Excerpt: Tales of Orinda: The Great Marriage of Lunamae

This is the story of Lunamae as told by her foster-sister and cousin, Muirenn.

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Chapter 2

The Age of the Altram

I was thirteen and my mother hurriedly dressed me up in the best clothes she could find of mine. I had a chemise with a bodice and skirt over top. Since it was a little chilly as would be expected nearing the autumn equinox in the month of Sedyfr, Mother insisted I also wear a scarf. I was rushed out of the house and taken along with her to the keep. It was just a few hours after dawn and the air was especially cold with a northern breeze coming through the village.

“What are we doing, where are we going?” I asked curiously. The skirt was made of wool and was itching. I would have happily traded it for some of the boy’s trousers which would have been completely inappropriate. Actually, I had never worn them and didn’t really ever intend to. I just wanted the itching to stop and I knew that the trousers weren’t made out of the wool my skirt was. Even though I did have a chemise under it, I could still feel spikes every now and then from the course fabric.

My mother stopped for a second and gazed up at the sky. “There is still some time so I can tell you.” She said. She knelt down so she could look at me eye-to-eye. “Remember what the chief dame said about the next generation starting the new fosterage?” I nodded in recollection. “Her daughter Lunamae is the beginning of her new generation. She will be a dalta to me. You will be her foster-sister as well as her cousin by blood.”

The thought of my parents having another child through birth never crossed my mind. Even though my mother was not old, she seemed fine with the amount of children she had. Lunamae would be a foster-child, otherwise known as a dalta. My parents would care for her as their own until she was twelve. Then I would assume she’d live with another set and then go back to her mother. In our village we were never far from our parents even in altram. My parents always checked up on me so I didn’t think my foster-parents were my real ones. I expected my aunt, the chief dame, to do the same.

I was led up to the keep, a little unsure of the whole situation. As much as a sister would be nice for conversation, this was a baby we were getting. Here we didn't consider any offspring to be children until they could talk. In my opinion, babies were only good for crying, whining, and dirtying themselves. I hoped I didn’t get the duty of changing and cleaning the undergarments. I had never been taught how to do that of course as Mother hadn’t another child younger than I. Of course, she would have to teach me sooner or later as I needed to know to be a proper housewife for when the time came, but I wasn’t keen on learning.

The keep was very basic. It had four towers on each side, with staircases in those towers leading to the second level. The first level contained a living area, a dining area, and another room which was used for occasions such as this and aptly named the hall of duty. Like most rooms in the keep, there was a fireplace. Due to the temperature this time of year, I could already tell by the smell they were all lit. The air contained the scents of wood, pinecones, and cinnamon. Chief Dame Angharad always liked to add cinnamon as a special touch and make the atmosphere cozier. I would rather drink it in a cider than smell it mixed with smoke. The amount she put in made my lungs burn and my eyes water a bit.

We had walked through the doorway of the keep when I turned around to take a look behind me, the Humble Bridge was stretch out eerily in front although I could see some travelers going across and they didn’t seem to fall. There would be a time when I would need to use the bridge but I was hoping it would be later rather than sooner.

The door was closed by two guards and I turned forward to take in the familiar surroundings. My father would have been entitled to live here had he not married a woman from another clan, but it was just fine with him. Since it smelled so much it was fine with me too. We were able to move about freely enough and as my mother was a matron, we did have a small area in the keep where we could have a bit of quiet to ourselves. Most of the women there did needlework quietly or read the illuminated manuscripts delivered by the clergy at Bexweth. I of course had the gift of gab rather than sewing so my mother rarely let me go with her.

The entrance to the keep was quite wide since the staircases to the next level were spiral and contained within the towers. It was a large room with a fireplace directly across from the entrance doorway. To either side was a door. One door led to the room for feasting and the other to the room for ceremony and other duties of the leader. The walls were of stone which might have explained why the cliff under the bridge is so deep. There were a few tapestries on either side that my mother along with the women had made over the course of five years. It was nice to see them actually completed and hung as I hadn’t been in the keep in a while, mostly because aunt Angharad and my mother were cranky. Most of the people in the keep were familiar to me as were also most in the village -- save a few friars who had come from Bexweth to prepare a blessing. We were all related in some form. The clan made sure to marry outside of the clan every once in a while, like my father did, to keep the bloodlines strong. Intermarriage can cause issues with children. I heard that’s why the Rees who fostered me lost their first child. There were some issues with the lungs and the child died a babe.

We entered through the door on the left into the hall of duty. Most of the room was full of my relatives. My father was standing beside Chief Dame Angharad and she had a small crib with the babe Lunamae nestled quietly inside, although she was standing up in it and using the rails as support. At her age she would almost be able to walk. I was happy they decided to wait a little later in the year as I had my parents to myself rather than sharing them over the summer with this new child who would most likely need plenty more attention than I. The month of Nachfyr was reaching ever so speedily and soon the winter snow would keep us all huddled together in our quaint house. We were prepared for the winter. My father had shoed enough horses to be able to provide for us and given the fosterage of Lunamae, the heir, we had been granted a small allowance for extra care for her.

“Hello Muirenn, my sweet little neice.” My aunt waved me forward and gave me a light embrace. She was tall and slender and her solis-kissed hair swept over me when she put her arms around me. The air was thick from the amount of bodies in it but I overcame the atmosphere to reply.

“Not so little.” I said with a smile. “I have grown a bit this year, Father says.” My father beamed proudly at me from Angharad’s side. We had a branch with notches in it to track my progress and these past few years there were many new notches.

The chief dame let me go and then looked around the room. “Your brother Logan is not here I see.” She sighed in disappointment. “The battle has not been easy on any of us.” She looked at the ring on her hand. The one she had been given as she pledged a life with Chieftain Leofric years prior. The ring seemed lonely without its mate, buried underneath Moir Awin.

“But there are reasons to rejoice.” Angharad smiled widely, looking down on her daughter with loving eyes. “New life will always prevail through destruction. Let it be said.”

“May it be so.” All of us in the room answered. The friars moved forward, unveiling some precious holy water, a sign of the Creator, and the Text of Illumination that would be given to the new child in preparation of a life in dedication to the Creator. This was not only a ceremony of fosterage, but humility. Angharad would show her allegiance to the Creator by gifting the life of Lunamae to him. One of the friars -- they called him Barri -- took out a few drops of the water and sprinkled it on Lunamae. A few drops touched her crystalline face but she didn’t care. She cooed with happiness and lifted her arms up.

“In the name of the Creator we give thanks for this child. We pray your protection upon the child and the family who will now care for her. Give them strength, hope, and patience.” The friar turned to my father and questioned. “Do you accept responsibility for Lunamae? Do you and your family promise to teach her in the studies of nature, reading, writing, and the good habits of women? Do you promise to protect her from all evils? Do you promise to teach her in the law of the Creator and help her understand the Text of Illumination?”

My father answered quite confidently. “We do.” Now I know the friar was asking the whole family and my father answered for us all, but in that moment I realized I would have to be more than just a foster-sister. I would have to be a teacher too. Logan didn’t have the sense to teach this child. My mother would be too busy attending Angharad, and my father had his farrier business. At least I had a few more years before much instruction would be needed. The only thing this child needed right now was care and love.

--end of excerpt (but not of the chapter)--