The Beast of Caer Baddan (10 page)

“Where is Leola?” one such servant asked another.

“She’s around here, somewhere,” the other replied, with a baffled look.

Leola was silent, not willing to reveal her location so that they could once again levy the hardest tasks on her. She shrank back further into the darkness as her eyes wandered about the room.

She watched the warriors with a mixture of sorrow and amusement, noting the blatant contradiction. They disregarded her today, as they feasted on the earlmann’s meat and drink. Yet tomorrow evening, when they returned victorious over the Britisc, one or the other of these same warriors would find his way to her hut demanding her attention. She was nothing any
more, just a servant, but when the war was over, the men would still want her bed. They could ignore her one day, and demand her body the next.

With much dissatisfaction, Leola resigned herself to it. For it would be dishonorable to refuse the warriors. That was the way things were and had always been, and she had been a party to it since her thirteenth birthday. She would do it and eat wild carrot when it was done. The seeds of that plant had kept her from conceiving, as a proper woman must wait for marriage to give birth.

Leola had to laugh at the irony before her. The same culture expectations that would not allow her young mistress to lay with men, demanded that Leola do just that.

Her gaze caught sight of young Ardith, who moved around the tables, pouring mead to the warriors. This was one of the greatest honors a woman in Gewisland could have, but also the key role of the dryhtcwen.

One young stranger stared up at Ardith, as she refilled his cup.

“Hale Ardith Sigbert-daughter,” he said.

That is the Aetheling of Tiwton!
Leola thought.

Gewisland’s sole cyning, Giwis, had multiples
sons, indeed he had nine wives, one of the many privileges of being a cyning. But the eldest of his offspring, and Leola thought the most handsome of them, was his heir, Aluca
Aetheling of Tiwton.

“And what be your name, brave one?” Ardith asked, cheeks blushing red.

“Aluca Giwis-son,” the aetheling said.

“The Aetheling of Tiwton?”
Ardith asked, although Leola was sure she knew the answer.

“Yea,” he replied.

Even as Ardith left his table, her eyes stole over her shoulder at him still watching her.

As she returned to her own seat, she took Leola by the hand and pulled her along with her.

“Did you see the aetheling?” she whispered, with a demure giggle.

“Yea,” Leola replied.

“He looks very well,” Ardith said.

“Yea, Mistress,” Leola replied, “and likes to look at you.”

“Yea.
I hope so.”

“Perhaps he shall make you his wife,” Leola said, lowering her voice down to a faint hush.

Ardith blushed and giggled.

“I would be his first wife, his cwen,” she said. “I should like that.”

Leola was glad. She felt that she could judge people more accurately than her sheltered mistress. Many a warrior had his eyes set on the earlmann’s daughter, but most of them were not good men. The aetheling seemed to be trustworthy, and his obvious admiration for Ardith herself, aside from her inheritance, made him a better candidate then the ambitious men of Holton.

“Leola!” a bristled servant cried. “There you are! Take this!”

He pushed a platter of bread into Leola’s hands.

“I must go,” Leola said to Ardith.

“We shall talk of it tomorrow, Leola,” Ardith replied. “We are friends, you know.”

Leola smiled at this and went, glad in her heart for perhaps the one friendship she had.

As Leola walked up and down each row and passed the large bread rolls out to the warriors, her glance fell on Fensalir, a warrior of Anlofton.

My uncle
.

She looked another way, in the hope that he would not notice her.

“Leola!” came his rumbling voice.

“Fensalir,” she said, turning back and managing a weak smile.

He was more tanned than the rest, with light brown hair instead of blond, and his long beard was braided into two tails.

“You look well,” he said, cheerfully.

“Yea, I am,” she replied. “How is my aunt, Redburga?”

“She worries for you. We still think you should sell the land and live with us in Anlofton.”

Leola frowned on his words, knowing that glimmer in his eyes was for a stack of coins, the payment for her parents’ property.

“Uncle-” she said, and she did not hide the annoyance in her voice.

“You have not seen the boys since I brought them over a year ago and you have never met the girls, your own cousins,” he said, defensively. “Think about it.”

“Yea, I shall,” Leola said, knowing her words to be a lie.

“It is not as though it is a vast property, Leola,” he continued. “But after we win this battle, the price you can get for it shall be much lower.”

Leola
grit her teeth to contain her anger, she did not want to make a spectacle of herself here for all of Gewisland to see, yet she was irate hearing his false attention. He did not care about her or any of his relatives. The only thing he wanted was money to buy more mead, and she was determined to keep his greedy hands away from her parents’ land.

“I am working, Uncle,” she said.

“I’ll see you when we return from the battle. We’ll speak of it then.”

Leola nodded, with the resolve that she would avoid him more carefully.

Her parents had worked hard on their land, only to be sued in court over a goat. Leola was determined not to throw aside whatever small amount dignity their memory possessed by selling their fields. She knew that if she did that, she would have to go to Anlofton to live with Redburga and her family, handing over her money from the sale to Fensalir, the head of the household, who was likely to spend it all in a month. Leola refused to see what belonged to her go towards buying her uncle's mead. She was certain that he would promise to save it for her marriage but was too open-eyed to believe him.

No. I shall stay here, and pay off the debt with my work. If I should get through this year, I shall be free to do what I wish and marry whomever I choose
.

With that thought, she went around another table until the platter was empty.

Leola noticed the seething eyes of the ridend Raynar, who had spoken to her just a few days before. She followed his vile glare to the other side of the hall where the men from Tiwton sat.

You are angry at the aetheling!

Leola realized at once that Ardith's attentions would cause a war amongst the Gewissae warriors.

Who knows what a jealous person would do when provoked?

Her eyes told her that Raynar was dangerous, but he was also one of the mightiest warriors in Holton. This next war against the Britisc might change that. There were many young men who had not yet had the opportunity to distinguish themselves in battle. Deep in her heart, Leola prayed that the young Aluca Aetheling would prove the champion. But even that would be in vain if he should be struck down by a fellow Saex warrior.

Should I warn the men of Tiwton to be wary of Raynar?

Another servant took the empty bread platter from her and pushed dirty bowls and platters on her with orders to take them out to wash. Leola, glad for the distraction, went as she was bid and washed until they were clean.

Leola was still cleaning in the kitchen after the warriors had gone to sleep. Her weary hands were raw from the scrubbing and the harsh soap.

“I suppose you can go, Leola,” said the head servant.

Leola did not wait to be told again, but threw out the dirty water and left for the creek. In spite of her exhaustion, she felt too dirty from the day’s toil to sleep. A good rinse was required before resting and the cold night air did not stop her.

The creek was merely a short walk down the slope from where the town sat. Leola sat down the mossy bank, pulled off her tattered shoes, and ran her toes into the frigid water. Slowly, all the weariness melted from her aching feet and was carried away by the stream.

God is good
.

Then her thoughts traveled to her parents.

Sometimes, we do not know the purpose of things. That doesn’t mean there is no purpose
.

A sharp pang filled the back of her neck and a driving force pushed her head down into the water. She struggled against it, but the water burned her nose and filled her mouth.

A bright light shined from the floor of the creek and floated up towards her.

Am I dying?

Suddenly, Leola was pulled out of the water, her whole body tossed onto the mossy slope. Her clothes were soaked through and clung to her. She coughed up water until her throat burned.

A wide hand felt up her neck.

“Raynar,” Leola gasped, her voice halted.

“You dirty, nosy woman!” he cried. “What have you been saying to Ardith?”

Yea. It is Raynar
.

“What?” he cried. “You believe me to be unworthy of her?
I, the Champion of Holton, the bravest warrior!”

“Ugh! Please!” Leola gasped. “Don’t hurt me!”

“You told her to like the aetheling, didn’t you?”

“No! Please!”

“I knew you were trying to keep Ardith away from me!” he cried. “I knew you didn't think me good enough to be the next earlmann! I’ll teach you to mind your own business!”

He bent over her, his large hands finding their way around her neck. His fingers tightened.

Leola’s right hand crept under her back and pulled the small knife out of her apron knot. The weapon’s handle firm in her hand, she struck.

Raynar screamed and pushed away from Leola, as if to knock her aside. Then his hands went limp and his whole body fell over in a heap.

Leola had neither thought or word, but sprang to her feet at once and rushed up the slope. Her right foot slipped beneath her and twisted in the wrong direction. A stinging pain shot up her ankle and leg.

“Agh!” she screamed.

Leola set her mouth, determined to get to the top of the slope no matter how her body might hurt. As the right foot would not take any pressure, she limped and stumbled until she climbed her way to the top.