be a bard before he is a priest, for music is one of the keys to the laws of the universe.'
--Mists of Avalon
WATCH AND LISTEN:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUltGp-UeqM
Chapter 5 - Homecoming
The day was heating up and smelled of green, warming to gold, as Em and Casey headed ever upwards into the foothills. The big, sturdy grey slowed abit, bending his head low to pull them up and over the winding hillsides.
As Em fanned herself with her hat, she hoped that Jethro and Homer would be home...after her debacle at Crowley House, she no longer felt her usual optimistic cockiness would see her through towards her goals. Perhaps a different, more thorough approach. Moderation in all things! Right.
At last, though, they rounded over the rise and not a moment too soon for the day was indeed growing hot, and drove down the lane to the little valley ranch where her friends resided. Not waiting for Casey to assist, Em leapt from the wagon and looked about. Signs of life at last--
she heard a hue and cry and bellow from Homer's hounds
out in the far pasture, and they ran as a pack to greet them.
'Hey, ole Bizness! How are you, old dog?' Em bent to pat the aged dog's head as he snuffled and sniffed at her, creaky tail a-wag. The other hounds wagged a welcome, having sniffed familiar scents from Casey and Co. 'Where's your masters, eh?' Em enquired.
'I bet they're out in the far field workin' on the amphitheatre,' Casey informed her, hitching his horse by the water trough.
'Amphitheatre! Indeed?' This was news to Em.
Casey grinned as they fell in step together, the houndsapack gamboling about them. 'Oh, yeah. They, along with Jack of course, have been working on building a stage and roof, in the little hollow yonder--'
he indicated the far side of the field where, shading her eyes, Em could make out what indeed looked like a wooden frame. 'Sorta Jack's idea, really...he'd gotten them all fired-up about turning their barn dances into a sort of music festival, out here in the hills...I come out and help 'em once and awhile myself.'
'That's brilliant, Casey! It sounds like fun.' Em wondered why Jack hadn't mentioned this.
As they neared, they found Homer holding a tall ladder and staring up at Jethro who was hammering madly upon a 2x4 frame around the edges of what would be the stage. As Bizness 'rowlf'd!' at them, Homer peered around and then his brows shot up and he tilted his hat brim back.
'Waaaaall, now would you looky here! If it ain't Miz Emmeline Page back from La Revolucion!
Viva Villa, muchacha!' Homer grinned at her.
Jethro ceased hammering and gazed down at them. 'Well, now Em, aren't you a sight for sore eyes! What brings you way out here to see your dear old friends at loooong last, eh?'
He began climbing down the ladder. As he reached the ground, Em climbed up on to the makeshift stage and hugged them both, no small feat, getting an arm only half-way around Homer's mighty girth.
'Ohhh, I missed you both so!' Em kissed them both on the cheek. 'I have been wanting to come out for, o weeks now...'
'Uh-huh. Miss-Nob-Hill,' Jethro winked at Homer, 'Well, here you are at last, anyway...so what'd'ya think?' he waved an arm out toward the skeleton of the stage and roof.
'I think it's a grand idea and about time, too! Folks will love it! Why, if you get some name bands here, you might even charge admission!'
Jethro and Homer looked at one another. 'Way ahead of you, Em. Woody even mentioned it to Rob Williams! He's all for comin' out here to play, soon's we get it goin'!'
Em stared about her, smiling, hands on hips...it could happen! 'This is a natural amphitheatre, the way the ground slopes, here, then up behind the stage, with the tall pines behind us! I can't wait to see it, boys!' Williams, Em thought: yet another fellow Welshman!
Jethro wiped his brow and hands on his kerchief, stuffing it in a back pocket. 'Yep. Had to wait 'til the rains were done...alas, all too soon this year! Might get a thundershower here yet though...but, been a dry winter. Bad for farmers down in the valley. Have a seat, Em!' He and Homer and Casey all seated themselves along the steps as Em followed suit and Homer took out his pipe and pouch.
'Yeaah, so! We'll get the frame up, for stage and roof,'
Homer pointed, 'don't think we'll want wall--oh, later, maybe; the trees will act as a natural acoustic barrier and bounce the sound out front, see...' Homer packed his pipe. 'Get the roof up pronto, in case o'rain, and then lay the stage boards. Won't take long.'
Jethro took a slug of water and passed the jar. 'Yeah, we can hang a Jolly Roger behind the stage or somethin'...'
he grinned. 'The actual building doesn't take long. What was hard work was sawin' and planin' the logs,' he took the water jar back from Em, eyeing her closely, 'Jack did the lion's share of work on that, didn't he, Homer?'
'That he did!' Homer drew on his old Meershaum. 'Well, he and I did, mostly. Couldn't'a done it without him.'
'Jack's a good man,' Jethro's gaze bore down on Emmeline.
Em looked up, returned his gaze. 'That he is, Jethro.'
'Well, I have to be headin' back on home!' Casey stood and
saluted them. 'I shall return, and help out again soon;
you'll need help sandin' that floor, I reckon...'
Em thanked Casey effusively, causing the redhead's face to match his hair, and slipped him another payment, patting his hand. Touching his straw hat, he jogged on back to his wagon.
Jethro and Homer just sat with Em between them, smiling and staring at her, saying not a word.
'What?!' she finally had to prod them.
Homer looked at Jethro and Jethro looked back at him. 'Ah, now. Where to begin...?' Homer knocked the ash from his pipe and began chuckling to himself. 'You do know you about drove that poor boy insane, Miss Nob Hill...do you not?' he enquired.
Em folded her arms before her and leaned back, looking from one to the other. 'I do not.'
The men both rolled their eyes and Jethro stood, grabbing his hammer. 'What brings you here, down from Nob Hill, then, Em?' he asked wryly, poking about his toolbox, inspecting nails.
Where to begin, indeed? 'Jethro, I...' Em sighed. She didn't want to 'get into it' with the boys just now. 'Actually, I'm here to pick up Pancho. I'm heading up into the hills, and I need a horse to take me from the station, ah...up aways...'
'Hm. 'Up aways', eh?' Homer narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes disappearing into his round cheeks. 'Y'ever been 'Up Aways' there, Jethro?'
'No, Homer, can't say that I have...'
Em was feeling rather at a loss. 'Honestly, guys...give me half a chance, here, can't you? When did I become the enemy? Is it Boys Against Girls now? Our school days are long gone, Jethro...'
'Heh, heh!' Homer laughed, 'patting' Em on the back and causing her to reel forward, catching herself before she fell from the steps. 'Awww, s'good to see you, Em. You can take a lil' joshin' from your old pals, now can't you?' he looked up at Jethro, to see how he was taking being relegated to the rank of 'pal'. Homer knew Em and Jethro once were quite close.
'Hmmm.' Em knew she was outnumbered, and an uninvited guest. 'Well, it's always good to see you fellows. I missed you, you know,' she gazed up at Jethro.
'Don't have to be such a stranger, Em,' he told her, gazing down; sleeves rolled up over his tan, hard muscled arms, his thick black forelock falling over an eye.
Still a damn handsome man, Em thought; heavier, more muscular than lanky Jack...but 'we' were long ago, now, she recalled, abit sadly.
'Hadn't planned on it. Just happened.' She bit her lower lip.
'Wallll, then, this calls for killin' a chicken, what d'you think, there, J-Ro?' Homer peeked one eye up at Jethro. 'You'll stay for dinner a'course?' he regarded Em.
'Naturally. She'll stay the night as well,' Jethro added.
'I, ah, oh, gosh, I couldn't impose...'Em began.
'Don't go gettin' all Nob-Hill on your old pals, now. You'll earn your keep. Grab that hammer over there, Em...'
and Homer heaved his bulk upwards and blew his nose on his bandana mightily. 'I'm the foreman here, and you're hereby recruited! Now! Swing that hammer, lil' gal, or I'll make you kill that chicken!'
'As if I'd never killed a chicken before...' Em groused, patting her hammer on her palm.
Jethro and Homer just looked at her, silent.
'Well, I could, if I had to!'
'Hammer! Here--' and Homer instructed her where to start pounding nails.
. . . .
A fine soft evening came early up in the hills; Em missed the sunset as the orb dropped behind the tall trees before turning from gold to red. She had put in a couple hours' worth of honest labor and managed to work up quite an appetite.
She hadn't had to finalize the fowl, but she did pluck and cut it up while Homer fired up his bar-b-que and Jethro washed up some potatoes and carrots and did the cooking.
'May I keep the feathers?' Em asked, 'they come in handy for so many things...' she ran her hands through the softness of the white feathers, stained with bloody tips.
'Of course.' Jethro sat beside her on the porch, as they watched Homer squint through the smoke at his fire pit, poking it gingerly, as he turned the bird bits wedged between spits. ('Cook quicker that way.' he said, when insructing her to cut the carcass.) 'So. Em. What's up in the hills then?--'aways'?'
Em grinned, looking down, embarrased suddenly. She'd been long away from her old friends. Took some getting used to.
She cleared her throat, sipping some iced tea. 'Well, I actually am interested in finding out more about my fellow Welsh, and, I heard that many of those who came to work the mines, settled up in the hills, near the old mining towns and claims.'
Jethro took out a cigarette paper and pouch and began rolling. 'Is that so? Well, Em...that's interesting. Didn't know you had a hankering after your roots now. Sure, loads of Welsh about. And Cornishmen. Came for the gold, as most did up there.' He licked his cigaro and lighted it, drawing deeply. 'Was the death of the old ways for the Indians, though. Damn shame, that.' He exhaled and passed it to Em.
She drew upon it lightly and handed it back. 'Yes, it was a shame. The gold rush was a bloody point in our state's history, altogether... I'm glad we were born after it peaked. Rough times, then.'
'Not easy times, now, Em.' He let his smoke go out and it dangled from his lip. He looked at her. 'You put in some good work today, gal! Welsh, eh? You're aptly named, then...'
She looked at him, 'How so?'
'I picked up abit of Welsh, here and there...'Emlyn' is Welsh for 'work', Em! You didn't know that?'
She didn't. 'No! Truly? Dam!' Em sighed. 'Well, it has been the main theme of my life thus far...' She gazed out into the growing dusk, noting the first stars appear. 'I rather like it, though. 'Emlyn'. I'll take it!'
Jethro chortled. 'Really? Well, it is either a man's or woman's name. Many Welsh names are. 'Gwen' is actually a masculine name. Means 'fair' or 'shining'.'
'Where did you learn all this, Jethro?' Em stared at her old friend as though she'd just met him.
Homer took a seat beside them on the porch, the floorboards creaking beneath him. 'Old Meredith, waaay up yonder,' he poked the end of his pipe stem up over the ridge. 'He spells it "Meredydd", though. Aside from old Lev, he was our main competitor for spirit sales. He stuck to selling ye ole firewater, though. No, he didn't sell his 'jack. Brewed a fine applejack, tho'. Smooth. Never would let on how he made it so fine...'
Em was amazed by her old friends. 'I'd no idea, Homer! Seems you both know quite abit about Welsh folk hereabouts.'
'Marion, his brother, too,' Jethro picked up the thread again.'another Keltic name either man's or woman's; 'Meirion' they spell it; usually variants of old Latin,' He relit his smoke. 'Yep, ole Meredith made some fine fiddles and mandolins, he did. Before arthritis got him down.'
'Is he still about?' Em was hopeful.
'Ah, no, he's gone now.' He squinted at Em, 'You be careful up in the hills, Em. Folks like ole Meredith don't take too kindly to strangers.'
'You'll be more likely to meet 'Ole Betsy' up there than anything else, I reckon!' Homer grinned, and grunted as he hoisted himself up and returned to the fire.
Em knew from Ole Betsy and her double-barreled gaze.
Homer clapped his hands, rubbing them together. 'Let's eat!'
. . . .
Night.
Evening skies in the mountains were something Emlyn never tired of. The stars shone brightly as Gwenhwyvar's diadem and the sky seemed close enough to hang your hat on the crescent moon...Diana's footstool, Em recalled.
She, Jethro and Homer were back out on the porch after their dinner which Em declared, 'couldn't be beat'; adding grins to their pickin' whilst Em took hold of Jethro's mandolin and he and Homer played guitars and they all sang some of the old songs they knew.
Jethro had surprised her with a few renditions of old Keltic tunes, which she knew, were the basis for most American songs...some words switched about, perhaps completely different verses, but in sooth, the music here, like the people, all came from the Old Country unless you were of Native American make. Jethro lifted his voice and sang to the stars:
Dark is the evening, silent the hour
Oh who is that minstrel by yonder lone tower?
Whose heart is so tenderly touching with skill?
Oh who could it be but young Ned of the hill?
Who sings, "Lady love, will you come with me now?
Come and live out with me under the bough
I'll pillow your head where the light fairies tread
If you will but wed with young Ned of the hill"
Young Ned of the hill has no castle, no hall
No bowman or spearman to come at his call
But one little archer of exquisite skill
Has shot a bright shaft for young Ned of the hill
It is hard to escape from this young lady's bower
For high is the castle and guarded the tower
But the mind knows the way where the heart holds the will
And Eileen is gone with young Ned of the hill
The last chords died away and they paused in their impromtu jam session, listening to the crickets and frogs take up where the humans left off. 'That's beautiful, Jethro. I'd not heard that one before! You're a right treasure trove, you are!'
'Ah, Em...I try to tell all the girls so...but, they've
yet to believe me, I fear,' he grinned, as he tuned up.
'Oh, now, he's doin' alright, he is,' Homer assured them, pouring more jack around for all. 'Though, haven't seen Sugar about lately...she had disappeared for awhile we thought, but Jack was keepin' her busy--'
'Homer! Don't you have to feed those hounds of yours? Or somethin'!' Jethro scowled at the bungling fat man with the big mouth.
'Awright, don't get yer nighty in a knot, I'm outa here...heh, heh...' Homer shambled off behind the house.
'...make a mess and leave it for me to take care of...' Jethro mumbled to himself.
So. That was the way of it, was it? Em thought. It pained her, but...'Jethro, I've no hold on Jack.' She sighed.
'He's a free agent. And, so am I.'
The bastard, she thought.
Jethro looked at her, his eyes glimmering in the lantern light. 'Glad to hear it, Em.' He began to strum a few chords. He wasn't about to step in that steaming pile Homer had planted. Been there, done that.
'Would you consider a trip up in the hills with me, Jethro? No long trail rides, not like some that we've been on for days on end...just, I don't know...I miss it here. I need to get out of the city...' Em gazed out over the pastureland, noting Pancho's familiar white patches in the gloaming.
'I dunno, Em... We have to get the roof on before any rain gets to it.' He looked up. 'Clear enough now. Make hay while the sun shines, you know...' Jethro knew they were no longer teenagers out for a lark. Emlyn wanted to head off into the hills with him? Did she think he was made of
metal like one of those automatons at the fair? Alas, he was only flesh and blood...need he remind her he was a free agent also? Em regarded him as a brother, but his feelings for her still were far from fraternal.
'What're you two jawin' about now?' Homer had returned.
He picked up his fruit jar full of jack and pointed it at Em,'YOU be careful, missy, headin' up in 'them thar hills'!' He drank half the jar in one go. 'And don't be forgetting that if it's family relations you plan on inquiring after, folk therebouts are a mite 'techy on that particular subject!' He belched. 'Scuse me.'
'Homer...'Jethro shot him a warning glance.
'Heh, heh, heh...'Homer drank off the remainder. 'Yeaaa...the family that lays together stays together...er, was it prays together, I ferget...heh, heh...'
'Enough, old man...!' Jethro put his guitar down. Once Homer got started on the jack there was no telling where it would lead him. He looked up frowning at Homer, 'you about ready for bed yet?'
'Yeah, yeah I'll leave you two be. Well, g'nite, Em! Good to have you back! Don't forget about us when you're back up in your Mansion On the Hill...say, that'd make a good song, wouldn't it?' He gazed off into the gloom, weaving abit as he reached around for his guitar.
'Goodnight, Homer. It was a wonderful dinner, thank you.'
Em was used to Homer's 'moods'. He had a heart of gold she knew, and a hollow leg as well. He'd forget the whole thing come morning.
'You're most welcome, ma'am!' Homer tipped a non-existent hat her way. 'I'm off! Heh, heh...to think we nearly got ole Em to choke the chicken, heh, heh...'
'Jeezusssss....' Jethro put a hand to his forehead, shaking it slowly. He turned, watched as Homer wove his way inside. Sighing he began to play 'I Live Not Where I Love'...
'Don't fash yourself, Jethro,' Em leaned toward him. 'I'm used to ol' Homer's ways, you know...' she took up the tune and picked out some bits of it.
'Uf,' Jethro just shook his head again. Sighing: 'Homer has a point, though he has a heckuva way of making it!' he regarded Em, 'family ties, in the mountains, see...'
'Jethro, I'm not wet behind the ears, you know!'
Jethro blushed and looked down, thinking to himself he was most certain he surely did not know where Em was wet... Don't go there, boy. He swallowed, kept playing.
'...You may not know this, but I was well, stepping out with an earl once, whose family was from the Scottish Highlands...speaking of hill country.'
'Truly, Em?'
'Oh, aye!' Em smiled. 'He had a medical discharge from military service, due to an odd family trait of sweating blood.'
Jethro just looked at her. 'Right. What's the punch line, Em?'
'No, it's true! His shirts were pink 'neath the arms! He claimed that it was due to highland inbreeding. Royals, you know.' She rolled her eyes.
Jethro thought about that. He'd heard of the Russian royal families with hemophilia. 'Most unfortunate, Em.' Not only royal, but a royal pain as well, no doubt, Jethro bethought himself, with an odd satisfaction. 'What became of him?'
'Oh, I don't know...we drifted apart...' Em yawned.
Jethro stood, taking the mandolin from her, and held his hand out. 'Up you go, Emlyn! It's bedtime for us all. We've had a long day, eh?' This Jed from the Hills had heard enough.
'Indeed,' she took his hand and stood. 'I'll think better in the morning.'
'Tomorrow is another day! And, there's work to be done, Emlyn!' Jethro swatted Em's retreating rear with the mandolin's back as they entered the house. Take that, Miss Nob Hill, he thought. It felt good.
'You always were a devil, you!' Em swatted him one back and scooted down the hall before him, hiding behind the door to her room. 'Goodnight Jethro!'
'Goodnight, Em.'
'Shaddup and goodnight already!...And git to sleep!' growled Homer from down the hall.
It was good to be back, thought Em.
. . . .
A Mansion on the Hillrecorded by Hank Williams written by Fred Rose and Hank Williams C G7 C Tonight down here in the valley C7 F C I'm lonesome and oh how I feel C7 F As I sit here alone in my cabin C G7 C I can see your mansion on the hill G7 C Do you recall when we parted C7 F C The story to me you revealed C7 F You said you could live without love dear C G7 C In your loveless mansion on the hill G7 C I've waited all through the years love C7 F C To give you a heart true and real C7 F Cause I know you're living in sorrow C G7 C In your loveless mansion on the hill G7 C The light shines bright from your window C7 F C The trees stand so silent and still C7 F I know you're alone with your pride dear C G7 C In your loveless mansion on the hill
WATCH HANK LIVE!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BrCk_YckBg
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