Page 19 of The Evening and the Morning
Edgar was not much troubled by religious feelings. When people discussed how the dead spent their time in heaven, or whether the devil had a tail, Edgar became impatient, believing that no one would ever know the truth of such things in this life. He liked questions that had definite answers, such as how high the mast of a ship should be.
Cwenburg stood near him and smiled. Evidently she had decided to be nice. “You should come to my house one evening,” she said.
“I’ve no money for ale.”
“You can still visit your neighbors.”
“Maybe.” Edgar did not want to be unfriendly, but he had no desire to spend an evening in Cwenburg’s company.
At the end of the service Ma determinedly followed the clergy out of the building. Edgar went with her, and Cwenburg followed. Ma accosted Degbert before he could get away. “I need that piglet you promised me,” she said.
Edgar was proud of his mother. She was determined and fearless. And she had picked her moment perfectly. Degbert would not want to be accused of reneging on a promise in front of the entire village.
“Speak to Fat Bebbe,” he said curtly and walked on.
Edgar turned to Cwenburg. “Who’s Bebbe?”
Cwenburg pointed to a fat woman squeezing herself around the tree trunk. “She supplies the minster with eggs and meat and other produce from her smallholding.”
Edgar identified the woman to Ma, who approached her. “The dean told me to speak to you about a piglet,” she said.
Bebbe was red-faced and friendly. “Oh, yes,” she said. “You’re to be given a weaned female piglet. Come with me and you can take your pick.”
Ma went with Bebbe, and the three boys followed.
“How are you getting on?” Bebbe asked kindly. “I hope that farmhouse isn’t too ruinous.”
“It’s bad, but we’re repairing it,” Ma said.
The two women were about the same age, Edgar thought. It looked as if they might get along. He hoped so: Ma needed a friend.
Bebbe had a small house on a large lot. At the back of the building was a duck pond, a henhouse, and a tethered cow with a new calf. Attached to the house was a fenced enclosure where a big sow had a litter of eight. Bebbe was well off, though probably dependent on the minster.
Ma studied the piglets intently for several minutes then pointed to a small, energetic one. “Good choice,” said Bebbe, and picked up the little animal with a swift, practiced movement. It squealed with fright. She drew a handful of leather thongs from the pouch at her belt and tied its feet together. “Who’s going to carry it?”
“I will,” said Edgar.
“Put your arm under its belly, and take care it doesn’t bite you.”
Edgar did as instructed. The piglet was filthy, of course.
Ma thanked Bebbe.
“I’ll need those thongs back as soon as convenient,” Bebbe said. All kinds of string were valuable, whether hide, sinew, or thread.
“Of course,” said Ma.
They moved away. The piglet squealed and wriggled frantically as it was taken away from its mother. Edgar closed its jaws with his hand to stop the noise. As if in retaliation, the piglet did a stinking liquid shit all down the front of his tunic.
They stopped at the tavern and begged Cwenburg to give them some scraps to feed the piglet. She brought an armful of cheeserinds, fish tails, apple cores, and other leftovers. “You stink,” she said to Edgar.
He knew that. “I’ll have to jump in the river,” he said.
They walked back to the farmhouse. Edgar put the piglet in the barn. He had already repaired the hole in the wall, so the little animal could not escape. He would put Brindle in the barn at night to guard it.
Ma heated water on the fire and threw in the scraps to make a mash. Edgar was glad they had a pig, but it was another hungry mouth. They could not eat it: they had to feed it until it was mature then breed from it. For a while it would be just another drain on their scarce resources.
“She’ll soon feed herself from the forest floor, especially when the acorns begin to fall,” Ma said. “But we have to train her to come home at night, otherwise she’ll be stolen by outlaws or eaten by wolves.”
