A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1) (9 page)

The cold wind caught at her cloak again and wormed its way inside, pulling her back to the present. She stretched her long legs and caught up to her mentor.

“Tesn, the boatman said there was a village nearby; perhaps we can stay the night there before we move north?” She was cold and tired and welcomed the thought of a warm night indoors at a real hearth.

Tesn looked at her foster daughter and smiled. “That’s a good plan, child. We’ll turn a bit east then and see. We’ve got to find the river anyway.” Her eyes were dark and bright as always but she also was glad at the idea of a warm hearth. She put on a strong show for Áine, but her bones ached and her chest hurt with every damp, cold breath.

It was nearing full dark by the time they spotted the village. Long lean hounds rushed out to greet them with bony wagging tails as they crossed between the buildings into the light of torches, looking for a central hall. Two men stepped from the largest building to greet them with a small, middle-aged woman on their heels.

“I greet you.” Tesn said, holding open her cloak so that her red belt and undyed clothing would name her profession and status. Áine behind her did the same, shivering as the damp air cut through the aging wool of her gown.

“Wisewomen, we greet you. I am Meiler ap Eynon, and this is my sister, Morfyl.” The shorter of the two men spoke, introducing himself and the tiny woman beside him. The other man turned out to be little more than a youth of perhaps fifteen who stood awkwardly by with a strangely hopeful look on his face. Áine felt a tingle in her blood. Something was wrong here.

“It seems the gods have answered our prayers with not one wisewoman, but two. We are so grateful that you’ve come.” Morfyl stepped forward past her brother. “Our grandfather is ill and nothing seems to ease his pain.” Her brown eyes were deeply lined and exhausted shadows darkened her lids.

Áine looked at Tesn and suppressed a sigh. Such was the life of a wisewoman. As Tesn loved to put it, the gods guided their feet as they would, unknown need pulling them from one place to another.

“Take us inside, child. We’ll happily see what might be done.” Tesn smiled her comforting smile at the little group.

They stepped into the hall and found that a bed had been set up near the roaring hearth. The two long tables were pushed aside to the far wall and there was a small group of men and women gathered on benches around the venerable man who lay amidst the piled furs and woolen blankets on the bed.

Tesn tsked and turned to Morfyl. “We’ll need the room cleared of folk while we talk to your grandfather. Too many cooks spoil the food.”

Morfyl nodded. “May we stay?” She motioned to her brother and then to herself.

Tesn nodded. Áine undid her oversized cloak and then removed the heavy pack. She set it down against a bench and carefully removed the top layer of folded spare clothing to get at the waterproofed and oiled leather healing kit beneath. Unfolding the pouches on the table, she carefully checked each for dampness before turning to Tesn and nodding. They were ready.

The old man in the bed watched them with clear eyes, waiting to be introduced. He could already tell they were wisewomen from the red belts and plain dress. His eyes widened as Áine approached the bed, taking in her blood-red hair and pale skin. She was used to it and smiled calmly at the little group.

“Grandfather, these are wisewomen, come to help you.” Morfyl smiled at him, the love in her gaze making her suddenly appear a decade younger.

“I see that. Wise Ones, I greet you.” He tried to sit up straighter and had to take a couple of heaving breaths, the strain clear in his face. “I am Ynyr ap Eynon. The elder Eynon, not my son, rest his spirit well. You’ve met my grandchildren here, and I think my great-grandson as well.” Áine realized he must be referring to the youth who had greeted them with the others.

“How old are you, Ynyr?” she asked as she looked at his deeply lined face.

He laughed though it died in a fit of heaving and left him lying back again on the pillows. “I’m not certain, though I think I’ve nearly eighty years.”

“And she thought I was old.” Tesn smiled. The smile died in her eyes as she returned to business. She asked him a series of the standard questions. Where does it hurt, what does it feel like to cough or to piss, how was his appetite, and other questions.

Ynyr had some symptoms that could be attributed to old age. His bones ached when it was damp or cold, his appetite was gone completely, and he had trouble sleeping some nights while others he could barely keep himself awake. His mind was sharp and able, however.

The new symptoms had come on late this summer. Where before he’d been able to keep down food, he often felt a burning in his throat and belly after eating even the thinnest of sops. There’d been a little blood in his urine, though it was infrequent. He’d lost weight as well. Though he’d never been a heavy man, he’d gotten hearty in his old age as inactivity and the doting love of his grandchildren kept him fed and happy.

There were other signs as well, obvious to the wisewomen. He smelled of sickness and age but it was tinged also with the metallic scent of true illness. His eyes were yellowed, which could be age or something worse, and his gums and tongue were very pale.

“Do you sweat at night? Even if you are chilled?” Áine asked.

“Aye. What does that mean?” He looked at her.

Tesn shook her head. “We don’t know yet. We’ll need to do a full examination, if you don’t object.”

“I don’t at all.” He managed a somewhat brave and leering smile. “It’ll be a nice change to be handled by a woman not related to me.”

Áine smiled back as she washed her hands in the water Morfyl had heated for them. She appreciated the man showing a good face for his grandchildren.
He knows he’s old and close to death anyway. I think he can already guess we’ll be able to do naught but ease his pain.

Tesn washed as well and they pulled the coverings off the old man with the help of his granddaughter. Meiler stood by and Áine appreciated that he refrained from pacing, though he couldn’t help but stare at her with a worried, questioning look from time to time. Their love and concern for the old man touched her heart and she looked at Tesn with a pain of her own love.

Let her live ‘til eighty.
As if hearing her thoughts, the wise woman looked up at Áine with her deep-set dark gaze and gave her a tiny reassuring smile that flickered for a moment like a spark in the darkness.

“Go on, loves, leave the women and I now.” Ynyr motioned to his grandchildren. They looked as though they’d protest, especially Meiler, who glanced again at Áine, but instead, after a long moment, they both nodded and gave in to his will as they met his ancient, clear eyes with their own troubled ones. Morfyl pulled her brother out and they closed the door behind them against the autumn damp and chill.

Ynyr was painfully thin under the covers. He looked old and vulnerable with only a thin linen shift covering him from wrist to knee.

Tesn looked at Áine and said softly, “It’s time.”

Áine nodded and took a deep breath. She noticed all her own aches and pains and carefully catalogued them so that they’d not mar her diagnosis. She leaned over Ynyr.

“Are you a Fair One come to guide me beyond the veil?” he asked as she reached for his hand.

It was not the first time Áine had been asked that question and she sighed. “No, grandfather. I’m only a mortal healer come to ease your pain. Now hush and let me work.” She softened her chiding tone with another smile.

Her long white fingers closed around his thin hand. A wave of sickness washed through her. Her joints ached and her lungs hurt. While her vision was clear enough, her eyes stung from the light of the fire and little lamps of fat and wax. There were a few bedsores along his buttocks and behind his knees he’d not said a word about. Though they felt clean and free of infection, she recognized the pain of old wounds that wouldn’t heal. Áine noticed and catalogued these as well, wondering how he lived with such pain. He swallowed and Áine felt the pain of that in her own throat, fire leaping from her belly to race up to her mouth and then back down again. Her saliva was thin and tasted of ash and copper.

Taking another deep breath, Áine pushed herself deeper. There she felt the little lumps of sickness. It was in his throat, in his lungs, and down in his stomach as well. She let go of his hand with a small, sorrowful cry.

Ynyr met her eyes and seemed to deflate as a look both calm and accepting stole over his thin face.

Áine pushed back the sudden burn of tears. “I’m sorry, grandfather. You’ve got the wasting sickness.”

“Sorry, child? I’ve lived a long time and seen my children’s children have children. I held only faint hope anyway that it might be something easy. But you don’t live this long on hope.” Ynyr gave her a wan smile.

Tesn began to pile the blankets back on him. Áine shook herself and turned to help. No one spoke for a while as the fire popped and crackled in the hearth.

“We can ease your pain, Ynyr, though it could speed your passing to do so,” Tesn said.

He nodded. “I understand. Fetch my grandchildren in so they know the fairy’s magic hasn’t eaten me.”

Áine gave an exaggerated sigh and made a face at him but went to the door. She opened it, unsurprised to find Meiler and Morfyl standing with the youth in the cold outside. She beckoned to them all.

They came in and moved quickly to their grandfather’s bed. Áine and Tesn pulled back and let the old man speak to his offspring. He told them what the wisewomen had found, though not the mysterious process of it, and the option Tesn had laid out for them. Meiler, upon hearing it, cried out and shook his head.

“There must be something else to be done,” he said as he turned with pained eyes to the wisewomen.

“Meiler, dear one, I am old. I hurt. It is time I moved beyond the veil and left this life to the young and able. Would you deny the chance to pass without pain in the company of those closest to my heart?” Ynyr asked.

His courage touched Áine. She’d witnessed the passing of more than she’d like in her life thus far, but few had the strength to face it so bravely. She put her hand on Tesn’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Tesn looked up at her adopted daughter and raised her own small dark hand to rest on Áine’s own.

The little group talked quietly at Ynyr’s bedside for a few moments more and then Morfyl turned to the patient pair.

“What do you need?” she asked with a resigned look.

Áine brewed an infusion of fennel, mint, comfrey, and mullein to ease the pain in his lungs. She added a generous amount of clover honey to the brew and helped Yfyr drink it down sip by painful sip. His breathing eased slowly and he smiled at her.

Tesn took the two large stones brought to her by Meiler’s son who was called Ynyr Vach, or Ynyr the smaller, which Ynyr the older thought was a fine joke when looking at his tall and hale grandson. She bathed the stones with warm water and said a small prayer of healing over them. Then she brought them to the bedside and motioned for everyone else to stand away.

Ynyr watched with interest. “I’d heard of this wisewoman’s magic, though I’ve never seen it done in my lifetime.”

Tesn nodded. “Aye, ‘tis a dying art. We grow fewer in number every generation, but not all old knowledge is lost to us yet.” She turned to his grandchildren. “Áine and I will use these stones to draw the pain from his body. Please, it takes much concentration, give us space, if you will.”

Áine moved to the other side of the bed and took one of the stones from Tesn. With coordinated and practiced gestures, each woman took a hand of the old man into her own and laid her free hand onto the warm clean stones.

Áine visualized the man’s pain as a living thing, crawling like a shadow over his body and through his blood. She pulled on the shadow, willing it to follow her will and come free of his weakened body toward the strength of the stone. She lost track of the time as she fed the pain measure by measure into the stone under her hand. She didn’t stop until she felt the stone begin to crack under her palm. Then, with another careful breath, she pulled gently away and released her patient.

Looking across the bed she saw that Tesn was already done. Pulling pain was a hard task and Tesn’s age was telling in her lack of stamina for a prolonged healing these days. Tesn smiled at her and then sat down heavily on the hearth.

“Wrap the stones in white cloth and bury them outside or toss them into the river, if running water is close enough. We’ll all need food; healing takes a lot from patient and healer,” she said to the nervously waiting group.

Morfyl gave herself a little shake and nodded. “Of course. Come, Vach, help me with the stones.”

Ynyr closed his eyes and relaxed into sleep as the stones were removed, wrapped, and buried by the great-grandson outside the hall. Tesn and Áine were served a thick stew before the two grandchildren returned to their bedside vigil.

Tesn dozed beside the fire and Áine wrapped a now-dry cloak around her shoulders. She looked toward the bed and saw that while Meiler dozed as well, Ynyr’s eyes were wide open and he was staring at her. She moved to stand beside Morfyl.

“Thank you, pengoch,” he said, calling her “red-hair”, something which only children had done in her youth.

“For what, grandfather? We’ve only done as we’ve been allowed. I’m sorry that we could not do more.” Áine laid a hand without thinking on Morfyl’s shoulder, trying to comfort the sad woman. She felt the woman stiffen under her touch and pulled her hand away.

“No, I’m sorry,” Morfyl said suddenly as she shifted to look up at the tall fair-skinned, green-eyed healer. “Please, I don’t mean to give offense.”

“No offense is taken, Morfyl.” Áine looked sadly down at her. “You think you’re the first to not wish my touch or to be suspicious of my origin? Would it help ease your fears if I touched something wrought of cold iron?”

“Please, that isn’t necessary. Forgive me, this is a hard night.” Morfyl held a hand out to Áine and didn’t flinch as the woman took it with her own pale fingers.