The View From the Cart (11 page)

Rad
. A journey, long and hard. Only the prepared should undertake to travel. It is easier to dream than to do the act. But it is travellers who determine the affairs of man. The foolish should bide at home. I mumbled the words aloud, forming the sign awkwardly, thinking of the promised journey ahead of me, half hoping that Cuthman was merely dreaming about it, and not ready to undertake it in reality.

Cen
. A torch to bring light to all creatures. It gathers all those together who share a common purpose. Wisdom and hope are the torchflames, courage makes it burn more brightly. A rune that resembled the brazier, perhaps, containing the pitch for the burning torch. I drew it firmly, the nail digging through the surface of the shard. My grandmother, I recalled, had favoured Cen as the rune she most wished to draw from the closed bag.

Gyfu
. A gift. Giving brings its own rewards. No-one is so rich that he will not welcome a gift. It may be easier to give than to receive. Be sure to respect those who make you a gift. I considered this thought for a moment. What gift would I ever have to give to anyone now? Even my body was a piece of wreckage. I made the mark for Gyfu irritably – two crossed lines, careful to meet each other centrally.

Wynn.
I had named my firstborn for this happiest of all the signs. Joy, was her name in another word. Those who are winsome are contented yet compassionate, generous and open-hearted. The wynn rune conjures a happy laughing child to mind. To draw it in divination brings a lifting of the heart, a promise of comfort and delight. A neat arrowlike shape.

Hail
. I looked out into the chill day, where the sky still spilled sleet. It was close enough for this rune to carry forever afterwards the memory of this scene, for me. Hail is a destroyer, laying waste the crops standing ripe in the field. Hail swirls in the cold wind, and then returns to water.

I drew it small, on one of the lesser shards, hoping it would hide away at the bottom of the bag and never come forth at the divining.

Need.
The sign of a crooked cross, an unhappy rune, bringing hardship and discomfort. Need can bring help if attended to from the first, it can bring contentment if we confront it. Need of a friend can hurt more than need of a loaf. I had never fully understood these lines. To be cold and hungry, with no hope of heat or food in view, has always seemed to me the worst fate of all.

Ice
. The easiest to mark on the shard of crockery. A single standing line. Ice is cold and slippery. It is hard to hold, and we can make no headway when we try to walk on it. In icy times, we can only wait and do nothing.

Year.
The four seasons, the Queen of Heaven, Frey, making the earth give forth its richness. Use her gifts wisely, and be patient.

Yew
. An ancient tree, strong and always green. Its roots go deep into the centre of the earth, where the elves and dwarves do dwell. The seven worlds, like the Web of Wyrd, all know the yew.

Theord
. Music and laughter, storytelling and companionship. Friendship together, in a time of ease.

Elksedge
. The bullrushes growing at the edge of the fens, its roots in the water. It wounds and burns those who grasp it. Be wary of grabbing for support at that which comes to hand. This way can lead to pain and sorrow. A mark like the horn of the great stag that roams the moor, calling harshly in the rutting season, dangerous to confront. Elksedge seemed the most masculine of the runes. A risky companion, liable to betray.

Sigel
. The sun, over the great ocean, bringing joy to the seaman, bringing a fair journey and good fortune. Its bright light chases away fear, and warms the sea and the earth. Not the simple life-giving sun in all its many glories, but the sun that lights the traveller to the end of his journey – in particular the traveller over water. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping earnestly that my son and I would have no cause to travel over water. Such a prospect was more than terrifying.

Tiw
. The warrior's friend, the God of courage, aggression and glory. He shines like a star out of the darkness, and is always there for those who need him. He is the most powerful of the Sky Gods. Warriors and travellers look to his brightly burning light. Tiw is an arrow, a spear, shining and trustworthy.

Birch
. A tree that is glorious in its branches and pale trunk, heavy with leaves, high in the sky. The tree of fertility, healing and magic. It sprouts many shoots. Woden marked runes on the twigs of the birch. The tree of the sorcerer and witch, the wood of rune wands and magic. Birches grow straight and tall, but the rune was not like that. It was not easy for me to mark accurately, with two bulges, one above the other, on the right-hand side of the upright. I made it clumsily, my hand tiring of its task by this time. There were always more runes than I recalled at first. Tumbling symbols, messages from the other world, between them summing all the experiences that mortals are prone to.

Next comes
Eh,
the old word for the horse. Friend of the rich and restless, an object of great pride to his owner, aid to fast travel and great adventures. I had seldom seen a true horse, only the smaller ponies that lived wild on the hilltops. Kings had horses, and armies used them for the battles.

I sat back, with my growing pile of finished shards. Still another dozen to do and already the light was fading. I could not slacken from the task. As I worked, the project seemed more and more important. These scribbled fragments would be my constant companions. With them, I could perhaps foresee something of what was to come, and be prepared. My grandmother had been well known as a seer, who never betrayed surprise at events as they unfolded. If I could attain something of her calm, I would be well pleased. Why, I asked myself, had I not done this long ago.

Man
came next. Man as betrayer and friend, Loyal but suspicious. Living in society, but always alone. We die in solitude, the gaping grave awaiting us.

Water
followed. The terror of voyaging by ship, the crashing waves always a threat. No-one can truly conquer his fear of the sea, and yet it will take him to far-off lands, to meet with strangers.

Ing.
A winter visitor from Eastern Lands, where the warlike Danes dwell. He comes amongst us to proclaim the thaw, and then departs again, leaving a new green on the land. He is the source of fertility and plenty.

Epel
– our native land, the place we hold most dear. The place where we feel safe, won for us by our ancestors, to be bravely defended. The place where we feel safe and comfortable, knowing how we must live, and what the customs are. I felt a tear slide down my face as I scratched the criss-cross of this sign. When would I know Epel again?

Day
. The light, the summer solstice when the days are long. Clear reason, safety, joy. Understanding, bringing bounty.

Oak
. Our father and mother tree, feeding the hogs with its acorns, the hogs feeding us. The timber taken to build ships, churches, chests. We owe the oak great honour, for its stately height, long life and bounty.

Ash.
Another tree, but how different! Quick growing, for making spears and fences. It holds fast to the ground, seldom felled by storms. It burns slowly, throwing warmth from the hearth. It endures.

The
Axe-hammer
, part of a warrior's kit, hanging from his horse, hacking the enemy's shield. A thing of beauty and power and killing.

The Beaver
. A creature at home in water and on land, eating fish and vegetation, building his own home, and diverting great rivers with his work.

The Grave
. I shuddered, knowing all too well the reality and horror of this sign. Hateful to all men, where there is only earth for company. But the grave is also a gift, relieving us of the misery of age and illness. The grave is sure and certain and teaches us to live boldly.

And last, the piece of broken pot on which I need draw nothing. The
Blank
, signifying the great Unknown, governed by the three Fates, weaving and cutting, measuring and judging. All people, places and things are woven into the threads of Fate.

I put the runes one by one into a pouch of pigskin I had from my father at my marriage. He had pressed it into my hands without a word. A man of few words, I had to guess its meaning. I had used it carelessly since then, but now it found its purpose.

‘Mother? Have we no broth?' My son came up to me, stooping to bring his face close to mine. ‘Where is my food?'

I had forgotten to cut up the turnips and set them to cook over the fire. It would be a long wait until we could eat them, and I felt ashamed of myself. The rune work had absorbed me, and made me forget my duties. I made a swift move to tuck the pouch under my skirt, knowing that Cuthman would object to them. There was little of his invisible God in them, although I had seen monks use them from time to time, when they came to the village to instruct us in scripture.

We waited, cold and silent, for the woody vegetables to soften. I was resigned to whatever came to me next. Nothing in my life thus far had been under my own control, except for the departure from the village with my husband. I had followed an unknown path then, and could perhaps do so again. Again, I had a man who would protect and guide me. A man who would over-rule me, too, if my inclination ran counter to his. Edd, too, would have done the same, if we had ever disagreed. I clutched at my bulky bag of runestones, as my only link with ancient ways and the solace I hoped they might bring me.

Cuthman's exalted manner returned and I had no choice but to trust myself to him. I even became convinced that he would indeed fashion a vehicle for me to ride in. He abandoned the sheep, as he had threatened, and spent the next two days in the barn, banging and chiselling, using timber from the woodstore beside the hut. The wheel was his chief difficulty. It should have an iron rim, he said, to survive the many miles he expected us to travel. We had no forge, and no more than a few nails and rusting farm tools which might be used. Neither did we have money to buy a finished wheel from the wright in the village. Doubtfully, Cuthman gathered up the length of cloth I had last woven, along with Edd's finest sheepskin jerkin, and leather boots. It was just possible that they would be enough to cover the cost of a wheel with a stout rim.

He was gone all day, but came home with a fine piece of workmanship. Impatient to complete the task, he took a short tallow candle out to the barn with him and set to work fixing the wheel to his barrow. From his cry of triumph that woke me late in the night, I concluded that he had been successful, but I was quite content to wait until next morning to lay eyes on the carriage which I was to call my home for who knew how long.

Cuthman carried me out to see it at first light. It was larger than I had imagined, stoutly made from cut planks which lay smoothly side by side to form my floor, my bed, my viewing platform. I was to travel in this handcart for days or weeks – I had no idea how long our journey might be – and I regarded it with trepidation. Three low walls bordered the floor, coming to a point above the wheel. I could sit with my useless feet tucked into this point, and my back against the third side of the triangle. I would thus see where we were going, with Cuthman behind me, propelling me along.

‘Try it,' he said, and carefully placed me in my vehicle. My knees were forced up, but I discovered that this was a reasonably comfortable position. He stuffed a bag of chaff down behind my back, where I would otherwise rub against the barrow, and I leaned carefully against it. The wood was cold and hard, but I could bear it surprisingly easily. My son stood behind me, gripped the handles and lifted my carriage off the two stumpy legs he had given it. I twisted round, sending a new tearing pain across my buttocks, to watch his face, trying to judge how much of his strength it would demand. He had altered his first idea, and woven strong leather straps to go over his shoulders, attached to the handles. This way, his arms would not take all the strain, and I could see that it was not too great an exertion for him.

‘It works masterful,' he gloated, using a word which Edd had made his own, and which reminded me of my dead man with force enough to bring tears. ‘We'll leave first thing in the morning.'

And so I spent a dreamlike final day in the hut where I had lived more than half my life. Cuthman forbade my taking anything but the most necessary articles with me. No cooking pot, no candles or spindle. ‘But what'll I
do
?' I pleaded. ‘How shall I pass the hours sitting in that barrow?'

‘There'll be plenty to see,' was all he said. I was permitted my thick woollen shawl, a cake of tallow soap and a little cloth bag with a comb, rags for my bleeding times and the carved doll that Wynn had made as a child. I wondered how we would keep the rain off, how we would eat, how we would find a way to some better place. It seemed a scheme of desperation and folly; but I knew we could not bide where we were. Our days on the moor were over, and we had no choice but to seek out a new and better life.

There was rain on the morning of our departure. I had insisted that Cuthman inform Spenna of our plan, and she had come to bid us farewell. She stood by, white-faced, and clutched folded hands to her breast as Cuthman lifted me into my cart. My hair was dripping, the bed of the cart was wet and my misery consumed me. Spenna and I had been close friends and it was cruel to part. When we began to move away, eastwards along the side of the valley, she walked alongside.

‘Us'll meet again,' she assured me. ‘Folks travel more these days. Send word when you've settled, and I'll come to see you. ‘Tisn't likely to be far off.' She glanced at Cuthman, all harnessed up with his straps, the muscles of his neck tight with my weight, and it was plain that she thought he would scarcely move us ten miles before giving up the struggle. I was not so sure. We could only survive in a place where we would receive alms from prosperous people. Such a place might be a monastery, which I believed would suit Cuthman in his new godliness. To my knowledge there was no such community within a sennight's walk.