Title: Runic Fortunes
Author's note: This is my first foray into the world of King Arthur. Any historical inaccuracies or otherwise are to be put down to writers license.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters associated with King Arthur though I do own Aelfheah, Hilla, Alric, Dathan, Kaleb, Bruinen, and Ymma.
Summary: Ymma's a Saxon who was sold as a child to a stranger travelling through her land. Brought to England she lives a nomadic lifestyle until she helps a young woman trapped in a Roman's dungeon and her whole life changes.
"Ymma!"
I turned my head at the sound of my name, watching as Guinevere hurried up to where I sat at the cliff edge, legs dangling, overlooking the roar of the sea and the spray that leapt up angrily at the hovering gulls.
"You're not going to do anything drastic are you?"
I grinned up at her, patting the grass next to me to indicate that she could sit down. "Don't be silly," I replied. "I'd prefer a less melodramatic death thank you; I have none of your romantic tendencies."
"What!" Guinevere laughed. "You're one of the most romantic people I know."
"But you know Bors," I pointed out. "Anybody's romantic compared to him."
She shook her head and laughed. "Oh don't deny it. Everybody knows about you and Tristan."
I felt my cheeks flush and smelling blood Guinevere pounced. "So when should we be hearing about the big announcement?"
"Big announcement? I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself here. Clearly your own nuptials are addling your brains."
She shot me a look. "Don't be coy."
"I am not being coy," I protested. "Tristan and I haven't even discussed our relationship, if that's what it even is."
Guinevere's face turned into a puzzled frown. "But surely he's told you he loves you, hasn't he?"
"No." I shook my head, eyes firmly trained on the coast in front of me.
"But you love him don't you?"
"I..." The words stuck in my throat and I gave a perfect Gaelic shrug. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" she repeated, her voice low and edged with surprise. "How can you not even know your own feelings?"
"It's complicated."
The words came out more harshly than I had intended, but I didn't apologise for the tone and we sat there in silence just watching the sea crash against the rocks. I desperately wanted to tell her that I knew perfectly well how I felt, but that if I admitted it out loud then that made it permanent. A statement that I could not retract. A mark that I could never be rid of. And my time to decide if I was to leave or to stay was rapidly drawing closer. No-one yet knew that I could leave this island at any time, and the pain of having to tell my friends this news was a dull ache in my chest.
If I told Tristan my feelings would he ask me to stay? If I told him and he felt nothing but affection then surely it would make leaving all the more painful. Better to go and never know then to leave with a broken heart.
It was not until this final thought crossed my mind that I realised that I was set on leaving after all. I wanted to see my brother's family. I wanted to see the world again. I wanted to see my homeland. To once again cross over the sea and walk in the village where I had grown up. To see the people I had known as a little girl. To greet them after so many years and eat with them in their houses. To tell strange tales with them round the fire and speak my native tongue without fear. My taste for travel was still with me and a homesickness that I had never felt so strongly before was swallowing me up. I would leave after the wedding. Unless…
Tristan's features once again appeared in my mind's eye. Unless Tristan asked me to stay for him. However, first of all I had to break the news to Guinevere. It was only fair I supposed that she hear first. She had been the first person on this island that I had befriended and I owed it to the Woad to let her know.
"I'm leaving."
The words were blunt and heavy, and for once I found myself at a loss of how to cushion the impact of the words that were falling out of my mouth, like stones dropped from a great height into soft, unsuspecting earth.
"What?" Guinevere's head whipped round to face mine. "What did you say?"
"I said I'm leaving," I replied, trying to be gentle but failing miserably. "After the wedding Alric an…"
"It's your brother isn't it?" she said angrily. "I knew this was going to happen as soon as you found him again. I knew he would take you away from us."
"Guin," I said softly, knowing her anger was irrational and misplaced, "this was always going to happen. I am a wanderer; my feet were not made to stay in one place for very long."
She turned to face the sea again, her face as hard as rock. I tried again.
"Alric and I are leaving after the wedding and we are going home- I'm going to see my family again." I attempted a smile but it was very little, and it felt as though it was going to drop off at any moment unless I concentrated very hard on not watching as I made my friend cry.
"I'm going to see my niece and nephews that I didn't even know I had. Old friends and neighbours that I grew up with as a girl. I haven't seen them since I was seven summers old, and my old village, the lands that I played on as a child."
"And your parents too I suppose." Guinevere's voice was flat, as though she were trying not to care too much about what I did.
I flinched at the mention of my parents. The old pain still hurt and I knew I could never forgive them for what they had done.
"They're dead," I said, "and good riddance."
Guinevere stifled a gasp at my callousness but I didn't care. They had been my own flesh and blood and yet they had only really cared about my brother. Alric told me they had died suddenly one winter of cold or plague or hunger, or some other terrible thing that struck our village every once in a while, but I was just not listening to the details to catch the finer points of their demise. All that mattered to me was that the two lumps of clay that had once been related to me through an unfortunate accident were now gone. Dathan was the only parent I had truly had.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand Guinevere pulled me into a hug. I held her tightly, trying to remember this for the long time that I knew I would not see her. When she finally pulled back I offered her a genuine smile.
"I will return," I said. "After all, I do have wanderer's feet and even the call of home will not be enough to keep me there forever."
Guinevere smiled half-heartedly. "I know, but it still hurts that you're going, and that I won't know how you are or what you are doing for who knows how long." She looked at me seriously for a moment. "Are you going to tell the others?"
We both knew perfectly well who she really meant. "Yes," I said. "Soon."
The moment was broken by the sound of Vanora's voice echoing across the cliff top. "Are you two goin' to be sittin' there all day or are you actually goin' to help me make this weddin' dress of yours?"
We shared a grin and I stood up, extending my hand to help Guinevere from the ground. "Come on," I said. "It looks like your wedding plans wait for no man."
She laughed. "Not with Vanora in charge of them they don't."
Guinevere's wedding was going to be a strange mix of Roman and Ancient Woad practices I thought to myself, as I pulled the needle through the hem of Guinevere's dress. I mentioned this casually as the bride-to-be twirled about in her newly made cream confection, pulling the needle out of my hand as the skirt flew about.
"Guinevere!" Vanora shook her head at the young woman and pointed in my direction, making sympathetic clucking sounds. "You are not makin' this easy on Ymma. How is she to ever make a decent skirt end if you are determined to make it all higgledy piggledy?"
"Sorry."
She didn't actually sound sorry at all I thought sulkily, as I searched around for wherever my needle was dangling from. Spotting the glint of silver amongst the material I picked it up and began the process of trying to redo the line of the dress which was now going up at an angle.
"Anyway what was that you were sayin'?" said Vanora as she cut material for Arthur's tunic.
"I said the wedding is going to be an interesting combination of cultures." I watched my fingers as the needle flashed through the material, tiny neat strokes pulling the thread through.
Guinevere fingered the cloth and smiled. "Yes, of course. United we bring both peoples together- it would be odd not to include both of our practices in the ceremony itself." Curiosity suddenly coloured her voice. "What are weddings like in your homeland?"
"Well," I pondered, my mind half on the task in front of me, half trying to remember what I could of weddings in general. "The bards tell us that originally a man would steal the woman of his choice from another tribe. With the help of his friends he would capture her whilst they fought off any other men, and then once they had fled they were hidden for a lunar month 'til the woman was pregnant. By the time they were found it would be too late."
I picked at a loose thread and undid the stitch. "But those practices soon died out- they were only ever re-enacted for a joke or a festival. Marriage by purchase became the preferred custom, being less stressful for all involved. The men agreed the 'bride-price' and that was it. Women were bought for breeding purposes and sold for land, status or political alliances."
I tied the thread and then began to trim any loose pieces. "I've only witnessed one wedding, because I left my village when I was very young, but I can remember it was a wonderful occasion…
The Ealdorman of our village was a young man named Cynefrid whose father had gone to fight wars in the northern parts of the country, leaving his son in charge of the lands that he ruled over. His son had always been a disappointment to him, being considerably more gentle, thoughtful and not as bloody minded as his father, who was always thirsty for war and slaughter. He was a just ruler, and I often heard my parent's whispered conversations when they thought we were asleep about how Cynefrid was a much better man than his father ever had been.
The time soon came for Cynefrid to take a wife. He was friendly with the Ealdorman of the village neighbouring ours, Aelred and his family, and knew that a marriage between the tribes would cement an alliance. The tale goes that when he went to find a wife from amongst Aelred's large family he immediately fell for the youngest daughter, a beautiful young woman named Sunniva. Not expecting to find such a kind and handsome man as Cynefrid to wed, Sunniva was apparently just as taken with him, and the two fell deeply in love. A love match between the Ealdormen was virtually unheard of, and so the wedding became even more of a special event then it had originally been intended.
Every woman from the two villages became a bridesmaid, because the happiness of the couple depended on our ability to fool the evil spirits, jealous of the joy of the new couple. I can remember finding my finest dress to wear and dancing and singing with the rest of the village. Sunniva looked stunning in her simple dress and crown of May flowers. The wedding ceremony itself didn't take very long to complete, though the site had to be blessed first to make it holy and to ward off any forces which may have dampened the wedding celebrations. Aelred passed the rings on the hilt of his sword, showing that the honour of both clans was now tied up in the couple, and Cynefrid touched his young bride's head with his shoe, accepting the authority that had now passed over to him. Together they planted a young sapling in the middle of the village, which would grow and mature as their married life continued, and after the celebratory dinner we accompanied them to their marriage home, our torches burning brightly against the darkness of the night.
"That's a lovely story," said Vanora, her own needle now flashing through the tunic.
Guinevere cocked her head on one side thoughtfully. "Ymma, would you mind terribly if I asked you to bless the site for me?"
I laughed. "Do you really need the help of foreign gods to secure your happiness?"
She pouted. "No," she said. "But it would be nice if you were included somehow in the marriage celebrations- can you remember what you have to do?"
I nodded. "Yes, Dathan taught me all the rituals and incantations I'd ever need in life. All I need now is a clear night tonight, purified water and a torch. The spell itself will take about an hour to complete, but it will be no problem to do."
Guinevere chewed her lip. "Can I watch?"
"Yes; but you must remain absolutely silent throughout no matter what happens. Do you understand?" She nodded and I leaned back on my heels to admire the finished hem.
"There," I said. "All done." She twirled round in the dress, her cheeks flushed and her curled hair bouncing softly on her shoulders.
"How do I look?"
Vanora sighed and clasped her hands together. "Lovely my dear, like a proper bride."
"Ymma?"
"Hmm? Oh, you look fantastic Guin."
"And how do I compare to your Sunniva?"
"You look beautiful," I said softly, and she beamed at me. I was suddenly glad that I had not told them the rest of the tale, leaving the bride-to-be with only the happy part of the story.
For a short while, Cynefrid and Sunniva were very happy together. They were soon blessed with a baby son that they called Leofwine, a lovely little thing with the fair hair of his mother and the eyes of his father, who laughed often and loved to play with the shining silver pendant that hung around his mother's neck- her morgen-gifu.
But their happiness was soon cut short. Raiders from one of the rival tribes in the north came riding down one dark winter evening, carrying off livestock and women. Cynefrid and Aelred banded their men together to fight the invaders and went off to war, leaving behind their wives and children, with only a few men left behind as watchmen.
I was asleep when I heard the first screams…
"Alric! Alric! What's happening?"
Terrified my heart thundered in my chest as the screaming continued, a woman's cries for help deafening in the silence of the night. I clung to my elder brother as we both raced outside the hut, only a little way behind my mother and father who came to a sudden standstill at the sight in front of them.
The Ealdorman hall was on fire, flames licking the thatched roof and shooting high up into the sky, thick smoke covering everything, choking the stars. The heavy wooden doors had been bolted shut by our enemies who had ridden off into the dark, laughing. They were now a roaring inferno, barring any way of escape. And all the time over the noise of the crackling fire that was eating everything in sight, came the screaming. Sunniva's screams as she tried to protect her baby from the fire that was burning them alive.
Tears ran down my face as we watched helpless. Buckets of water were being thrown onto the fire and my parents rushed to help too, but it was like a single teardrop trying to quench a log fire. The heat made it almost impossible to stand very close to the hall at all, and I tried not to think about Sunniva and the baby, skin slowly blistering and peeling as the fire licked at them, burning them slowly and painfully. I heard prayers being shouted out to the gods for help but that night nobody listened.
Not one of those divine beings cared if one woman and her infant became blackened corpses. Smoking ash.
Sunniva's terrible pleas for help grew to a crescendo until there was a great crack! The roof of the hall slowly collapsed inwards, the thick beams having split under the insatiable appetite of the fire and it all came crashing down. After that there was only silence.
Cynefrid and Aelred came back home the next day, smiling and grinning in their victory. The raiders had been slaughtered and there would be peace now. Until they saw the smoking ruins of the hall.
I can remember Cynefrid's eyes frantically scanning the huddled group of villagers for the faces of his wife and child. I can remember he asked my father where Sunniva and Leofwine were, his voice pleading, pleading for him to tell him that they were safe and alive, hidden away somewhere. Alive and waiting for him.
My father's voice cracked as he spoke the hated words to Cynefrid and his eyes… I remember his eyes. How they died slowly as my father told him that his beloved wife and child were gone. That they were now buried under the still warm remains of the hall. And that he would never see them again.
His eyes will always stay with me. Because the light and the love in them became nothing; gone, destroyed just as easily as they had been, and I know he must have pictured their screams in his mind, Sunniva crying out for him to save them, for anyone to save them.
One month after the official mourning period ended, and a new hall stood in place of the old one, Cynefrid changed his name from its peaceful meaning to that of the ruler his father had always wanted him to be. He rode off to join his father in war and left the village behind, with all of it's now hateful memories buried with his family.
I remember those eyes well. Because they became the eyes of Cynric. The son of Cerdic had once been a good man.
But even good men break. And in the end that was all that my Ealdormann became. Broken and empty inside. Just waiting. Waiting for death to come and release him.
I prayed that he had found his peace, reunited with his wife and child in the afterlife.
That night I went and purified myself in the stream that ran close by, pouring the water over my head and hands and feet. I put on a simple white dress that Vanora leant me and gathered up my rune bag, heading for the cliff where the ceremony was to take place. The spell could be done without the runes but I wanted them to balance out my magik, and I could use them to boost the spell and also to ground me. The spirits I would be invoking tonight could turn hostile if I was not careful.
When I got there, more than just Guinevere met me. I raised an eyebrow at the assembled faces of the knights together with Vanora and Lucan, looking to the Woad for an explanation.
She shrugged helplessly. "They wanted to come and watch."
"All right," I said, unsure as to why they would want to come and watch what should be a simple warding spell. "But you must remember these two rules. You can't speak at all, no matter what you see or what happens. And under no circumstances are you to go inside the sacred area marked out by the runes. Do you understand?"
There was a chorus of assents and aye's and I motioned for them to find a comfortable spot to watch. I measured out the site, deciding where to place my runes and on which point each one would go. I was using five runes tonight, four to guard the site and one to focus all of my energy on, which would provide the force for the spell.
Taking a deep breath I took Sigel out of the bag and placed it the north point of the diamond shape I was forming. Sigel was a good rune to use because it would ensure safety in the undertaking and safety in the ceremony tomorrow. It was also good for destroying any evil spirits that may have been lurking around.
The second rune I pulled out of the sack was Ing, used to promote peace and romantic love. An ideal choice for warding a wedding site. This was placed at the east point of the diamond.
The south point of the diamond was also a defensive marker and I was using Eolh-secg, directly linking it with the north point. I needed plenty of protection for the warding and these two runes would provide ample support, ensuring that everything would go well tomorrow.
The final point of the diamond- the west- was covered by Dæg, in magik being used to achieve happiness, and it would also link with Ing, combing happiness with love so that the two were now inextricably linked together.
Clasping the burning torch I had brought with me I touched each of the points and then struck the stake deep into the middle of the ground of the diamond. Standing in the middle just a little behind so that if I stretched out my hands they reached over the flames, I clasped the rune Wynn tightly in my right hand. Wynn is my favourite rune because it governs the harmony of humans. It is the rune of wishes coming true and of dreams about to be fulfilled. I could not think of a more suitable rune through which to channel my power.
Closing my eyes I let myself relax and felt my hand shape the brightly burning form of Wynn in the air. My mouth opened of it's own accord and the ancient rhyme for warding weddings flowed out of my mouth, my own Saxon tongue and that of the British mixing together to cast it.
" Fyr ic bere ymb friðgearde,
Fire I bear around this sacred site,
Ond béode men frið fremman,
And bid all men make peace,
Líeg ic bere tó belúcan,
Flame I bear to enclose,
Béode utlaga féran aweg!
And bid evil spirits to flee!
Þunor wéoh, Þunor wéoh,
Thor make sacred, Thor make sacred,
Þunor wéoh þisne ealh.
Thor make sacred this holy site."
There was a sudden rush of wind and the flame of the torch grew higher and higher. I felt my hand shaking as the power of Wynn flowed out though it, and the power leapt from each rune flowing back into me, to be channeled out into the next words that I would speak- the most important of all.
" Frige! eallcnáwestre fræfel gyden.
Frige! All knowing cunning goddess.
Esageardes cwén…cwémlic hláfidge.
Asgard's queen… pleasing lady.
Biergst byrdum, bearn weardst.
You guard births, ward the young.
blétse sinhiwan swa bliss habban.
Bless the couple so that they will have bliss.
The wind died down suddenly, until everything was unnaturally still and silent. Not even the crickets were making a noise, nor could I hear the sea, the crash of waves on rock. I opened my eyes cautiously. The spell did not feel complete and I glanced over at the watching group with bated breath. Lucan looked like he was about to speak and I shook my head vigorously, unsure if everything was completed properly. I saw the knights all exchange glances, unnerved by the unnatural quiet.
Still nothing.
I was just about to unlock my fingers from where they were still clasping tightly to Wynn when I suddenly felt a thrill of energy race from my toes up to my head. Looking down I watched sparks of runic energy skittering from the ground up my body and out into the night sky, the warm amber tones seeping from the very earth I was standing on, like sparks of lightening retreating back into the heavens. Wary of what was happening I stood completely still as the streaks raced quicker and quicker up my body and into the sky, until I was covered in the warm light as it swirled around me, cocooning me from the outside world.
I started to drift slowly off the ground until my toes were barely grazing the grass below me and I hung, suspended in the middle of the light. Strangely I did not feel scared or worried about what was happening. It was as though suddenly everything clicked into place and I felt my mouth opening again to repeat again the first and last lines of the final incantation.
" Frige! eallcnáwestre fræfel gyden.
Frige! All knowing cunning goddess.
blétse sinhiwan swa bliss habban.
Bless the couple so that they will have bliss!"
It was with no small amount of shock that I realised my voice was not my own anymore. Instead I heard the voices of every rune caster before me speak those words now, their voices a thrilling chorus of old and young, of male and female and I knew that one day future generations would hear my voice amongst them too.
There was a sudden burst of brilliant liquid light as the final words were spoken and I suddenly found myself flat on my back on the ground, my eyes gazing up at the stars and a stupid grin crossing my features.
Propping myself up on my elbows I turned my head languidly to where the group stood waiting anxiously at the edge of the diamond. They had taken my warning to heart and had not dared to cross over the rune lines, and as I felt the spell dissipate I motioned them over with a flick of my head as I flopped back onto the ground.
Worried faces peered down at me and I grinned back up at them as Tristan went behind me and gently scooped me up, bracing my back against his chest.
"Ic þancie þe." The words came out in my native tongue, but Tristan understood enough to know what I meant and I felt his soft voice mummer that I was welcome.
"Well?" Guinevere clasped Arthur's hand anxiously in her own. "Did it work?"
"Yes," I said tiredly. "The goddess has apparently taken a liking to you. Seems you have friends in some very high places." I grinned once more and then passed out into the waiting arms of Tristan.
So much for not being melodramatic.
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Runes used in Chapter:
Wynn: Wynn is the rune of peace, the peace of mind one has when living in a community of caring individuals without the threat of such hardships as poverty, famine, or heartbreak. In magic, it can be used to achieve joy and happiness. Wynn is the rune of wishes, of dreams fulfilled, of togetherness and love. Wynn governs the harmony of humans, that which allows Mankind to live in peace and happiness.
Sigel: Can indicate a time of safety and happiness, a time of hope and safe journeys. In spell work it is especially good for ensuring safe journeys or safety in any undertaking.
Ing: Can indicate a prosperous period of peace, sometimes romantic love. In spellwork, it can be used to promote fertility and peacefulness.
Dæg: Means a change for the better is about to take place. In magic it can be used to achieve happiness and intuitive thoughts.
Eolh-secg: Indicates a period of safety and security or a time when safety and security is called for, it could indicate contact with the divine or that divine protection is coming. In spell work its primary use is related to defensive spells and warding.
General information:
Ealdorman: Saxon Chieftain
Cynefrid: Royal peace
Aelred:Noble Counsel
Sunniva: Sun gift
Leofwine: Beloved friend
Cerdic: War Chief
Cynric: Royal ruler
Ic þancie þe: Thank you
Wedding: From Saxon word "wedd," meaning to wager or gamble. It referred to the vow the man gave to marry another man's daughter or to the goods or bride price.
Bride on the Left: The first marriages were by capture. The groom, with the help of his warrior friends would steal into another tribe's camp and kidnap the woman of his choice. His friends covered his back and fought off any others with an interest in the woman. As the invading party fought off the other men, he would hold her with his left hand because his right hand was his sword hand. This is believed to be the root of the custom of the bride standing on the groom's left in the wedding ceremony.
Best Man: A man would take along his strongest and most trusted friend to help him fight resistance from the woman's family. This friend, therefore, was considered the best man among his friends. The best man accompanied the groom up the aisle to help defend the bride.
Bridesmaids: There to fool the evil spirits. Evil spirits, jealous of the happiness of the couple, would try to make mischief with them. To confuse the spirits, brides, (the most common target), and their grooms surrounded themselves with friends.
Honey-Moon: Because honey and the moon were tied to fertility, the couple drank only honey mead and remained in hiding for one full lunar cycle, (twenty-eight days), a honey-moon. By the time they were found, the bride was already pregnant.
Transfer of Authority: Saxon- Groom touches brides head with shoe which represents transfer of authority over from father to husband.
Sword:The exchange of heirloom weapons to mark the union of two families linked not only man to woman but clan to clan. The poem Ruodlieb, written in Latin circa 1050 by a German poet/monk (possibly of the Bavarian foundation of Tagernsee) contains a description of a wedding in which the bride is passed a ring on the hilt of a sword. This underscores the seriousness of the bond now between husband and wife - the honour of the young couple is now linked to the honour of the family sword.
Planting a tree: The tree represented married life together. The tree would grow to become a sacred symbol in one's life, a potent symbol of regeneration for the family - a reminder of one's place in eternity, a link with both past and future generations who revered it. It was customary at a wedding for the groom to thrust his sword into the tree to judge from the resultant gash what the luck of his marriage would be, and in a difficult childbirth, the wife would invoke or even clasp the tree for assistance. Such trees were, then, 'guardians' of the well-being of the people.
Morning gift: The morgen-gifu or morning gift was as costly a present as the new husband could afford (as it was a point of social pride to him, and status to his new wife). The nature of it was a complete surprise to the bride. It might be an exceptionally beautiful piece of jewellery, a wooden chest or jewel casket, anything that would please her. If she had been given a ring at the ceremony he might give her quite a simple one then and a magnificent one in the morning after they are truly man and wife.