by
Janice Jackson
"Hellbore! Hellbore Reid, get into this house right now!!!" Martha Reid hollered out the back door of their crofter's cottage outside the walls of Northumbria, located in the far northern reaches of Volante. The ice covered mountains of the Ice Dragons towered above the small village of leather and metal workers.
The girl being called was currently cleaning some leather scraps that the tanner had given her to practice on. At twelve years old, Hellbore towered above most of her peers, only her older brothers and parents were taller, so the lonely child found solace in her work with the leather and metals found in the craft-halls of Northumbria.
"Drat!! Why do I have to interrupt my work?" The girl snapped, then she looked around lest someone had over heard her remarks, "I'm coming, Mother." Hellbore carefully wrapped the leather pieces up in oilskin and hid them behind her father's workbench. She had already had pieces stolen from her and claimed by some of the other people working for to be Journeymen of the various craft halls. She was still a novice in rank, even though her father and brothers were Journeymen, she had no ranking to be able to accuse the others of theft. She looked forward to the day when she became a Journeyman and no one would ever be able to claim her work as their own again. She was already working on a brand mark that would be recognizable as her distinctive design. Her father, Jon Reid was teaching her the handling of leather, including hunting down her own beasts, skinning, stretching and cutting her own pieces. Her older brother Tom worked in the metal ores and was teaching her how to smelt and pour her own designs. Another brother, Marc worked in saddle and boot designs and was teaching her how to work in that medium. When all was said and done, Hellbore should be able to claim Journeyman status in all three fields; at least that was her personal plan. It was a feat that few had ever managed, only three men had managed such a ranking, one was her father, Jon Reid. Even though Jon Reid had little use for females besides being wives for future sons, he mostly liked his little red headed spitfire daughter. She had little fear of anything in their harsh world; the girl even had an uncanny ability to communicate with most wild animals. If asked why he liked this female, in a society where females had little status, he might privately admit that Hellbore feared little and could outwork most men even at her young age. Then again she already could nearly out fight her brothers in steel on steel battles, out ride most of the men in the village and her hunting skills were a wonder to behold.
"Hellbore has been playing with the wild beasts again, Rose." Jon Reid told his wife after work one day. "That little girl is becoming more animal than female. How are we ever to get her married off? She talks to those beasts and has been seen by some of the elders, talking to other animals too. Why can't she be more ladylike and gentle as the other girls of the village?" He barked at his wife testily and plopped down in his wooden chair, causing the wood to groan under the added weight. He had a difficult day with some of the buyers from the big cities in the south of Volante, or he would not have felt so testy. If truth be known he was satisfied with his daughter's training. It was as if he had three sons, not two and a female.
Rose Reid felt her face redden with anger at her husband and his hinting that she was not doing her duty by preparing Hellbore for a future marriage. Jon, himself encouraged the child to work in the leather crafts and the boys taught the girl to fight with swords and work in their own fields of expertise, but she could not get Hellbore to want to learn to make cloth or weave. Hellbore did learn to cook though and could turn out a fair meal for the family. But how could she explain to her husband that their daughter had no interest in marrying anyone. She, herself, had once been in touch with the animals of the forest for friends, but her parents had beaten that ability out of her and she refused to punish Hellbore that way. The child frustrated her with her lack of desire to learn the feminine graces but secretly she understood her daughter's desires for her forest friends. So, ever the honorable wife she stood her own ground in the matter:
"Do not criticize me about our daughter, Jon Reid! You and the boys always have her working in the craft halls. She disappears into the buildings or into the fields and forests working on some project that will please you men.
"Hellbore has no interest in the learning of feminine things. Cooking, sewing of bedding and clothing, housework. No! These things bore her. You and the boys are to blame for her wildness. She wears pants like a boy, she makes her own boots and hunts by herself and even brings home meat for the table. Now what do you suggest that I do with her? "Rose Reid stormed at her husband.
Jon Reid stared at his fiery wife for a while then suddenly he laughed and swung his wife around"She is too much like you in temperament, Rose! She sets her mind to something she desires and then she does it." Jon kissed his frustrated wife on the lips and dipped her in a sensual caress.
"Jon, the children might come in, so put me back onto my feet!" Rose tried to make her voice angry, but she was very pleased that her husband still desired her that way, and she was blushing to her toes.
"Let them come in, Rose. They should know where they came from." Jon teased. Then he kissed her again, this time in a slow and sensuous way until he felt her collapse with desire in his powerful arms. Jon Reid knew that other men took whores to their beds because they had tired of their wives, but he still loved his fiery wife and loved to show it to her.
"Oh, Jon, I love you so very much!" Rose kissed her husband once more and then went to fetch the dinner. No, she would never tell her husband of her own once wild desires to join Hellbore in the forest. He thought of her as a lady and so she would remain just for the love of this man.
Their three children stumbled into the kitchen, two of them laughing and pushing each other gently the third, Hellbore, her face blazing red and her green eyes flashing in anger, followed in behind her two brothers.
"One of these days I am going to knock you two to the ground and stamp on your tongues. How dare you call me a silly girl? I can hunt as well as either of you and my leather work is not silly fancy work like some stupid female!" Hellbore ranted in her anger.
"So, now do you feel better, Spit-fire?" Jon Reid chuckled. He was proud of the way she could hold her own against her strong brothers. Though he would never admit it to the other men. The only male who cared not what others may think of Hellbore was the Silversmith's son, Vlad.
"You always take their side, Father! It's not fair!" Hellbore stamped her foot once again.
"Hellbore, that is enough! You are not a heathen, and as much as you wish it were not so, the gods have determined that you are a female and will behave so in this house." Martha Reid quietly said as she led Hellbore off into the privacy of the kitchen. She gave Hellbore a tight hug and then handed her a platter of cooked poultry to carry into the dining room.
Hellbore, still in shock at her mother's reaction, quietly carried the platter into the dining room and then returned to get another. She was so occupied with her own thoughts she failed to notice her mother's bemused look as the final platters were removed to the dining room.
Martha had complete control of her emotions by the time she seated herself next to her husband and began eating. The room soon filled with the sounds of eating and debates about the new styles the public was demanding for the coming markets. Everything was once again normal.
Martha and Hellbore finished the cleaning off of the evening meal and stacking the dishes in the cupboards while the men enjoyed a smoke of their pipes and a dram of homemade whiskey. When the females rejoined the men the talk turned to the newer silver and gold medallions the merchants wanted on their trade goods.
"How about the Rhino hides we have gathered for the newer boot and saddle designs?" Hellbore suggested.
"The hides would stand up to the harshest wear to be certain, but the hides dull the edges of the knife blades." Tom and Marc chimed in.
"Then we must find a way to keep the blades sharpened while we work on the hides." Hellbore disagreed with her brothers on that point.
"Your brothers have a good point, Hellbore.' Jon Reid spoke softly while stroked his chin in thought. "Maybe there might be a way." Her father was again in his own world, designing a new sharpener for the hide knives. "A new way indeed."
*
The years had passed quickly for Hellbore Reid. She had distinguished herself in the three fields her father and brothers worked in, but she had added one more to her own honors, poisonous plant and medicines. These she used for hunting and the healing of the horses and livestock, occasionally she even healed humans. The clan healers did not look upon her intervention with any favor, though they did not complain when she brought them fresh herbs and seeds for their crafts. Hellbore liked it that way.
In the craft halls, she had managed to obtain honors in the tanning of different leather, in the metal fields, she had honors in the silver and gold areas and even jewels added to leather works and jewelry then in the other leather work she had distinguished herself in saddle and boot making, clothing making. Her designs were often requested by those who lived in the bustling cities.
These pleased her but her newest work in poisonous plants and plant medicines pleased her more, now that she had saved her father's life with one of her creations. Jon Reid had suffered a heart attack and had nearly dies when she had given him a dose of the seeds from the Foxglove plant. Hellbore had often seen the elderly wolves taking a bite out of the leaves or flowers when their chest pains grew harsh so she had secretly given some to her own father after the priests had said the last rites over him. She figured that the medics had said he was going to die and she had nothing to lose. So she had gathered a handful of the tiny black seeds and with her mother's motor and stone grinder, mashed the seeds into a paste and added it to his tea. The honey she had added had muffled the bitter taste and by morning Jon Reid had recovered from his heart attack.
Hellbore never told anyone of what she had done, but began studying the ancient texts for more information on the subject of plants and medicines. Plants can kill but also heal when needed, she read. So she began gathering seeds, barks and leaves from plants. She soon added berries and then began hanging around the wise men and women who often used some of the wild plants for medicines. They had never used the foxglove for the heart, and only knew of its killing abilities from people who had tried them as food.
Hellbore learned of how some of the plants were deadly but some good to eat also if carefully handled. Like the chokecherry, its leaves, seed pits, stems and bark were deadly, but the pulp created a delightful juice to relieve chest colds and also jams and syrups for use on breads. The elderberry plant was also so dangerous and yet delightful. Hellbore grew taller than her father during the passing years, only her two brothers and a family friend were taller. Hellbore was taller than all the females in her clan and this made her even more of an outsider.
"Mother, I have brought you a brace of coneys, I even skinned them for you." Hellbore hollered as she entered the mud walled home she shared with her family.
Hellbore placed the fresh coneys on a wooden preparation table and hefting the eight furs higher onto her hip she made for the high walls that sheltered the craft halls. These she would turn into a pair of gloves for the winter and some boot liners to keep her feet warm in the coming frigid months. Four dark brown furs were designated for the elbow length gloves and six pale ones were readied for boot liners and a liner for head gear. Hellbore scraped and stretched the furs and before she left the hall, she made her mark on each of the furs. Her mark was a tiny flying dragon with its wings touching at the tips. She had her friend, Vlad make her a tiny silver stamp for her leathers. So far there had been no need to show any one but Vlad, her brothers and father her personal mark Hellbore had become the only female to make Journeyman status at the mere age of eighteen.
"Well, look who's drying furs today!" Came a snarl from behind her workbench. One of the outlanders was looking over her furs with a jealous eye.
"Limax, I hadn't heard that you had come to the halls. Have you brought your furs to be treated for the winter gear?" Hellbore was careful to keep her voice calm and soft as she spoke to the shaggy man. She did not like him at all, he smelled strange. Like spoiled meat.
Limax, eldest brother of the outlander clans, looked at the red headed female with a snarl of contempt. Females belonged in a home cooking, cleaning and breeding, not working with such beautiful furs. He picked one of the fresh tanned furs up in his hands and blew across the fur. The hairs gently ruffled and fell back into place. These coney furs were in excellent condition and, Limax considered them far too grand for this upstart female. He and many others thought Jon Reid spoiled his female child making hr think she was an equal of men.
Hellbore packed away her furs and after Limax had exited the building she locked the doors with a draw rod. As she left the areas on her way home she failed to notice a dark shadow coming from behind the sheds. Limax waited until the red headed female had gone beyond the village gates on her way home. When she was gone he entered the sheds again. This time he stuffed Hellebore's furs into his pouch, failing to notice a small dark tattoo on the hides. Limax was more intent on getting away from the village and creating an alibi for his time.
Three days later when Limax returned to the village halls to sell his furs, the first furs he offered were Hellebore Reid's he had stolen. Hellebore flew into a rage when she saw her furs in Limax's pouch.
"You thief!!" Hellebore raged as she grabbed at the furs.
"How dare you, you upstart female!" Limax snarled. "How dare you say that a man has stolen from you."?
"I dare because I am a journeyman, that's how I dare! My mark is on each of my eight furs. You were in the sheds when I packed them away! You could barely keep from drooling all over them, Limax!" Hellebore wanted to cut the man's lying tongue out and feed it to the village dogs.
"Hellebore, you have made a serious accusation against this man. How do you know he stole your property?" A village elder asked when he had been called to intervene in this matter of theft. Everyone had always worked on an honor system in the trades. There had been few accusations of theft among those who traded with or sold furs or ores to the guilds.
"I shall show you my daughter's claim to these furs." Jon Reid stood up from the makeshift court bench." She has had this mark made for her by Vlad Marius, of the Silversmith clan." Jon Reid pulled back the top furs of one of the coney furs and there for all to see was a tiny dragon with its wings touching at the top of its body.
A loud gasp went up from the gathered traders and crafters. Then as one, they turned to stare in horror at Limax.
"You fools!"Limax screamed at the staring men. "How dare you take a female's word over mine?" Limax tried to gather the stolen furs along with his own more raggedly ones. Hellebore stopped him with a small knife she called a snee. The knife barely missed cutting off his hand but he only got a scar on the back of his right hand.
"You will regret that, you red-haired bitch!" Limax screamed at her.
***
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