Wynne nodded. "It is a good plan, Grandmother, but I still cannot bring myself to accept this fate." As each day passed, she felt more and more like a beetle in a trap. Helpless and unable to find a way out.
"You must, child," the older woman said. "What other choice do you have? For almost two weeks now you have worked as if you yourself were a serf. No other answer has come to you but this one. There is, however, one last thing you might try. Go to the forest tomorrow and free your mind of all its turmoil. The forest has always been your favorite place. Wander about it and enjoy the wonders of this new springtime. Perhaps another solution to your problem will come to you there. I know not what else to advise you."
"Yes," Wynne said thoughtfully. "I will go to the forest! I will take my herb basket along. Einion says the streams are already, growing cress. I could use some capers if I can find them. I am low on toothache remedy and need them to make more. We seem to have more toothaches this spring than in past years."
Just before the dawn on the following morning, Wynne crept from the house barefooted and dressed in an almost outgrown green tunic dress. The dew on her feet was cool and, as she slipped into the nearby forest, her cleverly chosen costume rendered her almost invisible but for the natural-colored under tunic showing beneath the green. The birds were just now beginning to awaken, calling to one another despite the fact the sun had not yet penetrated the wood. This was the time she loved best of all. Those brief minutes before sunrise.
Following an almost imperceptible track, she made her way through the soaring oak and beech trees to a small glen where a lacelike waterfall tumbled down from a height of rocks into a clear, sandy-bottomed pool. With a smile Wynne put her basket down, shed her garments, and stepped into the water, shivering at its first touch, then quickly diving beneath it only to resurface almost as quickly, sputtering and laughing. She swam slowly about the pool, her long dark hair floating behind her, fully awake and quite clear-headed. Despite her dilemma, she felt more at peace now than she had in days.
Paddling into the shallows, she stood spotlighted in a single shaft of sunlight that had worked its way into the forest and wrung her hair free of excess water. A light breeze springing up raised a faint pattern over her fair body, and the nipples of her small, young breasts were puckered with the chill. Naked, Wynne sat upon the mossy bank allowing her skin and her hair time to dry. She sat very still, barely breathing, willing herself to become one with the woodland. Soon a family grouping of red deer stepping from the trees on the other side of the pond and drinking their fill departed. A fox appeared to take his morning drink and, seeing Wynne across the water, sat observing her curiously for a few minutes before going on his way.
Suddenly Wynne felt as if she were being observed, and looking quickly about, she discovered a raven in the tree near her. "Is that you, old Dhu?" and she laughed. "For shame! Fie! Spying upon a lady in her bath!" Wynne sprang up and shook her finger at the raven in admonishment. The bird cocked his head and eyed her with such an admiring look, or in her confusion so it appeared, that Wynne blushed and reached for her chemise, feeling quite foolish even as she did so. Still she felt somehow uncomfortable and redressed herself quickly before hurrying off, her basket in her hand.
The bird kept her company throughout the day, occasionally flying off upon his own business, but always returning to her side as she made her way. Wynne loved the forest near Gwernach, but if you had asked her precisely why, she could not have given an answer that made any real sense. To Wynne the forest felt familiar, as if it were home. There was nothing about it that she found threatening, or a cause for fear; even in the fiercest weather or the dark of night. There were those who avoided the forest at certain times, calling upon old legends and stories about the woods to substantiate their fears and superstitions about spells, and pixies, and the Fair Folk, a magical people said to have inhabited the forests of ancient Wales long ago in another time.
She found a patch of tender young capers and gathered them quickly, for they were best picked in the morning before the dew was dried upon them. The trees began to thin out, opening finally into a sunny meadow in full bloom. Wynne gathered the pale lavender and white blossoms of the yarrow. Yarrow flowers made a fine spring tonic as well as an excellent ointment for wounds. There were those who said it could also be used in magical potions, but Wynne knew nothing of that. She saw some pink comfrey and dug it up by the roots. Comfrey root was good for the kidneys, and its flowers, when properly distilled, made a wonderful lotion for the skin. Further on she spied dandelion and dug up several of these plants as well. The young leaves were good for eating, the flowers made a pleasant wine, and the root a tonic that toned the liver.
As Wynne moved back into the forest she stopped to pick a large bunch of violets. Candied, the flowers made a delicious treat. Boiled, the distillation was good for headaches and choleric humors. Even just smelling them was supposed to make you feel better, but she did not feel better. Following a narrow path, she hurried along until she came to a small stream that tumbled merrily over a jumble of lichen-covered rocks. There was watercress growing in the stream, but Wynne decided not to pick it until she had eaten the bread and cheese she had brought with her. She sat down, an oak at her back, and, digging down into her basket, removed a carefully folded napkin. Opening it, she spread the bread and cheese wrapped in it out upon the cloth.
The raven, perched upon a nearby tree limb, eyed the food expectantly and made soft noises in the back of his throat.
Wynne chuckled. "So, old Dhu, you're hungry too, are you? Well, you've kept me good company this morning, and I'm willing to share my meal with you. Here!" She tossed a piece of the bread in the large black bird's direction.
Flying down to the ground, the raven picked up the bread and then returned to his tree to enjoy it.
Wynne sighed, her mood suddenly solemn. "Oh, what am I to do?" she cried. She looked to her companion as if he might supply her with another answer than the one she already had. Indeed, in moments of whimsy she had contemplated the possibility that the raven was a shape-changer. One of those magical beings spoken of in hushed whispers that had existed amongst her people since the earliest of times. Oh, the Church forbade such teachings, but these things went deeper than the Church. "If you are a shape-changer, old Dhu… if indeed you are a magical being… please! Oh, please help me now! Rhys of St. Bride's is not an evil man, but he is hard and he will have me to wife whether I will or no! I don't want to marry him! I don't! If only you could help me!" She put her head into her hands and sobbed.
The raven observed her curiously and, catching the pathos of her mood, cawed softly as if in sympathy.
Wynne felt its eyes upon her, and looking up, saw just a large, black bird, its head cocked to one side. She laughed aloud, but the sound held no mirth. Rather it echoed the despair in her heart. "Poor Dhu," she said. "How can you possibly understand? You are nought but a bird. Birds fly free as I would do. They choose their own mates as I would do." She sighed again. "There is no other road open to me. I must marry Rhys of St. Bride's though I love him not. I must wed him that my sisters Caitlin and Dilys may obtain rich husbands. So my brother and grandmother may live in peace and safety while I hold Rhys at bay. That little Mair may someday be provided for in a more generous manner than I can provide for her."