The Swan-Bone Flute by Rachel O’Leary

Author:Rachel O’Leary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rachel M O'Leary
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

AM I THE SPARROWHAWK?

OSWYNNE

‘I’m glad you’re back at my side, wife,’ said Kedric, ‘You’re right; we do need to send out the messengers today, to give our cousins at Mereham and Thornthicket time to get ready for the Moot. The lads need to get going by sunrise.’

‘Who will you send?’ Oswynne asked. She was glad she’d planted the idea in his head in bed; now she felt almost tender towards him at the thought of tricking him. But it was necessary. Elder Edith leans forward to listen well, to men and women, young ones too; Roger sneers, interrupts, speaks over my head. Light throbbed into the sky to the east. She walked briskly at Kedric’s elbow towards the men’s sleeping house. I need to be close by when he speaks to the messengers.

Kedric stopped and tilted his head, looking far off. She heard it too – a woodpecker drumming far away. ‘Dead wood up on the ridge, windy in the night; I’ll send the boys to get fallen branches for firewood.’ Thinking, Kedric went on, ‘Our young Edgar’s old enough now to take the message but he’s flighty. He’ll be off hunting and forget where he’s going until it’s dark and he’s still miles out from any settlement. I’ll send Bertold to keep an eye on him; my old friend’s always been reliable. They can take a boat to Mereham. We need a steady chap to ride to Thornthicket – Evrard’s right for the job.’ He slammed into the sleeping house, barking commands.

Fear and excitement jostled in Oswynne’s stomach. An urge to giggle tickled her throat. She swallowed it and clenched her jaw. Her shadow moved blue on the frosty grass and she saw the skier in Hilda’s story poised above a steep slope, whooping as she raced down. I’m plunging as fast as Ziske on the slope, into – disobedience? She swung her arms up and filled her lungs. Chills ran down her spine.

The men punched each other’s shoulders and joked as they pushed out of the doorway in a bunch. A frown wrinkled Evrard’s broad forehead, Oswynne noticed. He’s worrying about his wife and the baby they’ve got on the way. Nothing must ruin our plan!

Aloud she reassured him, ‘The women will take care of Keenbur. You’ll be back tomorrow.’

She drew herself up, taller than some of them, and commanded: ‘Messengers! Bertold, Edgar, Evrard, come with me.’

‘It’s alright, Mother, we know what to do; it’s all planned.’ Edgar twisted away from Oswynne’s hand on his arm.

‘You need the correct form of words to deliver the message. Only Elder Edith can give you the ancient sentences. You must memorise them carefully. Without that, you could lower our standing as moot-givers – they might even laugh at you.’ The three messengers looked at each other, pulled faces, and hurried after her to Elder Edith’s hall. Kedric shrugged and went to choose a horse for Evrard.

Elder Edith was suitably solemn, her face pinched in the chilly air. She gave them

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