Time of the Wolf by James Wilde

Author:James Wilde
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2012-12-09T15:01:52.503000+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE BOY LAY ON HIS BED OF RUSHES, MUMBLING INCOHERENT words in the throes of his fever. Sweat slicked his flushed face in the glow from the hearth. At the door of the hut deep in the woods, Hereward watched Turfrida bend over the lad as she eased a creamy paste between his lips. The mother and father stood to one side, their faces crumpled by worry. When the boy had taken in the mush, Turfrida bowed her head and muttered a few words in a language the warrior didn’t recognize.

Rising, she turned to the parents and gave them an exhausted smile. “Pray over your son until dawn and, if God is willing, he will recover.”

Hereward had looked around the ceorls’ shack and noted their meager possessions, yet still the relieved couple tried to press offerings of food upon Turfrida. She took only a fragment of bread so as not to offend them, and bid them farewell.

“The boy will live, then?” he asked, once they were on the narrow winding path leading back through the trees.

“I would not lie to his mother and father.”

“Is this how you repay the Church for all the attention they give your kind—by being honest and aiding sick children?” He hid his smile. “Where is the shape-changing and the night flights and the curses?”

“Perhaps I have secretly bewitched you.”

“I am protected from your charms.” He feigned aloofness.

“Ah. Your kisses were to ward me away. Now I understand.”

“Or perhaps I bewitched you.”

She laughed at that, but not unkindly. “Now, speak no more of witches. Words travel far. It is a mark of my trust in you that I have made plain what I do.”

“Made plain? All I see are crushed herbs and balms. All I hear are whispered words that mean nothing to me.”

After a moment’s thought, she said, “I was taught the secret ways by my mother, who learned from her mother before her. They were people of the woods and I am the daughter of a castellan, yet still I carry on the ways of those who have gone before me. I can do no other. We are all in thrall to our pasts.”

“Then you do not consort with the Devil?”

“Only one.” She laughed. “The mechanical arts are no more terrifying than the teachings you received from the monks as a child. Is finding your way by the position of the stars the work of the Devil? Is knowing which plants heal? Listening to the whispers of the trees and the animals, finding wisdom in the patterns of all we see around us?”

“But you do not worship the Christian God?”

Her smile tightened, but she gave no reply.

They talked of other matters as they walked home, of his friendship with Alric, and with Vadir, and of the dangers of his mercenary work. He made light of the threats to his life, but Turfrida showed only concern; and, as she gave voice to her fears for his safety, tears sprang to her eyes. Under the

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