Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [34]
The bed creaked and moved as the two eldest girls got in.
“You’re lying!” Little Gwen finally burst out. “I don’t believe you!”
“And I don’t care. We’re going to sleep. You can stand there all night stamping your foot if you want, it’s not going to change the truth.” The bed bounced and shook a little more as both of the older girls turned their backs on the youngest. Little Gwen stood there for several moments longer, before finally coming to bed herself. But she said nothing, so Gwen fell quickly asleep.
In the morning she was the first awake, and none of the other three even stirred as she slipped out of bed. They must have come to bed much later than she had supposed, and far past their usual bedtime. Could that have been the cause of the quarrel? Or had it been something else?
Well it hardly mattered. Gwen had work to do.
The first thing was to make sure her horses were properly tended for the day. The grooms would ordinarily take care of that, but they would have their hands full with all of the visitors’ horses. So Gwen got into her older clothing first and went out to make sure they were fed, watered, groomed, and turned out for the day. Then she returned to the castle, changed into her good clothing, ate quickly, and went to present herself to Lord Hydd.
She spent the rest of the day in a state between anxiety and bliss. Anxiety because she was terrified lest she do something wrong and disgrace herself, or worse, her trainers and her father. Bliss because of the company she was in and all the things she was hearing. She didn’t understand more than a quarter of it, as the talk ranged from politics to horse breeding, but she tried to consign as much of it to memory as possible.
Again, at dinner and again at supper, Lord Hydd sent her to sup at the High Table with her family rather than waiting on him. She had assumed that tonight, the night when the women would gather to work the magic that would bless the seeds and the soil, she would be expected to serve as cup bearer. But no, once the remains of supper were cleared away, all the pages were dismissed as her father and his chief lords took themselves to the solar and closeted themselves away from any and all ears, including those of the pages.
Full of nervous energy, for she had keyed herself up to see the night through and not get sent to her bed like a sleepy baby, she was at a loss as to what to do with herself. This not being a great festival like Midsummer or even Beltane, and not being a feast of plenty like the Autumn Equinox, there were no bards, nor even itinerant musicians, only those among her father’s men and the villagers who could play a few tunes. That was good enough for dancing, but she had no interest in dancing. Some of her own lot of young warriors were taking advantage of the absence of their elders to dip as heavily into the ale and mead as they could; that held no appeal for her either. Cataruna and Gynath were each enjoying the attentions of several boys, an activity that seemed a pointless waste of time.
Then it occurred to her.
She could spy on the rites.
It wasn’t precisely forbidden; she wouldn’t have dared such a thought if there was any chance that the gods would take offense at her curiosity—so why not? In a few years she would be old enough to participate anyway, so what was the harm? Even if you weren’t one of the Wise Women, there was always a place in the Circle for you.
It certainly wasn’t going to be difficult to find them. All rites were held at the stone circle not far from the thicket where she had seen the bear and serpent fight.
She took a quick glance around the hall, and saw no one—no adult at any rate—who was paying much attention to what the youngsters were doing. She got up and walked out as if she had some errand she had been sent on.
No one stopped or questioned her, and