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empty now of animals. What had they seen? Had it been real?
Asser picked his way forward. "Was this a miracle?" Alfred asked his priest.
"Oh, yes."
"The man seemed dazed. I shall write of "
"No." Pony interrupted. She smiled. "You are meant to tell of Alfred's life, as a lesson to others. Would
anyone believe what you say of Alfred if you tell what happened here today?"
Asser tapped his chin. Alfred clapped Guthrum on the back, his brows raised. They glanced together
toward Pony, awe and fear writ on their countenances. Guthrum shrugged to cover the fact that he had
no choice, then both men turned together toward the faesten.
Val put a hand on Young Black's bridle. "Let Elbert tend your wound," he said to Pony. She saw that red
soaked her shift. Her thigh hurt. Then she realized something else.
"I must get back to my baby." She looked around, disoriented.
Val nodded and led Young Black toward the rise. The sun slanted low. They stepped over what was left
of Osrick under Alfred's pennant. Around them, men helped up the groaning wounded, gathered
weapons from the fallen, whispered together over what had happened here. The joy of battle no longer
sang in their blood. What was left was the task of living.
Even before they reached the rise, Pony knew that First Mare and Pup were not there. Panic rose in her
breast. "Where is the baby?" she cried. The ground was trodden to mush with a thousand prints of hoof
and pad. There was no sign her baby and her friends had ever been there.
Fear appeared in Val's eyes, too. "Stay here. I will search for them."
"Where could they be?" Pony scanned the dark shadows in the trees behind the hill. "My baby! Who
could have taken him?" In an instant, she realized just how much he meant to her, how she had come to
care for him in spite of her earlier fears. Now, even her love for him was dwarfed by his importance. He
would be unique in all the world, and she had lost him!
Val spun, taking in the wood, the battlefield. Then he pointed. "There!" Out across the meadow to the
east was the little farm they had passed on the way in. The hut and the lean-to stable glowed where the
late afternoon sun hit them. He started off at a run. Pony urged Young Black forward. Val flagged before
the horse. "Go!" He waved Pony on. Young Black broke into a canter.
A great stag guarded the curved road to the lean-to stable. Hope burbled in Pony's chest as she cantered
past the abandoned farmers' hut. There could only be one reason for the stag. The wolves that slunk in
the shadows gave her pause for only a moment. She was grateful now for their fierce ways to protect her
defenseless babe there were good things to come of the predator. She slid from Young Black's back.
Rats and badgers, cows and hawks all gathered at a respectful distance. She stumbled around the
corner of the stable to the open side.
Calm suffused her. Standing in the straw, First Mare nosed softly at a foal folded at her feet, its copper
coat still wet, its wide brown eyes blinking at the new world around it. The afterbirth, red and
blue-veined, was lumped in a corner. It was a healthy foal, if somewhat early. Slepnir snorted at her from
a post just outside. Pup curled protectively around her own baby. Its tiny hands waved at nothing. She
knelt, her tears flowing unchecked, and picked up the bundle, wet and smudged with dirt. How had he
got here? She heard pounding feet and looked up to see Val.
"Is he well?" he asked, gasping as he stopped short.
Pony nodded and looked down at her boy-child. "There is a legend in which the child of the Goddess is
lost. Sometimes it is told as twins," she murmured. "And the child is found in the stable of a mare newly
foaled." She looked up at First Mare, then surveyed the foal. "You have done well, friend. He is
beautiful." She turned to Slepnir. "And you! He has your coat."
Val fell to his knees beside her. His jerkin was streaked with blood where he had been wounded. His
eyes showed exhaustion. "You have done well, too, Pony." He stretched a finger to the babe, who
clasped it strongly. "Is he really the child of your Goddess?"
Pony lifted a shoulder and smiled. "He is ours. Who can say who else was with us in that circle of
stones?" She looked down at her babe. "He will be special. I saw that when I saw what Britta saw of the
way of the world. The first boy-child born to our line: He will do great things."
Val nodded. "He has your Gift. I think he hears Pup."
Pony stroked the dog's soft black head. "I hear Pup, too. And it does not seem so terrible." Peace filled
her. This was right. "I will call Pup Loki. It is a good name."
Val sat back on his haunches. Behind him, Herd wandered up among the other animal witnesses. Several
horses came to hang over Pony and breathe at her in welcome. Val stroked a random flank. "We will
bury White Stallion with great honor." His voice was pained.
She shook her head to ward off the image of White Stallion's life draining out, crimson spurts over his
white chest. "Perhaps Young Black can take his place. Herd needs a stallion." She looked up to see First
Mare nose over to Slepnir and nibble at his withers. Two others turned and exchanged breath with the
stallion. Pony raised her brows. "I am wrong. They will have Slepnir." That seemed right, too. She
glanced at Val and saw him watching her, uneasy.
She did not like that look. He should be at peace as well. Could he not feel the lightness filling this stable?
If Slepnir belonged here, so must he. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]