Aelswyn and the Angels

Chapter Four - Reflections, Part One

876 AD, HRAEFENGEAT (Ravensgate), WIGHTSHIRE, ENGLAND

With a groan, Aelswyn came to consciousness only to find herself wrapped in furs. Someone had covered her up while she slept. She was congested, and her head ached as if a boulder were sitting on her shoulders. She didna want to get up. She was warm in her bed, and she dreaded rising to a cold room. Opening her eyes to a slit, she expected darkness. What she found, instead, was a soft glow coming from the direction of the hearth.

She sat up, suddenly, and stared at the fire there. The flames danced merrily and the embers were glowing as if it had been tended throughout the night. She was used to waiting in bed until Graetel had a roaring fire, and Aelswyn wondered if she had o’erslept. Stretching her arms in the air to wake her body up, a soft voice disturbed the quiet.

“Min dohtor,” Her mother sounded truly weary. “Ye canna fight this longer.”

Turning her head, Aelswyn noticed that someone had pulled one of the hearth chairs o’er to the side of her bed. The curtains had been left open on that side and in the chair sat Lady Iborae. She was leaning back comfortably with her head resting on her hand. She looked at her daughter with worried eyes. It was clear to Aelswyn that her mother had something on her mind, though she did not intrude.

“Good morrow, Módor.” Aelswyn wrapped one of the furs around her shoulders and put a hand to her head. The ache was terrible. A steady beat pounded there. She was unused to pain and sadness and wondered if her episode of tears had caused it. She was similarly not prone to crying and was stunned at how much she had done so in the past day. She felt drained of all her energy. She wanted nothing more that to curl back up under the covers and sleep the day away, but she knew that was not to be.  “Did ye rest the night in that chair?”

“Aye, min bearn.” Sitting up straighter in the chair and stretching muscles taut from the position she slept in, Iborae reached out for her daughter’s hand. Instinctively, Aely took the proffered hand in hers and comfort seemed to spread through her.  “’Tis a draught I have brought ye, and ye must drink it all. ‘Tis bitter to taste, but ‘twill help ye.”

Iborae stood and crossed to the small table placed near the bolt hole. ‘Twas covered in deep red fabric which matched the borders of the tapestries that had previously hung on the stone walls. Aelswyn was thankful it was spring, because her room was cool but not truly cold, e’en without them. From the table, Iborae retrieved a goblet. The closer she came, the more Aelswyn could smell the concoction inside it. Her stomach wanted to rebel but she pushed the sensation back down as hard as she could. It was rather difficult considering that her mother now stood in front of her and was extending the vile brew towards her.

Taking the goblet, Aelswyn did her best not to retch. The closer she brought it to her lips, the more the reaction goaded her and she pulled the goblet away without drinking any, her belly a roiling mess. “Hold your nose, bearn. ‘Twill make it go down easier. I have some mint tea here to wash the taste away.  Removing the cup from her daughter’s hands, Iborae waited for her to pinch her nose between her fingertips. Once she had, Iborae carefully raised the bottom of the goblet against her lips until it was drained. 

While Aelswyn grimaced and sputtered at the sour taste, Lady Iborae returned to the table and refilled the goblet from a pot kept warm near the fire. Only this time, she smelled the minty aroma arising from it, and sighed gratefully, and took a sip of the warm liquid. She settled herself against the pillows again, and looked back to her mother just as she was seating herself. Looking into matching eyes, Aelswyn felt her heart warm. Some things were still right in her world. Her mother had always been a constant comfort to her.