Rhiannon (14 page)

“I'm sorry to disturb your royal majesty's royal sleep, but I
need
this piece of clothing,” Rhia mumbled to the insulted-looking tortoise. She then gave a quick sign of the cross before the peaceful dead, bent to kiss Granna's cheek, wrapped her shawl around herself, and headed outside, still groggy.

The sun was shining so astonishingly that she raised a hand to shelter her eyes as she stumbled to the brook. She splashed her face, then sat back upon her heels. With golden breath the sunny wind had blown the fog completely back to sea. Everything up here sparkled and shone like the Garden of Eden.

In fact, the buds had finally begun opening this morning. The orchard was blotched with pink and white blossoms, fragrant even at this distance, and the green collar of the woods was fringed in the fine jewel-like purples and yellows of crocus and forsythia.

“Where
is
everybody?” she called. No answer. “Gramp, where are
you
?”

Gramp came swooping from the woods to settle upon the crucked top of the chapel roof. He then looked down between his own splayed feet at the chapel door below.

So, the others were inside the church, gathering the things they'd need for the funeral.

“Thanks, kind sir.” She gave her face another hard splash or two, then pulled her long hair back into a quick knot, ran to the chapel, and burst through its open door.

The chapel was so dim and gloomy after the brightness outside that she could not see a thing at first. There were two small, slitted east windows up near the altar, and golden light poured through them like honey. It would be hours till the sunshine reached through the thick, stone casements of the side windows, though, so all else was cold, shadowy stone, dark and ancient timbers, and soot-grimed daub. The shovel kept in here was gone, as well as the cup and plate for the sacraments. The people she'd come looking for were gone as well.

With a quick sigh, she turned to leave, figuring the others must be already preparing the grave and that she'd join them at the stone circle in the woods.

“Rhiannon? Have you seen the remarkable pictures above these windows?”

She whirled back around and this time noticed Thaddeus standing alone near the altar, looking up. Surrounded by the thick light that fell upon that little area and that alone, he seemed transparent, his pale hands and face washed nearly invisible.

“For all fifteen years of my life, I've
had
to see those horrible things!” She hurried toward him, happy for the chance to say her age, though she'd given herself a few months she'd not earned as yet. “They're said to be the Devil Dogs of Clodagh, painted there long ago to remind all of the perils of hell. Half-dog, half-dragon they are, with their long serpents' tails double-hooked like the devil's own pitchfork. The painter must have heard the local stories of such animals being trapped in a cave within our wood. When I was little, those awful pictures were all I could think about throughout the sacraments.”

“That's exactly the intent of paintings such as these,” Thaddeus murmured, moving closer to the wall and looking up at the gruesome dogs in fascination. “They're meant to frighten children into staying quiet yet wakeful, no matter how the vicar drones on and on. The painter was really very good. See how the eyes shine with counterfeit life? I aspire to such truthful embellishments myself, though on gentler themes.”

Rhia looked from the paintings to the monk, her eyes wide. “You're a painter!
That's
why your hands are stained as they are!” She was so impressed, she lacked words to tell it, though it surely showed upon her face.

He shrugged and looked some abashed. “Painting is my great love, but please don't think I'm master of it! I've been allowed to apprentice in the great scriptorium at Glastonbury. I'm to illustrate the walls of our church and priory in Woethersly, once they're ready and limed for a smooth surface. It will be my first opportunity to do such a thing—a test of sorts. I'm nervous about how I may please, or
dis
please, to tell it true.”

Gramp, still upon the roof, chose that moment to give his wings a series of great stretching flaps. They were both startled by the sound, much magnified inside the empty church, then smiled at each other sheepishly.

After a moment, Rhia ventured, “Thaddeus, did you consider that Granna's story about our groshawke might indeed be . . . truth?”

Thaddeus looked raptly and silently at the paintings to dodge an answer, obviously not wishing to offend her.

Still, Rhia could not leave the subject without a further prod. In truth, she liked not the monk being certain of such things when she herself was not.

“And . . . and Granna also says that I myself, as well as she and Mam, came down from feathered granddames. You must admit, it would explain how we three came to be atop this bluff when everyone else has had their start upon the ground so far below us.”

To tell it true, she expected he would dispatch that with a laugh. It
did
seem far-fetched, though there
was
oft a longing for flight that came to her in her dreams.

Thaddeus clasped his hands behind him, his eyes still lifted and taking in the art.

“I suspect your grandmother must have once been a great hooded owl,” he said quietly. “And your mother might well have been a pure white dove with a tuft of orange feathers upon her fair head. And you, Rhiannon, I believe have come down from a shiny winged rook. You are dark of hair and eye, and like that bird, you have a rogue nature.”

She was not sure whether to protest or laugh. “I declare that I have no such thing!”

He looked at her and grinned in a teasing way. “Then how are you capable of giving a blistering scold to important clergymen come clear from the court at Winchester to give advice on the church expansion?”

“They
deserved
it,” Rhiannon insisted, her knuckles upon her hips. “You must admit, Thaddeus, that they did. They
did
.”

Thaddeus smiled in a different, sadder way. “Yes, they deserved it, Rhia, though God forgive me for speaking thus of my superiors. Jim had a right to his cottage. They might have checked it the owner still lived, but it didn't suit their purposes. They were too willing to trust your lord and your vicar, who themselves acted hastily and selfishly regarding poor luckless Jim.”

At this sad mention of Jim, Thaddeus turned with a sigh to crouch with his back against the damp wall, then tucked his hands into his sleeves, shaking his head.

Rhia paced before him, agitated and restless. “All saw the blood flowing from the murdered man's wounds at Jim's touch, but I'll
never
believe Jim could, or would, do such a thing as murder.” Her eyes filled with angry tears. “Mam's always giving me private instructions regarding Granna's stories. She'll say, ‘Now, Rhiannon, you're not to be listening close to your grandmother's tales of mermen or young women become willow trees and the like, as these things border upon the heathen lie. Well, I'll allow Granna colors things up a bit, as any official Welsh storyteller will do! But exaggeration, hearing it or speaking it either one, just doesn't seem very sinful to me, especially compared to awful things some . . . some fine
Christians
do all the time!”

Thaddeus made no comment that might have stopped her blasphemy, so she went on.

“All those
fine
priests, hired to give those poor lepers a gruesome mass so's they could be abandoned to a horrid and lonely fate. And those churchmen burning Jim's only thing he loved in the world, his willowed toft! And there was such . . . well, such a
haughty
look on Vicar Pecksley's face as the bailiff pressed Jim's hands to the corpse of that murdered man yesterday! I was close enough to see it quite clear, Thaddeus, and I believe the vicar took prideful pleasure in the whole thing!”

Thaddeus said nothing, but out the corner of her eye Rhiannon saw him look at her.

“Rhia?” he whispered after a moment. “Are you certain that you saw
exactly
what you've just described? Exactly, in every detail?”

She stopped her angry pacing to look down at where he crouched. “I saw a haughty look upon the vicar's face. I'm
sure
of it.”

“Not that.” Thaddeus slowly came to a stand, his eyes glistening. “I mean, are you certain that you saw—”

“Rhiannon?” Mam called. “Thaddeus, are you in there? It's time we started!”

“Just so, Mam!” Rhia called. A dizzy wave of guilt went through her head to toe, for what if Mam had heard what she'd been saying about their vicar?

But her mother and Reeve Clap merely stood looking puzzled and sun-blinded in the back doorway. Granna walked up behind them, bringing Daisy along.

Rhia hurried back to them, and Thaddeus came along behind her.

Over her shoulder and against her will, she glanced up at the Devil Dogs. She could have
sworn
they stared back at her with glowing eyes.

They took Sal back to her own cottage, then carried Ona and Primrose to the stone circle and buried them together in a pretty spot newly covered with wildflowers. As they said prayers over their grave, Rhia saw quick movements from the corners of her eyes and knew that they six weren't alone. Those brought to this place by the earl's false charity were watching from some distance, surely afraid to reveal themselves.

When all turned to trudge with respectful step back up the slope, Mam stayed behind. At first not one of their party noticed her absence, as all eyes were downcast and all thoughts subdued. But then they heard her voice behind them as she called toward the deeper woods, gently but firmly demanding, “Who are you?”

Rhia and the others stopped in their tracks and looked back in surprise. Even Reeve Clap had gone on along, figuring Mam was just behind him on the single-file path.

But there she stood, still inside the stone circle, her dark green cloak billowing in the breeze. “Don't be afraid,” she said a bit more loudly, walking down even deeper into the woods. “Whoever you are, come out so that we may meet you and see to your needs.”

Rhia should have known Mam would sense the presence of these new folk. She was ever sensitive to the weak and disabled, though they be hidden in a vast crowd. This forest, known so well to her, would be far easier for her intuition to penetrate.

“Now see, and this is exactly what I might have thunk,” Granna muttered, planting her hands upon her hips. “Almund, when you stated that a ship had arrived what held cargo for us up here upon the bluff, I figured there might be
some
choice in our accepting the cargo or no. But I should've known there'd be no choice a'tall when it came down to it, as there'd be no stopping my Aigy when suffering was involved. And
that's
what cargo
always
turns out to be when pointed toward us. Never a load of beet sugar nor pipe fill nor rawhide for the mending of our frayed shoes! No, not ever some
nice
surprise, I'm saying, but always someone or t'other carrying us up more suffering.”

Daisy jerked on Granna's skirt. “What about
me
?” she demanded sternly. “Did I not come up to you as carried cargo, and do you call
me
suffering?”

Rhia ducked her head, biting her lips. Daisy would be one to give Granna back as good as Granna could give, that was becoming certain.

“Well,” Granna allowed, taking Daisy's hand and swinging her small arm. “There's
some
cargo does bring a nice surprise with it, that's true enough. I'm corrected.”

Meanwhile, Mam walked steadily deeper down the slope. As always happened when she walked beneath the canopy of oaks, the birds from all directions fluttered down to form a colorful train behind her. That sight was always amazing, but nothing new.

There
was
a new thing happening, though. Certain of the forest animals were now revealing themselves, as though they'd understood her call to come forth. Two red deer and a badger had emerged from their hidey-holes, as well as a family of raccoons.

And deeper in the trees Rhia saw something that took her breath away. A horse, it was! A white horse dappled with silvery gray had come now from the shadows, pulled into the sun by Mam's gentle voice. Rhiannon tugged at Thaddeus's sleeve and pointed, and together they watched with held breath, hoping for its closer approach. But as if sensing their too-eager inspection, the handsome horse threw back its head and pawed the ground, then turned to canter into the dense wood, beyond their sight.

Meanwhile, the people Rhia'd seen on the beach had shuffled from behind their tree cover, stopping in a loose semicircle some few paces in front of Mam. They clicked and clacked with little sticks upon small bowls they held.

“Have a care, Aigneis!” Thaddeus called down the slope. “ 'Tis not a good idea to approach them close. They're alerting you with their clapper bowls that they carry dire contagion.”

“Save yer breath,” Granna advised him, shaking her head. “Aigy will not leave a creature in distress. There's but one thing you can count on, and that's it.”

But Mam surprised them all by turning and meekly coming back up the slope. At first they thought Thaddeus had prevailed upon her thinking, but she moved right past as though he and the others were invisible, giving fast instructions over her shoulder as she hastened along.

“I'll need my biggest basket to take what bread we have down to them! Rhia, you'll first gather more honey from the hives, then find what butter might be still in the cooling shed. Mother, you can please pour watered ale into the carrying pouch, and you two men can gather what extra blankets we have and get fires lit in the three spare cottages we've got, now that Jim's in town and Daisy's living with us. They've a starved look, but may need medicinals beyond that, so I'll have to replenish my—”