Path of the She Wolf by Theresa Tomlinson Page A

evenings they sat about the fires talking and fretting and making plans. Marian clung to Robert in the long nights, knowing this momentary peace could not last for long. A terrible quiet and sense of misery seemed to settle about the place, even though the deaths grew fewer. It was only the happyreturn of Magda and Tom towards the end of the month that broke through the gloom. Everyone was amazed and cheered that she should come back with not one child, but seven. John’s leg still troubled him and Marian did her best, but even she could not remove the arrowhead.
    Magda insisted that little Eleanor must have a naming feast and no sooner was she back than she sent the men off to make a swift raid on Sherwood. They returned with a cart piled high with deer carcasses.
    ‘The wardens run in all directions,’ Tom told them. ‘Starvation makes the most law abiding reckless. The deer vanish from beneath their very noses.’
    ‘Aye,’ said Robert, smiling grimly. ‘But we hear that the Sheriff has sent messengers to the King, begging him send a gang of his best trained men to put a stop to it.’
    ‘And do you think the King will do it?’ Magda asked.
    Robert shrugged his shoulders. ‘The Sheriff is no rebel baron, that’s for sure. He’s supported the King throughout. He’ll find out soon if the King is loyal to him or not!’
    ‘And we hope not!’ chuckled John.
    ‘Brig’s Night can be my little Eleanor’s name feast’ Magda told them. And Peterkin is one year old, he must have his birthday celebration. Brig more than answered my prayers for a child, and we’ve had no Christmas, no mumming, no dancing. We must not let Brig’s Night pass in silence.’
    Marian hesitated. ‘Well, we have plenty of venison to roast, but little ale to drink.’
    Magda was in full spate and there was no stopping her.‘We don’t need drink to make ourselves a feast. There’s plenty of wood stacked and charcoal. We can celebrate with fire and dancing. Father can play his pipe and James can make a new drum from deer hide.’
    Marian could not help but smile. ‘What do you think, John? Is this giddy daughter of yours right? She’s got it all worked out!’
    Suddenly everyone was roused and laughing and fetching wood to build a big bonfire. They built it in the open space before the great oak: the trysting tree.
    So Magda got her Brig’s Night celebration, and they had a fine bonfire and ate and danced and sang until they were all warm and cheerful. Brigit sat quietly on the doorsill of the new hut watching them with little Peterkin wriggling in her lap.
    Tom saw the sadness in her and remembered that Brig’s Night had brought her mother’s death as well as Peterkin’s birth. ‘Will you not dance with me?’ he begged, sitting down beside her. ‘Magda will look after Peterkin for a while.’
    Brigit smiled sadly, but shook her head.
    ‘Your mother would not want to see you sad on your brother’s birthday. Now tell me? Would she want that?’
    Brigit gave a great sigh and shook her head again.
    ‘Magda!’ Tom called. ‘Come take the birthday boy while I dance with his sister.’
    ‘I’ve been making something for him,’ Magda cried, as she came over to them, little Eleanor tucked into one arm. ‘We’ve nowt to give but love and kisses and . . .’ she brought out from behind her back, a little wreath ofmistletoe. She crowned his curly head with it. ‘Come on, all of you,’ she cried. ‘All the brothers and sisters. We’ll do a special birthday dance for Peterkin.’
    Then the cave children followed her, snatching up each other’s hands, while Magda took the birthday boy up into her other arm and jogged gently around the fire, her arms full of babies, singing:
    ‘ Mistletoe for happiness ,
    Mistletoe for luck ,
    Mistletoe for a fine little man ,
    The sweetest little duck! ’
    Peterkin laughed and chortled, his cheeks rosy in the fire-glow. His sister danced happily with Tom, keeping a watchful eye on her brother