Enchantress Mine (9 page)

Eada spoke no language but her own and the Latin tongue which Aldwine had taught her in the early days of their marriage. She sometimes envied her husband his easy command of other languages, most of which sounded like so much gibberish to her. Nonetheless she now spoke to Mairin as if the little girl understood her perfectly.

“Gracious, child, you are simply filthy! I shall give you a good bath, and wash that wonderful mop of hair you possess!”

Lifting Mairin up onto the table she began to gently strip the clothes from her. Seeing the perfect and sturdy little body before her brought back sharp memories. Eada’s eyes filled with tears which quickly spilled down her rosy cheeks. Still she did not cease in her task, and taking Mairin’s garments she threw them into the fireplace where the flames caught them up with a
whoosh,
and quickly devoured them. The tears continued to run down her face though she struggled hard to master her emotions.

Mairin, who could understand Eada no more than the older woman could understand her, nevertheless comprehended grief. “Do not cry, my lady,” she pleaded, attempting to brush away Eada’s bitter tears. She was unaware that tears flowed from her own eyes as at last she was finally able to release her own sadness.

Seeing the child’s sorrow Eada hugged the little girl to her heart. “Ah, my little one,” she whispered, “my Edyth would have liked you even as I see that I am going to like you. She, too, had a good and tender heart.” Then wiping the remainder of her own and Mairin’s tears away, she lifted the little girl from the table, and set her in the tub.

Kneeling down she pushed up the sleeves of her gown. She first washed the glorious hair, then soaped the little body and rinsed it clean. Taking the child from the tub she put her back upon the table, and quickly toweled Mairin dry lest she catch a chill. Lifting Mairin again from the table she sat her upon a low stool before the fire. Then sitting in her own chair Eada brushed Mairin’s marvelous red-gold hair until it was soft and dry, and floated like a halo of thistledown about the girl’s head.

For a long moment Eada stared in amazement. Now that she was cleaned up, the child was a glorious beauty. “Sweet Jesu,” Eada breathed softly. “I have never seen anyone like you before in my entire life!” Eada took one of Mairin’s long curls and fingered it gently. “No wonder your stepmother was jealous of you, child.” Then realizing that Mairin was apt to catch her death of cold unless she was dressed, Eada stood up and walking over to a small trunk, opened it. For a minute she gazed down and found herself again in danger of weeping, but then she bent and drew forth several garments. “These were my Edyth’s,” she said quietly. “I meant to give them to my brother’s wife for her daughter, but somehow . . .” Her voice trailed off, and without another word she began to dress Mairin.

She slipped a long undertunic of pale yellow silk over the child’s head followed by an outer tunic of copper-colored light wool which fell halfway between Mairin’s knee and her ankle, and revealed the undertunic beneath. The outer tunic had wide, long sleeves with black embroidery at both the wrists and the modestly buttoned round neck of the garment. Digging back into the trunk Eada brought forth soft leather shoes that followed the shape of the foot. Although they had been made for Edyth they fit Mairin almost perfectly. Eada then girded a narrow leather belt with a bronze-green buckle about the little girl’s waist. Lastly she fitted a little green ribbon band about her forehead.

Suddenly up the stairs and into the solar came a young boy. Dressed in a blue-green tunic with matching hose, he had dark red hair like Eada’s. His haughty glance took in Eada and Mairin, and then he demanded arrogantly, “Where is this child that my father has decided will be my new sister?” Hostile blue eyes fixed themselves upon Mairin. “Is this
she?
I will not accept her! No one can take Edyth’s place, and besides—her hair is an outrageous color!”

Like a small kitten accosted by a noisy young dog Mairin narrowed her eyes, and hissed fiercely. “Come no closer, rude boy, lest I turn you into a frog!”

Aldwine, arriving in time to hear the whole exchange, burst out laughing, and admonished his son, his face suddenly serious. “Beware, Brand! Mairin has threatened to turn you into a frog if you do not treat her in a more kindly fashion.” Over his son’s head his eyes twinkled at his wife.

“Hah!” the boy mocked scornfully. “She cannot do
that!
” Then he turned his gaze back upon the little girl whose glance was so fierce that he amended nervously, “She can’t really? Can she, father?”

“I do not know, my son, but if it were I, I do not think that I should take the chance. It is indeed possible that Mairin knows how to turn you into a frog. She is a Celt from Brittany, and the Celts are people of magic. Yes,” he considered, “she could indeed turn you into a frog, but as she is very young, she might not know how to turn you back.”

Brand paled and moved closer to his father.

Eada laughed softly, admonishing her husband gently, “Fie, my lord! You must not tease Brand so.”

“But I do not, lady,” came the serious reply. “If I were Brand, I should be kind to Mairin who has now come to live with us. She will be a daughter to us, and a sister to him.” He put an arm about his son. “I am not trying to replace Edyth either in our hearts or our minds, Brand, but she is gone from us forever. We have lost her even as Mairin has lost her mother and father. In each of our lives there is an empty space. God often works his will in a manner not fully understood by mortal men. Look at your mother, my son. There is a smile upon her lips for the first time in months. I have long prayed to our Blessed Lady to ease my Eada’s sorrow. Now that prayer has been answered.”

Brand’s eyes turned to his mother, and he saw the truth of his father’s words. The boy looked properly shamefaced as Aldwine continued, “Now, my son, greet your foster sister kindly and bid her welcome to our home. Use your best Norman French for she does not yet understand our tongue.”

Brand turned to face the little girl who stood glowering at him. Her lovely hair billowed red-gold fire about her slender young shoulders. Secretly he liked the way she had defied him so bravely. Although she had not understood his words she had known by his tone and his manner that he was not being friendly. Courage was something Brand understood and admired. Looking down on Mairin he could see that she was far prettier than Edyth had ever been. In fact if he were honest with himself he had to admit that she was beautiful. He wondered if she would be one of those prissy creatures who hated getting dirty, and disdained roughhousing. Or was she a girl who liked to ride and hawk? An encouraging look from his father spurred him onward.

“I am Brand,” he said slowly, uncomfortable with the language of the Normans which his father insisted he learn. “Could you really turn me into a frog?”

Mairin’s eyes lightened as her anger departed. She had not understood one word of what had passed between Brand and his parents, but she knew instinctively that Aldwine had given her stature in the boy’s eyes. Her mouth turned up into a half smile. “Perhaps,” she admitted, aware that the doubt was a far more potent weapon than a definite yes.

Brand was not certain if he believed her or not, but as his father had warned him, it was not wise to tempt her anger. “Father says you are to be my new sister. Mairin is a pretty name. Is it Norman?”

“I am not a Norman, I am a Breton. My name is Celtic. My mother was a princess of Ireland.” Her violet eyes scanned him thoughtfully. “I have never had a brother before. My father’s second wife, the lady Blanche, is expecting a baby. She does not carry a male child. I know.” Mairin paused a moment, and then said, “Do you have a horse? I had my own pony at Landerneau, but the lady Blanche would not let me have Parnella when she sent me away.”

As the two children conversed the thegn softly translated their words so his wife might understand them. When Mairin spoke of her lost pony Eada looked at her husband with such distress that Aldwine knew just how right he had been to bring Mairin to his wife.

“I have a horse,” Brand continued. “He is gray with a black mane and tail. I call him Thunderbolt. I also have a dog. She has just whelped six pups.”

“Puppies!” Mairin’s eyes were round with envy. “I have never had a dog,” she said, the longing in her voice quite plain.

“Would you like one of Freya’s?” Brand offered nonchalantly.

“Ohh, yes!” she breathed. Her small face was ecstatic.

“You will have to take care of it properly,” he warned her. “I will show you how, and you must promise not to turn me into a frog, Mairin. Do you agree?”

“If I am allowed the pick of the litter,” she counter-offered, “
and
I get to choose!”

“Done!” said Brand. He grinned. Mairin grinned back. They had come to an understanding with one another, and now they would be friends.

Aldwine and Eada smiled at each other over their children’s heads. Each had the same thought. Edyth’s death had taken something away from them, from their family. Whatever that intangible something had been, little Mairin’s presence restored it. They were once more a whole family.

Mairin slipped into life at Aelfleah as if she had always been a part of it. Within weeks she was speaking the English tongue as if she had been born speaking it. Aldwine, however, would not allow her to lose her Norman French. A Norman would be England’s next king. It was possible that his beautiful new daughter might make a Norman marriage.

Autumn deepened and became winter. Winter lingered until pushed aside by an insistent spring which was in its turn forced to give way to the summer. A year passed, and five more followed as easily. Those who had known Edyth Aldwinesdotter for the brief span of her life soon forgot that she had existed as Mairin’s strong and healthy presence wiped from their consciousness the memory of the other child.

Brand swiftly discovered that Mairin was not a sister to sit by the fire. A fat black-and-white pony named Vychan, Welsh for “small one,” came to live in the manor stables for several years, to be replaced when Mairin was ten by a dainty white mare called Odelette. Mairin was an excellent rider with a firm seat and light hands. Brand soon learned she was every bit as bold as any boy, galloping her mount at full speed over the estate, and jumping anything in her path that did not move out of the way.

“You’re going to break your neck one day,” he grumbled good-naturedly at her on one occasion when she had beaten him home by jumping Odelette across a narrow rocky streambed that they usually picked their way across.

Mairin had laughed at him, saying, “You must learn to anticipate your opponent, Brand, else you’ll never win in life!”

Sometimes, he thought, she seemed older than he was, and he was four years her senior. As maddening as she could be he had quickly grown to love her, and she gave back that love. He was her adored big brother who took her hunting and hawking with him and who always seemed to have time to talk with her when she was troubled. She was his first love, and it pained him to think they would one day lose her to a husband.

It was Brand who had taken Mairin into
The Forest
for the first time, and shown her the paths that he knew. She in turn had shown him how to find and follow animal trails, and which mushrooms and berries were safe to eat and which weren’t. He had been amazed by her knowledge of plants, and their healing abilities. Her knowledge seemed to him a special thing.

The Forest.
That deep and dark preserve of ancient rumor and legend quickly became Mairin’s realm. She seemed to have no fear of what lurked within its depths. There were those who dreaded the unknown, and the unseen, but Mairin was not one of them. She knew she was protected from any evil, but how she knew it, even she did not comprehend.

Eada soon learned not to fear each time her daughter wandered off, for Mairin was resourceful for all she was a child. Then, too, Dagda was never far behind his small mistress, particularly in those early days at Aelfleah. It was he who generally carried home the injured creatures that Mairin found and brought back to the manor house to treat and heal.

Then one day she used one of her special poultices to heal a kitchen serf who had punctured the heel of her hand with a knife. The wound seemed to mend itself in a miraculously short time for such a deep cut. Another injury was presented to her for treatment, and another, and suddenly it was Mairin, not Eada, who was responsible for curing Aelfleah’s sick and injured.

“She is naught but a child,” said Eada, amazed, “and yet she has the gift of healing.”

“Then let her,” said Aldwine Athelsbeorn, and he was secretly pleased. This talent of Mairin’s for doctoring only confirmed his belief in her intelligence. When Mairin had first come to them he had proposed that she study with Brand.

Brother Bayhard, Brand’s tutor, had not been enthusiastic about adding the daughter of the house to a schoolroom where the son and heir was so impossible to teach. In this he was supported by Eada.

“Women,” he loftily told Aldwine Athelsbeorn, “have not the intelligence to understand languages, geography, philosophy, and higher mathematics. It is better that they tend to their gardens and their looms as God intended.”

The thegn of Aelfleah had persisted, and Mairin had joined the schoolroom. Within days the good Brother Bayhard, who for all his high ideals was intelligent, realized that the true scholar in the household was not the son, but rather the daughter.

Having done what he could to insure that his patron’s heir would not be a total dunce, Brother Bayhard concentrated his energies on Mairin. She was like a sponge, sopping up and learning everything that he might teach her. He instructed her in Greek and Latin. She learned mathematics so that she might one day oversee the bailiff should her husband not be there to do so. She learned to read and write in all the languages she spoke. Her handwriting was as fine as any monk’s, her tutor proudly declared.