Chapter Twenty-Three

The wolf moved from side to side as Lamorna gently pushed her away. “I know you do not belong in a place like this. I cannot make you stay here.” The animal sniffed at the baby, turned to walk away then stopped and looked back at Lamorna.

“Go,” said Lamorna. “You must go now. I cannot come with you.” I cannot come with you now but maybe later we will find each other again. Oh, please let it be so, she begged silently.

Finally, the wolf backed away before turning and trotting back the way they had come.

Lamorna bit her lip to stop herself calling out. Then Sewell’s hand was on her shoulder, urging her around. He had dismounted and they entered the village on foot.

There was no big commotion, no gathering of curious onlookers as he led her in.

She paid little attention to her surroundings for her thoughts were with the wolf.

“Sewell!”

“Amleth.”

“Did you catch him?”

She stopped as he stopped to address the man who’d appeared before them, but she remained staring at the ground.

“He is no longer a danger to anyone.”

“Ah yes, I suppose that was the only way. I will tell the men. Our gratitude as always, Sewell.”

Nodding, Sewell continued on his way, and Lamorna obediently followed. He led her to a modest building, surrounded by a rickety fence, which protected a small garden. “Here we are.”

An elderly man appeared in the doorway and peered out. “Sewell.” His voice was strong for one so old. “You have returned.”

As he stepped out in the open, Lamorna’s eyes widened, her breath catching. He was clothed in a rough, brown hooded garment – the garb of a priest. She had to get away! But when she turned to run, Sewell was directly behind her.

His hands on her shoulders, he said, “Do not be afraid. There is none here who would do you harm.”

Her mind screamed otherwise, but she said nothing.

“You were successful?” asked the priest.

Sewell nodded. “I dealt him swift justice, more than he deserved.”

“He will still be made to answer for his wicked deeds. But who have we here?”

Trembling, Lamorna refused to face him. It was his kind that had condemned her mother and father. Surely he would know... when he looked in her face, he would know all her secrets.

“This is the reason I could not bring that creature back to answer for his deeds. He had hold of this child.”

“But you saved her?”

Sewell nodded.

“Thank the lord,” said the priest. “Why do you face away, child? Do you find me so fearsome?” he said, chuckling softly.

Sewell turned her around, but she kept her eyes fixed firmly to the ground.

“What is your name?”

“She clings to it like her life depends on it,” said Sewell.

“No matter. I am Merrick.”

Still she would not meet his gaze.

“She has no one, Father. She was travelling, hoping to find her mother’s people. I could not let her continue on alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” said Lamorna.

“Ah, she does have a voice,” said Merrick.

The baby started to whimper.

Exclaiming softly, the priest hobbled closer.

Lamorna backed away but could go no further with Sewell blocking her. Short of slapping the priest’s hand away, she could not prevent him peeling back the cloth to reveal the infant.

“Precious little one. I see now why you brought her here. Child, you will be safe here, you and your little one.” His soft brown eyes seemed to promise only kindness.

“He’s my brother.”

“Of course he is,” he said with a smile. “You are too young to have a little one of your own.” Patting her hand, he stepped away. “Eva! Eva.”

Filled with conflicting emotions, Lamorna wondered if maybe she could afford to stay, if only for a while. She could replenish her supplies then sneak away and hopefully, goddess willing, rejoin her wolf. A shuffling noise cut through her thoughts, and she looked up. With a gasp, she cringed against Sewell.

Approaching them was a woman about Reena’s age and build, with sandy-brown hair the same colour her mother’s had been. But there the similarity ended. Where Reena’s hair had been long and thick, this woman’s hair was short and scraggly; a scar snaked down the right side of her face, and she dragged her right leg behind her, which made her rock from side to side as she walked.

“This is Eva,” said Merrick. “She will look after you and the baby. Do not be alarmed by her appearance for she is a most gentle soul.”

Still holding her brother close against her, Lamorna stared at the woman then at Merrick. Feeling trapped between them and Sewell, she knew she had no choice but to do as she was told. As she followed Eva, it occurred to Lamorna that she stood a much better chance of running away from her and Merrick than she did from Sewell. Armed with that thought, she felt her confidence returning as she trailed Eva into a small, nondescript dwelling close to the priest’s building.

Lamorna decided this had to be the smallest home she’d ever been in. It was obviously meant for only one person. The cooking fire was against one wall and the bed was directly opposite. The only other furniture was a small table and chair. Yet the smell that emanated from the cooking pot... Lamorna’s stomach growled ravenously in reply. When Eva glanced at her, she pressed her lips together and looked away.

Eva spooned some of the contents of the pot into the wooden bowl she’d taken down from the shelf above the cooking fire. Placing it on the table, she beckoned Lamorna, gesturing for her to sit before indicating that she would take the child.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lamorna slowly undid the sling, and reluctantly relinquished him. She watched Eva closely as the woman limped to the bed and lowered herself carefully. The baby was whimpering softly, and Lamorna worried about how she would feed him. Keeping her eye on them, she began to eat. She almost exclaimed loudly; the food was the tastiest she’d had in such a long time.

Eva seemed to have forgotten about Lamorna. She held the infant close against her as she rocked back and forth, her face near to his.

Having scraped the bowl as clean as the spoon would allow, Lamorna looked up to thank Eva. She quickly got to her feet and hurried to the woman for she was weeping. “Mistress, what is wrong?” A quick glance at her brother reassured her that he was fine. “Are you hurt? Should I get someone?”

But Eva merely smiled through her tears as she shook her head.

Straightening up, Lamorna frowned. Why was she crying and smiling at the same time? Someone tapped on the door, which had been left open. The young girl turned and froze.

Another priest, a younger one, stepped in. “You must be the newcomer. Welcome. I am Wystan. Mistress Eva, whatever is the matter? Why do you weep?”

In reply, she held the baby up for him to see.

“Yes, yes I see. But this is cause for smiles surely, not tears. Here, Father Merrick has prepared milk for the little one.” He placed a container on the table along with a sack-shaped skin; it reminded Lamorna of the one Vanora had used to feed the baby after he’d been born. Then he moved closer to Eva and leaned over the infant. “So small yet so perfect. It is a wonder is it not, Mistress?” Smiling at Lamorna, he turned to leave.

She remained where she was, confusion robbing her of the ability to react. These priests were not at all like Hilmer and his priests; how could they be so different? She was vaguely aware of Eva trying to feed the child. His protests finally roused her to move; he was refusing the milk.

Taking him and the feeding skin, she tried to get him to feed, but he kept spitting it out. Fighting her anxiety, she breathed deeply to calm herself as she whispered the White Lady’s prayer in his ear, and persevered. Finally, he began to feed, Lamorna suspected more out of hunger than anything else, and she said a silent prayer of thanks. She had to blink back sudden tears as thoughts of the wolf crept into her mind; she missed her companion and feared she would never see her again.