"Caddaric loves you," Wynne repeated firmly. "He has never been unkind to you that I know of, Eadgyth. He comes to you for advice, and values your opinion. He is, although he would be astounded to know it, your friend. He should be lost without you."

"Yet he takes other women to his bed, and not just his four concubines, Wynne. There is not a pretty girl, serf or gebura, who is safe from his roving eye."

"It is his desperate desire for children," Wynne told her. "You know that is all it amounts to, Eadgyth. He does not confide in the others as he does in you."

"Caddaric says that you told him he will not father any children. Why did you say that to him? Was it in anger, to revenge yourself upon him for his unkindness?" Eadgyth nervously twisted a piece of her tunic dress. She was older than Wynne by several years, yet she stood in awe of her father-in-law's young wife. After all, Wynne was a healer, and healers were to be respected.

"Caddaric had the swelling sickness as a young man, he tells me. It attacked not only his face and neck, but his genitals as well," Wynne said. "It is well-known among healers that when that happens, a man's seed is rendered virtually lifeless. Sometimes, but oh, very rarely, such a man may father a single child, but it is quite unlikely. All this I have told your husband, but he will not believe me, Eadgyth."

Eadgyth nodded with her understanding. "I have always believed myself incapable of having a child," she said slowly, "and frankly, Caddaric used me little before taking other women. Then Berangari came, and Dagian, Aelf, and finally Haesel. At first I was very jealous, but I hid it lest I displease Caddaric, for my lack was certainly not his fault. As each of these girls proved as barren as I did, we became friends. Like me, they would have moved heaven and earth for a child to call their own. I have suspected for some time now that the problem lay with my husband, and so, I believe, have his concubines; but none of us would dare to voice such a thing too loudly."

"Of course not," Wynne said. "Caddaric equates sons with his very manhood, as you well know."

"My poor husband," Eadgyth said, and Wynne could see she was near to weeping.

"The sun is up," she said briskly, pointing through the open door of the hall. "We must get our mantles and hurry outdoors to cut the pine, the rosemary, the holly, and the bay. These December days are so very short, Eadgyth. Where are the others? Surely they will not leave us to do all the work! Ealdraed, run and fetch the lord Caddaric's other women, who have so conveniently disappeared. We will meet them almost immediately where the bay grows."

"Aye, lady," Ealdraed replied. "I'll fetch the lazy sluts for you." She hobbled quickly off, muttering to herself beneath her breath.

"She grows old, yet is still feisty," Wynne said with a smile at Eadgyth, who had now managed to compose herself.

Fastening their mantles about them with elegant brooches of silver, the two women picked up woven baskets and hurried out of doors. On the nearby hill where the bay grew, the four other women awaited them. Their respect for Wynne was such that they had come at once when fetched by the ancient Ealdraed.

Wynne greeted them cheerfully and then said, "Haesel, you are the smallest. Gather the bayberries on the lower branches of the bushes, while Berangari, who is the tallest, will gather them from the topmost branches. When you have finished, cut some large and pretty branches for the hall. Aelf, you, I see, have been wise enough to wear a pair of mittens. Take your knife and cut the holly for us, as your hands will be protected. Dagian will come with Eadgyth and myself to cut the pine boughs."

"What of the rosemary?" asked Berangari.

"There is plenty in my kitchen garden," Wynne answered her. "We will pick it when we return."

The day had brightened somewhat, and there was little wind. In the woodlands beyond could be heard the occasional sound of the hunting horn and the barking dogs as they sought the wild boar. The women, however, hardly noticed. They were too much involved with their own tasks for the festivities. Their baskets were filled with bayberries which would add fragrance to the Yule candles. Their arms were ladened with branches of bay, holly, and pine with which they would decorate the house. Haesel ran back to the manor house to fetch several servants to help bring the branches back.

The greenery all cut and brought in, the women went to the kitchen house to begin making the holiday candles. Heall, the cook, grumbled and muttered at this invasion of his kitchens, but he sent his son for the tin molds the women needed. Sweet cakes drizzling honey and topped with poppy seeds mysteriously appeared atop a table next to a pitcher of cold, foaming cider. The bayberries were heated to free their fragrant wax, which was then poured off into another kettle already filled with rendered beeswax, for the Yule candles were always made of beeswax. The molds were neatly filled, the wick stands carefully placed over each row.

"I think they're the best candles we've ever made," declared Eadgyth. "I saw no bubbles at all to spoil the purity of our efforts."

" 'Twill be a merry holiday," Berangari replied, "and lucky too, thanks to the boar."

"Let us take our cakes and cider into the hall," Wynne said. "I think we deserve a respite before we begin decorating the house. The candles will not be set before tomorrow."

They adjourned to the hall and sat about the main fire pit eating and gossiping. Arvel toddled in and was roundly spoiled by them all. Now that Baldhere and his women had departed, he and Averel were the only children at Aelfdene whom they might indulge. Hungry for their own babies, Caddaric's wife and concubines could not help adoring Wynne's two children. Silently she watched them, actually feeling their pain, and wished it might be otherwise for them.

Finally, when they could delay no longer, the six women with the aid of Ealdraed and the serving women began to decorate the hall with branches. The room, normally plain and utilitarian, began to take on a bright and festive air. The fragrance of the pine was tangy and fresh. Finished at last, they stepped back to survey their efforts and smiled collectively.

"It is even better than last year," little Haesel said, clapping her hands enthusiastically, and the others laughed.

"She's right," Berangari agreed. "This will be the best Yule we have ever had! I just know it!"

The sun was beginning to sink in a tepid smear of washed-out color behind the western hills. In mid-December sunset came in what would have been mid-afternoon on a June day. Wynne looked anxiously through the hall door.

"The boar has obviously eluded them," Eadgyth said. "They will have to hunt again tomorrow."

"Wait," Berangari said, cocking her head. "I think I hear the dogs now."

"Aye," Eadgyth answered. "They are coming. Let us go out and see if they have caught the creature."

Wynne picked up her son and, with the others, hurried out of doors to greet the returning hunters. They could see them on the path leading to the manor house. But wait… There was but one horseman, and it was not Eadwine. Wynne thrust Arvel into Eadgyth's arms and began to run toward the men. It was then she saw behind Caddaric's horse the bearers with their burden. Her heart began to pump violently and she ran all the faster.

Reaching the hunters, she could quickly see that Eadwine lay injured upon his shield. "What happened?" she demanded fiercely of her stepson. "Tell me what happened, or as God is my witness, I will tear your heart from your chest with my bare hands!" Her face was a mask of unrestrained fury.

"Spoken like a… true… Saxon wife," Eadwine said feebly, a weak smile upon his lips. "I… will mend… sweeting."

"What happened?" Wynne repeated, glaring up at Caddaric, and then, before he could answer her, she was giving orders. "You!" A finger pointed at_a hunter. "Run as fast as you can into the hall and tell old Ealdraed to bring hot water, wine, and my herb kit. Bandages too! And clear the high board. I want my lord laid upon it that I may examine him." Her gaze swung to the bearers. "Can you move no faster? But do not jostle my lord lest you give him undue pain! Caddaric, I am waiting for your explanation!" Dear lord, how pale Eadwine was, she thought fearfully.

They had reached the manor house now. As Eadwine was carried in and carefully laid upon the high board, Caddaric Aethelmaere told his tale, surrounded by his women. Wynne, even as she listened, was busy cutting away Eadwine's clothes, that she might get a better look at his wounds.

"We tracked the boar most of the day," Caddaric began. "Several times we even caught a glimpse of him, but we never got close enough for a kill. Finally, as the afternoon wore on, the creature made his stand in a briar thicket in the deepest part of the wood. Eadgyth, give me some wine. I am parched."

His wife quickly placed a goblet by his side, and swilling it down, Caddaric wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The wood was very dark and gloomy," he continued. "The dogs, however, were eager for the kill. They yapped, and howled and charged directly into that thicket after the boar. The first few were killed or injured, but then the vast numbers of the pack overwhelmed our prey. He broke from his cover and charged directly at us.

"I had the clearest shot, Eadgyth, but my foot slipped upon a stone and I fell. The creature was coming directly at me. I could smell his foul breath upon me even as I struggled to get out of his path. Then Father leapt forward and drew his bow. The beast was much too close for his own safety, yet he killed it with a single shot. The animal, in its death throes, however, gored father badly. He saved my life," Caddaric finished. For a moment the look upon his face was that of a young boy, and Eadgyth's heart went out to her husband.