Nice Day for a Picnic Read online

  It was clearly a house, of wood and stone, as long as his meadhall and even higher. There were many openings for windows between the clean-hewn stones, from which came a golden glow. He dismounted and hobbled the steed, one eye on the door to the dwelling. Leaving his spear, he loosened his sword in its scabbard, unsure what to make of the place.

  Stalking to the closest window he looked inside. Within was a large fire, lighting a homely kitchen with a long table and many chairs set opposite a grand hearthfire. In the space beyond the table he saw six maidens holding hands, dancing in a circle as they sang a beautiful tune that reminded him of bright waterfalls and the swaying of leafy branches. As the girls moved he caught glimpses of a seventh, standing at their centre with her arms outstretched.

  She turned counter to the dancing sisters, for such they had to be from their similar features. Each time Eadric caught a sight of her face the breath caught in his throat. Pale was her skin, like snow, and barley-coloured was her hair that lifted and tumbled as she spun.

  Eadric moved quickly to the door and found it was not barred. Letting himself in, he stepped boldly into the kitchen, hands raised peacefully.

  The girls ignored him, dancing and singing and laughing without a glance in his direction.

  “Fair maidens, spare me but a moment,” he said, stepping toward the group.

  Still they did not heed a word from him. His anger rising at this scornful behaviour, Eadric’s temper got the better of him. He broke through two linked hands and swept up the lovely maiden at the centre. His ire faded and he grinned at her warmth in his arms, the smell of fresh roses in her hair.

  For a moment she looked at him, surprised but not scared. He melted into her blue eyes, forgetting all else in that instant.

  He was snapped back from his trance by shrieks around him.

  Turning his head, Eadric saw that the other sisters were baring teeth like fangs, hands ending in claws lunging toward him. He dodged the first swipe of those hideous talons and dashed for the door. A snarl and a growl caused him to stumble against a chair and as he looked back he saw that six wolves prowled across the kitchen hall.

  With a shrug of his powerful arms, he took the maiden across his shoulder, freeing his hand for his blade. The sword caught the first wolf in the shoulder, forcing it back with much whining and yapping. The iron blade speared into grey-furred flesh twice more as the other wolf-sisters tried to encircle Eadric. Keeping a firm grip on his beautiful prize, he took two more steps toward the door.

  The wolves changed, muzzles shortening, chests broadening, fur darkening to black. Where there had been wolves, Eadric now faced half a dozen bears. A paw as large as his head lashed out, and only instinct saved him from losing his entrails. Another bear lumbered between him and the door, standing up on its hind legs to swipe at him with vicious claws.

  Knowing he could not best six such beasts Eadric hacked at the bear by the door, throwing himself at the creature with a fierce shout. The point of his blade sank into the bear’s abdomen and he pulled it free and stabbed again, turning and ducking as another huge paw sought his throat. He slashed at the limb, cutting deep to the bone, and the bear lurched out of the way with a bellow of pain.

  He crashed through the door as claws tore at his clothes, scratching his back and arms but leaving no deeper wound. Too big to follow, one of the bears roared at him from the threshold as Eadric stumbled across the clearing trailing droplets of blood. He looked back, surprised at the lack of pursuit.

  The maiden he had taken was in a dead faint, her lovely face just as enchanting in repose. He lifted her across the saddle and mounted his horse. With one final wary look at the strange house, he set off into the woods at speed.

  -

  22nd July 1914

  Little Wenlock

  In love to my darling Ed,

  In contrast to the advice of my sisters, who will have scornful words for you when you first meet them, I have decided to let my heart rule the head. We have a future together too bright to squander over a moment of hot-blooded passion, and I am willing to forgive you, on certain conditions.

  I expect you to come to the manor and address my family in person; it is quite time that they met you. You will also make a formal approach for my hand in marriage, to attain that which we both desire through duty and chivalry rather than subterfuge and force. Upon my acceptance we will wed in the summer of next year, after suitable preparations. I do not like the idea of a long engagement.

  As it is only now that I realise I have no address for you to which I can send this letter; a friend will leave it at the spot we both know so well.

  I await your coming to the manor with the same excitement that has preceded all of our previous meetings.

  With much love,

  Norma

  -

  The lady of the forest had woken during the ride back from Clun, but she said not a word nor made any move to struggle against Eadric’s grip. As he had expected from the moment he had laid eyes on the mysterious house, she could not be of the mortal realm, but a creature of faerie. He eyed her constantly, fearing she might change in the manner of her sisters, but there was no sign of the beasts he had seen them become.

  It was dusk when Eadric caught welcome sight of his meadhall. He rode straight to his home and set the lady down upon the threshold before dismounting. A crowd gathered, his companions missing him from the hunt earlier in the day calling questions, but he ignored them and turned to his captive.

  “Would my lady join me at feast?” he asked, gesturing to the silent hall. “It has not long been my home, my rank of thegn freshly bestowed, but I will offer all that I have.”

  The fae-lady said nothing, appearing neither pleased nor angry nor distressed. Shrugging, Eadric entered and she followed silently, her eyes on him, taking in nothing of the surrounds. The fire was dull, barely alive, and bondi appeared to stoke the ashes and add fresh wood, staring at their lord’s new companion. Eadric bid them to bring food and when the main trestle was set, he sent away his servants and told them to bring the guards to the door and allow no one to enter until Eadric commanded otherwise.

  The lady sat next to Eadric as the thegn helped himself to game and soup and bread. He was famished after the day’s hunting and adventures, and ate solidly until that night was well established. In the glow of the fire his lady appeared even more ethereal and beautiful, but every compliment he paid, every invitation to eat or drink, was met with passive silence.

  He slept then, weary from exertion and drowsy with mead.

  Waking in the morning he expected to find the lady gone, fled back to her sisters, but she sat at the bench still, watching him thoughtfully.

  For another day and night he feted the lady, promising fine gifts, the best of his realm, love eternal. She remained unmoved by his entreaties. He slept again, and for another day and a night the pattern was repeated and his guest said nothing, ate nothing and drank nothing.

  Finally, when he awoke of the fourth day since he had found the house in the forest, he discovered the lady had set a plate at his place and one before herself, with bread and butter, honey, cured meats and water all freshly delivered by the bondi.

  “Good morning, Thegn Eadric,” said the fae. Dumbfounded, the thegn said nothing as he sat in his place beside her. Her voice, which he had only heard in song before, was as beautiful as her features, as soft and golden as the bread and honey before them, like silk on the ears. “I am the Lady Godda, a queen amongst the fae. For three days you have sought my suit, and treated me as I deserve, with great promises and kind words. I will marry you, and in our union you will know good fortune and happiness. I ask but one thing in return.”

  “Name it, my lady,” said Eadric, grasping her hand and falling to one knee amongst the dirt and old rushes. “For you to be my bride, I will swear to any oath.”

  “No harsh word must pass from you to me,” said Lady Godda. “No scorn or insult, no anger or snide remark. As kind as you have be
en these three days, so you must be until your mortal time is ended.”

  “It shall be so,” promised Eadric. “I cannot think of any reason why I would have anything but kind words and love for you, Lady Godda.”

  And that was how Eadric met his elf bride, and they were wed and the prosperity he had been promised came to his people.

  -

  From the Notebook of Police-Constable Watkins:

  23rd July, 1914

  6.34pm

  Arrived at manor house

  Lady Goodridge informed me of man menacing youngest sister, Norma. Threats made. ‘Ed child’ probably assumed name. No address. Local.

  Description – tall, broad, white man. Mid-thirties. Dark hair. Handsome. Good suit.

  6.42pm, conspicuous individual spotted in gardens by Miss Patsy

  7.02pm

  Gave chase to man, lost in woods towards Clun.

  Ed frequents Long Mynd, report to Sergeant, search of woods tomorrow. Will ask Squire Fallows to bring dogs.

  -

  The mud was brownish-red, wet with the blood of his companions. Sweat-slicked hair stuck to Eadric’s face, his skin chilled by the coming winter. The groans of the dying mixed with the cawing of crows picking at those that could no longer complain of their wounds. In the distance Eadric could see Stafford, untouched, its continued presence a last symbol of his failure.

  He heard someone speaking to him, a gruff voice. He did not recognise the words. He did recognise the face, with hair cut in a bowl, eyes glaring at him with unconcealed contempt.

  The Bastard. William of Normandy.

  How had the would-be king come to be at Stafford? Eadric would probably never find out. The words William spoke to fitzOsbern were quiet but deliberate. No doubt ordering Eadric’s execution. The thegn thought of lady Godda, and never seeing her again. The image of her face brought him to tears, more than the wreckage of the Welshmen and Saxons around him.

  “The king wishes to make you an offer, Eadric Cild.” FitzOsbern was ten years older than Eadric, his bearded face worn with time and hard decisions. The thegn had admired him for many years but now it was hard to contrast that memory with the sight of his father’s friend standing beside the Bastard. His expression was kindly, imploring even. “He offers you clemency. Your life.”

  “For what?” Eadric knew the answer but had to hear it from the old thegn’s lips.

  “Your fealty. England is William’s kingdom now. He will help you against the Welsh. His old cousins, the Danes. Dead you cannot protect your people. Cannot protect your home...”

  Eadric sagged and nodded. A word from William brought his gaze up again. The king reached out a hand covered in a mail glove. A gauntlet still red with the blood of Osgar.

  Eadric kissed it and slumped forward weeping.

  -

  Leaving Stafford behind Eadric rode with all speed to his home. That night the meadhall was dark and empty. There was no sign of the bondi and the whole village was silent. Many of the men had died that day, leaving widows and fatherless children. Better that, he thought, than the Normans came here and threw them all off their lands. Better to live than starve.

  He sat at the table in the twilight and started to drink, and by midnight was surrounded by empty clay bottles.

  The door opened and Lady Godda appeared, radiant in the moonlight as she was in the sunlight. Seeing her husband she hastened to his side and laid an arm upon his shoulder but he shrugged it away.

  “It is all gone,” he whispered. “My honour. My lands.”

  “You have your life.”

  “My life?” the whisper became a shout. “What life? I am oath-broken! Who will follow me now? The Normans. No Englishman of true blood will take my word again. And where were you? Dancing in the moonlight with your sisters when you should have been here to serve me!”

  Lady Godda stepped back, lip quivering. A tear formed in her eye and she shook her head.

  “Your promise...” Her voice was no louder than the flutter of a moth’s wings.

  Eadric realised what he had done, sobering immediately. He stood up to take her hand but she pulled back, weeping.

  “I am sorry. I love you, Lady Godda. A thousand apologies for my anger! I shall never again say harsh words.”

  “It is too late. Two oaths this day have been broken.”

  With that she fled the hall. Eadric reached the door a few moments later but she had disappeared into the darkness.

  And that was the last he saw of Godda to his dying day, though he spent many of his remaining years searching for her, a bitter, heartbroken man. And on his death he swore that he would find her still.

  -

  From the Notebook of Police-Constable Watkins:

  27th July, 1914

  8.04am

  Returned to manor house to see if ‘Ed Child’ had returned and make report. Premises were open, On investigating, discovered bodies of Lady Goodridge and six of her sisters.

  Youngest sister, Norma, missing.

  Believe abducted.

  mummy and george go to the park

  by

  Gaie Sebold

  George, George, come here! Yes, you can run, just don’t get out of sight, all right? Come on, sweetie. Yes, you can help – you carry the Thermos. There’s a good boy.

  Look, isn’t it a nice day? So lovely to have a bit of sunshine. We’ll be at the park soon. Ooh, look, daffodils! Aren’t they nice? Such a cheerful colour.

  Yes, maybe there will be ducks. I can’t promise, but there might be. But remember what Mummy said, we’re not supposed to feed them. Just look at them. Bread isn’t good for ducks, anyway, I remember someone said.

  That building? That’s right, that’s the big school. Yes, one day you’ll go to big school, just like your sister. Only not yet. After the holidays. And maybe not the same school. Maybe a different one.

  I thought you wanted to go to big school? Why would it be scary?

  Yes, of course, I’m sure there will be other boys and girls. Anyway you don’t have to go yet. Not until the holidays have finished.

  No, don’t touch that, George. Dirty. Remember what Mummy said about things that can make you ill? Yes? Good boy.

  Look, here we are! Here’s the park! Yes, it looks a bit different, doesn’t it? They’ve been working on it to make it more fun.

  And all to ourselves today.

  Yes, sweetie, I know it would be nice if there were other children, but I guess everyone’s still on holiday.

  Yes, you can go play. Just ask Mummy before you touch anything, and remember what we said, yes? Don’t get out of sight. If you realise you can’t see Mummy you come straight back.

  Let’s put out the picnic blanket first. This is older than you, this blanket. Mummy and Daddy were given this for a wedding present. It came from a very posh shop in London.

  Yes, maybe we’ll go to London, one day. Yes, maybe the zoo. Yes, there might be tigers. Raaaar!

  Hmm. Well, we’ll have to see about London.

  It is a bit stained, but we’ve used it a lot. That stain there? That one was Daddy knocking over a bottle of red, when he got stung by a wasp. Ooh, he did swear! Yes, naughty Daddy.

  No, not that word. Nor that one. You can stop now, George. No, I don’t want to hear any other bad words. Be a good boy.

  That one? That…that was your sister spilling her blackcurrant drink.

  Yes, clumsy Eva! But she was very little. Yes, littler than you. You’re allowed to be clumsy when you’re little.

  It smells of summer, doesn’t it? It smells just like summer.

  No, it’s all right, George, Mummy’s just got a bit of hay fever. Do you want to help me unpack the hamper?

  Isn’t it lovely? A place for the forks and the knives and the spoons and the plates and the tumblers, everything fitting in so neatly. All just the same as it ever was. This was your Grandma’s hamper, George. Do you remember Grandma? No, well, you were very small when she died. Yes, that’s right, clever bo
y, we used to go and leave flowers, didn’t we? No, we don’t go leave flowers any more.

  No. We can’t go to where Grandma’s buried any more.

  We just can’t. Well, there isn’t a bus any more, for one thing.

  I know you liked the bus. Maybe one day.

  Don’t start, George, please, Mummy just wants us to have a nice day, with our picnic. Yes? Good boy.

  Yes, you can go and play on the swings. I’d try the middle one, that looks the best. No, not the slide, sweetie. That looks a bit…I think it’s a bit high. Yes. A bit high.

  In fact, I’ll come with you. No, I’m sure the picnic will be all right.

  Yes, I remember when that doggie came and stole your boiled egg. And you chased him, didn’t you? I don’t think you’d have wanted your egg back, though, would you? All dog-spitty, ew. Yes, icky spit.

  But there aren’t any doggies today, are there? I think perhaps all the doggies went somewhere else. Maybe they have their own park, just for doggies, what do you think?

  Yes, maybe there’s one for pusscats too. And – what’s that – elephants? Do you think so? That would have to be ever such a big park, wouldn’t it! The swings would have to be ginormous! Yes, maybe one day we can go look for the elephant park.

  Yes, there might still be a doggie, but I don’t think so. And if we see one we can run ever so quickly and get back to the picnic before it, can’t we? Because we’ve been learning to run ever so quickly, haven’t we? Of course we have. Yes, go on.