“This is our place.” he said to me, as he tried to pull the rotting wooden door back to cover the cave entrance.
I put my arms back round his waist, hampering his movements a little, but he turned to face me with amusement. “I would put a proper door on it though, love.”
“If only it was ours,” I whispered back, resting my forehead against his for a moment.
But the cave wasn’t ours, of course. It was part of the land that belonged to the absent Erbrand. We both doubted he would learn of our trespass, and in truth we had done no damage save perhaps splashed a lot more water over the rock floor. The place had not been used for anything in years, not even storage, but the small waterfall that cascaded into a long-ago-built pool had been too much for us to ignore. Now, as a pale pink dawn touched the eastern sky, we finally wandered back to Northgyth’s house, hand in hand, and soaked through.
As we approached the heavy wooden door, we were still light of mood. I put a finger to my lips, kissed it, then placed it on his. ‘Let’s not wake Ethel, eh!” He gave me a ‘look’ that said ‘little chance of that.’
But we tried. He opened the door quietly and we walked as stealthily as we could towards the stairs. We were greeted by a ‘welcome home’ bark, as a sleepy Herne staggered out from Ethel’s small screened area. He wagged his tail dutifully, but with a yawn and some effort.
“Children! Papa, you and Yllfa can be just like children!” Ethel’s sleepy voice came through the screen. “And I bet you are both wet through.”
That day continued in the usual manner, with Ethel complaining a little more we had disturbed her slumber. Then there was Ymma’s breakfast of porridge, fruit and cream for Ethel and I, and boiled eggs for Waelden. Afterwards Ethel helped clean up, then ran off to attend Roan, and do more bow practice. I helped a little in Northgyth’s shop, Waelden saw to the horses and animals then helped with moving sacks of grain, and boxes filled with bread and some pastries going to the Roaring Dragon. Then he went down to the garrison for a while.
It turned into another ‘normal’ day in Bancross.
Were we settling, I wondered? In part my heart was a little lighter knowing Waelden and I were still able to laugh with each other. But he had spent more time alone than in the past. I suspected he was still blaming himself for what happened. Ethel was spending a lot of time with Ymma, which was not bad in itself, but I hoped for her to find the few other younger folk in the village soon. I thought on Hild’s daughter, Brona, paying a visit. Perhaps she would become a friend for Ethel? Yet Ethel was keeping her own feelings hidden away. She was a resilient girl of course, but as Waelden had said, she had been through things no child should have to go through, in the past few months.
And then there was me. What was I thinking; what was I feeling? Glad we three were alive, aye, that first and foremost. But when all was quiet, when I woke from a dream that was always a nightmare now, my heart was broken. Once Waelden was asleep he slept deeply. I would not wake him. But I found myself lying by his side and looking up at the high rafters and huge window, and feeling as if I was floating away, without any past to hold me firm.
Another day came and went, then another. Ethel told us she had met with Brona on the path. The girl had been sent down by her mother to ask Ymma after an extra delivery of bread. It seemed a couple of travellers were staying in the Tavern’s lodge for a few days, and they were expecting to eat there.
Ethel’s impressions were mostly kept to herself. Brona was only a year older than her, but Ethel said she thought she was probably the more grown up of the two. “Brona talks a lot about needlework and dressmaking,” Ethel told us. “And the dress she was wearing she had made herself. It was nice. But she isn't interested in forging or hunting or anything like that. So we will see.”
That night I had the ‘rootless, floating’ nightmare again, and woke, shaking and trembling so that Waelden was partly woken himself. He drew me close and stroked my hair, ‘It’s alright, love.” But I knew it wasn’t. I needed to do something to try and settle myself. Northgyth’s house was a safe and welcome dwelling place. The village itself was better protected than most. It was not a physical threat that concerned me. It was something else.
The following morning I told Waelden I needed to ride out to see the ruins of the farm; of my early home, my grandparent’s home. I needed to say my last farewell. He understood.
“And I will ride with you. I don’t know what to expect. There may be orcs in the area. There may be a few things we can salvage?”
I shook my head. “I need to do this, Greybeard. You do not.”
He grinned. ‘You need to do this. Do you think for one moment I will let you go alone?”
So that was decided.
Ethel was happy to take over my work in the store that morning. It meant she could talk about cooking with Ymma, and earn herself a few coins.
Waelden and I rode out of Bancross within an hour, letting the guards on the gate know where we were going, and that we expected to be back before sunset. They nodded. “We don’t have any reports of orcs in that area at the moment” the taller one said. “But keep alert. You never know.”
We rode on in an unusual silence. Ealfin buffed against Wynn’s neck a few times, almost as if reminding us that company is a good thing. Taking his stallion’s example, Waelden reached over to take my hand, locking his fingers with mine awhile. “I know,” he said. “It is far harder for you than for Ethel and I. I am here as much as you want me to be.”
We followed the trail towards Entwade briefly, then turned north, doubling back towards the west of Kingstead. It wasn’t long before burnt fields came in site, and the partly blackened remains of my early life, and of my dreams.
