‘I pray she does.’
While Asa slept, Magda listened to Einar’s account of his day, in his hesitations and long pauses witnessing his confusion, his doubt, but also a hunger to understand.
‘Was it a test?’ he asked.
She placed one of her hands on his and held his gaze for several heartbeats.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Tasting thine experience of the glade.’
‘You can do that?’
‘Art thou not able to feel another’s heartbeat with a touch?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Much the same.’
He shook his head. ‘You made it clear I might not find the glade. Why is that?’
‘It is protected from all but a few. Those abiding there would not have found it without Magda.’
‘A spell?’
‘Some would call it that.’
‘Your spell?’
‘No. Magda found it so.’
‘Are they able to leave?’
‘Lettice Brown left, did she not?’
‘Can she return?’
‘If accompanied by one of us. Magda will escort her in the morning.’
‘I would be happy to do so.’
‘A kind offer from the penitent. But soon thou shouldst take thy leave of this place.’
Her words saddened him, as she had known they would.
‘I hoped to stay here and learn by your side.’
‘Thou art not yet ready.’
‘I found the glade. You said others would not. Not without you.’
‘That is true. Thou hast proved thy blood. Yet that is but a small part. Hast thou the will? The heart? Thou must seek the answer. Discover thy heart’s yearning. Watch thyself. Learn where thou art called, and for what.’
‘A quest?’
She smiled. He was young, his head stuffed with tales, ballads of noble deeds, quests of honor. ‘Of a kind.’
‘Is that how you came to healing?’
‘By following the heart’s inclination. Magda was younger than thou art now when she left her village and walked north, into the forests, though the moors were all she knew. But she could not resist the call. Long she walked, moving deeper and deeper into the trees.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes. One day her scent was caught by a bear clan.’
‘How far north did you walk?’
‘How far, or into when? The years remain a mystery to Magda. She heard them coming for her and scrambled up a tree.’
‘But bears–’
Magda nodded. ‘She learned. They climbed up now and then to see where she was, but stopped far short of her perch. Each time she climbed higher. They seemed content to wait beneath while she grew weaker and weaker. She had climbed as high as she dared, until the limbs swayed in warning that they could not hold her long. The next time one climbed up to her, snuffling and grunting, his scent stronger and stronger, she could do nothing but close her eyes and cling to a branch murmuring spells of protection, honoring the trees, asking for their help. At long last the limb shook with the weight of another and she looked at her attacker. She would face him down. But on the limb, so close she could hear his heart beating slow and steady despite such a climb, was a man. He reached out a hand and assured her she had nothing to fear.’
‘A shape-shifter?’
‘Or did a frightened girl expect a bear?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I want to understand.’
‘Would it make thee kinder? Wiser? Life is a mystery, Einar, a thing of wonder. Honor it, and it will treat thee well.’
He was quiet, and she sensed him thinking back to the glade, moving through it, tasting it, feeling it. The blood was strong in him.
‘Was that Sten, my father’s mother’s father?’ he finally asked.
‘Yrsa’s father, yes. And Odo’s, her twin brother.’
‘I never heard of Odo. What happened after Sten found you?’
‘His people took Magda in. They followed old ways, so much forgotten on the moors, their healing skills beyond anything Magda had ever thought could be. She stayed and learned, at first from Sten, later from the women of the village. In time they quarreled. He did not like what they were teaching Magda, how she was changing, choosing to work for the good of others, not herself. One day he left, taking Odo with him. Magda stayed a while, but Yrsa begged to go in search of her twin and her father. The women encouraged Magda to take Yrsa away, to bring all that they had taught Magda to her people on the moors. There Yrsa might forget her loss when she met her kin. So Magda went. But nothing ever truly consoled Yrsa. She wed young and moved away.’
‘Meeting Sten’s people and staying to learn from them, that is what your heart chose.’
‘And then to use what they taught as a healer.’
‘I should go north. To the forests.’
‘If that is where thy heart takes thee.’
‘Coming here was not enough?’
‘Remember what called thee here. Thou hoped to seize Alan Rawcliff and earn the prince’s gratitude.’
Einar took a deep breath. ‘Greed brought me here.’ He rose. ‘I need air.’
Magda waited, drowsing by the fire.
‘What of Asa?’ he asked when he returned.
‘Each person follows their own path, for good or ill. Crossing Asa’s path brought thee here. But thou must find thine own.’
‘I will go to Old Shep’s,’ he said.
She said nothing, letting him go away to take in all she had said. It was good.
16
A Desperate Yearning
Owen woke before dawn, alone in the bed. Shrugging on his clothes he stepped out onto the landing. Lamplight spilled from the room in which Beatrice slept. He heard Lucie’s voice, another, a mere whisper, responding. He moved closer.
A murmured exchange, then the rustle of movement and Lucie appeared in the doorway, her hair tumbling about her, a shawl over her shift. ‘Beatrice is awake and wishes to speak with you.’
Glancing in, he saw her sitting up against cushions holding a cup to her lips. Had Lucie slept?
‘She is willing to tell me all she knows?’
Lucie stepped outside, telling Beatrice she would be right back. ‘Yes. She called it shriving. For her soul.’ Her eyes were shadowed, and he saw traces of tears.
‘Her story moved you,’ said Owen.
‘She has told me little. It is Michaelo’s sad news. Goodwife Anna died in the night.’
Owen crossed himself. ‘It was the pestilence?’
‘Yes. I am angry with myself for giving him false hope.’
‘He wished to believe.’
‘I mentioned that you might have need of him. She has agreed to have both of you present. Shall I ask him to come up?’
‘Michaelo is here?’
‘In the kitchen. Kate is coaxing him to eat something. Go prepare yourself. Then bring him up?’
Michaelo sat bolt upright in front of the kitchen fire. He stared at nothing, a cup of ale forgotten in his hands. He had not even bothered to shave his tonsure or his face this morning. ‘Such a strong woman.’
Owen remembered the strong hands with which Anna had kneaded the back of an injured man, giving him comfort. ‘She was. But the sickness respects no one.’
‘No.’
Heading out for the midden, Owen found himself praying for his children, tears in his eyes. That was the one thing his ruined left eye could still do – produce tears. Back in the kitchen, while he ate a piece of bread with cheese and washed it down with ale Michaelo spoke of Anna’s suffering, the long night, her death in the early hours. He saw that the monk had brought his writing materials.
‘Are you certain you are ready for work?’
‘I need to be of use.’
Carrying a pitcher and several bowls, Owen led him up to the solar. Beatrice greeted them with a benedicite. Owen noticed Lucie’s late aunt’s paternoster in the woman’s lap.