I am one of those people who reads the Bible to sort out what could be myth
and what could be history and how easily it is to misinterprete them. I am
also fascinated with Anthropolgy, being a young Igbo woman born and bred in
England. So, quite naturally, I've had a few ideas concerning the Hogwarts
Four. I love History, and their story is just too good to miss.
I advise you to read 'Enimity shall bruise thy head' by dovielr. Go on! Obey me! Read it!
Mwahahahahaha-- *coughs*
Chapter One: Godric.
I love my brother. I don't think there is anyone else in this world stronger or wiser or braver or kinder than he.
I like the way he laughs and the way he pitches his voice when he jests or rebukes. I think he is my saviour and in a way, he is.
When the raiders came to our village, they destroyed everything. They didn't even spare the women and children and that's what they usually do. The women they keep for raping before they abandon them. The children they keep for slaves. Papa bought a slave once, just once, when I was there to see it. It was a boy-thrall. I just called him 'thrall' and only Mamere would say a name to him, which she kept on changing because she always forgot it. All our other thralls have been with the family for so long, even Papa doesn't remember when they were first bought.
I was lucky: Papa had sent me out to get on with the washing. I thought he was a vexatious bull. I still think so, today. But of course, he is my Papa, so I had to love him.
Godric was going out fishing. He was always like that: he would go fishing in the ford in any weather so long as it wasn't raining or snowing. Mamere would clap her hands in delight when she saw a large catch. Papa would boast, saying that they would have to go to another village, to find a wife good enough for our Godric. He would go hunting too and even if he didn't kill a deer, he would bering back bags of mint or some other herb for Mamere and her women.
The raiders came. We heard them from our ford, me washing further downstream so that he wouldn't have to see the dirty water and the fish wouldn't drink it. We heard the clanging of swords, the twanging of bowstrings. There were screams too. Screams of women, old people, children. Shouts from the raiders.
Alert, Godric waded through the river and dragged me up onto his thick shoulders. I was still clutching the basket with the clothes and soap in it.
"Quickly, Ahatti," he said softly, using the word that he learnt from the Jews for 'little sister'. He liked words as well, my big brother. "Quietly and quickly."
We stayed in the hollows of the big trees, as far as was possible from the ford, where the raiders would be able to see us.
It was cold as always. I began to chew on rope just to stop my stomach growling. Godric kept me warm. He held me close to him and I could feel his strong heart beating beneath his clothes. Godric my Saviour.
The raiders had passed, I remember, on the other side of the ford. Carefully, we made our way back to the village.
The sight would have made anyone vomit, but not my Godric. I was glad, too, that I didn't throw up bile. We both have the same courage, Godric and I.
Our pretty village was still standing but the people, slaves and merchants alike, were all slaughtered: men and women had been brained, children's throats cut. There was blood everywhere: pooled on the floor, lapped up by the earth, soaking into it. It was splattered against the walls. It was everywhere. My breathe stopped: I lurched forward, my heart plummeted A wild moment of insanity and for what? The raiders had taken no slaves. Look! They had even killed the animals that could have earned them a goodly coin. They all had bloated stomachs in the cold air, furs blowing in the breeze. It was this breeze that blew the scent of blood in my face: twas too early for it to begin to stink.
Godric's face turned to stone. He spat bitterly.
"Come, Ahatti. We must bury our dead."
"But there be so many!" I replied, aghast. I didn't want to touch my mother's body! Or my sisters, or Kelka's - my very best friend.
"Still, we will bury them. Bury them and turn our backs to them. Go! You are now a woman, if not in body... take the stores... as much as we can carry, we shall take. I will bring out our dead and them we shall bury them."
He was my brother. I was his sister. I nodded and hurried off first to our longhouse.
Inside, small flames from the cooking place had begun to catch the damp rushes, bringing forth smoke. I knew where our blankets were, and some of our clothes. I hurried through the smoke and dark, terrified that I would step onto one of our dead.
I came out into the air again, dumped the clothes and ran back inside, tripping over the boy-thrall's body: It had no head.
I wanted to kick it, because it was a thrall's body that dared to get in my way. So disobedient, even in death! Of course, we would bury them, the thralls, as Masters should do. I decided not to kick it and went back inside, this time, in the place where we would have kept our cheeses.
Why was there no one inside our longhouse? It was so dark and smoky. Not the way as it did whenever we cooked, but because of the new rushes, it was unbearable. It made tears begin to film my eyes. It was so vexing, trying to find the blankets, scared to open my eyes in case I saw a body lying nearby. I had to grope like a drunkard, a beggar, a blindman.
Had Mamere, my sisters, my aunts and female thralls all ran out? Only to be slaughtered? We were Fordswomen! We were strong and wise! Surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to run out like stupid chickens and get their necks severed?
I didn't know that the tears were pouring down my face until Godric came to me, scooped me up so that I dropped the cheeses and kissed each of my cheeks.
"Don't cry, Gelda," he whispered. "Be brave. Be a strong Fordswoman."
"Oh, I'm that alright, and much besides, I'll warrant," I replied bitterly when he put me down. "Hark at thee! Hast thou brung forward no nets? No bait for the fish we must catch? No hook? No arrows or bows? We will need to eat as we journey!"
He laughed. "Yes, Gelda. I have done that and more. Have you got the clothes, my little mamere? I see you have cheeses. No apples? No ale?"
"Odds Bobs!" I snapped "Tha' busybody!"
It was strange. So strange. Amidst the smoking houses was blood and corpses, many withc hacked-off limbs, slashed, headless. Dogs were lying dead in the streets, legs akimbo. Rats and cats alike lay side by side, stiff and revolting. Godric and I gazed at it all. I saw Cooper holding his wife by the waist, eyes open, flies at them. Children with lolled heads, some cracked and brained.
"Oh Godric... I will get the apples... and the ale...." I sniffed and wiped my nose on a sleeve. "Have you seen our family?"
"I saw Papa," he said gravely, then turned away, back to heaping the dead in the centre of the street.
I, too, turned - heart as cold as stone - and went into another longhouse. There was no acrid smoke to eat at my lungs there. I could see where the jugs of ale were. And the bread. I saw some shining coins and bits of gemstone and ivory: we would need those. The stone-hearted girl didn't think of the dead and their needs for money to pay the spectre at the tollgate.
"Gelda!" I heard my brother call. Obedient, I ran out to meet him. His face was grave when I came to him and he pointed behind a house.
There, in scattered lines, lay our mother - Mamere - our five sisters, all six aunts and three of the female thralls. They had all been killed with direct cuts from swords which made me realise that they had fought for their lives.
"Mamere," I murmured. "Oh, Mamere..."
"Help me, Ahatti," my brother said gently and together, we hauled our dead women over to the rest of the corpses. I was amazed that my brother had managed to get so many in such a short time. But he was wiser than I was, so he would know how.
"What do we do now?" I asked, when all the dead had been moved together.
"We bury them. We get large stones for the bottom and pile earth on them: You start by getting the stone... when you've got enough, leave the rest to me."
"What shall I do when I've got enough stones?" I enquired.
"Find a suitable longhouse that we can stay in for the night. We shall leave tomorrow."
To say it was hard work would not be enough to describe it. I was as sweaty as the worst of thralls by the time I'd finished getting enough large stones. When I'd finished, I settled for the longhouse beside ours.
Whilst attempting to light a fire, I felt the ground shift beneath me. Eyes wide, I clung to one of the beams in panic. Mamere would have laughed so, as would have Freya, my eldest sister.
I however, did not find it funny at all.
After a while it stopped and Godric stumbled into the longhouse, ashen face and parched. I handed him some bread, ale and cheese.
He accepted it, fell against some furs and fell asleep.
Something in me rejoiced: I never did get to see Kelka's body, brained, bloody, clothes torn and skin burnt.
I went to sleep and dreamt of my parents and aunts and thralls. They were still, silent, not smiling. Then they fell from their altar and smashed.
The figure of Godric appeared behind them and in his right hand was Thor's almighty hammer.
*
Early next morning, Godric gave me my pack. He had sorted what we needed the most and packed them himself. I knew how to use a bow, of course, but was surprised to see that I had a sword as well. But, I am only a girl, even if I am a Fordsgirl at that, so I didn't ask questions.
Instead, I followed my brother willingly, gaping at the huge burial mound he had made.
Bowing low, I raced up to it and stuck in a flower.
I hoped that the gods would remember my family. And me.
~
Review?
I advise you to read 'Enimity shall bruise thy head' by dovielr. Go on! Obey me! Read it!
Mwahahahahaha-- *coughs*
Chapter One: Godric.
I love my brother. I don't think there is anyone else in this world stronger or wiser or braver or kinder than he.
I like the way he laughs and the way he pitches his voice when he jests or rebukes. I think he is my saviour and in a way, he is.
When the raiders came to our village, they destroyed everything. They didn't even spare the women and children and that's what they usually do. The women they keep for raping before they abandon them. The children they keep for slaves. Papa bought a slave once, just once, when I was there to see it. It was a boy-thrall. I just called him 'thrall' and only Mamere would say a name to him, which she kept on changing because she always forgot it. All our other thralls have been with the family for so long, even Papa doesn't remember when they were first bought.
I was lucky: Papa had sent me out to get on with the washing. I thought he was a vexatious bull. I still think so, today. But of course, he is my Papa, so I had to love him.
Godric was going out fishing. He was always like that: he would go fishing in the ford in any weather so long as it wasn't raining or snowing. Mamere would clap her hands in delight when she saw a large catch. Papa would boast, saying that they would have to go to another village, to find a wife good enough for our Godric. He would go hunting too and even if he didn't kill a deer, he would bering back bags of mint or some other herb for Mamere and her women.
The raiders came. We heard them from our ford, me washing further downstream so that he wouldn't have to see the dirty water and the fish wouldn't drink it. We heard the clanging of swords, the twanging of bowstrings. There were screams too. Screams of women, old people, children. Shouts from the raiders.
Alert, Godric waded through the river and dragged me up onto his thick shoulders. I was still clutching the basket with the clothes and soap in it.
"Quickly, Ahatti," he said softly, using the word that he learnt from the Jews for 'little sister'. He liked words as well, my big brother. "Quietly and quickly."
We stayed in the hollows of the big trees, as far as was possible from the ford, where the raiders would be able to see us.
It was cold as always. I began to chew on rope just to stop my stomach growling. Godric kept me warm. He held me close to him and I could feel his strong heart beating beneath his clothes. Godric my Saviour.
The raiders had passed, I remember, on the other side of the ford. Carefully, we made our way back to the village.
The sight would have made anyone vomit, but not my Godric. I was glad, too, that I didn't throw up bile. We both have the same courage, Godric and I.
Our pretty village was still standing but the people, slaves and merchants alike, were all slaughtered: men and women had been brained, children's throats cut. There was blood everywhere: pooled on the floor, lapped up by the earth, soaking into it. It was splattered against the walls. It was everywhere. My breathe stopped: I lurched forward, my heart plummeted A wild moment of insanity and for what? The raiders had taken no slaves. Look! They had even killed the animals that could have earned them a goodly coin. They all had bloated stomachs in the cold air, furs blowing in the breeze. It was this breeze that blew the scent of blood in my face: twas too early for it to begin to stink.
Godric's face turned to stone. He spat bitterly.
"Come, Ahatti. We must bury our dead."
"But there be so many!" I replied, aghast. I didn't want to touch my mother's body! Or my sisters, or Kelka's - my very best friend.
"Still, we will bury them. Bury them and turn our backs to them. Go! You are now a woman, if not in body... take the stores... as much as we can carry, we shall take. I will bring out our dead and them we shall bury them."
He was my brother. I was his sister. I nodded and hurried off first to our longhouse.
Inside, small flames from the cooking place had begun to catch the damp rushes, bringing forth smoke. I knew where our blankets were, and some of our clothes. I hurried through the smoke and dark, terrified that I would step onto one of our dead.
I came out into the air again, dumped the clothes and ran back inside, tripping over the boy-thrall's body: It had no head.
I wanted to kick it, because it was a thrall's body that dared to get in my way. So disobedient, even in death! Of course, we would bury them, the thralls, as Masters should do. I decided not to kick it and went back inside, this time, in the place where we would have kept our cheeses.
Why was there no one inside our longhouse? It was so dark and smoky. Not the way as it did whenever we cooked, but because of the new rushes, it was unbearable. It made tears begin to film my eyes. It was so vexing, trying to find the blankets, scared to open my eyes in case I saw a body lying nearby. I had to grope like a drunkard, a beggar, a blindman.
Had Mamere, my sisters, my aunts and female thralls all ran out? Only to be slaughtered? We were Fordswomen! We were strong and wise! Surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to run out like stupid chickens and get their necks severed?
I didn't know that the tears were pouring down my face until Godric came to me, scooped me up so that I dropped the cheeses and kissed each of my cheeks.
"Don't cry, Gelda," he whispered. "Be brave. Be a strong Fordswoman."
"Oh, I'm that alright, and much besides, I'll warrant," I replied bitterly when he put me down. "Hark at thee! Hast thou brung forward no nets? No bait for the fish we must catch? No hook? No arrows or bows? We will need to eat as we journey!"
He laughed. "Yes, Gelda. I have done that and more. Have you got the clothes, my little mamere? I see you have cheeses. No apples? No ale?"
"Odds Bobs!" I snapped "Tha' busybody!"
It was strange. So strange. Amidst the smoking houses was blood and corpses, many withc hacked-off limbs, slashed, headless. Dogs were lying dead in the streets, legs akimbo. Rats and cats alike lay side by side, stiff and revolting. Godric and I gazed at it all. I saw Cooper holding his wife by the waist, eyes open, flies at them. Children with lolled heads, some cracked and brained.
"Oh Godric... I will get the apples... and the ale...." I sniffed and wiped my nose on a sleeve. "Have you seen our family?"
"I saw Papa," he said gravely, then turned away, back to heaping the dead in the centre of the street.
I, too, turned - heart as cold as stone - and went into another longhouse. There was no acrid smoke to eat at my lungs there. I could see where the jugs of ale were. And the bread. I saw some shining coins and bits of gemstone and ivory: we would need those. The stone-hearted girl didn't think of the dead and their needs for money to pay the spectre at the tollgate.
"Gelda!" I heard my brother call. Obedient, I ran out to meet him. His face was grave when I came to him and he pointed behind a house.
There, in scattered lines, lay our mother - Mamere - our five sisters, all six aunts and three of the female thralls. They had all been killed with direct cuts from swords which made me realise that they had fought for their lives.
"Mamere," I murmured. "Oh, Mamere..."
"Help me, Ahatti," my brother said gently and together, we hauled our dead women over to the rest of the corpses. I was amazed that my brother had managed to get so many in such a short time. But he was wiser than I was, so he would know how.
"What do we do now?" I asked, when all the dead had been moved together.
"We bury them. We get large stones for the bottom and pile earth on them: You start by getting the stone... when you've got enough, leave the rest to me."
"What shall I do when I've got enough stones?" I enquired.
"Find a suitable longhouse that we can stay in for the night. We shall leave tomorrow."
To say it was hard work would not be enough to describe it. I was as sweaty as the worst of thralls by the time I'd finished getting enough large stones. When I'd finished, I settled for the longhouse beside ours.
Whilst attempting to light a fire, I felt the ground shift beneath me. Eyes wide, I clung to one of the beams in panic. Mamere would have laughed so, as would have Freya, my eldest sister.
I however, did not find it funny at all.
After a while it stopped and Godric stumbled into the longhouse, ashen face and parched. I handed him some bread, ale and cheese.
He accepted it, fell against some furs and fell asleep.
Something in me rejoiced: I never did get to see Kelka's body, brained, bloody, clothes torn and skin burnt.
I went to sleep and dreamt of my parents and aunts and thralls. They were still, silent, not smiling. Then they fell from their altar and smashed.
The figure of Godric appeared behind them and in his right hand was Thor's almighty hammer.
*
Early next morning, Godric gave me my pack. He had sorted what we needed the most and packed them himself. I knew how to use a bow, of course, but was surprised to see that I had a sword as well. But, I am only a girl, even if I am a Fordsgirl at that, so I didn't ask questions.
Instead, I followed my brother willingly, gaping at the huge burial mound he had made.
Bowing low, I raced up to it and stuck in a flower.
I hoped that the gods would remember my family. And me.
~
Review?