Traveller Probo
61. 11th Century England

By firelight, chunks of roast meat and wooden bowls of hearty stew were washed down with the strangers’ lager and cider. As usual, Michael was the entertainment but he was not alone. One of the medical staff brought a guitar while another played the djembe and two nurses sang along. The increased tempo meant an even more fevered approach to dancing and singing that were sure to have the few monks overcome with exhaustion.

The temperature dropped and stars twinkled through the filigree of oaken twigs in a wonderland rarely seen in modern skies. The usual celebratory excesses ran their course as two men fought over an imagined slight while others fell unconscious in their drunken stupor. Michael watched Alric and Eabae silently slip off into the night, no doubt to find a sheltered nook prepared in advance.

Tatae sidled over and sat by him as he continued to play. The djembe suddenly fell silent as the player, a heavy-set male nurse, was dragged up to dance by the widow of one of the hunters who had been killed a few years ago. The woman was attractive and the endless implications of this evening continued to be of concern. Michael watched the couple eventually vanish into the cold night, the woman dragging the barely reluctant man off to what must be another hidden shelter. With the presence of the dogs, any wolves were well gone so couples should be safe. What was of greater concern was the consequence of such a liaison? Saxon women were wilful and strong, especially when it came to sex, so any 21st Century men who attracted their attention would know about it tonight.

Around the fires were so few monks, and some still very young. Their influence in the village had waned since the days of Brother Oeric and Abbott Aldfrid.

As fire burned low the revelry subsided as villagers staggered to temporary shelters or collapsed by the warmth of the coals. Michael led Tatae to their own bed tucked between the roots of one of the oaks. The heavy woollen blankets ensured their comfort and they watched the orange glow of the bonfire’s coals. A chill breeze blew but snuggled together they were warm and comfortable. With Tatae’s belly pressed against him, Michael felt their child move and was content.

***

There was a prod in his neck and Michael instantly awoke. Tatae quietly giggled as she planted warm kisses over his frozen face. He opened one eye and gave a small groan, for his back felt stiff from sleeping on the ground. Leaves were in short supply and the blankets, though warm, offered little padding. His wife’s face was framed by her hood against the dark sky. “Come my love,” she whispered, “you must see!”

“Now?” he groaned, reluctant to face the icy morning. Snow had fallen but just enough to give a frosty coating to the leaves and the few blanket-clad bodies clustered by the fire. Thankfully there was no wind.

“Yes!” she smiled in mischief and pulled at his arm until he arose, barely stifling another groan. Nearby, Desmond snored like a growling bear while his daughters and Berethun snuggled together in a pile of blankets. He rose silently, donned his sword, and then grabbed his spear before Tatae led him into the forest.

With the dusting of snow, the forest was a magical place. As they carefully stepped through the beginnings of twilight, they heard the moans of a couple engaging in morning sex and Michael immediately wondered if it was Alric and Eabae. He was certain Godric and Hilda knew of their daughter’s liaisons with Alric, though the couple had not been formally promised. Tatae, like the rest of the women of the village, knew precisely what was going on. She told Michael that they would marry, and soon. It would not be long before Eabae had a baby in her belly.

But the personal relationships of the village were of no concern to Tatae that morning. They hiked from the glade in a direction Michael had never before travelled. More giant oaks stood as mighty sentinels. There Tatae paused and muttered prayers to the mothers before she moved on. Michael smiled at the incongruity of his wife. Small in stature, trim and barely topping five feet tall, she carried herself as if she was much taller and was never cowed, even in the face of death. He had only seen her truly afraid when she feared for his safety or for their baby. As she led him further from the glade, she seemed to grow in stature, as if she became taller.

They soon encountered a secret path into a steep gully where the rumble of a waterfall was heard. A flurry of snowflakes blew about them and there was a fog so thick they could barely see where they trod. He trusted the nimble feet of his wife as she stepped carefully but confidently, over roots and mossy boulders, until they made the steady descent to the rocky shore of a tumbling stream. Steam swirled as hot pools bubbled and filled the frozen air with sulphurous steam. Michael noticed the first signs that this was a sacred place as small figures made from sticks and bark-twine were scattered about their path. Occasionally they passed glyphs carved painstakingly into boulders or tree trunks.

Tatae stopped and turned to Michael as she began to undress. She laid her blanket and voluminous woollen coat to the ground and explained quietly, “Undress my love. You will be safe.” It was only when Michael removed his mittens that he realised the air was warmer than expected. By them, a pool steamed gently. Before he had even half-dressed, Tatae had carefully stepped with a delighted sigh into the steaming pool.

He gasped as the heat enveloped him and realised he hadn’t bathed since their return. His wife moved in close and hugged him tight, her belly pressed against him. “Come, my love, love me here. Love me now. I cannot linger,” she whispered. He knew better than to dally. Tatae’s normally small breasts had swollen with her pregnancy and her tummy poked above the surface of the steaming water as she reclined with her neck rested on one of the moss-covered boulders that rimmed their pool.

Once they had finished, Tatae climbed from the water with a sigh. She sat on one of the warm boulders and manipulated her glorious hair with her fingers as she steamed in the cold air. Her blonde mane covered a breast as she combed her locks and smiled at him with a hint of mischief. “My mother told me this pool was where I was conceived, that the goddesses blessed her in this place. To love here is a sign of respect for the goddesses though I cannot linger in the pool. It’s not best for our baby.”

The narrow defile around them was littered with the stick-men. Rocks had been stacked into piles, while ropes of braided bark twine were wound in complex patterns about the branches of evergreen trees. As a breeze brushed aside a cloud of steam, he spied other carvings in walls and larger figures further downstream. “This is a sacred place,” Michael whispered, and Tatae smiled again. “Oh yes, a very old, sacred place. Most of the people no longer come here. When I was but a wee girl, all came here. But then the monks came.”

Michael could hear a deep rumble as water boiled far beneath the earth. Tatae spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, “It’s time, you see. We must make our offering, before our daughter is born.”

Tatae stopped her brushing and, feeling the chill, sat on a rock in the pool so only half of her tummy was covered. She reclined so her shoulders were warmed on the boulders. “When I became a woman, the sacred rites were conducted. I was left in the forest to commune with the spirits and goddesses. This is a special place for the ancients and those of the sacred line. My mother brought me here many times and I will bring our daughter here. I have been permitted to bring you here, for you are also of a sacred line, though which line, I do not know.”

She frowned and rose from the pool. Her beautiful, pregnant body again steamed and glistened in the pale morning light and she paused as if posed for his delight. Her legs were strong and her shoulders drawn back to show off her swollen breasts, the picture of feminine beauty and power. She turned and walked from the pool. “Come!” she ordered curtly as she dried herself on her blanket and then dressed.

Michael climbed from the pool to dry himself. The water had been so hot that much of it immediately evaporated but he took extra care to dry his hair before he helped Tatae with hers. To wander back into the frost and snow would have them frozen if their hair remained too damp.

But they were not yet done. Tatae lead Michael further until, under the shelter of a high, shallow cave, they discovered a stone altar. Decorated with carved symbols, the moss-covered altar looked truly ancient. There Tatae knelt a moment and, holding her talisman, muttered prayers before she stood and led Michael closer. “This place carries old power and is a place of the ancient ones,” she murmured quietly. “This knowledge I will pass to our daughters. See,” she gestured to patterns on the wall of the cave. “See the marks of men. These marks are as you have on your body.” On inspection, Michael discerned patterns that were similar to his tattoos. “And see, here are the marks of the women,” explained Tatae as she pointed to more incisions. “You also have some of these on your body. Because you wear the talisman of women and of men, so you tie the power together. Together!” she repeated as she brought her hands together, “we unify many of the old powers. These are the powers the monks would stop, or would send away but they cannot, for they belong here,” she gestured to the creek and the pools, “and to the mighty forest,” and she looked up as if the forest was about them, “and here,” and she placed an open palm onto Michael’s chest. “You may not know all of this, my Michael but whatever brought you here, for whatever reason, you are here for me. Together we made this little one,” she explained as she gently cupped her tummy, “and she will be a woman of power.” For a moment Tatae looked troubled. “Change is coming. I know this. The monks and their Jesus will come and then others will come, and then others will take the old ways and will try to destroy them. I see it every night as I sleep and the goddesses whisper to me.”

“What do you mean my love?” asked Michael. He was concerned that she might have overheard some of the medical team discuss future events. It was good they were leaving, for they could be indiscreet and Tatae had learned enough English to understand most conversations. “Did some of the people from my world tell you anything of concern?”

She shook her head sadly, for once solemn. “No my love, I know changes come. I was happy to have your people help us, to help the villagers. There are mighty things they know but sometimes they are like children who cannot see the things before their eyes. They seem blind to the whispers of the goddesses, of the forest and of the creatures therein.”

Michael could only nod and shrug in agreement. They had often discussed the failings of the people from his home, so he made no comment.

She was silent, her head cocked as if listening, then she asked, “What of those you said will come and stay? I fear their ways will be more beguiling than the ways of the monks. Your former world carries too many gifts that are given too easily. Many of our people would go with your people, if they could. The widow Arlette, she would go. She took one of the healer-men to take pleasure and she hopes to snare him, yet he will go and she will be left with a child in her belly. This I already know. What did they hope to do? Could he stay? We have one Michael. We need no others.”

“Others will stay only a little while. You will know them,” explained Michael, almost in defence.

Tatae raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Who will they be?” she asked as she made the transition from a brooding priestess to one hungry for gossip.

Michael gave a little smile, “You don’t want to know. They might just lead to trouble,” he added playfully.

Tatae narrowed her eyes. “You will tell because you love me. You won’t do that to me, will you?”

Michael laughed and she snuggled close and looked up, her amber eyes wide. “Tell me!” she pleaded quietly. “You must! You know you must.”

Michael hugged her and instantly caved in, “Okay, okay. You know I can’t not tell you.” Tatae gave a self-satisfied sniff and sat on a stone near to the altar as Michael sat on another. “There are three as you know,” explained Michael. Tatae just frowned. “Now, you have to guess.”

Tatae groaned, “Oh my Michael. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t love you. You know how I hate to play your games. Now tell me. Now! Tell me!” she wheedled and Michael laughed.

In the end he relented, “Okay, okay! Right. Well, all have been here before. The first you know very well.”

“Hurley!” she exclaimed in her no-nonsense way.

Michael gasped. “How the hell did you know that?”

Tatae just gave a smirk and tossed her head and Michael rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Okay, right, the next is one of those who fought for Giolgrave.”

Tatae gave a squeal and clapped her hands, “Oh, is it Kitchener, the healer?”

“No it isn’t Kitchener,” he remarked, somewhat miffed.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, downcast. ’I liked him.”

“Did you now? Well maybe it is Kitchener and I have told them no, because you like him just a little too much,” Michael teased and Tatae laughed out loud. Michael always loved her sense of fun.

“I know!” she cried, “It is the big one, the one with big arms, who likes men.”

“What?” Michael demanded. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“The one with hair that is white!” she countered.

“Yes! Well, that’s Morris,” he confirmed.

Tatae nodded, “Yes. Him. He’s a nice man. He likes the skinny man.”

Michael’s head spun in confusion, “What? What? Are you saying he likes Leishman?”

“Yes! That’s him,” she nodded, her eyes bright.

“Wait! Wait a second! He likes Leishman?” Michael repeated, flabbergasted.

Tatae nodded, realising that her Michael really had no idea. “Yes, my Michael, the big strong one, Morris, likes the skinny one, Leishman. You did not know?” Tatae had such a self-satisfied look that Michael could never feel annoyed.

“You mean, he and Leishman?” he stuttered.

Tatae shook her head and stuck out her bottom lip, “Oh no! The skinny one does not know.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Don’t do this to me Tatae. I thought you were telling the truth but you’re toying with me.”

Tatae looked up innocently. “No, not toying. The big one, he likes the skinny one. But the skinny one doesn’t know. Leishman, he likes his big friend Morris but not the same, not in the,” and she made a ring with her thumb and forefinger and poked her index finger through it to simulate copulation, “way”.

Michael felt exasperated and then suddenly burst into laughter. “Really?” he asked and Tatae nodded and simply shrugged, as if it meant nothing. Michael wiped the tears of hilarity from his eyes and then he muttered, “Gods! Wait till I tell Hurley.”

“And the third? Who is it?” Tatae teased.

“He’s keen on your friend”, Michael teased.

Tatae immediately became solemn. “Wicks,” was all she would say.

“Yes, now you have the three who will be staying with us,” continued Michael as he smiled quizzically, unsure of the reason for Tatae’s reaction.

Tatae simply nodded quietly.

Michael paused a moment and then asked, “Are you all right my love? Is it something about Wicks?”

Tatae said nothing but looked at the altar a moment and then held her amulet. Used to Tatae’s ways, Michael waited patiently. He knew he had to wait for her reply.

“Wicks is a good man. He loves my friend Olivia,” she explained.

Michael nodded, “Yes, Wicks is a good man. I think the only person not recognising that he loves Olivia is himself. It’s obvious to everyone else. Poor besotted bastard thinks it’s the best kept secret but he follows her around like a puppy.” The poor fool had been mooning over Olivia since she had arrived and had been the butt of jokes from most of the visiting team.

Tatae continued sadly. “Olivia loves him.”

Michael nodded, and decided to say nothing. Tatae was trying to convey a message that he plainly missed.

A tear rolled down Tatae’s cheek and she gazed up, her look tragic and her big eyes wide. “Soon, Wicks will be dead,” she whispered.

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