liar and deceiver, though none of them could prove why. They probably assumed that because he began as a base-born nobody, he must have achieved his position by some evil, unfair means.
Her heart lurched again when she realized that he was staring back at her. Without deciding to, Hildred now stood in the middle of the road, blocking his path completely. People on either side of the road kept him from moving around her, and his horse had slowed nearly to a stop. She shut her gaping mouth and blinked rapidly, as if her lids might protect her from the lord’s curious gaze.
“Out of the way!” cried the lord’s companion, unsheathing his sword by a notch.
Hildred realized she was being very foolish, and for no other reason than because she was jealous of these rich and powerful men. She did not move from their path because she did not feel that she ought to. But what would she gain from defying them? Nothing but trouble, and she would be even more miserable than she already was.
She deflated quickly, dropping her head and stepping backwards. But even though she got out of their way, for a moment, no one moved. She hardly dared to breathe. She could feel the eyes of everyone watching her, judging her, and hoping to witness an exciting scene, whatever that might entail.
She heard her own heart thudding through her veins. She watched the horses’ hooves scuffle in the dirt, agitated, but not moving forward. She glimpsed Eadric’s boots clenching the sides of his horse. Why didn’t the lord move on?
“You.”
She flinched at the sound of his voice, soft yet sharp at the same time. Lifting her head only so far as necessary, she strained to look at him through her lashes.
To her surprise, he was smiling. “Chin up,” he said, and winked.
Her mouth fell open again as at last he spurred his horse and galloped onward with his companion. Her blood roared in her ears. Had anyone else seen that? Did the thegn just wink at her? His horse flicked a sassy tail and she shook her head in disbelief.
She looked down at herself: at the soft green dress, the freed chestnut hair, and how both of them draped the swell of her chest. Perhaps she had succeeded in looking even nicer than she’d intended. Had she really expected to win God’s attention, or was it actually the favor of wealthy thegns that she hoped for?
Whatever the case, she now felt sinful and childish for her vanity. What good could she really achieve by looking pretty? At home, her baby brother lay on death’s door. Her father was so miserable that if a chance at death presented itself, he would gladly join the rest of their family in heaven. But the thought of heaven sent chills across Hildred’s skin. Perhaps her faith was weak, but the comfort of an afterlife was a faint one; she did not want to die.
She began whispering her prayers long before the church came into sight.
The church was a simple building, its rounded walls made of twigs and clay, but it rested in a thriving valley. The small gardens here, whether through tedious attention or constant prayers, had somehow escaped the rot and malnutrition infecting the rest of Engla-lond’s soil. Adding to the paradisaical scene, cattle and sheep dotted the hills, strolling and grazing and lowing with leisure. Hildred’s hands clenched at her sides. The mere sight of such healthy livestock made her mouth water. How long had it been since she tasted beef or lamb?
Her family had suffered from hunger for some time now. Last year had been a minor drought, or at least everyone looked back on it as minor; but in their hunger they had eaten the seeds of next year’s harvest, and plunged themselves into a worse famine than before. Her father lost his job plowing another landowner’s field. The local reeves began to punish people severely for killing too many livestock for meat. Lord Eadric, she recalled, had been one of the harshest enforcers of this rule. No one wanted what had happened to last year’s seeds happen to this year’s animals. And yet as she stared at them, Hildred could not comprehend the wrongness of taking a single cow and using it to help her small family through the seasons.
She closed her eyes, murmured another prayer, and kept moving.
At the door of the church, she stopped. Her stomach churned within her.
She could smell food.
She knew that a small amount of food would be doled out after the service. The clergy found it a way to ensure attendance to their sermons. And in truth, they owed as much to the people, who had often come to work the church’s lands in the past when their sins lay heavy on their hearts. Hildred knew she should be grateful. But it was difficult to be grateful for a small bowl of leek soup after glimpsing the church’s gardens and flocks. Surely they could afford to give back more to the people than that? Didn’t she deserve a pouch of milk to carry back to her baby brother?
Sweat beaded her brow, though a cool breeze blew from the graying sky. She remained standing still as everyone else flooded into the meager sanctuary. She glimpsed the monks within their humble habits. Despite everything their cheeks glowed with vigor and their robes remained tight against their forms. She knew that perhaps God intended this, and rewarded these men for their hard work; and yet all of a sudden, she could not s
tand the sight of them.
She backed away from the church entrance. She turned aside.
As if in a trance, she followed her nose. She was not sure why no one stopped her. Perhaps they were all like her, unable to think of anything beyond the pangs of their own bellies. She walked through the lush fields, though they seemed to lose color around her as the sky darkened above. She wondered if God was watching now, hiding behind the blur of the clouds.
Her worn sandals led her through the dank grass to the kitchens, a more skeletal building behind the church. Her nose flared with the wafting scents and she felt dizzy. Vegetables, bread, fish, and even fruit … her sense of smell informed her that all of those things were only a few steps out of her reach.
A single man worked in the kitchens now, tending the food while the others worshiped. She could hear him humming as he worked. She stepped into the enclosure, her eyes drinking in the sight of the bowls of stew, the raw ingredients, the stores in barrels or underground compartments. Under the shade of a grassy roof, rays of sunshine shot through and bathed the precious items in golden light.
Then she saw two more men, and her eyes opened wide. They were Lord Eadric and his companion, standing amongst the food as if waiting for the cook themselves, while their horses grazed in the nearby grass. They were talking with casual smiles on their faces while the chubby cook bounced about, stewing pots with with thick fingers and then licking them clean of oil and butter.
She stood there for too long. Of a sudden, Eadric saw her.
His smile drooped to a frown. Hildred forced a gulp through her watering mouth. She trembled but stood firm against his cerulean gaze.
“Hey Aidan,” said Eadric. “You’ve a visitor.”
The monk stopped working and turned to look. His round face took a strange slant. She could sense the unease behind his forced smile. “Hello there,” he said. “Are you looking for something?”
“I … I …” She watched as a slab of butter a few tables away melted in a large, gooey drop. She felt faint. “I need food.”
“I know it, my dear, I do.” He walked closer to her, his large form blocking the sight of the foods. She was forced to stare into his green eyes, which seemed much too sharp and darting for a man of God. “But it is easy to forget that your soul is in as great a need as your body, or more so! You must offer your soul to God before you expect the fruits of His good will for your body. Go on to church with the others.”
“I … can’t.” Not needing to exaggerate, she shuddered and fell to her knees. She no longer cared about the handsome nobleman watching, nor what he thought of her. The sharp-eyed cook blinked rapidly with surprise. “I’m … too weak.”
He cocked an eyebrow, growing irritated. She trembled as his green eyes raked her up and down. “You look well enough,” he remarked.
“For God’s sake,” said Eadric, startling them both. Hildred looked up to see, with some relief, that the lord and his man were turning to go. “Give the lady a carrot, Aidan.”
Aidan scowled after the departing thegn. “If you’ll go to church.”
“One day perhaps,” called Eadric over his shoulder, smirking again. She glared at the thegn as he lifted up sacks of bread and cabbages and secured them to his horse’s saddle. Where did the sacks come from? In another breath Eadric hopped gaily onto his horse’s back, the brightness of his hair and tunic blinding even in the dull sunshine, and nudged the mount along, followed by his ever loyal companion. How must it feel to live with such comfort and security? She could hardly imagine.
The monk grumbled to himself, but it seemed as if he was, in fact, fetching her some carrots.
Her blood stirred with hope. She couldn’t have planned this situation any better if she had tried. The thegn was riding off, the cook’s back was turned, and within an arm’s reach sat a pail of milk. It was fresh and untouched, filled nearly to the brim, and Hildred thought that she wouldn’t need even half that much to save her brother’s life.
The problem would be taking it home. She glanced at the cook again; he grumbled and hummed to himself intermittently, and all the while rummaged through a large bag of carrots, no doubt searching for the tiniest and purplest to give her. She saw a skin nearby and grabbed it; it was full of ale. Working quickly, her blood racing faster than time itself, she took a swig of the ale and poured the rest out. Then she dipped it into the pail and watched in awe as the white cream refilled the emptiness.
As the cook turned around she moved herself so that she hid the pail behind her, and all the while she struggled to hide the dripping pouch behind her skirts. At last she managed to secure it under the cord around her waist.
Aidan held out the carrots. “There, soothe your belly, and then go inside and pray to God.”
“Oh yes of course … oh, thank you.” Hildred did not care that the carrots were tiny, wrinkled, and purple. They seemed so sweet on her tongue as she ate them, and every crunch sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. All the while she backed away, bowing at the clergyman. “Thank you … bless you ...”
He nodded and smiled for as long as he could stand to, then eagerly returned to his work. Victory filled Hildred up like a cool drink, and she turned to hurry off.
“Hey ... hey wait!”
She spurred her feet faster, pretending not to hear him.
“Hey! My ale!”
His voice sounded very close, very suddenly. When she paused and felt her own skirts settle around her, sopping wet, she knew she was done for. Desperately, she reached behind her. All was lost if too much of the milk spilled out.
His grubby hands gripped the pouch at the same moment she did; they wrung it in between them and their combined efforts flung it suddenly to the ground.
The last of the rich, white milk soaked into the earth and disappeared.
“You little bitch! Eadric? EADRIC!”
She should have run immediately but she was petrified with horror. As the last drops of milk fade away, she watched as if her own baby brother died before her eyes. Tears filled her vision, making the ground undulate.
Eadric must have been in hearing distance, for soon the thuds of his horses’ hooves grew louder. Much too late she turned to run, but she was crying now, sobs choking her throat, salt-water blinding her eyes.
“Go on, Truman,” said the thegn, not with much conviction.
She heard the sword-man dismount and felt his boots shaking the earth; she fell to her knees and wept openly. “I’m sorry Coenred,” she gasped. “I’m sorry ...”
Truman grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her. He twisted her wrists sharply and she cried out.
“Easy,” said Eadric, his horse churning the dirt with irritation.
“Easy?” cried the monk. “She stole my ale—and some milk!”
Hildred groaned as Truman tried to pull her to her feet. She sagged like a dead weight in his arms.
“Come now,” said Eadric. “In the end she only spilled it, so far as I can see. Is an accident worth all this trouble?”
“You cowardly swineherd!” raged Aidan. “You’re as weak as one of your little piglets if you let this go. Are you a thegn now or aren’t you?”
Eadric’s teeth flashed with a scowl. “This is the reeve’s work.”
“Then take her to Wuffa.”
“That I will.” The lord suddenly had a strange look on his face, firm and distant. She stared at him imploringly, wondering if perhaps she could rouse any semblance of mercy within him, such as whatever had caused him to wink at her this very morning. But he would not even look at her. He seemed to have accepted his duty, and forgotten the rest. “You’re coming, too.”
“What?” said Aidan.
“I saw nothing. The decision of her innocence must be reached by the magnates. It will be your word against hers.”
“But my food, and the congregation—!”
“Then come to town this evening and speak your piece. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Good,”
said Aidan. “I will. I enjoy seeing God’s justice be done.” He sneered at her. “And as a thief, she’ll hang.”
She shuddered with one last sob, but then her eyes seemed to run dry. The thought of the afterlife still frightened her. But now, not even the fiery depths of hell seemed so terrible as the miserable world in which she already lived.