Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

As he strode out of the Great Hall to the courtyard, Léofric at his heels. He could imagine the king's words.

"Has Eodwine done anything with that traitor Sorn's lands that I gave him?"

"No, oh king."

"Drat him! Tell him I want to see him and I want him to explain to me why he dallies. I gave him a command and I expect to be obeyed!"

A hard lump formed in Eodwine's gut. How was he going to explain this?

"Lord king, the man I asked to be my steward over Sorn's lands refused. There has been no one else worthy of the task."

"But I told you to move your entire household out there, not have a steward do it for you!"

The lump hardened.

Six horsemen had dismounted and were looking about the grounds dubiously. They're probably wondering how an old inn can hope to serve as a lord's mead hall, and they'd be right.

He knew the men. To his surprise, three of them were the very same he had thought of, Théogud, Alwalda, and Finnas, as those he wanted to recruit to his Hall. Maybe they had volunteered. It was a hopeful thought. The three others were Osbert, Bregwald, and Lowson. Of the three, Bregwald was elder and the leader of the others while the other two were also new to Meduseld.

Eodwine greeted them. It was getting on toward sundown and though none of the House had eaten, the outlaw Ghem still had not been found. Eodwine told Léof to ready his horse and join them in the search for Ghem.

"Lord," said Bregwald, "Do you know of a surety that the outlaw is not on these grounds?"

"Nay. He could be skulking about."

"Might we leave the ostler here then, in case he turns up? He could give warning."

The man had sense. Eodwine nodded and swallowed his pride that he had not thought of such a common sense thing himself. "It shall be as you suggest. Léof, let Thornden and the others know that the outlaw may still be on these grounds, and all of you are to search the whole of it until you are sure he is not here. I will go with the king's men to search the town."

With that, Eodwine mounted Flíthaf and the seven horsemen rode out of the courtyard.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine sat at his desk in his room, the sun having risen not long ago, parchment, quill and ink ready to hand. The parchment lay blank before him, the inkless quill absently twirling in his hand. One month had passed since the adventures of the ruins, leading to the deaths of Rilef and the addition of Rowenna with the status of permanent guest. The outlaws Ulric and Withold had been hanged after a trial that had been hours long rather than the quick affair Eodwine had expected. One exchange that had stuck in his mind more than others came back to him now. Ulric had been given the right to speak. Speak, he did, standing bound hand and foot before Eodwine's Seat.

"Guilty you would find me, and a murderer I am. I deny it not. I'll be hanged on the morrow. But this woman-" he indicated Rowenna with a nod "-is guilty of every evil of my hand over the last year and more!"

Eodwine had looked at her then. Her expression was unchanged. She met his eyes unblinking, unwavering, unsmiling. Eodwine looked away, back at Ulric.

"This is a dire accusation. Explain your words."

"Aye, that I will," Ulric nodded. "We captured her and killed her family, and at first used her as we liked. But she was not the only woman we've had. Where are they all now, you may wonder? For they are gone. I will tell you. They are dead and food for crows, for she killed them to get rid of rivals. What's more, she murdered her own offspring, twice. And all that is nought laid beside this one thing, that all we have done over the past year and more has been because she thought it, said it, and convinced us to do it."

"How do you explain that I found her bound and guarded by your dogs?" Eodwine asked.

"Because she said to tie her up, for by being thought of as our captive in case things should go awry, she'd still be free and could get the rest of us free in case we were caught. And then she betrayed us. And why? Because she's an ambitious whore and likes better what she might get out of you set against the likes of me. And who do the dogs obey, by the by? Don't you see? She's the one who's led us. So if we die, so should she, and for the same crimes. That's all my say."

The Hall had been silent. Well it might be! Eodwine sat and pondered the man's words. Maybe he was lying baldly out of his hate. Maybe his words were the truth at last from a condemned man. There was no way to know. Rowenna would have to be heard. Eodwine had bidden her to speak to the charges. She had stood and spoken in an even tone, but all could hear her.

"I am accused of murder by a murdering rogue. Did I kill women? Yes, because they pitted us against each other, and it was kill or be killed. Did I kill my own babies, twice? Yes, because they forced me to, as they wanted me for their pleasure, and a baby at my breast would be a hindrance and a burden unbefitting of the whims of a band of outlaws. Did I make them their plans over the last year? Yes, in hopes of finding a way to be free of them. Pitted against the vile strength of a dozen evil men, I had to choose to be a slave until I died, or use what wiles I could to survive. So if I am to be accused, my crime is having done what I needed to do to survive."

"Lying witch!" Ulric said.

"Silence!"

She had spoken all these things without the merest glint of a tear in her eyes, not the merest quiver in her voice. Was she that cold? Or had she become so hardened by her life's trials? Was Ulric lying, or was Rowenna? Or were neither lying? Eodwine had a hunch that there was much that was being left unsaid, and he had spent the next hours questioning Ulric, Withold, and Rowenna to try and pry any of it loose, to no avail.

In the end, Ulric and Withold had hanged, and Rowenna had not. She had become a drudge for all of the least liked chores of the Hall, and had kept her peace uncomplaining. Today Eodwine expected to see her on her knees with a bucket of water and soap, cleaning the tiled floors yet again. He got up with a sigh and went down to break his fast.

[Folwren]

Javan’s eyes opened and he was instantly wide awake. The sun was fully risen and long shafts of light lay on the floor by the windows. Thornden was up already and getting dressed. Javan sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

“Today I get to return to the stables, don’t I?” Javan asked eagerly.

Thornden looked at him upon hearing his voice. “Yes,” he answered, quietly.

“Harrah!” cried Javan, leaping up out of bed.

“Pipe down, will you?” Thornden muttered. “It’s too early in the morning to be making such noise.”

Javan was quiet, but his face continued to shine with excitement as he reached for his breeches and pulled them on. He was out of the room before Thornden and bouncing down the hall towards the stairs.

The main hall was nearly empty when he made it there. He took no note of the people just yet as he ducked down the corridor to the kitchen. He needed to get breakfast first - just a quick one for now - and then he would head out to see Léof. He entered the kitchen and found Ginna and Kara working together at the table.

“G’morning,” Javan said. His eyes strayed to a basket full of newly baked bread. He could see steam rising from the small loaves. “Might I trouble you for some bread?”

“There’s some in the basket there. Take as much as you like,” Kara replied, nodding her head.

Javan moved forward quickly and gingerly picked up one of the small, round loaves. He broke it in half, drawing in breath through his teeth as his fingers felt like they were burning. He put half of it back and the other half, juggling from one hand to the next, he took away with him, thanking the two young cooks and hurrying out.

He went back up the hall towards the great hall. By the time he reached it, the bread had become cool enough to hold still. He nibbled cautiously at it while he cast his eyes about. Nothing struck his fancy except...

Javan grinned and he began to walk again, making his way across the floor quickly. Rowenna was on her hands and knees, working already with water and soap and a scrub brush.

“Away at it again, are you, Rowenna?” Javan asked. “Didn’t you just do this a couple days ago? Is it entirely necessary?”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna stopped and took the boy's rapid-fire questions as an opportunity to stretch her aching back and loosen the stiffness in her fingers from gripping the brush hard.

"I do as I am told. 'Necessary' is not for me to decide." She looked at him, studying him briefly. Javan, he was called, full of vigor and wrestlessness, like a young horse that does not like the bridle. "Go ask Frodides if it is necessary, if you like."

She picked up the brush in both hands, dipped it in the hot soapy water, and began scrubbing the floor again. She did not look up at the boy. If he chose to speak more, she would answer. If not, she would keep at her work.

At least she had a new dress, even if it was a handoff from Kara who, it just so happened, was the same size as Rowenna. And her hair was not a tangled mess anymore. It was almost an embarrassment to her how much these small things pleased her. But she told herself it was what they meant: she no longer fought for survival among outlaws.

She had been surprised at first how much of her thought and will had been taken up with the struggle to live and wheedle from Ulrich what she could. And now she could hardly help herself from discretely studying and weighing everyone around her, to see how the power was apportioned, who had it, who was angling for more, who was losing it. And she also found herself forming fantastic strategies as to who was the most useful, and how they could be used, to raise herself up into a position of power here.

She had discovered that Ginna, for example, was in a most strange position. Whereas her work was lowly, she was the Eorl's old friend's daughter, and so had more influence than it seemed, and more than the girl seemed to be aware she had if she only knew how to use it.

And then there was that Garreth. Twin of Harreld, Ginna's love interest, if that was what it could be called. And with Harreld so caught up with the girl, Garreth had cast about for anything with a skirt, and quickly settled on Rowenna. She rolled her eyes. His interest had been spoken in no uncertain terms. Her disinterest had at first been spoken as discretely as she knew how, but no avail, and by the time two weeks had gone by she had found it necessary to tell him straightly that he was not for her. Poor fool. She was a land holder's daughter and would not marry a blacksmith almost twice her age who would no doubt leave her widowed and at the mercy of whatever sons could keep her. No, she had bigger plans for her life, if she could bring them about.

And why could not Ginna see that leading Harreld on was no good? She was the same rank as herself, and her father would not grant such a union; it would be stooping too low. The girl was meant for a land holder like her father. Or better, if she could learn how to harness that wild horse of a temper of hers and use the strength of it to advance her own ends.

All these thoughts passed through her mind quickly, being rehearsed from earlier, and she glanced to see if the boy still stood there or had moved on.

[Folwren]

“Seems to me, if I was you, I’d say something,” Javan replied. “No, I’m not going to argue with the old, stuffy Fordides. She’s not my boss and I’m not that concerned about it. All the same, I think it’s awful mean of ‘em to give you the worst jobs of the lot. Why do they do it, d’ you suppose?”

Rowenna straightened and looked up at him again. Her lips were pressed together as she thought of a reply. But before it came forth, Javan went on.

“I’ll bet I know why.” He plopped to the ground beside her, folding his legs beneath him. His eyes were wide as he spoke. “It’s ‘cause you used to live with the outlaws, that’s what.” He nodded his head sagely. “They figure you don’t know how to do much else than slit throats and take care of yourself, so they have to keep you to simple work where’ve you no chance to murder no one. That’s why, I expect.” He took a bite of bread and before he could get it chewed and swallowed his quick, running mind came up with a question that he would dearly love answered.

“Was it exciting living with the outlaws? I saw you at the trial. You said you fought! And you’re only a woman! Did they bring in a lot of treasure and gold? They were cut-throats, weren’t they? Did they ever bring in heads?”

[littlemanpoet]

Listening to the boy rattle off his questions, Rowenna could not help raising an eye brow. She allowed a slight smirk to come to her lips; if she didn't she feared she would start to giggle. And that would not be very becoming at all for the kind of young woman she had worked hard to become. How to answer? Matter of factly.

"It was a hard life and one I do not wish to go back to. And yes, there were heads. Stuck on spears sometimes, sometimes left to lie about as food for wolves and worse."

A strange place to find a possible ally and friend, in the person of an uncontainable boy. Not that she would tell him any real secrets, for it was clear enough that he spoke whatever came into his head, closely guarded secret or not. And she would be a fool to ever tell him to do something for her that she didn't want found out. He wouldn't be able to keep it to himself. She told me to do it! Rowenna could well imagine. Still, it could be useful having such a one as a friend of sorts.

"But I do this work because I chose to. I asked Frodides for the hardest work." She paused. "You don't believe me, do you."

[Firefoot]

Léof had risen early as ever, stretching contentedly before dressing and pulling on his boots. A new day, but one that already promised to be not quite the same as the others. Today Javan would return to the stables to be his assistant after his month-long ban. As he considered this, he walked down the long stable aisle, checking on each of the horses in turn. As always, he stopped for a few extra moments at Æthel’s stall, rubbing her long face as he commented, “Up for a ride today, girl? Time to see what Javan is made of, hmm?” Perhaps it might have been better to wait a couple days so that Javan wasn’t quite so excited over his return to the stables, but the truth was that Léof felt like a good ride, and this was the perfect excuse to leave the Hall for a bit.

Rather than feeding the horses first as he normally did, he decided to head to the kitchens to get some breakfast for himself and find out if Javan was awake yet. He went by way of the courtyard and Great Hall, where he found Javan plunked down beside Rowenna, who was washing the floor. “Good morning,” he greeted them, walking over.

“Léof! Thornden said that I could go back to the stables!” Javan exclaimed.

Léof smiled. “Then you can help me feed the horses this morning,” he said, “just after I go get something to eat.” And with a polite nod towards Rowenna, he headed off to the kitchens.