Sunder (12 page)

“I’ll explain it to Father. He’s known Annis a long time. I’m sure he won’t be angry with you.” She smiled her relief, and he resumed walking with a much lighter grip on Deorca.

Annis was very far ahead, but it was clear now where she was going—into Redwald’s tanning shack. The smell was already swimming in the air, and it got worse with every step.  So Annis meant to punish Deorca by banishing her to a lifetime of stench. The smell of tanning never wore off, meaning everyone in Shaftesbury would shy away from her as if she had pox, including Lord Cædda.

Deorca had apparently spotted their destination as well.

“Why is Annis going into the stink hut?”

Thorstein squeezed her hand supportively. “I fear your work will be much harder this day hence.”

“What blasted use have I for a woman, M’lady?” Redwald’s gravelly voice was stilted and tight from the anger that flushed his features. “She won’t be able to lift the pelts.”

Even leaning back against his scraping table, Redwald was tall and imposing.  His dark eyes swept a disapproving glare over Deorca, who stood still as a doe in a meadow next to Thorstein in the corner of the room.

“She’s the size of an ox, Redwald, and just as strong if Garrick is to be believed. I assure you, this isn’t permanent. But she can be of use to you, and learn some humility in the meanwhile.  She’s a vain and disobedient wretch who, I have no doubt, can benefit from your instruction.” 

Thorstein could swear that Annis was glowing as she spoke.

“Well, M’lady, I remember you not liking my ways of dealing with disobedient women—”

“Hilde is my servant and bruising on her reflects poorly on me. I have no such qualms about this one. You have a free hand.”

“Mm.” Redwald ran his hand through his black wavy hair and walked steadily over to Deorca, who shifted her eyes to the floor. “You speak Saxon, Woman?” He tapped the underside of her chin to make her look at him. “I won’t stand for that foreign jabber.”

“Some,” was her small reply.

“She understands simple phrases, Redwald. But she’s still learning. You will likely need to demonstrate to her,” Thorstein explained.

Redwald turned his hateful glare full onto Thorstein. “Thank you for that lesson, Boy. Why don’t you tell me how to wipe my own ass? I have trouble with that too.”

Thorstein’s ears burned, but he knew better than to fire off a retort at the old man. Instead, he turned to Deorca.

“You’ll work every day with Redwald now. After you draw water and eat, report here.  Tanners finish their work before sundown, so you can still come to lessons and confession.” He lowered his voice, not knowing how much Latin Annis understood. “Redwald is cruel and hates women. Obey him instantly, don’t roll your eyes, and don’t speak in any language other than Saxon.
When
he hits you, don’t hit back.”

“She wants him to kill me.” Deorca looked at Annis as she stated this fact.

“I doubt she would mourn if that came to pass. But he’s been married to Hilde for many years, and she’s still alive. He may beat you bloody, I believe. But he won’t kill you. Not if you don’t try to provoke him.”

Annis had had enough. “Come, Northman. Redwald has work to do.”

“It’s Sunday, My Lady,” Thorstein said feebly, as he moved towards the door.

“There’s no day of rest for a tanner, you bloody pagan,” Redwald threw back.

Annis stepped out and cleared her throat for Thorstein to follow. He did so slowly, giving one last look at the still figure of Deorca and her new master standing not far off.  Redwald saw him lingering in the doorway. He strode over, and slammed the door shut in Thorstein’s face.

10

Sunlight was a rare blessing in Wessex autumn, and the shining warmth floating in from the church windows was a welcome addition to the day’s Mass.  As Father Sigbert recited his Latin at the altar, his dutiful parishioners (even those who understood no Latin) smiled and basked in the comfort of Jesus’ words.  Among the crowd of people standing shoulder to shoulder, Lady Annis wore the widest smile of all. She felt weightless, even under her normally cumbersome belly, and as she stood with her hand draped gently around Cædda’s arm, it seemed the blessings of Jesus were shining down on her with the sunlight.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti.” The Mass was ended.

Annis tightened her grip on Cædda’s arm so she could lead him out of the church before Selwyn or one of the others came to spirit him away. But her husband balked against her lead.

“I have business to attend concerning the fyrd,” he said with a tight smile. “I’ll break fast with my captains.” His distracted gaze then shifted behind her and he gave a curt nod, no doubt telling Hilde it was time to escort her lady back home. He then turned sideways and waded through the crowd, ignoring the chorusing “Good morrow My Lord” following him out of the church.

“Very well,” Annis said softly, disappointment crushing her voice. She felt Hilde’s palm sliding across her shoulders, and turned toward her servant. The lord Cædda had dismissed her. Like a serf.

“Shall we go, My lady?” Hilde smiled comfortingly as she gestured toward the door. Saoirse had already departed, not concerned at all with the lady of the house.
Of course in Saoirse’s mind,
she
is the lady of the house.

Annis shook her head, squeezing the tears back. “No, we will stay a while longer. The church is so lovely when it’s still.”

The crowd thinned almost immediately, as the hungry masses dashed to their residences and the meals awaiting them; Annis, though hungry herself, did not depart. Instead, she stood and listened to the echoing church, her head buzzing from hunger and general fatigue. The voice of God only came while one was fasting, so there would be no food until she received at least some reassurance from her Heavenly Father. 

Eyes closed, Annis could hear all the sounds that had previously escaped her: Hilde’s clothing rustling behind her, the wind’s gently brushing against the windows, the laughter of children outside—but not her children. Her children were sleeping still, except Wyrtgeorn. He went only with his father now.

The sounds all faded away and were replaced by a dull buzzing; heat rose up on her face and in her mouth. The very air around her turned to a void and sucked her down, down…

“Annis!”

At last, God was speaking to her, but His voice sounded so far away, as if under water. 

“Annis, wake up!”

She was suddenly aware of strong arms around her, and her sight returned. She was so hot, her body spasming with nausea.

“She said she wanted to stay a bit, Father, I didn’t take her to be unwell!” Hilde’s voice sounded borderline hysterical, but Annis’ vision was still too blurry to see her servant.

“Don’t tell Cædda—” Annis mumbled out between dry heaves. She felt Sigbert’s arms readjust under her back and knees, and then she was being lifted—slowly, gently.

“Never you mind about Lord Cædda, Annis. He has too pressing a matter this day to worry about his silly wife.”

Sigbert’s voice rumbled in his chest, where Annis’ head was bobbing gently as he walked away with her, with Hilde faithfully following.

Her hands and lips prickled as Annis awoke in the back of the rectory.  Hints of her nausea still lingered in her stomach and throat, harkening back to the earliest days of her pregnancy.

“Back among the living?” Sigbert kept his eyes cast down on the book in his lap as he spoke from the chair toward the center of the room.

“Where is my husband?” Annis vaguely remembered asking Sigbert not to tell Cædda about her fainting, but now she was recovered, she wished to have him there.

Sigbert closed his book and rose from his chair to cross the short distance over to the bed. He sat down next to her, but not too close. “He’s meeting with an emissary of the king who arrived late last night. He’ll be occupied much of the day, I’m afraid. Given that my lord previously asked you not to attend Mass anymore, we should keep this incident between us.” He paused to press his hand against her forehead. “I’ll be giving you the Eucharist in your chamber from now until you deliver, My Lady. And be sure to eat as soon as you return home.”

“Why would he not tell me the king’s emissary was here?” Annis inquired acidly, slapping the priest's hand away.

Sigbert’s tone grew icy. “As it was explained to me, Lord Cædda wanted to tell you the important news this morning. But you rose before he did and spent the time before Mass at Redwald’s. Given your stormy mood the past several days, he didn’t want to ruin your transcendent happiness when he saw you at Mass.” 

He was silent for a moment, staring at her hard. “Before this day is out, you will tell Redwald that Deorca is to be released for Confession every day and Mass every Sunday without exception.”

So Thorstein had gone tattling to Sigbert. Hardly surprising, but it still irritated her.  Involving the northman was unfortunately necessary for translation purposes since that bestially stupid Deorca had yet to learn Saxon properly.

“As her mistress, you have dominion over her body, Annis, but you will
not
endanger her soul to assuage your temper.”

Annis sat up as quickly as her engorged body would allow. “I am the Lady of Shaftesbury and you will not—”

“You are a spoiled little girl just like the black slave you hate so much. I speak now as your priest, not a vassal of your husband. Your treatment of her is sin, Annis.”

“She’s an adulterer! I saw—”

Sigbert made a cutting motion across his throat to silence her. “She was disobedient; that much we know. She has made no mention of adultery. Even if she did, her sin against
her
husband has no bearing on the suspicion you have toward your own. Neither Deorca’s sins, nor those of your husband should have any impact on your behavior.  Your duties as lady of Shaftesbury are to be an obedient and loving wife and a kind and responsible mistress. As of now, you are fulfilling neither duty. Thus, insisting I address you as Lady will not negate your utter failure to live up to that title.”

“Why do you care so much for her? Is she now
everyone’s
favorite?” Annis realized she was shrieking, and bit off the last word, blinking back angry tears. 

When she had first been discarded in Shaftesbury to marry Cædda, the priest was always so kind to her. As her own father was only too happy to rid himself of his eldest daughter, Sigbert filled the role of protector and had offered such loving advice when she first discovered her husband's affair with Saoirse. But as the years progressed, Sigbert became less understanding and more condemning of her, as if it were
her
fault that her husband’s seducers were everywhere in her house.

Father read her face. 

“Deorca is alone in a strange land. I am her priest just as surely as I am yours. It is Saoirse who is a rival for your husband’s time, not Deorca.” He reached out and smoothed her hair. “But Saoirse does not compare to you in his affection. You are the mother of his children and his honored wife. It is for God to turn him away from sin, not you. Shrewish behavior will only convince him that his sin is acceptable.”  Sigbert took his hand away with a sigh and stood abruptly, calling for Hilde through the door that adjoined the church.

It seemed she was being dismissed.  Again.

Annis stayed still as her servant entered the room, quickly and humbly. As Hilde sat next to her and worked to replace her mistress’ head covering, Annis just watched Sigbert leave the rectory, noting he did not bother to glance back as he left.

“I didn’t reckon you were poorly, My Lady. You gave me a right start when you fell like that.” Hilde twittered on as she helped Annis to her feet, but she wasn’t really listening to her servant.

He didn’t care one bit about what she was feeling, what her life had been like since his beloved black princess had stepped into her house. If he had so little care for her, then it seemed fit to not waste her good will on some priest any longer. So the little whore could come to Mass. It didn’t impact her plan. After all, Annis thought with the darkest of smiles, Deorca would stink so badly she would not be able to stand anywhere near Cædda.

***

Isabella gagged over the smell of the rotting cow carcass spread out before her. She expected to work on pieces of animals, but nothing could have prepared her for a pile of whole-animal skins with hooves and horns still attached.  The local butcher just scraped out what parts he needed and then delivered the rest to Redwald every afternoon.

“You’d best get accustomed to it, Woman.” Redwald growled from across the room. 

As soon as Annis and Thorstein left the room, the grizzled old man had taken Isabella directly outside and shown her the stack of ten to fifteen cow, deer, and horse skins waiting to be treated.  They smelled like rotten eggs and feces, much to the delight of the swarm of flies surrounding them.

“Today we’re finishing all of it. Understand?” Redwald had said. Given Thorstein’s instructions to her, Isabella half expected to be flogged without even being taught her new job.  But Redwald seemed interested only in getting his duties done for the day. Between the two of them, they were making good progress on the pelts. Perhaps they would work only until noontime.

Isabella hoped that was the case, as she was absolutely starving. As she chopped at the cow’s legs to get the hoof off, her stomach growled angrily at her. Her hunger was only made worse by the sunlight radiating in through the windows.  Normally, the feeling of sunshine would have been so welcome. But today, it cooked her through her layers of wool as she carried 30-kilo cow skins in and out of the stinky hut.

“No!” Redwald shot across the room, cleaver still in hand. With two long strides, he was upon her and brought his hand crashing across the back of her head.

“What?” Isabella yelled at him, massaging her throbbing scalp.

“Look.” Redwald pointed to the cow’s leg where Isabella had severed the hoof.  There was dried blood all around it and the skin was jagged and torn. Remaining bits of cartilage stuck out of the poor animal’s remains.  It was revolting to be sure, but she didn’t know what Redwald was trying to show her. The confusion was apparent to Redwald, who jerked her by the arm over to the deer carcass he was working on.

“Look.” He pointed to the de-hoofed legs of the deer.  The edges, though still a little bloody, were cleanly cut, with no fragments of skin, bone, or cartilage.  Looking at the difference, Isabella already knew what she was doing wrong.  Redwald was able to sever the hooves with one clean blow.  Isabella’s attempt to do so had not ended well, so she finished the job with a sawing motion. She had a smaller knife, and she certainly wasn’t as strong as the burly tanner.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and returned to her own carcass.

“Keep your sorry,” Redwald hissed at her. He followed her back to her table and selected another cleaver off the cutlery rack. He then stood directly behind her, pressing up against her as he put the cleaver into her hand.  He curled his fingers around her wrist and guided her arm straight up over her head.

“Annis,” he whispered softly into her ear, and Isabella brought the cleaver down in a forceful blow. The cow’s back hoof flew across the room, leaving clean edges on the remaining leg.

Isabella laughed and looked back at Redwald, who gave her a grudging smile before pushing her softly into the table and returning to his work.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It seemed that if Isabella did as she was told, Redwald might be civil to her. The occasional slap across the head was nothing compared the constant whispers and giggles of the other women in the house. Now if only there was something to be done about this smell…

The muscles and tendons in her shoulder were getting a fine workout with all this chopping, but luckily for Isabella, her years of archery had strengthened them to the point of averting actual pain. She lifted the heavy cleaver above her head to remove the final hoof.

“God’s Death! …Bitch … want …nothing done today!”

Redwald’s sudden fierce outburst caused Isabella to shriek in panic. The clatter of her own cleaver dropping to the floor was partially drowned out by the sound of Redwald’s cleaver being thrown angrily into his table. The blade stuck in the wood and the weapon vibrated with the force of its impact, as Redwald tore out the door, mouth agape and practically frothing with fury.

Isabella took a deep and appreciative breath for not the source of his anger before she turned to look out the window.  Redwald was facing it as he worked and must have seen the approach of the figure outside from some distance.

Annis had returned to the hut, but even from this distance, Isabella could see she was not so happy as she was this morning. God knew why the fat hag had returned, but Isabella shared her new employer’s sentiments about the intrusion.

Abandoning her work for a while, Isabella stood at the open hole in the wall, which, with no glass and only a rudimentary frame, barely qualified as a window, and she watched the wild arm movements of Redwald as he and Annis barked at each other.  Were tanners so valuable that they were given free rein to act how they pleased? Given the feudal system of England, Isabella thought Annis would wield more power. Was it that she was a woman, or was the disrespect shown her a more personal insult? Isabella made a note to ask Redwald about it when she learned more Saxon. Sigbert would likely be upset with the question and assign her some god-awful penance for it.