Chapter 69 #2
Trewoofe watched as a myriad of emotions swept over Avice’s face. He was not sorry for his actions, and he never would be. He did what he had to do to keep his soul-bound safe.
“Your hus—”
“He was not my husband,” Joan interrupted. “He was my captor, the misery that dominated my days. I am glad he is dead.”
He let out a purr of approval at the young woman’s fierce words. If she were saddened or in mourning, then he would have offered his condolences. But clearly, she was glad to be free of her brute of her husband.
“What are ‘your rounds’?” he asked.
Joan blinked. “Ah, yes. So, after the Moot was…” Her gazed flicked up to Trewoofe and back to Avice.
“…removed, the other women and I agreed to divide up their belongings amongst the people of Lamorna.” She patted the mare’s damp neck.
“Epona and I have been working on getting them to those who need them most.”
Avice finally spoke up. “What of the families of those who died?”
“Have left or seem to be accepting. I am sure there will be some backlash. But for the moment, most seem to be adjusting to all this.” Joan gestured to the living, green square. She looked around and frowned. “Where is Bramble?”
Avice pulled the cloak tighter around herself. “When the men came for me at my cottage, Bramble fought for me. He was injured but now is recovering in the Underneath.” She smiled sadly up at Trewoofe. “The wounds are grievous, but he is on the mend.”
He flexed his talons at the thought of the limping Grim. “Once he is well again, perhaps he could visit?”
He decided he liked this young woman. She had the same spark of rebellion and quiet strength of Avice. No wonder they were so friendly with each other.
His little witch agreed. “I know he would love to see you, and Epona too.” The mare let out a grumpy snort, as though she were tired of being ignored. Avice grinned at her before turning her attention back to Joan. “Do you know how John Fisher is? Where can I find him?”
“I believe he is at his cottage. I went to deliver food and clothing yesterday. A big Dragon was outside of it, and I did not wish to get closer,” she replied.
Trewoofe knew immediately who she spoke of. Treth the Morgowr was back in his territory. He suppressed a snarl at the thought; he did not want to scare Avice’s friend.
“I say that so casually now.” Her lips plucked up. “If that happened just a fortnight ago, I would have fainted at the sight. My Lord.” She dipped her head at Trewoofe. “Avice.” She reached out to squeeze her hand. “You have changed everything. For me and for the other women of Lamorna.”
“Joan, I would like to hug you. Is that alright?” Avice asked.
Joan nodded and tossed her arms around his soul-bound’s shoulders, pressing her close. She was much taller than Avice, despite her youth, and his little witch was squashed against her chest.
Avice tapped the women’s side and squeaked, “We must be off, Joan. I must check on John, and we have much more to do today.”
She released her. “Yes, yes of course.” She bowed once more at Trewoofe. “I must get going as well. There is more to distribute amongst the villagers.”
“Go well, horsewoman,” Trewoofe said, as she began to lead the loaded Epona away.
Joan smiled back at him. “Horsewoman? I rather like that.”
They watched Joan and Epona exit the square and head in the direction of a cluster of cottages belonging to an extended family of farmers.
“She is a good woman,” Avice commented.
“I like her,” Trewoofe agreed. “I believe you have had a good influence on her. She reminds me of you.”
She beamed up at him, and he let out a purr.
The rain turned from a smatter to a pelt, so Trewoofe tucked Avice under his chest to protect her from the worst of the weather.
They watched as the briars and vines continued their creep inside the church.
The flora tossed out pews and various Christian baubles.
Avice let out a satisfied grunt as a wooden structure with steps was pulled out by the creepers and promptly ripped to bits.
“There is only one thing I do not understand,” Trewoofe said, as he watched the church being gutted. “The long Winter, and this…” He gestured his snout in the direction of the woods. “…dominating Spring.”
Avice bounced on the balls of her feet. “With everything that happened inside, I had forgotten to tell you.” She ran her fingers over her pendant. “I have figured it out. Well, mostly.”
“It was us, was it not?” Trewoofe asked.
“Well, that was already obvious,” Avice agreed. “But what we had done that night, was awaken Eostre.”
“So, you know who Eostre is?”
“Yes, Eostre is the name the Spriggans have for the Spring Goddess,” Avice clarified.
“Basically, when Winter wanes, Eostre awakes and begins to take over for her quarter. Every turn of seasons, Eostre will spread Spring over Albion, and beyond the sea. She is awake for three to four moon cycles before she goes back to sleep for the rest of the turn of seasons, until it is her turn again. It is all a cycle.” She took a breath, her heart galloping excitedly as she shared her findings.
“Without Queen Fawen to awaken Eostre, she carried on sleeping, and Winter remained.”
Trewoofe tried to fit the pieces together in his mind. “So, when we danced on Equinox…” He peered down his snout at her. “We awoke Eostre and she is Spring. Do you think that perhaps because we called her to us, her magic has enchanted Lamorna and the Underneath?”
Avice nodded. “Yes, there is just one thing I cannot figure out.”
“Is it why the Spriggan call her Eostre?” Trewoofe grumbled. “I do not understand this Faerie compulsion to give fancy names to things. If she is the Spring Goddess, then simply call her Spring. Knuckers are practical Dragons, multiple names for same thing adds to the confusion.”
Avice let out a short, sharp laugh at his grouchiness. “No, Lord. I was going to say, I think I can understand why the remaining Spriggan came to Lamorna and marked Hope and the Pillywiggin Princess.”
“Your mind is sharper than mine,” Trewoofe said fondly, happy that Avice was here to explain it to him. “Would you please share your findings with me.”
“Since you asked so nicely—”
She was interrupted by a tumbling crash. The plants had toppled the belfry, and the bronze bell donged loudly against the writhing briars. It was quickly covered by them, the thorns scraping loudly against the metal.
“Hope and the Princess were marked to be changed. The remaining Spriggan could not awaken Eostre—” Trewoofe huffed at the name.
“—and Queen Fawen had been felled. They came to Lamorna because they were drawn here by her presence. Then, they tried to change the girls when they could not find her. In the hope that the changed girls could wake Eostre up.”
“But Mary was changed after Winter was over,” he puzzled out, “and Boarden is male.”
“Which is what I cannot figure out!” Avice exclaimed. “I also think a Spriggan was trying to lure Nell – John’s little sister – and I may have seen one when I did my rounds while you were in the Underneath hunting the Tall One.”
He puffed out his chest. “I was successful.”
“I knew you would be.” She beamed up at him. “And that you would keep me safe.”
“Do not flirt with me too fiercely,” Trewoofe growled playfully. “I will whisk you into the woods, seed or no, Spriggan or no, and rut you into the wildflowers.”
Avice’s cheeks turned a charming red, and she looked back the destruction of the church. “So, the remaining mystery. Why Mary, Boarden, and Nell?” she asked, promptly changing the subject back to practical matters.
Trewoofe twitched his tail at her blushing. “It will present itself in time. Would you like me to escort you to John’s home?”
Avice nodded at the ruin of the church; the vines were not quite done yet. “A moment more. I feel I must see this through.”