1
Smelling the Sunshine
Tallent, Wales, 899 AD
“Hallelujah,” Cadfael exclaimed, dropping to his knees. The care-worn farmer rocked fervently back and
forth. He repeated enthusiastically, “Hallelujah!”
Looking down at the older man next to her, Scai was ready to drop to her knees as well. She suddenly felt
very weak and tired, almost out of breath. Her fingers were tingling.
It must have been all that praying. It was the only explanation for why she felt as if she had just run the
length of the town and back, uphill both ways.
But then Scai stopped moving and listened.
Something wasn’t right. The room was absolutely silent.
She turned and followed the farmer’s eyes to look out of the window – and, in that moment, lost her breath
again. The sun was shining! There was bright sunlight when just a minute ago there had been driving rain!
She ran to the window to be absolutely certain, but her knees buckled under her and she dropped into
Father Llewellyn’s chair at the sight of a sky so blue. The brilliant sun was pouring down its light and warmth
onto the village green, just as she had imagined it in her mind not a minute ago.
As warm humidity seeped over the window sill and into the room, she took a deep breath and closed her
eyes against the brightness of the morning, just smelling the sunshine. A laugh burst out of her and she held
her arms out, wishing she could embrace the beauty of the suddenly fine weather.
After so long it was finally, finally clear! Two weeks of rain! Farms had flooded. Crops were nearly ruined.
The river was running wild, overflowing its banks so much that even the mill, which relied on the steady flow of
water to turn the wheel and grind the grain, couldn’t run properly. Stocks of flour were running low. Tempers
were running high.
And now, it was clear. Blue sky! Sunshine!
She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Letting out a whoop of excitement, she jumped up and turned back to
join Cadfael in his calls of thanks. But then Father Llewellyn’s eyes caught her – and she froze in place.
Suddenly she didn't feel like celebrating any more. Like a cold breeze, Father’s serious expression blew
the happiness right out of her.
He was staring, not past her out into the sunny morning, but straight at her. All of her joy crumbled into a
dry uneasiness. It was an odd light she saw in Father’s eyes. The chill of it brought goose bumps to her arms.
She had never seen anything like it before in her guardian’s face.
The five other men in the room were also looking at her, although none stared at her in quite the same the
way as Father. She shrank uncomfortably under his gaze. Had she had done something wrong?
“What is it, Father?” she asked, moving away from the window.
Father’s eyes shifted for the briefest moment to the other men, but then softened into his regular repose.
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a true smile no matter how hard he tried to make it so. “Nothing. It is nothing,
Scai. I’m just so happy that God has finally answered our prayers.”
She could see out of the corner of her eye that the men had begun looking at her a little oddly too, but no
one said anything.
Father stole another quick glance at the men. Then, giving her arm a pat, he said quietly, “Why don’t you
go and deliver that basket of food to Ellen now? You’ll have a lovely walk in the sunshine.”
She wanted to question Father more. There was something he wasn’t saying. But he had turned back to
talk to the men, and she got the feeling that now wasn’t the time to probe further. Father would never
reprimand her in front of others, but she didn’t know what she had done wrong.
She pushed aside her fears for the time being, determined to be as bright and happy as the brilliant
sunshine warranted. Already the heaviness in the air was dissipating as she walked across the village green.
The sun felt brilliant, its warmth beginning to soak through the drenched earth.
Margaret stepped out of her shop just ahead of Scai, her face lifted to the sun. The older woman had such
an expression of joy as she took in a deep breath of sunshine that Scai couldn’t help but laugh and join in with
her happiness. But as she did so, Margaret caught sight of her. The woman paused for only a moment, her
face losing all of its happiness, before she turned and went back into her shop.
Scai, too, stopped at the woman’s abrupt departure. She must have remembered something, Scai told
herself, but a chill breeze slipped past her as she walked by Margaret’s shop.
Taking a step into the bakery just next door, she put on her brightest smile. “Good morning, Nye, isn’t it
glor…”
“Yes, glorious, Scai. What are ye up to today? Not getting your nose into anyone else’s business now,
are ye?” the middle-aged man asked, narrowing his little eyes at her basket.
Scai raised it and pulled back the cloth so that he could see inside. “I’m just bringing some food to Ellen
to help her—“
“And ye want a bread to go in it, I suppose? Don’t have many today – with this rain…”
“I would be very grateful. Ellen—“
“Yes, yes. All right. For Ellen, poor thing.” He reached past his bulging stomach to hand her a loaf of
bread from the nearly empty basket at his side. “Be off with ye, now, and stay out of trouble!”
Scai paused, hurt at the man’s brusque tone. But the warmth of the sun was still on her back as she stood
in the shallow shop, so she smiled and gave the baker a small curtsey before continuing on her way.
The sky was a touch duller as she walked on toward Ellen’s house at the very edge of town. Still, the day
was brightened by the shouts from the children, finally released by the sunshine from their rainy prison.
As she walked on, her attention was caught by the sound of men’s voices raised in anger. Lengthening
her stride up the hill, she found Old John, the craggy-faced wheelwright, and the farmer Dafydd standing nose
to nose just outside the wheelwright’s shed. Dafydd clutched a wheel in his thin, strong hand, grasping and
shaking two new spokes. “You call this sturdy? This wheel’s got to take the weight of the wagon, the grain and
put up with…”
“The wheel is sound!” Old John curled his hands up into fists, ready for them to make his point for him if
necessary.
Smelling the Sunshine
Tallent, Wales, 899 AD
“Hallelujah,” Cadfael exclaimed, dropping to his knees. The care-worn farmer rocked fervently back and
forth. He repeated enthusiastically, “Hallelujah!”
Looking down at the older man next to her, Scai was ready to drop to her knees as well. She suddenly felt
very weak and tired, almost out of breath. Her fingers were tingling.
It must have been all that praying. It was the only explanation for why she felt as if she had just run the
length of the town and back, uphill both ways.
But then Scai stopped moving and listened.
Something wasn’t right. The room was absolutely silent.
She turned and followed the farmer’s eyes to look out of the window – and, in that moment, lost her breath
again. The sun was shining! There was bright sunlight when just a minute ago there had been driving rain!
She ran to the window to be absolutely certain, but her knees buckled under her and she dropped into
Father Llewellyn’s chair at the sight of a sky so blue. The brilliant sun was pouring down its light and warmth
onto the village green, just as she had imagined it in her mind not a minute ago.
As warm humidity seeped over the window sill and into the room, she took a deep breath and closed her
eyes against the brightness of the morning, just smelling the sunshine. A laugh burst out of her and she held
her arms out, wishing she could embrace the beauty of the suddenly fine weather.
After so long it was finally, finally clear! Two weeks of rain! Farms had flooded. Crops were nearly ruined.
The river was running wild, overflowing its banks so much that even the mill, which relied on the steady flow of
water to turn the wheel and grind the grain, couldn’t run properly. Stocks of flour were running low. Tempers
were running high.
And now, it was clear. Blue sky! Sunshine!
She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Letting out a whoop of excitement, she jumped up and turned back to
join Cadfael in his calls of thanks. But then Father Llewellyn’s eyes caught her – and she froze in place.
Suddenly she didn't feel like celebrating any more. Like a cold breeze, Father’s serious expression blew
the happiness right out of her.
He was staring, not past her out into the sunny morning, but straight at her. All of her joy crumbled into a
dry uneasiness. It was an odd light she saw in Father’s eyes. The chill of it brought goose bumps to her arms.
She had never seen anything like it before in her guardian’s face.
The five other men in the room were also looking at her, although none stared at her in quite the same the
way as Father. She shrank uncomfortably under his gaze. Had she had done something wrong?
“What is it, Father?” she asked, moving away from the window.
Father’s eyes shifted for the briefest moment to the other men, but then softened into his regular repose.
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a true smile no matter how hard he tried to make it so. “Nothing. It is nothing,
Scai. I’m just so happy that God has finally answered our prayers.”
She could see out of the corner of her eye that the men had begun looking at her a little oddly too, but no
one said anything.
Father stole another quick glance at the men. Then, giving her arm a pat, he said quietly, “Why don’t you
go and deliver that basket of food to Ellen now? You’ll have a lovely walk in the sunshine.”
She wanted to question Father more. There was something he wasn’t saying. But he had turned back to
talk to the men, and she got the feeling that now wasn’t the time to probe further. Father would never
reprimand her in front of others, but she didn’t know what she had done wrong.
She pushed aside her fears for the time being, determined to be as bright and happy as the brilliant
sunshine warranted. Already the heaviness in the air was dissipating as she walked across the village green.
The sun felt brilliant, its warmth beginning to soak through the drenched earth.
Margaret stepped out of her shop just ahead of Scai, her face lifted to the sun. The older woman had such
an expression of joy as she took in a deep breath of sunshine that Scai couldn’t help but laugh and join in with
her happiness. But as she did so, Margaret caught sight of her. The woman paused for only a moment, her
face losing all of its happiness, before she turned and went back into her shop.
Scai, too, stopped at the woman’s abrupt departure. She must have remembered something, Scai told
herself, but a chill breeze slipped past her as she walked by Margaret’s shop.
Taking a step into the bakery just next door, she put on her brightest smile. “Good morning, Nye, isn’t it
glor…”
“Yes, glorious, Scai. What are ye up to today? Not getting your nose into anyone else’s business now,
are ye?” the middle-aged man asked, narrowing his little eyes at her basket.
Scai raised it and pulled back the cloth so that he could see inside. “I’m just bringing some food to Ellen
to help her—“
“And ye want a bread to go in it, I suppose? Don’t have many today – with this rain…”
“I would be very grateful. Ellen—“
“Yes, yes. All right. For Ellen, poor thing.” He reached past his bulging stomach to hand her a loaf of
bread from the nearly empty basket at his side. “Be off with ye, now, and stay out of trouble!”
Scai paused, hurt at the man’s brusque tone. But the warmth of the sun was still on her back as she stood
in the shallow shop, so she smiled and gave the baker a small curtsey before continuing on her way.
The sky was a touch duller as she walked on toward Ellen’s house at the very edge of town. Still, the day
was brightened by the shouts from the children, finally released by the sunshine from their rainy prison.
As she walked on, her attention was caught by the sound of men’s voices raised in anger. Lengthening
her stride up the hill, she found Old John, the craggy-faced wheelwright, and the farmer Dafydd standing nose
to nose just outside the wheelwright’s shed. Dafydd clutched a wheel in his thin, strong hand, grasping and
shaking two new spokes. “You call this sturdy? This wheel’s got to take the weight of the wagon, the grain and
put up with…”
“The wheel is sound!” Old John curled his hands up into fists, ready for them to make his point for him if
necessary.
Merilyn Wolfe Air: Merlin's Chalice Page One