[Undómë]

Rædwald


‘Well, I’ve known her since she was a wee girl . . . her and her brother, Leof. Her parents and I were friends.’ Rædwald shifted in his saddle to have a better view of Brand. ‘And when I returned from my years as a Rider, I settled in a small cottage on my brother’s land, not too far from Meghan’s family. I have no children of my own, never married. She and Leof are like my own niece and nephew.’ He held back a smile at the expression of . . . relief, it appeared . . . on Brand’s face.

He turned his face back to the trail, wondering what the two scouts had managed to find out about the way ahead. The two men rode along in companionable silence for a while, Rædwald beginning to think a bit more favorably about this man of Wulfham. He broke the silence with a casual comment, remembering that Brand had asked some other questions about Meghan. ‘She’s seen seventeen summers, by the way . . . and, I know you didn’t ask, but I could tell it was on the tip of your tongue to do so. ‘No, she has no “intended” waiting for her return . . .’

He chuckled to himself a little at the thought of Meghan’s quite firm opinions on the matter of sheep.

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Meghan


One of the women from Wulfham had come up to ride along with her. Incana, the one who had helped make the oatcakes. ‘Excuse me, I don't mean to be a bother, but I have heard stories from my Father that we have family in your village. Do you know of the family I’m speaking of?’

Meghan wrinkled her brow, trying to think of any of the villagers she could associate with Incana. Perplexed, she shook her head ‘no’, saying she could not recall anyone who had relatives that had come from Wulfham.

‘But maybe you can tell me if you’ve heard of one of my relatives,’ Meghan said, her face brightening that perhaps Wulfham or at least a village near it had been where her Great-great Uncle had gone off to live with his bride. ‘My Gran’s grandma was named Gerdë. And Great-great Grandma Gerdë had a twin brother named Garan. He was a goat farmer. And one summer he took his flock across the river and north to some newer pastures. And . . . well, to make a long story short . . . he never came back. And I guess for a long time the family thought he was dead. But like I said yesterday evening when we were making oatcakes, a Ranger passed through our village and left a message for the family. Garan had married a woman from one of the villages up north – maybe close to yours, Incana. Her name was Eolyn. But I guess they never came back to Bregoware to see Garan’s family. And all through the years, though now I know he must be long gone and his Eolyn, too, we wondered was he happy and had he prospered there with his new wife. And were there children?’ She turned a wistful face toward Incana. ‘If there were children, surely I must have any number of cousins, wouldn’t you think? I don’t suppose you’ve heard those names, have you?’