[Bêthberry]

While Gomen and Leofan were closing the shuttered windows, the Innkeeper and old Ruthven had been making a different kind of round of the White Horse. Early that morn, the two had, at sunrise and before others had woken, made a silent labour in the raised beds of the herb garden at the back of the kitchen. There, inside the wattle fences of the garden squares, the two had picked the herbs best known for their inherent powers against conspiracies of evil doers and invisible fell spirits. The two women had faced west to begin their toil, and then, still facing west, had picked carefully some plants with their fingers and others with silver blades, and some others with iron blades, reciting at times to themselves small verses and chants to appease the spirits of the plants and ensure support in their efforts. They then had braided and wound and tied masterwort and apple pips with birch bark and blackberry vines, making amulets for ensuring safety.

What had Ruthven and Bethberry been about on their rounds? They had tied an amulet and hung it with red wool over over window of the Inn. Over every door they had placed a wreath of ash and blackberry vine. Yet the loud voice crying at the front door, and the creaking of the hinges as Eodwine opened the door, and the cries of the twins' voices had called Bethberry back from her labour.

There, at the entrance, she saw a bloodied Degas appealing to a ring of pointed steel, aimed at him, and the girls hiding behind chairs.

"Eodwine, Falco, stay your weapons. Garreth, Harreld, give way your guard. This is Saeryn's brother, Degas, and he as wounded perhaps as she."

All stood back at the tone of the Innkeeper's words, for although a woman she had a manner of command in her voice which merited listening to.

"Eodwine, close and bar the door again." Leofan and Frodides appeared from the kitchen.

"I thank you for your prompt efforts, Leofan, and Gomen's also. Frodides, I will ask you to brew a large batch of betony tea, for there are wounds to heal and courage to wind up. And add some ranarrweed and white berries to both our milk and ale. Maercwen, will you strew some vervain around the Mead Hall, for let us take comfort from its soothing aroma and courage from our actions." Then the Innkeeper turned to the girls.

"Gudryn, you must have heard and indeed fear the return of this brigand Rand. Here, let me tie around you a small protection." Gudryn come out from behind her chair, looking back at Saeryn questioningly, and submitted to the tying of a cream-coloured linen scarf around her neck. It fell softly, its gentle touch soothing to her skin and calming her. She still felt fear, but no longer frightful incapacity and her stomach settled.

Then, taking Saeryn's hand, Bethberry returned to Degas, remarking upon their similarity of feature.

"This lady has lost her memory, Degas of the Folde, perhaps in the same encounter which bloodied you, perhaps not. Strange matters are afoot, from many directions. Come, sit down and let me check your wounds--Ruthven, a basin of water, please, and you know what poultices--and perhaps you can tell us a tale that this lady cannot." She watched Saeryn carefully as the girl looked closely at Degas.

"Falco, will you keep watch with Garreth and Harreld while Eodwine listens here with me to this tale?"

"Aye," replied Ruthven, "and while I'm at that, I shall bring out the eye of newt and lumpwort root."

"Hush, Ruthven, walls have ears. Let them not know all our potions."