Hild climbed the stairs at the back of the ‘Roaring Dragon’ and headed to the door of Bronaa’s room.
“Ethel is here” she stated, as she knocked on the wood and entered.
“Prince Haleth led the defense of Edoras, his courage inspiring his men. He was the last one standing.” Bronaa said to Toothless, who was sitting at the foot of her bed, wagging his tail.
Hild made a face. It was good that Thane Averel was teaching her daughter about the history of their people, but the girl was so determined to impress Averel that she rarely did the usual things any more.
Uncrossing her legs and turning from where she sat atop her blanket, Bronaa faced her mother. There was a slightly guilty look on her face. “I have to get this right, Mama. I want to keep learning. I want to be a Storyteller.”
“Ethel is a good friend. Don’t ignore her. And you have some sewing to finish for Northgyth as soon as possible.”
“I will get on with the sewing later tonight, Mama”
“And ruin your eyes in the candlelight.”
“Not yet awhile. I want to prove to our Thane I am worth his efforts.” Bronaa suddenly pursed her lips, knowing she was treading on unstable ground. “I am sorry Mama. But please tell Ethel I will be down to see her soon. I am glad she is here.”
“I will tell her. She is with her Papa, so will likely be teasing him over something or other for a while yet.”
Hild hadn’t meant her words to sound like a rebuke. It was a fact that Ethel and Waelden often teased each other in a good humoured way. Mostly it was over Ethel being allowed to do something she probably shouldn't. But this between her and her daughter was different. Bronaa had not meant to touch on the nerve she had. The girl knew what troubled her mother.
With a nod of her head, Hild closed the door behind her and returned to the folk in the Tavern.
She had to get Thane Averel out of her mind.
Now the Roaring Dragon had been recently repaired and altered a little, with help, so she could more easily move from tavern to kitchen. That had brought her much joy, and a sort of relief that this was no longer quite the same place as she had first dwelt in with her husband, Paega. It was a help towards a fresh start for her and Bronaa. They had only moved back in three days earlier, as they had been guests at Waelden’s house since the night of the battle. It had taken some time for both women to feel really safe again anywhere other than with Waelden’s family and their killer goat. But now things were better. Both women, and Seldis the cook, were determined to make a welcoming place for villagers and travellers to drink, eat and rest in. And her friend Yllfa had finally got her own kitchen back.
All was looking up!
Hild had recently posted a menu on the Dragon’s door, written by Ethel for those few who could read, and to impress…well….she mentally slapped herself for her folly. He was unlikely to visit.
The point was, she was spreading the word that food and drink would be much the same as they had always been, whereas in truth she was running low on both. Mindlessly she twisted a loose strand of her reddish gold hair around a finger. She had a plan of course, but it depended on her playing the right cards.
And unfortunately her hands were trembling.
Walking through the kitchen and back to the bar, the low chat comforted her a bit. It hadn’t been a busy first evening, but there had been a steady stream of customers. Heartha and Hearrd had been the first, the pair of smiths taking a table in the far corner, their heads bent in close conversation. Hild already knew that the master smith’s arm was taking a long time to heal, and that it must be causing her some frustration. At one point the normally gentle tempered Hearrd had thumped the table with his fist. Hild had looked away. Feelings were running high. Why those two didn’t stop talking about the forge and got together as a couple she would never know. But then again, she had quite a good idea why that wasn’t happening. She wanted to knock their heads together and tell them ‘Life is short. Get on with living.’
Ymma had dropped in to offer a large cake she had just baked, and to have a small glass of mead. Gamferth had waved a hand, apologised for only having time for a quick visit, then had a pint of ‘Bancross Best’ before heading back to his farm. Brinin dropped by with a woman archer she had not noticed before. ‘Sunn something’ seemed to be her name. They both had cake.
Then there was Eadrinn. That mountain of a man had propped up the bar in his usual off-duty way. Ordered drinks, and…got her name right? That alone was cause for amazement. Always he called her something wrong, be it Holda or Halda or Huld. It hadn’t taken her long to understand what ‘Eadforth’ was like, and sometimes play him at his own game. But his almost courteous manner that evening left her somewhat bemused. Maybe something was on his mind? Whatever it was, she had felt slightly cheated of reliable bantering.
He was sadly gone from the tavern by the time she returned from speaking with Bronaa.
Ethel and Waelden were there, of course. She had asked after Yllfa, to be told that Yllfa had gone to visit Northgyth and Ymma, and Waelden had decided not to be in the house without her that evening, so had brought Ethel with him for a bite to eat and some company.
While that made perfect sense to her, something about it nipped slightly at Hild’s heart. She was not envious of the small family. And yet a part of her was. She had Bronaa, who was a loyal and caring daughter. All the more so as she was growing up. But she missed having a man about the house. Though she suspected some of Waelden’s recent long walks had been to have time away from his house-full of women, she herself had rather enjoyed it when he was around.
“Has everyone got their orders?” she asked Seldis, who was chatting politely with a newcomer.
Whatever her mood, Hild sought to ensure her customers were happy. There had only been pottage that evening, and cheese, and dried boar meat. Though she had managed to provide a small amount of roasted chicken (from her own expected meal) for Ethel.
Seldis nodded in response, silently mouthing the question ‘Are you alright, Hild?’ to her.
No, she wasn’t really alright. But she wasn’t going to let others know that.
With a nod to her friend and cook, Hild cast her eyes over the remaining patrons.
Ah, Brynleigh had joined Waelden and Ethel at one of the tables. They appeared to be in a close conversion about a horse she had found? Too far to overhear clearly, she was aware that several horses had been found after the battle. Horses of the Easterlings, by the styles of their saddles and bridles. But from what she could hear, this sounded different.
What struck Hild the most was how well Brynleigh appeared. She hadn’t seen the woman for some time, save at the funeral pyres, and that in the darkness. Perhaps it was relief from the recent threat of attacks? No matter. It was good that anyone looked well these days.
She absent-mindedly twirled her hair around her finger again, as Seldis moved past her to get some food for the newcomer. Hild nodded to him. Her customary glance of assessment showed him to be older in years than would likely be suitable for her ‘club’, but he still had the look of someone able to defend himself.
“What brings you to Bancross, stranger?” Hild enquired genially. Aye, the man had bright eyes under his mane of grey hair, brows and beard.
“I am no stranger here. I am the new owner of the market,” he responded.
“Oh, my apologies sir. I didn't know. I am Hildfrith, that is Hild to friends, which I hope we will become.”
“Bynmund,” he inclined his head to her.
“And you have taken over the market of poor Gwennwyn then? It may be we can do business?”
The man did not seem hurried in his replay. “Maybe. I am turning it into more of a trading post though.”
At that moment Hild’s attention was drawn away. Three off-duty guards entered, heading for a table near the fire. “Three ‘Strutting Rohir’ Hild, if you will, and a platter of whatever meat you have.”
Pushing a bowl of fresh nuts along the bar to Bynmund, ‘Help yourself there friend. Nuts are always on the house,’ Hild started to pour.
She carried the full mugs over to the table, as the men removed cloaks and helms, and smiled their thanks. Taking a chair, one said ‘By Bema, that shieldwall was the saving of me. I thought I was down and out.’
A second, darker haired guard nodded, as he too took a seat. “You know, I have been in some fights, some skirmishes, but that night we all held together better than any I have fought alongside.”
“To the Bancross guards, and to shieldwalls!” The first raised his mug in a toast.
Hild nodded to the group, stepping back apace.
She had not seen much of the fighting, being held captive along with Bronaa, by the traitorous Criba. But she had seen the aftermath. She knew what the guard and riders of the village had faced.
‘Excuse me,’ she had all but whispered and she headed hurriedly back behind the bar and through the kitchen.
Seldis turned from her conversation with Bynmund.
“I do not feel so well. I will go to my room for a while.” Hild mumbled her excuse. She had to get away.
~ ~
‘Shieldwall!”
In the safety of her room, with the heavy door closed behind her, Hild finally gave way to a loud sob of grief and frustration.
She had tried, oh how she had tried to hold all her thoughts and feelings together. But it was too much.
‘Hild the reliable’, ‘Hild the strong’, good old Hild (less of the ‘old.) She was none of those. She knew that almost all those she cared about in any way had stood in that defence of Bancross, or ridden with Captain Denholm to rout the enemies. She could have lost any or all of them.
Another deep sob escaped her. She wanted to scream out ‘I care! I care!’
Not that she would have done much good in any of the actual confrontations. Not yet. A few weeks watching Ethel and Bronaa train didn’t count as much.
And after the battle she had burst in on those vile men throttling the Thane while Bronaa had been the one to save him! It was bad enough that any of the others could be lost, but Averel would have been nigh unbearable. She could not help herself. Thinking above her station...of course she was. But he took far more notice of her daughter than of her.
Throwing herself on her bed, she breathed deeply, trying to make sense of herself. It would either mean a shieldwall around her heart, or actually joining in.
In her imagination she could already hear Denholm’s laughter at that later suggestion.
(Connected to 'Shieldwall' screen shot, posted by Waelden. )
