Midsummer Eve

Gunnilda was sorry that Midsummer Eve happened to be the longest day of the year. The heat had been intense this past week, and even after supper, with the sun still shining, it would have been enough to make her sweat just sitting still. And sitting still was not a luxury Gunnilda Hogge often had, least of all tonight. 

As the sun finally began to set, she rounded up her “four children” – namely Bertie, Wynna, Alwy, and Iylaine – and headed for the commons. Elfleda was feeling unwell due to the heat and was at home in bed, while Egelric was already at the commons helping the men prepare the bonfires. Thus Gunnilda carried Iylaine and Alwy carried Wynna, and Bertie came bouncing alongside.

Alone among them, Gunnilda was not in a very festive mood this evening. She was tired from having been on her feet all day, she had been unable to wear her best dress after finding that the mice had made a nest of it in the chest, her hair was sticking to her damp neck – and when did Iylaine get so heavy? And after sweltering all day, she was going to spend an hour or two standing around a bonfire.

Once they reached the commons, Alwy asked if he could take Wynna to see the Ashdown girls, and Gunnilda happily let him go. Now she would only have two children to worry about.

“Don’t you get her no presents!” she yelled after him. “Alwy!” But Alwy pretended not to hear. “That man!” she muttered.

But Gunnilda brightened when Egelric found them.

“There you are!” he called. “I’ve been looking for you. I didn’t want Baby to miss her first bonfire.”

“Fire!” Iylaine cried.

“That’s right, Baby, and who made the fire?”

“Da!”

“She still don’t talk to anyone but you, Egelric,” Gunnilda said. There she went with her “she don’t” again! She always talked most like a peasant when she least wanted to.

“She will,” he laughed. “One of these days Bertie will make her so mad she’ll forget and swear at him, won’t you Bertie?”

“Damn stupid cat!” Iylaine shouted gleefully.

“That’s my girl!”

“Oh, Egelric, I can’t believe Elfleda lets you teach her such things,” Gunnilda scolded.

“Teach her? How was I supposed to know she’s been listening to me all these months?” he laughed. “Now you be good, Baby, and do everything Gunnie says, and you’ll stay far away from the fire, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Iylaine agreed, grinning.

Gunnilda watched him go, a tall silhouette against the fire, and then turned to chat with her friend Anlaf.

“Ma, can I go watch ‘em make the fire?” Bertie asked.

“Go ahead,” she said without looking around. “Don’t you get burnt and don’t you get in the way neither.”

“I won’t, Ma,” he called as he ran off.

Once the sun set, a cool breeze began to blow down from the hilltops, and the bonfire began to seem an agreeable source of warmth.

Gunnilda had meant to take Iylaine over to find Alwy and Wynna, but she was enjoying herself gossiping with her friends while the young ones danced and the children played. And Iylaine was playing quietly with a pair of toy dogs Ethelmund Ashdown had stopped by to give her, so Gunnilda didn’t mind staying where she was, occasionally turning around to toast her other side when the one grew too warm. That first flush of heat on the cold side, and of the cool air on the warm side, was too delightful.

“Ma! Ma!” Bertie was tugging at her apron.

“What is it, Bertie?” she snapped, turning to him. “What did I tell you about interrupting me when I’m talking to someone?”

“But Ma, it’s important!” he said, unabashed.

“What?”

“Ma, it’s that mean man,” he whispered. “I been watching him, he’s standing there watching you and Baby since a long time. And I tried to find Egelric but I can’t. So you gotta do something, Ma.”

Gunnilda gasped and looked around, her annoyance suddenly replaced with a feeling of dread. Where was Egelric? Dear God, where was Baby? How did she get so far away from the circle of light?

Gunnilda ran to where Baby sat in the shadows, but Everth saw her move and met her there.

“Hallo, Gunnilda,” the man said calmly.

“You get away from this baby,” Gunnilda said, her voice low with fear.

“Would be a shame if she just crawled off and got lost tonight, wouldn’t it?”

“You get away from this baby or I’ll scream. There’s a hundred people here.”

“Why would you scream, Gunnilda? I haven’t done anything.” His voice was all the more terrifying because it was so gentle.

“I know about that pig, Everth.”

Everth’s face darkened. “Then you won’t scream, Gunnilda. If I can stab a bird through the heart, break a cat’s neck, and slit a pig’s throat, what makes you think I can’t strangle a meddling woman? What makes you think I haven’t already? You’d make one squeak before I’d have your neck in my hands.”

“Now you listen. I want one thing, and that’s this baby. She killed my little girl, and she’s the reason my baby’s starving. You’re a mother, you would do the same thing in my place.”

“Get away from this baby,” Gunnilda repeated harshly, her heart pounding. “You won’t get her unless you go through me, and I’m going to fight you tooth and nail. And by the time you get through me, they’ll have seen us fighting over here and stopped you.”

“You can’t protect her forever,” he growled softly. “One of these days, one of you is going to let her out of your sight, and that will be the end of her. Would be a real shame if it happened while she was with you, wouldn’t it, Gunnilda? I guess darling Egelric wouldn’t like you so much anymore, would he?”

Iylaine, who had been watching the two adults with interest, suddenly laughed and clapped her hands. 

A strip of burning bark had lifted from the fire and, swooping and darting on the night air like a bird, finally came to rest on Everth’s straw sandal.

“Fire!” Iylaine crowed as the man began to dance and shake his foot.

The burning sandal lit the dry grass at his feet, and almost before he realized what had happened, Everth’s thin tunic had caught the flame as well.

Gunnilda scooped up Iylaine and ran towards the bonfire and the crowd. Everth followed, screaming, “She’s killing me, she’s killing me!” 

And the girl squealed “Fire!” and laughed, and laughed.