The View From the Cart (38 page)

‘Then we will wait a while,' Cuthman decided. ‘And I will give instruction on the Word of the Lord, so that true baptisms might take place. Not just Frith, but all the people, should attend. It will be after the evening meal, each night in the Hall, beginning at the next full moon.'

This came as a relief. The moon was then in its first quarter, and until it was fully waxed, there was little prospect of the weather improving. Although the Hall was warm with its great fires, the habit had been to eat quickly and return to the smaller huts, huddling under the skins and packing hay around the walls to keep out the icy draughts. Like animals in such times, the great desire is to curl up and sleep the time away until the return of the sun. For me, and two or three of the other women, coming close to our birthing times, the desire to sleep grew more urgent as the days passed.

We clasped hands with Cuthman, first Frith, then me. For the time being, we each had what we wanted, and could part in good faith. What came next was opaque for us all, in the double-faced days that mark the winter solstice and the weeks following. A time to look back as well as forward, and to ponder on darkness and light, birth and death.

A fortnight passed, every day harder and colder than the one before. Snow fell on the days when the frost eased a little. The sea growled and thrashed, a deep grey colour, warning us all to keep away. Frith and I gathered fuel in the mornings, sharing our worries about how low it was getting, once or twice venturing to the forest edge for dead boughs, fallen from an elm or oak. The smell of smoke filled my nostrils, throughout the day. Although in the sharp frost, the fires burned well, eagerly consuming the fuel, the smoke rising straight, it got into our hair and clothes, and there was no escape from it.

The forest rang to the howls of wolves and screeching of birds. Wild pigs came out of the trees and nervously skittered around the edges of the settlement, seeking food scraps and perhaps warmth. Strange things happen in a severe cold spell. Otters showed themselves, as they dived into the sea for fish. Their rivers were frozen over, giving them no other choice. Great raptors dived into the shallows spearing fish.

The sheep and goats were brought into the pens at the edge of the village, safe from wolves and other predators. Feeding them was a constant chore, and the haystacks disappeared faster than anyone could have believed.

But we were dry, and happy together. I remembered the winter of a year before, starving in the hut, my back a constant agony, and gave thanks. My son had brought me to this place of peace and plenty, and I should show him my gratitude. I had been saved and given a new life. My back was restored, and I had nothing to fear.

Or so I said to Frith, cuddled against him in the dark. We talked much more than Edd and I had done. I recounted the story of my travels, the things I had seen, the ideas that had come to me. I told him of Wynn and Spenna and my childhood in the Christian village. I described how strange Cuthman had been, almost from the first – marked out, as I believed, for a special destiny.

My new man listened to me intently. He had favourite stories, like a child, and would say, ‘Tell me about the monastery again – the one where you first stopped.' He took particular interest in monasteries, I discovered, and together we built up a picture of the life of the monks and nuns who lived in them. It was all Frith knew of Christianity, having heard many a time of other monasteries, and how they owned great areas of land, and took young boys to live with them.

‘They have forgotten us here,' he said. ‘I have not seen a monk for many a year.'

‘Instead you got Cuthman, and his church,' I laughed. ‘At least he will not steal young boys away.'

‘But he threatens in another way,' Frith murmured thoughtfully. ‘He will challenge Fippa and fight to bring us all to his way of thinking.'

I said nothing, but I knew it was true. Cuthman saw himself as a missionary, and he had a duty to convert all the heathen. During his brief time at Chidham, he had been instructed in the best means to do this. And God was assisting him, whispering to him what to say. Cuthman could not read or write, he had no schooling, knew little of the world; but he had a sense of his own purpose. He had the power to perform miracles, and he saw angels. He had a strange light in his eye, which made people respect him. A strange peasant missionary perhaps, but I had no doubt that he would succeed. A vision of the Stone floated before me, lying broken and dirty in the long grass. Its time was done, and I shuddered a little at what might yet take place before the people admitted that it was so.

Events were hastened somewhat by the advent of the full moon, and the accompanying thaw. With it came a chill rain, beating into our faces as we went about our work. The river that ran down through the forest and into the sea spread beyond its banks, enticing waterbirds in their thousands, and threatening to encroach on the lower parts of the settlement. Everywhere was mud, as the top of the ground thawed, although below the surface it remained hard from the long freeze. We slipped and slithered about, and I became fearful of falling and damaging my child.

My belly by then was swollen beyond any imagining. ‘Surely I was never this huge with the other children,' I said to the women who were to be with me for the birth. I compared myself to others who had conceived at much the same time as I did, and found myself to be bigger by far.

‘You are older,' said one, quite kindly. ‘Perhaps that is the reason.'

‘Ask Fippa,' said the other. ‘Fippa knows everything about giving birth.'

Fippa had cold-shouldered me since my marriage, although I often caught her staring at me from a distance, with a strange grin on her face. I could not be sure that she would give me her true opinion if I consulted her. If I was carrying a very big child, how would I give birth to it? Would I die in the struggle? Worse than that, would my back be injured again? Death would be preferable to a further sentence of years of pain and disablement. What could I do to safeguard myself against it? As my time approached, I began to dream of blood and pain and a great monstrous infant which bit at me with long sharp teeth. But I did not go to Fippa, and she did not come to me with any predictions or suggestions. We both became distracted by a new turn of events.

Cuthman did not forget his promise of holding meetings in the Hall. On the night of the full moon, he stood up at the end of the meal and clapped his hands. ‘Friends,' he called. ‘Friends! It is time for you to be taught the true Word of God. There will be baptism for you all when you feel you have learned enough to make your vows. We have endured a dark winter, and it is not yet finished. But the light is returning, and with it God's good Grace falls upon you. You are a blessed people, as God showed when he directed me to come among you. Now I propose to instruct you, in small groups, where you may ask questions if there are things you do not understand. Frith, you will be my first pupil. And I will take four others – who are they to be?'

With a sigh, Frith patted my arm and got up from where he sat close to me, and moved to join Cuthman. No-one else stirred. Cuthman looked hard at Fippa's sons, Garth and Welf, who he counted as his friends. ‘Will you not come?' he asked them.

Nervously they glanced at their mother, who sat against the wall, as was her custom. Her seat was in a small space between a large table and the rough surface of the wall, and she made a habit of leaning back, resting her head, and staring around the Hall, watching all that took place. She stared straight at the two men, giving them no obvious indication of what they should do.

‘You will come to no harm,' Cuthman added, with a forced laugh. ‘My God is a loving God.'

Fippa spat onto the ground at that, though in a way to suggest that she needed to clear her mouth in any case.

I had some sympathy for the dilemma of the two men. They wished to assert their independence from their mother, but they, more than anyone, must have known the power she possessed. And they believed in the Stone, as protector and guardian of the settlement. They believed in their own gods, and saw no need for a new one.

But Cuthman had power, too. He made one more attempt. ‘Friends,' he said softly, ‘have no fear. I can show you the future, if you permit me. The future of the world, united under the one true God, and the future for you yourselves, enjoying everlasting bliss in Heaven, on God's right hand. It is a glorious future, which you may have so simply. You only need to believe, to have faith, and to be baptised. Come, try me. Listen to me for just this one evening, and if you find nothing that speaks to your deepest hopes and fears, then I will not press you to come again. Can you not trust me that far?'

Garth and Welf looked at each other. ‘He does work miracles,' Welf said, in a low voice, frowning at the decision required of him.

‘And he means us no harm,' said Garth. In unison, they nodded, and stood up.

Cuthman opened his arms to them, a rare smile on his face. Then he raised his head and scanned the Hall. ‘Two more?' he demanded. ‘Have I two more to share the wisdom of the Lord?'

A rustling and much whispering went round the tables. In a few moments, a couple stood forward. Husband and wife, they were. I had worked alongside the woman many times and found her to be unusually thoughtful. She had asked me many questions about my life and Cuthman's doctrine. Her name was Canti, and she was childless, although of mature years. Her husband was a white-skinned fellow, weakened by some childhood sickness. He was regarded with a degree of scorn by the village people, but his wife was clearly fond of him.

And so Cuthman had his little school, which flourished and prospered, according to Frith's reports. I was glad of it, in the main, though bothered by a wish that I could witness the discussions. I did my best to extract from Frith a full account of all that was said, but he was always weary afterwards, and excused himself.

A month and a half after Christ's Mass, a horseman came over the hill, with an escort of four swordsmen, and rode down into the centre of the village. Such a thing had evidently never happened before, and the people crowded together fearfully. The stranger was grandly dressed, his horse's harness decorated with bronze medallions. There was an alien force to him, an arrogance that intimidated us all.

‘Who is leader here?' he demanded, staring first at the shining black Stone and then up at the almost-finished church on the knoll. ‘Might this be a Christian settlement, or not?'

Nobody answered him at first. I searched the crowd for Cuthman, who would surely wish to step forward and make his claim on behalf of his God. But he was most likely on the hilltop, out of earshot, praying or fashioning the interior of his church. His absence seemed like a betrayal at that moment.

Fippa took her cue. ‘I will speak for these people,' she said. The man glared down, trying to see who had spoken. When he found her, he gave a mocking salute.

‘Well, Mother, then I will address myself to you. I am come as the King's representative, to order that you pay a tribute to the Crown, now and at regular periods from henceforth. The South Saxon lands have been too long neglected. We wish to gather you into the great Kingdom of England now. Your tribute will mark that you are included. There will be many advantages to you in this, of course.'

Fippa raised her hands, in a gesture of comical helplessness. ‘Such a grand offer,' she said. A few people chuckled, but the tension remained. Some were muttering ‘Tribute? What does that mean?' and suchlike.

‘Woman, this is a serious business,' the man rebuked her. ‘Read the tribute list,' he ordered one of the men with him. The man produced a parchment, which he unrolled and read, haltingly.

‘Five sheep, five goats, a bushel of best corn, a dozen laying fowl, three barrels of ale and five lengths of woollen worsted.'

Incomprehension filled every face. The list comprised a substantial portion of the village's goods.

‘What does this mean?' Fippa queried, her voice shaking a little.

‘Simply that we wish you to make a tribute of the items on the list, in return for taking your place under the King's protection. We will allow you time, of course, to supply them all.'

‘We should starve if you took so much,' called a man.

‘That is the truth,' Fippa confirmed. ‘We cannot let so much be taken.'

‘We have calculated it with care. The settlement is of a good size, and there is every sign of prosperity. It is the price you pay for peace, which is surely beyond any riches. If war came, you would lose a good deal more than some beasts and ale.'

‘Why should war come?' Fippa demanded. ‘What cause might there be to fight?'

The man guffawed loudly. ‘Woman, you are as innocent as a lamb. There will always be invaders from across the sea, and this sheltered harbour might be a favoured spot for their landings. Under the King's protection, you could send a runner or fire a beacon, and his army would come to give battle on your behalf. But the King has a large court, and many men and horses to sustain. Your tribute will be put to good use, believe me. Now, no more to be said. You will gather together the items on the list, for collection in one month's time.'

‘What might worsted be?' enquired Welf, who had moved to stand beside his mother. It was evident that nobody present knew what that meant at all. The man shook his head impatiently.

‘Cloth,' he answered shortly. ‘Woven woollen cloth.'

‘We have no such thing,' Fippa proclaimed. ‘We felt the fleece, and use that for our cloth.'

‘Felted cloth is acceptable,' snapped the man, impatiently. ‘It is all the same. But no short measures. The King must have his full entitlement, if you are to benefit from his care and protection.'

‘We have no need of your King's protection,' came a ringing voice. ‘We are children of God and He will watch over His own.'