Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XVI - A Woman's Place

December 1369

November had swept through like a sudden gale — I blinked and practically missed December's arrival; but arrive it most certainly did. Time seemed to race along despite my silent prayers to the contrary — as much as I willed it to slow down or, better yet, to cease it's passage altogether, it carried on diametrically in contempt of my wishes.

It would not be long now. My wedding day was fast approaching and most of the wedding guests had already trickled in throughout the first fortnight of this month to spend the longest holiday of the year in the company of the Greybacks and their kin. I could only imagine the heavy drain to Godwin's coffers: having to feed a veritable army of guests for the next month at least.

Only Lucian's uncle was yet to arrive. The Duke had not sent word yet of his pending arrival, although we expected him any day now for the western sky had been steadily darkening by ever greater degrees, like a harbinger of some cataclysm yet to befall us.

For now, Christmas feast preparations were underway at Nørrdragor and the hall was festooned with bright green holme and ivy, anything verdant still found to be growing now that the heavy snow had settled all throughout the countryside. Today, being as it was Christmas eve, the yule log — which was in essence a massive pine trunk — had been brought in and placed within the giant hearth, there to burn relentlessly all through the entire twelve nights of Christmas.

From my soaring espial in the tower, a sanctuary I had come to think of as my personal space, I caught sight of a burgeoning dust cloud that clearly marked the arrival of more bloody guests.

Deciding that it was well past time I left my solitude to join the Greyback ranks in welcome, as was expected of me, I stretched my back and made my way to the door with every intention of pasting a smile over my unenthused expression as I greeted whomever was now come. But, whether to indulge in procrastination or simple to appease my incessant curiosity, I stopt shy of passing through the doorway.

On the vast wall opposite the window the waning orange glow of dusk light illuminated a tapestry that I had always noticed, but never truly considered. It seemed that every tapestry or wall mural that populated Nørrdragor had some sort of meaning; and all of them obscure. The one of the wolf and the children had always bothered me, but this one, of a man and a woman, was, on first glance, innocuous enough.

When first I came to this room, long ago, I had admired the vivid colors of the threads that were so carefully woven into this particular wall-hanging, the artists who had long since plied the needle, certainly a true proficient. The backdrop in the drapery could be no other forest than that of the Redweald that was spread across the undulating hills and valleys that lay just outside this very tower window.

The crimson of the foliage in the embroidered weald lay vibrant behind the two figures that were the focal point of the image. As a child I had often thought this a portrayal of Adam and Eve, for there was indeed a man, a woman, and an apple. However, on deeper reflection, I could not be sure that the fruit was an apple at all, for the shape was too round and the seeds within, displayed inside the severed pith, were unfamiliar to me.

That was not the only discrepancy either. Instead of Eve giving her mate the apple, it was the man, Adam, or so I had always presumed him to be, who proffered the forbidden fruit to her. Was this not then sacrilegious? Was not the artist, by that assumption, a heretic? I could only imagine that if any holy man were to behold this scene, he would indeed demand its instant immolation.

In sooth, if I was being completely honest with myself, I quite liked the piece. I hoped it would never be discovered by a captious clergyman. Because, in this tapestry at least, women were not perceived to be the root of all evil; not the downfall of man; and Eve not the temptress responsible for the ruination of all mankind. It was he, Adam. Or so this tapestry implied...