The Dream Weavers Barbara Erskine (e ink ebook reader txt) 📖

She had no desire to run anywhere, no will to live. If Elisedd was dead, then so was she.

Cwen bent to retrieve the bundled cloak and the pouch of coins. ‘Please, lady, we must go now,’ she murmured timidly. She looked desperately across at the farmer’s wife who was standing uncomfortably by the fire, watching. ‘If they are searching the estates, they will find you.’

‘Go!’ the older woman sprang into life. If the lady abbess was found under her roof now after all this, her family would pay dearly. She seized Eadburh by the arm and pushed her towards the doorway, where she checked to see no one was around before giving her unwelcome visitor a final shove to send her on her way.

Outside the day was grey and the wind was bitterly cold. As the door slammed behind Eadburh and the girl with her they heard the bar fall into place. They were locked out.

For a moment neither woman moved. The girl Cwen stared round, still clutching the bundle. She was panting with fear. Seeing the abbess’s indecision, she grabbed her by the hand and began to drag her towards the woods that bordered the farm. Eadburh followed, barely aware of what was happening or where she was, only slowly realising as she ran how cold it was out there and that the hand that clutched hers so desperately was as cold as her own. Her head was bare to the elements. She had no coif, no veil, no hood. The farmer’s wife’s gown was hugely too big for her, and she tripped as it slipped from the knotted belt that was holding it in place. The woollen shawl she had been given was already wet through. Her hair was wild and tangled. The shoes she had been given leaked and within minutes she was shuddering with cold all over.

When at last they were in the shelter of the trees she staggered to a stop and leaned against the trunk of one of the tall beeches that marked the border of the abbey’s land. She was gasping for breath and it took her several seconds to see her young companion was doubled over, clutching her side. ‘You have a stitch?’ she asked, for the first time seeming to be aware of what was happening or that there was someone with her. ‘Breathe slowly; it will pass.’ She looked back across the field. Already the snow was melting from the strips and furrows, leaving lines of puddles that reflected the cold light of day.

It took them a while to get their breath back. All the time Cwen was staring nervously around them. ‘We must go on. They will won’t stop searching until they are sure you’ve gone.’

‘No.’ Eadburh was still looking back towards the dark silhouette of the church with its community of huddled buildings against the night sky. ‘I have to go back for him. I can’t leave him there.’

‘You cannot go back, lady.’ The girl’s eyes widened with horror. ‘They will kill you!’

‘I have to find him. Supposing he’s still alive!’ Eadburh stepped away from the trees, her arms outstretched, her shawl falling to the icy ground.

‘No!’ Dropping the bundle, the girl grabbed her wrist again. ‘Did you not hear the boy? The man is dead! His body was thrown into the midden!’

Eadburh closed her eyes. Hot tears began to stream once more down her ice-cold cheeks. Slowly she sank to her knees beneath the tree and she gave herself once more over to her grief.

‘Please!’ Cwen watched her for a while, not sure what to do in the face of such overwhelming sorrow, before retrieving the abbess’s sodden shawl and wrapping it around the woman’s shoulders. ‘Please. We have to go. We can’t stay here. They will find us.’ The girl’s teeth were chattering; her fingers brushed Eadburh’s cheek as she pulled the shawl closer with sudden tenderness.

Eadburh sighed heavily and looked up. The girl, dressed only in a tunic and thin ragged overdress was shivering violently. The bundle she had carried was lying at her feet. ‘Unwrap that cloak and wrap it round you. It will be easier than carrying it,’ she said at last.

Cwen’s eyes widened. ‘But the cloak was for you, lady.’

‘And I give it to you.’ Eadburh gave a bitter smile. ‘I have a warm gown and a woollen shawl. I have no need of it.’ Was it altruism or the miserable longing for death that overwhelmed her? She did not give the matter any thought as she watched the girl shake out the heavy cloak and wrap it round herself with a look of amazed joy.

In the distance they heard the tolling of the abbey bell, barely audible now above the quiet whisper of the fir trees.

Cwen turned towards the field where pale evening sunlight was reflecting off the mud and her face filled with horror. ‘They’re coming!’ In the distance three men had appeared, on foot, standing near them at the edge of the field. ‘If they have dogs, we are lost.’

Eadburh took a deep breath at the mention of dogs with a sudden desperate yearning for her beloved Ava. She offered up a silent prayer that Ermintrude would look after her. Surely the emperor would not act vindictively against one of his own beloved animals. There was no movement from the men. They appeared to be scanning the fields. And there was no sound of barking, so they didn’t have hunting dogs with them. The shock of the sight of them spurred Eadburh into action. Climbing stiffly to her feet she nodded. ‘We must go.’

Holding hands, they began to run, heading deeper into the trees, following a steep narrow path that wound into the dark heart of the forest.

They had thought themselves well clear of pursuit as it grew dark, when the sound of barking far behind them brought them to a halt. Terrified, Eadburh looked round desperately for somewhere to hide.

‘We need to cross water, to break the scent,’