Pilgrimage

At last the winter loosened its cold grip of the land, and the first signs of spring were reported to the joy and relief of all. The castle and town of Bedford came to life once more and the first peddlers arrived on the wet, slushy roads. The children surrounded the castle with a besieging army of snowmen and stood valiantly on the battlements and defeated the attackers with a storm of snowballs. Dafwydd and Elffin brought ladders and stormed the walls under laughter, but were driven off, a victory the children owed to Owain’s eldest son Gwair, who poured buckets of icy water over the two soldiers until they retreated.

With the peddlers came news, and the people gathered around to hear what went on abroad. Stories were told of the high and mighty, of embarrassing events and deeds of valour. Not all had spent the winter holed up. We learned that Cadlew of Royston had recalled his now eldest son from the sanctuary of St Albans' abbey to take his place by his father’s side. High king Uther was reputedly suffering from bad health still, and in the duchy of Silchester a giant had been slain by duke Ulfius and his brave knights. A Saxon raiding party had sneaked up on Hertford one night, but fallen through the ice of the river before the eyes of the guards, an event that made duke Gilbert sponsor a mass of thanksgiving.

Lord Band usually interviewed those peddlers and travellers who came to call, curious of what happened in the land, assessing business possibilities and the politics. It was after one such interview, in early March, when he sent for Ceredig, for a private conversation.

"You remember Harwd of Royston, Ceredig?" he began after he had invited his newest knight to his private quarters. He kept his voice cold and unemotional.

"Well, yes, sir", Ceredig answered, uncertain of what his lord held in store for him.

"And you are from Wuerensis, as I recall." Band looked him straight in the eye. "I expect you hold no love for fanatic priests and such?"

"Ah, indeed, no." The sudden change of topic startled Ceredig. "I believe every man has the right to choose his gods himself, not have them forced upon him. But, sir, what do you…"

"You know, Cadlew has an other son" Band interrupted. "A monk, I’ve heard. He has recently returned to Royston to take up the position as heir to the holdings. Currently he is at Beale Valet, visiting Earl Robert, and then he’ll continue to Peterborough on a pilgrimage to the holy well by the abbey there."

Ceredig nodded, uncertain what his lord was trying to tell him. Band studied him in silence for a while.

"You have never been there? At the well?"

"No, sir, I have never been that interested in those things, since I don’t follow the Christian god", Ceredig answered, realising his lord’s intentions. "But now that you tell me about it, I think it wouldn’t hurt to have a look to see what it’s all about."

"No, it wouldn’t, I say", Band smiled. "As I care about your soul, why don’t you take some of your friends, men you can trust and so on, with you and take a little trip in that direction. And if you should happen upon… All I say is that you should keep an eye out for strange people. There are lots of robbers in the woods, I’ve heard, and some travellers never return, if you see what I mean."

"Yes, sir", Ceredig answered with a smile, "we will be careful. If someone should threaten us we will naturally defend ourselves."

"Good, I think we understand each other. Why don’t you leave at dawn tomorrow? If you listen to what the priests say it’s never to early to mind the soul, since no one knows when he will be called to meet his maker."

"Right, sir", Ceredig said as he rose. "I think I’ll bring my brother with me, and Elffin. They are reliable and a good company. And maybe Pertacus too. After all, his great horse would need some exercise."

"Well, both your brother and Elffin share your faith, I know, but Pertacus is a Christian, is he not? Isn’t he likely to be caught up listening to priests? I wouldn’t want you to get side-tracked or distracted in any way."

"Believe me, sir, when I say that the only interest our Roman friend has in churches lies in the way they’re built. He isn’t the most devout of your god’s followers, I’m afraid. Maybe a pilgrimage would do him good."

"Just as long as you can be sure he does what is expected of him. I trust your judgement in this, Ceredig. I wouldn’t want to be publicly shamed by what my men do in their spare time. But should you return from this pilgrimage enlightened, from a meeting with a priest for instance, you will find I follow the Christian principles of forgiveness and generosity."

As he closed the door behind him, Ceredig realised he hadn’t been given an order, and yet somehow he had. Obviously, Band didn’t want to order someone to kill a priest; should someone ask he could claim his hands were clean. And yet he had promised to reward the men, should they carry out his unspoken orders. Making a mental note of the technique for his own future needs, Ceredig went to find his companions on the pilgrimage.

*        *        *

They arrived at Beale Valet, the castle outside Huntington, early next evening. Being Band’s men, they were offered hospitality and invited to dine in the hall. After seeing to that the horses were cared for, they went inside. Owain, Pertacus and Elffin sat down with the soldiers as Ceredig walked up to the high table to greet his liege’s liege. Earl Robert was a handsome man in his early fifties, still erect and powerful despite his grey hair and beard. At his right hand sat a man in a monk’s simple robes, who Ceredig presumed was his target. But not tonight, and not here. With a bow he greeted his host who nodded in return.

"Sir Ceredig, isn’t it?" Robert’s voice was gentle and his manners friendly. "Welcome to my home. Will you be staying a while?"

"No, sir, I’m afraid not. Me and my companions are on a voyage to Peterborough, and we’ll be leaving in the morrow."

"Peterborough, you say? What business does Band have there?" Robert asked curiously.

"None that I know of, my lord. We are going to see the holy well, and my liege has generously given us permission to do so." Since this would be the story Band would offer, Ceredig thought it wise to plant it as early as possible.

"Is that so? In that case maybe you could make company with my guest here. Ceredig, this is Cerwd of Royston", Robert said, indicating the monk. "He too is travelling to see the holy well. Cerwd, this is Ceredig, a knight from Bedford. Perhaps you could join to travel together? There are robbers in some areas, and whatever I do, I can’t seem to root them out. But there is safety in numbers, and both Ceredig here and his friends are experienced fighting men."

Ceredig held his breath. If he was forced to travel with the monk it would be hard to explain how he alone fell victim to ‘robbers’.

"I thank you for your consideration, sir Robert", Cerwd said, "but if his lord has been so generous, I wouldn’t want to detain him and his friends. As you know, I ride a mule, and I fear that the poor creature would suffer immensely if I tried to make it keep up with horses."

"But I’ve told you I’d gladly lend you a horse. I know you are a good horseman. Well do I remember how you spent all day on your father’s war-horse when you were young." Earl Robert frowned. "Why do you insist on that animal? It’s an insult to your station."

"No, on the contrary, it is what befits me. I am not a proud man, and neither am I hurried. My mule has served me well, and badly would I thank him if I replaced him with a steed with more impressive appearance. As for your concerns of safety, I put my faith in my Lord. Besides, my father provided me with an escort, as you know. I fear not."

Ceredig followed this exchange with barely concealed contempt. To him it was obvious that this Cerwd considered himself a holy man. Put his faith in his lord, indeed! But this escort would need to be further investigated. Robert noticed him standing silently in front of the table and indicated he should go and take a seat. With a bow, Ceredig withdrew and was shown a seat by a servant girl.

Meanwhile, his comrades had started to indulge themselves with food and wine. Ceredig was always moderate, almost ascetic, but the others did not refuse the good of life. Soon they were out of control and Owain and Elffin started to look at the harp player and his instrument with eager eyes, while Pertacus searched for happiness in his wine cup.

"What do ye think about that one?" Elffin said, nudging Owain. "Wouldn’t ye say he is in need of some help? I’m pretty sure I can handle that harp much better than he can!

"He doesn’t make people dance of joy, if that’s what you mean," Owain responded and looked at Elffin. A smile started to spread on his face and Elffin nodded in silent agreement.

They left their seats and innocently started to stroll towards the musician who noticed them too late to escape. Within seconds he was bereft of his harp and brusquely ordered to take a rest and leave the entertaining details to more competent players. Then strings begun to snap. None of the lads were particularly good at playing and together they were indeed terrible, but they knew how to make a scene. Fully occupied with playing the harp four-handed they did not notice of the angry looks given them from their host and the other guests.

Suddenly, a very nice baritone became audible, successfully competing with the noise from the harp. It was Owain who had started to sing and did it surprisingly well. Suddenly the harp gave in by breaking in two and from the distance the upset voice of the harp player could be heard as he urged two guards to help him retrieve his lost treasure. When he advanced with them by his side, Elffin took the remains of the harp, looked at him with a serious and concerned expression on his face and tossed it right in the poor musician’s arms. The harp was shortly followed by the words "I believe this instrument needs to be tuned. The sound is really awful, dontyeknow? "

Then they both hastily sneaked away, well knowing that their manners had been very debatable and that Ceredig was probably angry with them. But soon they forgot about their performance and started to look for more amusement.

"Have ye seen any pretty lassies around?" Elffin asked. "It’s not a proper feast if there isn’t any sweethearts to flirt and dance with!"

"It isn’t?" Owain answered, looking sceptical. Then he realised that with so many people around the women would probably behave and gave Elffin a grin and pointed. "There’s a pretty one sitting next to the old man over to the right there."

Elffin looked and liked what he saw. "Look at a master doing his work" he said smilingly to Owain. "You might learn a thing or two if you watch me in action!"

He went straight to the girl and gave her his best act of a charming rascal. After but a few bantering words she started to giggle in a delighted way, revealing that she was probably a bit younger than he first was lead to believe by her appearance. That did not discourage him, however, so he boldly went on, asking for a dance. As she modestly accepted Elffin felt a firm hand taking hold of his shoulder.

After but a few bantering words she started to giggle in a delighted way

"Excuse me, young man, but I think you should leave this girl alone. She will not dance with you."

Elffin looked at the elderly man who had risen from his seat and now was disturbing him in his successful courtship.

"Well, excuse me", Elffin said irritated, "but I believe that as the girl’s accepted, ‘tis none of yer bloody business."

"As her father and protector it is not only my business, it is my duty. Withdraw now, and I’ll forgive you your transgression."

"I’ve done no harm", Elffin insisted, "and the gel is old enough to dance with a poor soldier. Now bugger off, ol’ man. Ye are bothersome and irritating, and if ye donut let go of me shoulder ye’ll be sorry."

"Well, I’ve never!" the old knight exclaimed. Then he slapped Elffin hard in the face.

With a startled exclamation, Elffin responded in kind and hit the man over the head with his tankard. His opponent swayed a little and then gave him a cold stare.

"If you have any honour and courage you’ll met me in the courtyard at dawn, sword in hand. I’ll teach you a very called for lesson in proper behaviour."

Pushing Elffin backwards, he indicated to the girl that it was time to leave. Slightly pouting she rose, and slyly winked at her courtier. Poor Elffin was too agitated to do anything and stood fuming as they withdrew. When they had left the hall, he caressed his reddened cheek.

"Bloody spoilsport, poking eround, disturbing peeple, buggerin’ an’ hittin’ honest soldiers", he muttered. He had learned to speak more understandable during his months in Bedford, but as he grew angry he had a tendency to loose the thin layer of civility his friends had managed to impress on him. "I’ll show ‘im! I’ll beat ‘im into pulp. I’ll not leave enough for the mourners to recognise ‘im! I’ll teach ‘im a lesson he’ll never have a chance to forget."

"But Elffin", Owain interjected, "he said at dawn."

"He did, didna he? Didna fink I’d be up’n ebout did he?" Then he realised it was all too likely he wouldn’t be awake at dawn. "’Ere, ye’ll get me up, willya? Ye gotta help me, Owain. Say ye will."

"Well, surely. But I wonder…"

"What?" Elffin snapped as he poured himself a tankard of ale and putting it to his lips.

"What was I supposed to learn from this? You said I should watch you and learn, but I don’t think I understand the lesson."

"Oh, bugger that", Elffin said, putting down the empty tankard. "Just make sure I’m up in time." Then he belched and took some deep breaths. "So what do ye think of finding another prey, eh? How about them serving gels over there?"

Owain looked at the serving girls, and infused with alcohol he found he really would like to engage in some bed sport tonight. The girls were young and rather pretty, and didn’t wear any finery or fancy clothes, but good, honest skirts and blouses of linen. He noticed one of them looked at him and winked, and boldly he took his comrade and went to see what victories could be won on this battlefield.

*        *        *

That night Owain bedded young Ellda, who in years to come would be one of the reason he seldom was seen at his home with his family. Elffin felt the effects of overindulgence and found his little friend would not rise to the challenge. Drunk and tired he fell asleep in her bed instead of giving her what he had promised.

As dawn broke, he was mercilessly kicked out of the girl’s bed as she went to her duties. At the same time Owain showed up, fully dressed and looking all healthy, which was made that much more apparent beside Elffin who felt the effects of the night before.

"Good morning", Owain said cheerfully, "are you ready for your fight?"

"Fight? What fight?" Elffin asked puzzled. Then he realised he had a challenge to meet this morning. "Oh, my. I had forgot ebout that."

"That Cerwd has already left, you know. I asked around a bit and found out that your opponent today is none other than the constable of Royston. He’s an old friend of Earl Robert and brought his family with him to visit as the monk was travelling here. They’ll go back to Royston tomorrow."

"Old friend of the earl? Great. If I win he’ll be angry with me and if I lose I’ll never get near that little beauty again."

"Do you think", Owain said thoughtfully, "that you will get near the girl if you beat her father? Don’t you think he’ll be angry with you?"

"Nah", Elffin grunted as he pulled his leather armour on. "The issue at stake here is if I had the right to dance wi’ the girl. She accepted, after all, and she’s got the right to decide. He’s gotta lemme…" Fastening the straps with a final jerk, Elffin bent down to pick up his sword belt. "If I beat ‘im, an’ I will, he’s gotta lemme dance with his daughter, an’ admit that she’s ol’ enough to decide. Ha!"

Ramming the helmet down on his unruly blond hair, he led his friend out to the courtyard. There he found quite a crowd of both servants and soldiers awaiting the duel. Ceredig came to meet him as he looked around.

"Good morning", he said with a smile. "How do you feel? I must admit that I wanted you punished last night, but it seems you have arranged that yourself."

"What do ye mean?"

"The odds are not in your favour, my friend. He might be old, but from what I’ve heard he is a respected fighter, and besides, he had control of his drinking last night."

"Well, I had too." Elffin answered hotly.

"Yes, I saw how you kept that flagon of ale under strict supervision. However, against my better judgement I’ve bet on you, Elffin. Please do your best. It was not much, but considering the odds it would make me very happy if you won."

"Is that so? What are the odds?" Elffin queried, but he got no answer.

"Hush, here comes Robert." Ceredig said sharply.

The earl arrived in the company of the old constable and the crowd fell silent. With a wave he summoned Elffin, who sauntered over to him, followed by Owain.

"Good morning", the earl greeted them. "You are Elffin, I presume?"

"Yep, that I am, sir."

"And you have come to answer to the challenge that Neddig here", he continued, indicating the other man, "offered you last night?"

"Yep, that I have, sir."

"Now, I’m not happy about this. I do not like duels, but this is a matter of honour, I’ve been told. Is that so?"

"Well, to tell the truth, sir, I’m not really sure what’s it about. I was just talkin’ to ‘is little girl, offering her a dance should she feel like it, when he got angry." Elffin had put on his most innocent expression. "But he hit me, an’ ‘tis just fair I get a chance to hit ‘im back, dontyeknow?" Then, as an afterthought, he added "Sir."

"As I understand it, you already have. That’s just about what you told me, although slightly biased in the other direction, I’d say." Robert said to his friend. "Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw your challenge?"

"What?" Elffin shouted, ignoring Owain’s tugging on his arm. "An’ not givin’ me the chance to prove his gel is ol’ enough to speak for herself?"

"Do not worry, young man, I was worried that you had changed your mind. It was", Neddig told him pointedly, "not working very well last night, after all. Had you realised your error, I would have accepted your apology."

"Then so be it", Robert said. "You fight with armour, blunted weapons and shield. The first man to fall will lose the duel. Now, take your places."

The crowd, who had came closer to hear what was said, fell back and made space for the fighters. Taking the places in the middle, Elffin and Neddig saluted each other. Then the duel begun. Ceredig told me later that Neddig was indeed very good.

"It was only Elffin’s swaying feet that kept him out of harm at first", he said when they had come back to Bedford, "but the prospect of hitting someone seemed to liven him up. Soon they had scored many hits, both of them, and pulled apart to regain their breath. I think Neddig saw the little rascal in another light then, having withstood all he could give and given well in return. They both had many bruises, and both sported a black eye. Then Elffin yelled a war cry and engaged him again. With a furious attack he drove his opponent backwards, and with a mighty blow sent him sprawling on his back."

Ceredig noted in passing that he made quite a sum on his bet when he told me about the duel. Anyway, as Neddig was defeated, Elffin put his sword down and knelt by his opponent’s side with a concerned look on his face.

"I didn’t hurt ye, did I?" he asked.

"Didn’t you intend to?" Neddig answered with a weak smile, squinting at him with his good eye.

"No, I just wanted to win, so I could dance with yer beautiful daughter."

Neddig laughed at that. "Fine, just help me up."

As Elffin did so, Robert came. "Are you finished?" he asked.

They said they were, and the earl proclaimed Elffin to be the winner. They all shook hands to show that no enmity remained, and Ceredig came to collect his brave soldier, after having collected his winnings.

"Come now, Elffin, we must be going. We are going to see the holy well, remember?"

"But, my dance?" Elffin complained.

"Do not worry, my friend", Neddig said. "The next time you meet her, you’ll have your dance." Then he gingerly touched his swollen eye and smiled. "Maybe I should let you protect her honour in the future?"

He did not know it then, of course, but he would be right about that, although I do not think he remembered the incident when he finally yielded his responsibility to Elffin.


Wolves    The trap

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Text (c) Örjan Westin 1999, art (c) Ann-Cathrine Loo 1999.