WODEN'S WOLF

Part 1 - The Fosse

The bite of the early morning had given way to gentle warmth as the autumn day progressed. The sun shining in the cloudless sky had turned the silver of the frost to warm droplets on the lush grass of the water mead. The couple held hands as they sat on the bridge that crossed the water mill’s weir. The young man ran his thumb over the girl’s small hand. She looked at him and smiled. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere and the caress was almost absent minded.

Eventually, he pulled himself around and turned his attention to the maid by his side. He squeezed her hand and stood, pulling her up with him. Together, they crossed the bridge and followed the path toward the hedged holding on the other bank of the river, leaving the rushing sound of the fast flowing water behind, as it both crashed over the weir and fell from the turning water wheel.

On impulse, the young man stopped and turned back to look at the river. His tall, gangling build con- trasted with the small and tidy frame of the girl holding his hand. He bent and kissed her head, his golden hair mingling with her chestnut brown. She snuggled to his side and leaned against him.

Time hung.

“Come, we should go. My mother will be upset if I am late for this last meal at home before I leave.” He let go of her hand and put his arm around her slim shoulder. As one unit, they left the peace and sanctity of the river Wandle and headed toward the noise and bustle of the farmyard.

***

“Don’t look now, but your mother is watching.” The girl tossed her head slightly, causing her shiny, chestnut hair to dance over her shoulders. The young man tried not to look, but after a few moments of hesitation, he snuck a quick glance.

“She’ll notice,” he whispered, as he dipped his spoon back into the bowl of thick broth. “Eve, please.” The girl looked quizzically at the young man. “She’ll notice,” he added.

“She never has in the past.” The girl smiled serenely at the older woman sitting at the other end of the table in the hall. She blew on the steaming broth before she sucked the contents into her mouth. Closing her eyes dreamily, she let out a pleasurable sigh as she eased the now empty spoon out. “Wonderful, so creamy.”

The young man gave a slight gasp and his eyes opened wide. “Godfrew? Are you all right?” the older woman asked.

“Ah, it’s just a bit hot, mother.” Godfrew blinked, then lowered his face to the dish and its steamy contents. Eve removed her left hand from Godfrew’s britches and let it rejoin her right hand in her lap.

“Eve. Have you finished already, child?” Godfrew’s mother asked, already stretching across the waxed wooden table toward the ladle sitting in the earthenware dish containing the broth. “For such a wee thing, you have a good appetite.”

“Thank you, mother-in-law, but I have finished at present.” Eve gently put her hand on Godfrew’s. “I am sure you have finished, Frew. Come, let’s go outside. With you soon leaving to join King Harold’s gathering, we should spend as much time together as we can.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, go Godfrew. Your wife is right. Enjoy each other’s company while you may. It could be some time before the problems are over and you are with each other again.”

The woman refilled her own bowl whilst the youngsters left the hall.

“Rosemund, you spoil the boy. He won’t get that well fed on campaign, as well I know.” The older man pursed his lips disapprovingly. “Now ... when I was with Harold in Wales ...”

“You spent your time organising the storage train and getting fat on its contents, Alfred ... and well you know it!” Rosemund ate some of the broth, then looked at the spoon. “Funny, it’s not that hot ... certainly not hot enough to have got that sort of reaction out of the boy.”