wisely…
For if you don‘t…
Caela turned away, her head down, thinking. She paced very slowly about the room, her
arms wrapped across her breasts as if in protection, then, after a few minutes of total silence with
all eyes in the hall upon her, Caela came to a stop before Harold.
She lifted her eyes, staring at him, and Harold felt tears come into his own eyes at the
depth of expression and of love in hers.
―I have chosen,‖ she said softly, looking at no one but Harold.
There was silence, and Harold felt the breath stop in his throat.
―Eaving,‖ Caela said. ―My name will be Eaving.‖
Harold‘s breath let out on a sob, and the tears that had welled now flowed down his
cheeks.
Eaving! It was a rustic word, used generally only by shepherds, herdsmen and sailors.
Yet, even by these men eaving was a word used only once or twice in their lives.
Superficially, ―eaving‖ meant shelter, but its meaning went a great deal deeper than that.
Eaving was used by shepherds and sailors, men who were exposed to the worst of the elements,
to mean ―an unexpected haven from the tempest‖. They used it when they and their flocks, or
ships, were caught in a storm of apparently supernatural anger, which threatened their very lives,
and from which there appeared to be no shelter. Then, suddenly, as though god-given, there
appeared seemingly from out of nowhere the unexpected haven: an overhanging cliff which
protected the shepherd and his flock from the worst of the weather, a small bay or estuary in
which a ship could ride out a storm.
Eaving, the unexpected haven in which to ride out the storm and from where one could
re-emerge into the sunlight.
―You wish to use the name Eaving?‖ asked Mag. ―Once you accept this name you will be
tied to it and by it.‖
Eaving turned to Mag, then looked at each of the other women in turn. ―It is who I have
always been,‖ she said, ―and what I want only to be. Eaving. I accept this name.‖
―Then welcome, Eaving,‖ said Mag. ―Welcome to yourself.‖ She held out her arms, as if
she would embrace Caela— Eaving—but then the hall appeared to disintegrate into its elements,
and water crashed about them, and the next thing Harold knew he was standing atop the Pen
again, shivering in the cold night air, alone save for Caela who lay at his feet.
For one terrible moment he thought she was dead, but then Caela rolled on to her back
and smiled at him.
―I feel whole,‖ she said. Then she held out her arms to him. ―Let me make you warm.‖
His shelter from the impending storm…and suddenly all of Harold‘s fear and anger and
frustration at his approaching, unavoidable death vanished. He knelt down beside her, and lay
down, and felt her take him in her arms.
―Eaving,‖ he whispered, and then she kissed him.
SEVEN
When she returned to her chamber within St Margaret the Martyr‘s, it was to find Judith,
Saeweald, Ecub and Silvius waiting for her.
―What has happened?‖ said Silvius, taking a step forward as Caela entered.
She looked at him as if slightly puzzled, then smiled agreeably. ―I have spent the
afternoon with Harold.‖
―Harold?‖ Judith, Saeweald and Silvius said together.
To one side, Ecub looked carefully at Caela, and nodded very slightly to herself. So.
―He is tired,‖ said Caela. ―Dispirited.‖ She paused, her brow furrowed as if trying to
remember something, then said, ―Our brother Tostig is dead. Harold killed him at Stamford
Bridge.‖
Judith and Saeweald looked at each other, not sure what to say.
―Caela,‖ Saeweald said.
She came to him, and kissed his cheek gently. ―Forgive me for being so dispirited these
past months, Saeweald. I have come to my senses now. I will do what I must.‖
―What has happened?‖ Silvius said. He walked forward, and took Caela‘s chin in his
hand. ―Caela?‖
―I am well and I am at peace, Silvius,‖ she said. ―There are no more empty spaces. No
more lack. I am this land, I am the soul of its rivers and waters, the wellspring for its fertility. I accept it. I have embraced it.‖
―How is this so?‖ Silvius asked. His black eye was narrowed, searching Caela‘s face.
―Why so confident, so—?‖
―Unexpectedly confident, Silvius?‖ Caela smiled, very gently, and moved her face so that
her chin slid from his grip. ―I am tired,‖ she said. ―I would rest. Do you mind?‖
As they filed from her chamber, Caela added, quietly, ―Ecub, I beg you to stay a
moment.‖
―Harold,‖ said Ecub, once the door had closed behind the others.
Caela‘s face broke into a huge grin. “Yes! Oh, Ecub, you cannot know—‖
―I can guess,‖ said Ecub, laughing. She stepped forward, taking both of Caela‘s hands in
hers. ―He was your mate, yes? He was your means to marrying with the land. We all should have
seen it sooner. Even in the past life, we should have seen it.‖
If anything, Caela‘s grin broadened, and Ecub laughed again, and enfolded the younger
woman into a tight embrace.
―There is much I need to tell you,‖ Caela said when Ecub eventually pulled back.
―Indeed,‖ said Ecub. Her face was sober now, her eyes searching. ―But what I want to
know, first, is why you tell me, and not the others.‖
―I am not sure.‖ Caela turned and walked to the window, gazing out at the looming shape
of Pen Hill in the darkness. ―There was a caution within me that lifted only when you were the
last left in the room.‖ She turned back to face Ecub. ―And perhaps it is because you were the one
with me at Mag‘s Dance. You were the one to watch me dance Mag‘s Nuptial Dance.‖
―And Blangan.‖
Caela smiled sadly. ―But she is not here now.‖
―But you are.‖ Ecub breathed deeply, then bowed low at the waist. ―Mother Mag.‖
―No,‖ Caela said, and Ecub looked up, surprised. ―Eaving,‖ Caela said. ―My name is
Eaving. Mag has passed, and only I remain.‖ Caela sat down on her bed, and patted the space
beside her. ―Sit, and I will tell you all that transpired this afternoon. Oh, Ecub, it was so
beautiful.‖
An hour later they still sat on Caela‘s bed, their hands gripped, save that now Ecub was
weeping, shaken by what she had heard, and by the power of her own joy. Oh, how fortunate she
was that she should have lived to hear this!
Eventually Ecub sniffed, quietened her emotion, and said to Caela, ―You are Eaving, the
shelterer, but you also shall need a shelter, and a protector.‖
Caela‘s mouth curved in a small smile. She had been right to trust this woman as the
first—apart from Harold, of course—among those who would know her for who she truly was.
―I,‖ said Ecub, ―and mine, my sisters, will always be yours. We shall exist for only one
purpose, and that shall be to provide you with a haven, in whatever manner you need it.‖
It was a powerful promise, and Caela‘s own eyes now brimmed with tears. She leaned
forward, kissing Ecub softly on the mouth. ―I accept,‖ she said, ―although you may one day
regret—‖
―Never!‖ said Ecub. Then, more softly, ―Never. I watched over Mag‘s Dance, and saw
you come to your own within it. I will watch over you now, and for so long as you need me.‖
Caela nodded. ―Thank you.‖
Much later, when everyone else had gone, Ecub bedded Caela down in her chamber.
Judith had gone off with Saeweald, and Ecub was glad of it.
―What is it that you ‗must‘ do?‖ asked Ecub, tucking the bed linens about Caela‘s
shoulders as if she were a child. ―Warn William? Move against Asterion?‖
―I must wait,‖ said Caela. ―I can do no more. I shelter. I cannot avenge. I cannot warn.‖
―Do you not fear for William?‖
―Oh, aye, I do not think I can sleep for the fear I hold for him. Swanne…oh, dear gods,
Swanne is his walking death. But I must be true to myself, Ecub. I cannot go to him. I cannot
seek him out. He must come to me. He must need the haven.‖
―Swanne and Asterion will—‖
―I know. I know. But I have to trust in myself and in what will be, Ecub. I can do no
more.‖
Ecub sighed, patted Caela on the shoulder, then retreated to a stool under the window,
blowing out the candle as she did so. The stool was uncomfortable, but there was no point in her
sleeping; Matins service would begin within an hour or two, and Ecub might as well spend the
time between now and then in contemplation…and in thanks for the unexpected joy this life had
brought her.
EIGHT
William had been in England almost two weeks, and he‘d yet to have the opportunity to