Page 64 of The Bear's Heart
I bit my lip, and she curvetted sideways away from me just to illustrate what a handful she could be. If she did that on the plank, we’d be finished.
Arthur came and stood on the far side of the plank, looking exasperated.
The wizened little pilot possessed the air of someone who didn’t care at all. “If’n we ’ave ter wait any longer then ye’ll ’ave to unload ’er agin. I’m in no ’urry. Ye’ll be payin’ me whenever it be that I takes ye over.”
“Hurry up.” Arthur put his hands on his hips and looked irritated. He was eager to be home.
“Give her to me.” Merlin shoved his own horse’s reins into the hands of the wizened little man, and took Alezan. With no more ado, he led her across the plank as though she were a seaside donkey, and down to stand with the other horses. Watching her, I’d have thought she’d done this every day of her life.
After handing her to one of the warriors, Merlin came running lightly back to take his own horse, and I followed him on board, feeling absurdly grateful.
The crew, which consisted of a boy with a hare-lip and a distinct resemblance to his smelly superior, pushed the little ship off from the jetty with a weatherworn, silvered ash pole. Her sails unfurled and the wind took them. She wallowed in an alarming fashion under her heavy load, and I went to stand in the bows with Arthur and Merlin. The warriors remained chatting casually to one another in the belly of the ship with our horses, as though this was a normal occurrence for them. Where I stood with Arthur and Merlin was no more than a few feet above the cargo deck, but I felt much safer there than if I’d been down with the men.
Arthur must have sensed my trepidation because he took my hand and clasped it in a firm grip. “You don’t much like water, do you?” he whispered into my ear.
I gave a brief shake of my head, and hung onto his hand, wondering what would happen if our boat were to capsize, or sink. In my present state, would I be able to swim to shore, or might the currents in the estuary of the Sabrina river be too strong to allow even that? My mind churned with possibilities, none of which included arriving in one piece on the other bank. I’d never been a particularly nervous person, but being pregnant had given me responsibilities, and as we negotiated that expanse of grey, white capped water, paranoia didn’t feel far away.
Despite the warm day and the blue sky, the sea was choppy, and the little ship bobbed on the waves in a most unseaworthy fashion. On the cargo deck the horses shifted restlessly and the warriors whispered to them and scratched their ears to calm them.
If the boat sank, would I be able to grab hold of Alezan and get her to help me swim to shore? I’d never been fond of water from when, as a small girl, I’d fallen into a neighbor’s pool and thrashed around at the deep end for what felt like an eternity before someone came to my rescue. Soon after that, I’d learned to swim with my twin brother Artie. However, whereas he’d been bold and fearless, I’d stayed the nervous wimp, swimming at the side of the pool, afraid to leave its safety. So taking a rickety ferry of indeterminate age and maintenance out into the mile-wide stretch of water that was the Sabrina estuary was not something I’d been keen to do. Doubly so now I bore the responsibility for another life within me.
The only good thing about being at sea was the breeze which ruffled my hair and cooled my sweaty brow, blowing away the clouds of flies that had pursued us down from Caer Legeion.
For an age we made no visible progress, before, at last, the salt flats on the Dumnonian side of the estuary drew near enough to see properly. Our skipper steered his boat toward a long wooden jetty which stuck out like a pointing finger into the river. He and his boy tied the boat up and shoved out their flimsy gangplank, in a hurry to get us unloaded before the tide turned their mooring spot into mud flats.
We led our horses off the ferry and down the jetty to the security of solid land, with me this time braving the gangplank with Alezan myself. Without a backward glance, the hare-lipped boy pushed off from the jetty and the boat set off back to the far shore.
I was more than glad to be on dry land, although in reality it was wet land as this was salt flats. Beyond the jetty a twisting causeway meandered inland between clumps of marsh grass, taking us to higher ground. The rank smell of the mudflats and the little meandering streams of brackish water filled my nostrils. The flies returned in force.
Night brought us to a tumbledown way station in a small town near the mouth of the River Afon. The town’s Roman buildings, if ever it had possessed any, had long since crumbled away to be replaced by wattle and daub walls and thatched roofs, although a few tumbled pillars were visible poking out from beneath a steaming midden.
With only nine in our party, we weren’t a huge burden to house, but nevertheless, we didn’t linger, and the following day continued inland. As evening fell, we arrived at Caer Baddan and the house of its magistrate, Bassus. I felt a sense of relief when we discovered he and his boring wife were not in residence. Their steward informed us they’d retreated for the summer to their villa in the countryside to supervise the harvest and escape the hot weather stink of the city.
By then, I was so tired Arthur had to carry me to my bedchamber and undress me, and the next morning he declared we were to spend a day recuperating in Caer Baddan before making the remaining journey back to Din Cadan.
I didn’t stir before midday, and when I rose, I was more than happy to put on the light dress and sandals Melvina had given me. After breakfast, I wandered out to sit in the gardens in the shade of an overgrown arbor, dreaming of the baby I was soon to meet. My belly seemed to have grown a lot bigger in the last few weeks and I was conscious of feeling very pregnant.
A discreet cough disturbed me, and I looked up from contemplating my burgeoning baby bump to see a slight teenage girl standing before me holding a goblet– the same girl who’d waited on me here eight months ago.
She held out the goblet with a shy smile. “If it please ye, milady, I brung ye a cold drink. The ’ousekeeper did say as ye’d ’ave need of it, settin’ in the sun as ye be.”
I smiled at her. “Why, thank you very much.” Taking the proffered goblet, I sipped the drink, surprised to find it wasn’t alcoholic for once, but sweet and fruity. “It’s lovely. What is it?”
She blushed. “Tis a recipe my old ma did teach me. Made from the flower o’ the elder bush, afore it do turn into they berries.”
Elderflower cordial; who’d have thought it. But it must have been diluted with unsterile water so I hesitated before taking a second sip.
She saw my concern. “Tis made with water from a pure spring in the ’ills.” She gave me another shy smile. “We all do drink it and it ’ave done us no h’arm.”
Reassured, I finished the drink and handed her back the goblet. “What’s your name?”
She blushed even more hotly. “It be Bretta, milady.”
I looked her up and down with more interest. “How long have you been a servant here then, Bretta?”
She shuffled her bare feet. “More’n five year, I do think. I begun ’ere when I were a slip of a girl. An’ I’m a woman grown now.”
I put my hand on my stomach, resting it there while I thought how to pose my next question without being too intrusive. “And your family? Do you have one? Parents? Brothers and sisters? Do they work here as well?”
