The Riverwoman’s Dragon

Seeing the Riverwoman collect her basket and slip out the door, Lettice followed into the soft light of early afternoon, propelled by her sense of guilt. By confessing her fears to Dame Magda she hoped to prevent more violence. She should have gone at once to Bailiff Hempe to tell him what she had seen and what she believed it portended, the dread that had seeped into her bones, but instead she had run for that very terror.

At first when the healer paused Lettice thought it an invitation. ‘Dame Magda, I must tell you …’ But she stopped as the wizened woman seemed to sniff the air, then look sharply toward the river. ‘What do you–’

‘Hush,’ Magda said, ‘not now.’ She resumed walking, picking up her pace.

Lettice lifted her skirts and hurried to catch up. ‘Dame Magda, I must warn you …’

The healer paused, glanced back, her blue eyes sharp and clear. ‘Magda is needed elsewhere. Smoke. Danger. Not here. She will return when it is Helen’s time. Be of comfort to her and to the children.’

And she was gone, disappearing through the holly hedge toward the main track through Galtres.

At the home where Magda stabled her donkey the child’s father said he’d noticed a crowd on the riverbank near her rock.

‘Much talk of flames, but I saw none. Have a care, Dame Magda. I will escort you.’

‘Thou art kind, but there is no need.’

The crowd still clustered on the bank, milling about, mostly children, though some adults among them, all looking toward her rock and chattering.

‘Someone shot a flaming arrow onto your roof!’ one of the boys shouted as she approached.

‘The dragon’s breathing smoke!’ another added.

She saw it, a trail of smoke from her dragon’s mouth that twisted against the deepening blue of the evening sky.

‘The dragon ate the flame and breathed it out,’ explained a lass. ‘That’s why he’s smoking.’

From others she gathered an idea of what they had seen. A shadow on the far bank, a flaming arrow that appeared to pierce the roof but then tumbled off, the flame put out. It was then that folk noticed smoke streaming from the dragon’s mouth. As it still did, rising in slow, languid curls. How excited they all were, and anxious for her safety. She thanked them all and asked after Twig, the lad seeing to her kitten.

‘His mother waded out to fetch him. Found him fussing over the fire, worried that he had made a mistake in stoking it in preparation for your return at day’s end and caused the bit of smoke,’ said a woman standing on the bank. ‘He would not come back with her. Must stay with the kitten, he said. Though he did step out to gawk at the smoking dragon.’

As she set her things in the coracle on the shore they told her of the return of her own, assuring her it was back on the rock. She was a little disappointed it had not been Einar thinking better of falling into Asa’s ways. But there was time for that. She rowed herself over to the house so the lad might row himself back.

On the rock, she made straight for her door with a nod to the dragon and silent thanks. Within, she praised the brave lad and took the kitten into her arms, holding her close to her heart for a moment.

‘Back tomorrow?’ the lad asked.

‘Magda will consider and let thee know in the morn.’

She had shared a bit of broth with Holda and was relaxing by the fire with a sip of brandywine when Einar came calling.

‘So late?’ she said.

‘I could not sleep without admitting my guilt and apologizing for the theft of your coracle.’

‘Go on.’

He spoke of Asa and her insistence on leaving, though he claimed not to know what called her to the city with such urgency.

Partly true, but he knew far more than he cared to say. Still, she forgave him, for what was the point of begrudging him when the coracle was back in her possession? He swore he would not betray her in such wise ever again.

In such wise, but he clearly continued to do so in others.

‘Wilt thou accept Magda’s hospitality?’ She indicated a high-backed chair by the fire.

‘Your best chair?’

‘Thou art a hesitant guest.’ She offered him a dram of the brandywine.

He accepted with puzzled thanks, explaining that he had found work that had prevented him from coming earlier. He spoke of helping the fussy crow with the poor in the minster yard, where he had heard whispers of something happening on her rock.

‘They spoke of a wonder. Your dragon breathing fire.’