Godiva by Nicole Galland Page A

fulfilling this charm, and cause the crops to start growing. With my faith, may I make the surface of the earth beautiful with bounty.”
    At a gesture from Avery, she turned around her own right shoulder in a circle three times, and then lay herself upon the cold stone before the altar with her arms outstretched so that her body formed a cross. At this point, the priest began to recite in Latin—which meant nothing to any of the congregants—the Litany and then the Sanctus, then the Benedicite and the Magnificat, and by now her body was shivering from the cold radiating from the stones, even through the silk and wool and leather, and despite her best intentions, she was less concerned about the harvest than about sensation returning to the tip of her nose.
    Finally she heard the congregation begin to recite, yet again, the Pater Nostrum, and gratefully she joined her voice with theirs. She wondered if Edgiva participated in such a ritual at Leominster, or if it fell only to the priests and monks.
    Leofric, involving himself for the first time, helped her to her feet and wrapped his own cloak round her; hers was chilled through and he could see the misery on her face. He gave her a paternal smile of approval as the priest commended the pieces of sod to Christ and the holy virgin and the holy rood, and to the honor and benefit of Earl Leofric and his subjects.
    Then the priest and the people and the earl and his lady moved all together back out to Coffa’s Tree, where it was much colder than it had been hours earlier. By now it was dawn and turning very quickly into full morning.
    Avery gently gestured for Godiva to stand behind the plough and take the reins, and again he held up a battered piece of parchment; there was enough light from impending sunrise that she could read this.
    â€œEarth-Mother, may the Almighty Eternal Lord grant you thriving, growing fields, that increase and strengthen, with tall stems and good crops, the broad barley and the wheat. May God Eternal and all his saints in heaven grant that the crops of this land be protected from all our foes, from all the ills of the world, from drought, from sorcery. May God who created this world assure that there be no man nor woman so skilled of tongue that they are able to undo this spell I set.”
    Avery smacked the ox on the rump and clicked his tongue at it; the animal began to pull the plough. Godiva, remembering the closing verse from watching Lyfing, shouted out, “Mother Earth, mother of men, we greet you! And pray you may grow all our crops in God’s protecting arms, filling your fields for the health of mankind.”
    Avery nodded, took control of the plough from her, drove the ox a few more paces, and then stopped to turn his attention back to the ritual.
    A woman stepped forward with a loaf of bread and two small jugs. She placed the loaf of bread in the furrow the countess had just ploughed, and over it poured milk from one of the jugs and holy water from the other. To Godiva’s surprise, the words that completed the charm rose up in her as if she had known them since childhood:
    â€œOh, you field, full of food for us, brightly seeding, you shall be blessed. May the god who created this soil bless us with the gift of its fertility, so that each grain shall bloom into corn. Grow in the name of the Father, and blessed be.”
    T wo hours later she was finally warm and dry, and best of all, inside her own chamber; she felt both fulfilled and depleted, elated and withdrawn.
    â€œA beautiful ceremony,” she said to Leofric. He was nursing her. He had ordered a fire-warmed shift be ready when they arrived home; he had taken off her chilled clothes and pulled the warm ones over her head, kissing her collarbone and breasts and belly as he did so. Then there were warmed blankets that he had wrapped around her like swaddling clothes, and he kissed her forehead and rubbed her chilled fingers between his large warm palms. He