Jarvit

Chapter 11 p1

Chapter Eleven

‘Jarvit is a boy’s name?’ Tiatra echoed Silvia’s words. Silva nodded. ‘Well did anything more happen with these bodgers?’ Tiatra wondering at Silva’s words decided to leave the issue of the name until a time when she and Silva were alone.

            ‘No, we heard nothing more and by next morning the bodgers had moved on. But there is the northern man and young woman who came to be united a few days later. They, along with his mother, are now staying in the village. He is a chairmaker that works in the hills. Perhaps he would know more,’ Vina said.

‘It may be worthwhile for Garth and I to go and talk with him,’ said Eorl Kenwal. ‘As they are working folk they might be intimidated if questioned by such illustrious followers of the Worthy.’

‘An Eorl of course would not be intimidating at all,’ laughed Tiatra. ‘But I understand your meaning my lord. I suggest you eat and bathe before visiting a bride and her new husband. Interpreter may we prevail upon your hospitality for these men?’

‘Indeed and I will instruct the Devotes to seek out a change of clothes for you both.’

Tiatra accompanied a much refreshed and healthier looking Garth and Eorl Kenwal through the falling snow to the small cottage Vina had directed them to. Garth knocked at the door. It was flung open almost at once by a short plump woman who had greying blonde hair plaited and coiled tight to the sides of her head.

‘Yes?’ she demanded in an abrupt manner.

‘Excuse me,’ Tiatra stepped forward. ‘We wish to speak to the young couple who were joined recently in the Hall of Listening.’

‘Why are you wanting speak to my Ilsugund? Is he knowing you?’

‘No, no- are you the lady he married?’ Tiatra ventured.

‘I Madam Forgemasstersson, Ils is being my son. Helge is being his wife,’ the woman drew herself up and folded her arms across her chest.

‘I see,’ Tiatra could sense both Garth and Eorl Kenwal trying not to laugh. ‘Is your son and his wife in?’

‘You think they would be out in weather as this? Even in dark north we have more sense. Now cold is coming in,’ Madame Forgemasstersson made to close the door.

‘Wait, we want to speak to your son,’ Eorl Kenwal put a hand on the door. The woman gave him a disdainful look.

‘He is not in,’ she made to close the door once more.

‘But you said-’ Eorl Kenwal began.

‘Is new married understand?’

‘Of course,’ said Tiatra. ‘Perhaps we could make an appointment to see him.’ A man’s voice came from the interior of the cottage. Tiatra could not understand the words he had said but Madam Forgemasstersson replied to him in the same language.

‘My son is kind even, he bids you come in, I think no good is coming of it, but this not being my house,’ she pulled open the door and gestured them to enter. Stooping to go through the low doorway Eorl Kenwal led the way inside. It was dark and it took some minutes before Tiatra’s eyes adjusted. The room was lit only by a fire in front of which was placed a chair and a bench with a woman seated on it. A tall thin man was standing by the fire.

‘Come, I am thinking you will wish to be getting warm. Mother, be you fetching some mead to warm for guests. I am Ils Forgemasstersson, this my wife Helge, she is a good woman. Welcome.’

‘Mr Forgemasstersson I am Eorl Kenwal and this is Garth and Tiatra, we wish to ask you some questions about a bodger lad you may know.’

‘An Eorl, we are honoured sir, please sit.’ The young woman leapt to her feet. ‘Mother, the best mead! And glasses, I will go and help.’ Helge rushed off.

‘Please, we don’t want any fuss,’ Eorl Kenwal said but the young woman had gone before he could finish. Ils laughed.

‘Let them fuss, little else is there for women to do in winter. Come sit.’ He pulled the bench closer to the fire and the three sat down. Ils sat in the arm chair and picked up a long stemmed clay pipe from the hearth. He drew on it several times before sending a stream of smoke into the fire.

‘To know what are you wishing?’ he asked.

‘Did you have a young lad working with you recently?’ asked Eorl Kenwal.

‘I am being married recently,’ Ils smiled.

‘Before, when you were chair making – you were chair making weren’t you?’

‘Every summer I come and work here since I left home. We camp, we work. Is good. I make pretty good chair I am telling you. Is no lie.’

‘I am sure not,’ said Tiatra with growing impatience. ‘But was there a lad with you?’

‘With me, oh no.’

‘Ah,’ Tiatra sighed with disappointment.

‘No he is not being with me, he is being with the bodgers,’ continued Ils.

‘But he was in your camp?’ Eorl Kenwal pressed.

‘Oh sure, sure. I am minded he can cook.’ Ils drew on his pipe and smiled to himself. The two Mrs Forgemassterssons bustled back in with mead and glasses on a tray. There were delicate wafer biscuits and pastries on a large plate. Ils got up and drew a small table close to his guests. Helge drifted an embroidered cloth over the rough wood and the drinks and food were laid out. Ils plunged two pokers into the heart of the fire.

‘If you please we need to hear about the lad,’ Tiatra urged.

‘What you do, chase after him now? Run after him through snow. I am thinking not so. Is no rush, warm weather long way off. There is being time to enjoy company. I tell you about boy,’ Ils poured a glass of mead and pulling a poker from the fire he put the tip into the mead. The liquid boiled and hissed and gave off an aroma of ripe plums. He handed the glass to Eorl Kenwal. The Eorl saluted the ladies and drank the liquid in one. Tiatra patted his back during the coughing fit that followed.

‘Tha – that is s-strong,’ the Eorl rasped out when he could talk.

‘I was thinking you would find it so. More?’ the Eorl shook his head at Ils offer and the others laughed.

‘The boy Mr Forgemasstersson, what did he look like, where did he go and – and was he called Jarvit?’

‘Jarvit? I am not hearing that name. No, the boy who came with the bodgers was being called Stew. Ya, Stew. Now be you trying one of these. My Helge she also is wonderful cook,’ Ils handed round the pastries. ‘Is not good?’ Tiatra, Eorl Kenwal and Garth looked at each other with glum faces.

‘He can not be the boy we seek,’ said the Eorl.