(Harvest Festival Hoedown, Part II.)
.:Mounted upon a gold-maned white stallion, Gwyn ap
Nudd bowed from his saddle...Allyn son of Midna
lifted his hand to Gwydion...but Aeron's attention
was held by the black-haired woman, sidesaddle upon a
chestnut mare, at Gwyn's right hand.
Clad all in red, her raven hair bound by a silver
fillet, the woman heeded Aeron not at all. But
looking at Gwydion she lifted a golden branch from
where it had rested in the crook of her left elbow,
and shook it thrice. The tiny golden bells in the
shape of apples that depended from the branch gave
out a pure clear chiming; and meeting Aeron's eyes
the woman spoke:
"Queen of Kelts," said Etain, queen of the Sidhe,
"spancelled is your man."
Aeron dragged her gaze away from the queen's face,
as beside her Gwydion suddenly stiffened, as if he
had been all at once turned to stone.:
--The Throne of Scone
--Patricia Kennealy Morrison
* * * *
Jack began to search the crowd for Emlyn. And
another.
While he did believe that it was possible she had
seen Flubber, still it seemed not all that probable.
Or so he hoped.
Best err on caution's side, however.
It was now sundown...at least for the mountain
festival goers. Jack noticed he could just make out
slashes of pink still against slate clouds in the
west, but otherwise, it was becoming dark in these
here hills...
Here and there, though, at the bonfire site and the
stage, it was bright enough, and lanterns burned
about the porch up at the house...but betwixt them
all were pockets of deepest black. Jack hoped that
Dylan was with Em or Casey, at least. And where was
Emlyn? They were both due onstage in the near
future...
Ah, good man, Aleister! Jack now beheld little flames
leaping up in the dark as Al set about lighting the
field torches.
'Al!' Jack yelled when he saw the good doctor was
close enough to hear him. 'Aleister!' And waved his
way.
Al turned about and carried his torch in greeting to
Jack.'Wondered where you were, Jack! It's nearly time
for the Evening Show!' Aleister looked to be enjoying
himself. 'Diana's here, and Sugar. I say, where is
Em? Aren't you supposed to go on soon...?'
'Yes, Al, exactly!' Jack ran a hand through his hair.
'I haven't seen her, or even Jeanne, or Shannon...
Hi! Is that her?' Jack pointed to a titian-haired
damosel attired in a rather chic crimson outfit for a
backwoods mountain festival, but Aleister was
signalling elsewhere, 'Emlyn! Over here!' He waved
his torch about, causing Jack to step back, rather.
'There you all are, at last!' Em arrived arm-in-arm
with Jeanne, Shannon trailing them, arm-in-arm with
the head's-taller chap Em had seen her dancing with
at Midsummer.
'Where's Dylan?' Em and Jack asked at once, looking
at one another, then laughed.
'He's with Diana, back at the stage.' Al said,
reminding them: ' Which is where we should be
heading! It's nearly time for Rob!' Al turned and led
on, lighting the way back stage-side.
'Yes? Al, so have they arrived? Rob Williams and...'
Jack strode swiftly to catch up to him, whilst the
others followed at their own pace.
'--And the band, yes, Jack! Everyone's here! Waiting
for me, no doubt, chief stagehand, and all!
'They just got here, though, so they're having a
wee bit of supper first, and wet their whistles you
know...' Al grinned up at him.
'Sure, sure...man, what a treat! I'd no idea that
that lil germ of an idea I had would take shape so
soon, and Rob Williams, too...' Jack shook his head,
as he walked along, looking back, he asked, 'Coming
Em?' But, there again, behind Em and Jeanne, Jack
thought he could make out a double of hers...it was
that lady attired in the red city-suit...Lady In Red,
Jack thought.
'Jack! Here you all are!' Jethro, Homer and Woody
greeted him backstage as they stood about the
Backstage Firepit where the Musicians Tables were and
Jack could now make out a line of tall Stetsons
seated thereupon; chowing down, cidering up and
refuling for the show ahead.
Everyone else commenced tuning instruments, fetching
and drinking cider, wine and jack, chewing on the odd
chicken leg and patting the odd wandering hound,
hopefully not with the same hand, and Em became
increasingly nervous as she and Jack were due on not
so long after Rob Williams. At least they didn't
follow directly upon his high and splendid heels...
'You'll be fine, Em, and you look a treat...' Woody
assured her.
T'was then Em looked down at her sommat bar-b-que-
stained dress. 'Oh! No, I don't! I forgot to change!'
She looked sticken, then, 'Oh, no! Back to the
house!' Em grabbed a torch and lit out. Dylan
followed, barking happily.
'She'll be fine...' Woody said, which is what he
always said even during the worst catastrophes.
. . . .
Meanwhile, evening had settled at last about the
little valley and festival site, and the first bright
stars came out to wink upon all beneath...
Emlyn quickly changed into her red Midwinter gown
with the jet beads, as tonight rated such finery at
least! Or so she assured herself, wishing to wear it
when she could...and grabbing up her mandolin and
calling Dylan to her, she exited the house and began
the trek back stage-side.
Oh, the site looked grand! Em took in all the little
torches dotted round about the site proper, and,
passing the bonfire, she began to get butterflies in
the stomach as she became ridiculously excited,
seeing the stage alight in all it's Dragon-Headed
splendor!
As she noted Woody stroll onto the stage, she
quickened her pace, and arrived just in time to see
him raise his arms and call the crowd to attention:
'Well alright, alright, folks! This is it! The
Evening Show is about to begin!'(shouts and whistles
let Woody know the crowd was more than ready,
still:), '...Is everybody ready, then?'
(fierce and full-throated yells of assent),
'Well, OK! Put your hands together, folks, and let's
give welcome to the stars of the First Annual Harvest
Festival Hoedown, Rob Williams and His Turlock
Troubadors!'
The crowd went hog-wild, as Homer would say, as the
line of men all nattily dressed in matching cowboy
finery and tan tall Stetsons took the stage and
taking up their instruments, Rob Williams then made
his entrance and the wild roars of appreciation and
welcome increased, as he waved his fiddle to all and
greeted folks with 'How y'all doin' tonight?' and
'Everybody happy?'
...at the same time, Emlyn was sure to note, as
well as did everyone, the banners around the back of
the stage began to rotate and the Welsh flag was
prominently displayed now directly center and behind
Rob and The Boys. Oh, aye, that's Williams, so it
'tis, she thought, smiling.
Then, without further ado, he began to tap a shiny
brown high-heeled boot and nodding, the band launched
into a high-powered, full-out rendition of 'Roving
Gambler', swiftly ignighting the gleeful frenzy of
the adoring throng.
'...Oh, I was down in 'Frisco, not many more years
than three,
I met up with a pretty lil gal who fell in love
with me!'
Rob sang, as the boys in the band then crooned in
harmony:
'Fell in love with me! Fell in love with me...'
'...She took me in her parlor, she cooled me with
her fan, and bending low to her mother's ear,said,
'I love that gamblin' man!''
'She loves the gamblin' man!
Loves that gamblin' man!'
...the boys echoed into the night...
Emlyn just stared up at Rob and the band from stage
side, utterly thrilled to her toes; unbelievable, she
thought, that Rob Williams' Band is actually here, at
Guano Acres! (If he only knew! she thought wickedly).
'How about a lil' dance, miss?' Em felt a hand on her
arm and found Jack, at last, at her side. 'Surely,
sir!' She dropped a small curtsy, as Jack bowed her
onto the 'floor', taking her hand, and they began to
circle round about with the other couples kicking up
their heels to the lively tunes...
As they segued into the next song, Jack and Em were
enjoying their dance together...it minded Em of the
last hoedown they had come to here, and Jack's first,
in Pankhurst, at least!
'I was just recalling the barn dance here, Jack...do
you remember?' Em smiled up at him as they swung
around and about.
'Of course I do! I about got my...pants kicked by the
Bush Boys...' Jack's memories were not all so
sentimental, Em realized.
'Well, yes, there was that,' she grinned. But, all
in all, this was quite a night, and she was glad they
were past all such trouble; surely the Macks, as some
referred to the MacKenzie Brothers, would be on the
alert not to allow any truck with anyone who even
knew the Bush Boys.
Seven brothers in all, they worked the gate in
rotating shifts, whilst some roamed the grounds or
held posts near the stage, acting as bouncers. And,
thus far, it had been a fairly peaceful gathering,
for all the high spirits and just plain spirits
about...but, the evening was young yet...
As Jack lifted an arm and twirled Emlyn about, she
again bethought she spied The Green Slime Of A Suit
dancing about the crowd, and then he was gone...she
looked at Jack, but bit her lip...she'd wait.
Jack wouldn't believe her until he saw Flubber for
himself, and she felt sure he would, before the night
was through. Alas.
...Just at that same time, Jack had the idea he was
seeing double: Emlyn in her red dress, shadowed by
the Lady in Red with matching scarlet locks, who was
being twirled about as well, by a gent all dressed in
green...
Jack looked at Em, then, wondering...should he admit
he may have seen them? Not only Flubber, but
maybe...well, it did look rather suspiciously like
Morgana partnering him...hard to tell in the
flickering torchlight...he didn't wish to upset
Emlyn, though, especially just before they were due
onstage.
'You...look...amazing, Em,' Jack regarded her then,
with sincere flattery. 'New dress?'
'Thank you, Jack, but no...' Emlyn smiled, then felt
a fleeting pang of regret for her truly gorgeous
Midwinter ballgown, long since shredded to bits by
the rigors of la Revolucion, south of the border...
'Well, you look like the Queen of Elfhame, indeed...'
Jack spun her close, as the music slowed to what
Woody would have called a 'belly-rubber'...
'Ah...' Em enjoyed the warm closeness of Jack as they
slowly waltzed, '...and would you be my Tru Thomas
then, and away shall I take you on my milk-white
steed to Tir-nan-Og, for forever and a day...?'
'Anytime, Lady, aye indeed, anytime you say...' Jack
answered her in Rhyme, bending close to her ear, a
true Bard, thought Em appreciatively.
Suddenly, they were brought back to themselves, by
the crowd's loud applause as they saw Rob Williams
and the Troubadors, bowing to all, as Woody strode
back upon the stage and waved as they took their
leave stage-rear with many waves to the audience...
'Rob Williams, folks and the Troubadors with the
best music this side of Turlock!' Woody applauded
with the rest, '...And they'll be taking a little
break and be back later tonight, so don't y'all go
away now! We'll have a brief intermission while
everybody has a chance to hit the jug and refill
their mug!' And Woody replaced the: 'A Brief
Intermission...' sign upon stage-front.
A few of the local musicians took the stage then,
casually jamming amongst themselves with well-known
time-tested songs 'old as the hills'...whilst
everyone milled about, feasting, drinking and
enjoying their harvest celebration in the way of folk
everywhere who till the soil and bring in the bounty;
a jubilation of plenty after a long season of heat
and toil.
Jack and Emlyn headed back around the stage where
they stopped and talked with Rob and The Boys awhile,
who graciously claimed to have recalled their jamming
with them at Woody's so long ago, although Em thought
they were surely just being polite...but it bolstered
her confidence somewhat which was sorely needed, as
they would be Up Next...
'So, Em, you remember all the words, now?' Jack
teased her as he slipped his guitar about his
shoulders and grinned at her, while Allyn just shook
his head at that.
'Of course! I have perfect retention...' Em retorted,
hoping to diosa she did... She, Jack and the
Blackpool Bards tuned up backstage and ran through a
bit of practice tunes and then, Woody tapped them for
their Entrance...
'Welcome back, folks!' He removed the Intermission
signage, and spread his arms, 'And now, to continue
with tonight's theme of moonlight, magic...and
Loooove...!' he crooned, winking, 'Here now, once
more, the Blackpool Bards, with guest stars, Jack Van
Horn and Miss Emlyn Page, folks! Let's give 'em a
hand!'
The crowd was indeed well-lubricated by now, Em
decided, taking their cheers as encouragement, as she
and Jack filed onstage hand-in-hand before the band,
and as Jack nodded to her, she stepped up to stage-
front and introduced:
'This is a little cautionary tale of the dangers of
passions unchecked! It begins in chapel, and it ends...
in murder...' Em knew she had them now, as she presented:
"Matty Groves"--
'A holiday, A holiday
And the first one of the year
Lord Darnell's wife came into the church
The gospel for to hear
And when the meeting it was done
he cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Matty Groves
Walking in the crowd
"Come home with me, little Matty Groves
Come home with me tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves
And sleep with me 'til light"
"Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home
And sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers I can tell
You are Lord Darnell's wife"
"But if I am Lord Darnell's wife
Lord Darnell's not at home
He is out in the far cornfields
Bringing the yearlings home"
And a servant who was standing by
And hearing what was said
He swore Lord Darnell he would know
Before the sun would set
And in his hurry to carry the news
He bent his breast and ran
And when he came to the broad mill stream
He took off his shoes and swam
Little Matty Groves, he lay down
And took a little sleep
When he awoke Lord Darnell
Was standing at his feet
Saying "How do you like my feather bed
And how do you like my sheets
How do you like my lady
Who lies in your arms asleep?"
"Oh well, I like your feather bed
And well, I like your sheets
But better I like your lady gay
Who lies in my arms asleep"
"Well, get up, get up", Lord Darnell cried
"Get up as quick as you can
It'll never be said in fair England
I slew a naked man"
"Oh I can't get up, I won't get up
I can't get up for my life
for you have two long beaten swords
And I not a pocket knife"
"Well it's true I have two beaten swords
They cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them
And I will have the worse"
"And you will strike the very first blow
And strike it like a man
I will strike the very next blow
And I'll kill you if I can"
So Matty struck the very first blow
And he hurt Lord Darnell sore
Lord Darnell struck the very next blow
And Matty struck no more
And then Lord Darnell he took his wife
And he sat her on his knee
Saying, "Who do like the best of us
Matty Groves or me?"
And then up spoke his own dear wife
Never heard to speak so free
"I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips
Than you and your finery"
Lord Darnell he jumped up
And loudly he did bawl
He stuck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall
"A grave, a grave", Lord Darnell cried
"To put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin...."
. . . .
WATCH!! Alison Krauss and Robert Plant:
I'm in the Mood/Mattie Groves
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cq6YqJBHHIc
The tune was gay and sprightly and quite in contrast
to the ghastly message within the lyrics Emlyn sang,
and so the crowd appeared to be in twain; those
farther from the stage did dance and twirl lightly
and much enjoyed the music, whilst those close by the
band, did listen to the words and found themselves
quite awestruck by the winding tale and it's bloody
ending of feudal justice...
Nevertheless, when it was ended, Em was surprised,
and much relieved, when great applause and hosannas
of wolf-howls proclaimed the unabashed esteem and
tribute of the entire crowd. Ah, fierce passions are
ever appreciated, however the ending, Emlyn
bethought, as Jack took her hand and all bowed in
gracious thanks before the approving throng...
(Later, she was further surprised to hear talk about
the festival grounds, near-arguments, rather; she'd
been at a loss to guess the subject of such debate
til she at last realized, folk were talking of
'Matty Groves':
"He'd offered the boyo his best sword, and gave him
first thrust!"
"Boyo, I dunno...he seemed to be man enough for the
job at hand, eh?"
"Well, maybe....and maybe that's the problem, see?
The old man didn't have what it takes, see...no
mention of kids, you notice!'
or: "He was just off fetching the cows home, how
could she, his own wife, and him a lord, rich and
all, too! Said his swords cost him deep in his
purse!"
and then: "Ah, there you see, now! A man with a
purse! These foppish English lords, you know...no
wonder the poor woman took up with a well-made lad,
then..."
and: "Oh, what do men know of love? He was no doubt a
ruffian and never had time for his wife, and here was
dear Matty, a fine strappin' boy, no doubt, and eager
for her arms...ah, I weep for them both..."
. . . .
But now Allyn came stepping forward:
'And now, to show our appreciation, a wee song just
for the Captain, there, Sir Homer!--and for Jethro,
the Jaguar of the High Seas--!'
(Jethro sneered most fiendishly and gave a hearty
'Arrrrr!')
'--May he never lack for wind beneath his sails, or,
indeed, for a Handsome Cabin Boy!'
...During which introduction, Jeanne and Shannon had
slipped onstage and were now lined up upon either
side of Emlyn, and as Allyn nodded, the band played
the opening chords to 'The Handsome Cabin Boy',
whilst Shannon, Emlyn and Jeanne added three-part-
harmonies:
'Tis of a handsome female as you may understand,
Her mind being bent in rambling unto some foreign
land,
She dressed herself in sailors clothes
Or so it does appear,
And hired on with our captain,
to serve him for a year...'
WATCH AND HEAR!! The Handsome Cabin Boy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsLV3KJ1fbw
. . . .
Jethro was best pleased with all this of course, and
joined them onstage with his mandolin and Homer, with
guitar, heaved himself up there as well, and they had
quite a reunion then, and all indeed seemed to be
going quite well with the Harvest Hoedown.
But timing, in life, in music and on stage, is
everything, and so once more was it time for the Big
Time, as Rob and The Boys were well-rested again, and
knew that the crowd was eagerly a-waiting their
return...
To Emlyn's delight, they trotted out 'The Wraggle-
Taggle Gypsies':
'There were three gypsies
A-comin' to my door,
And downstairs ran my lady, O!
One sang high and one sang low,
And the other sang of bonny bonny Biscay O!
Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather O!
The ragged, tagged, rags about our door
And she's gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O!'
WATCH AND HEAR!! Wraggle Taggle Gypsy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyP407UnUWw
. . . .
'C'mon, Em -- you owe me a dance, now!' Jethro
appeared at Em's side and swung her out into the
crowd, whilst Jack danced with Shannon and Homer
bowed to a curtsying Jeanne...and all joined in the
dance...
They engaged in their own wee square dance, swinging
about and changing partners, til Em became quite
dizzy...suddenly she found herself partnered with no
one she knew, in fact, as she focused, she saw with
no small alarm, that her partner was indeed, the
Green Goblin of Flubber!
Em gave a wee squeak of panic, as she let go of
Pudge and saw him go reeling off into the crowd, and
Em backed off, searching about her for Jack and the
others...
Imagine her astonishment, then, to find Jack at last,
and twirling about, arm in arm with...Morgana!
Indeed, a very dangerously smiling Morgana...in a
red satin gown, and looking like the cat who ate all
the cream whilst the mistress was out...
'Oh, what makes you leave your house and land
What makes you leave your money O
What makes you leave your new wedded lord,
To go with the wraggle taggle gypsies O?'
...And the Band played on...
Em rallied and advanced upon the witch with the red
nails that clung to Jack's shoulders, and oh, yes,
she did catch that woman's eye, and saw her smile
widen, just as she spun about, and off into the
crowd....
'Jack!' Emlyn called, and caught at his sleeve,
'Jack!' But Jack seemed to know her not.
Suddenly, there came that bell-jar effect again; and
Em saw all about them turning as in slow motion...
Oh no, Emlyn thought, not again! It was the Midwinter
Ball, once more, she feared, and she would be
wrenched from one world, off into another...
As the dancers glided upon the beat of a dampened
drummer in cadence to an infernal piper not of this
realm, Emlyn gazed madly about her, then back to Jack
who stood as though riveted; a statue.
'Oh, Jack, come back!' Em pleaded, hoping he would
break free of whatever trance was upon him...
'Emlyn Seren ab Owen...' she heard a voice low, slow
and oddly timbred with a kind of pulse; and saw then
Morgana's scarlet visage come a-gliding before her,
nodding to Jack, 'Spancelled is your man.'
Emlyn merely stared at her, then to Jack, and back to
the Red Queen's face, slowly shaking her head, in
pleading incomprehension.
'Spancelled is your man,' Morgana repeated, and
gazed upon Jack as a cat would a mouse. She even
licked her scarlet lips...
Not knowing why or wherefore came the words to Emlyn,
she suddenly found herself answering,
'Unfettered they that live the longest!'
Em caught a glimpse of Morgana's frustrated frown
before seeing her wink out of sight, and then the
music returned, loud and immediate, the dancers swung
round in time with it once more, and Jack...
Jack stood blinking and frowning, himself again,
but much bewildered.
'Em? What just happened? I thought....'
'Jack, come. Come with me, please!' Em still felt an
unseen threat looming large about them, and dragged
Jack away from the stage, the crowd, the music, and
over to the oak tree where the bar-b-que still glowed
somewhat, down to coals now.
Emlyn and Jack sat upon the picnic bench and Em found
herself shaking with nerves.
'What's going on, Em?' He put an arm about her,
'You look like you've seen a ghost!'
Emlyn looked up at Jack, 'I have,' she said.
'Perhaps two.'
. . . .
Chapter 24 - La Belle Dame sans Merci
..:Faie became Modern English fay "a fairy"; the word is, however, rarely used, although it is well known as part of the name of the legendary sorceress Morgan le Fay of Arthurian legend, sometimes related to the Morrigu.
The leanan Sidhe are also connected to the Morrigan, for it was believed that she was a Blood thirsty Goddess. However it is said that her daughters were "serpant-children" and were "of a vampyric nature and ageless":..
. . . .
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done...
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song...
. . . .
..:In Northumberland folklore, in some districts, special weight is attached to the 'first-foot' (of the New Year), being that of a person with a high-arched instep, a foot that 'water runs under.' A flat-footed person would bring great ill-luck for the coming year:..
--Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx
--John Rhys
* * * *
Strangely, no one again saw either Morgana or Flubber after the Equinox. Once Emlyn had freed Jack from Morgana's 'spell', they had seemingly disappeared back to when or wherever they had come.
Jack had no memory of what had happened after his freezing spell. He didn't doubt that Emlyn had seen them both, but somehow, their identities remained be-fogged in his mind...he'd beheld a man in a green suit, and a woman in red; that had been the only experience he recalled with any certainty.
Once again, Em was on her own...
. . . .
And Time, as usual, sped linearly forward.
--Mostly...
Things had been so busy during the equinox and festival that Em had hardly had time to really speak with either Jeanne or Shannon, who had been busy themselves with all the assorted fair doings. It had been a success, and wonderful fun to have played and sang and danced with all, but, she still felt frustrated at having had no real 'connection'; only finding bedevilment unlooked-for.
She was anxious to get to the center of the labyrinth and Morgana and Flubber were new boulders in her path, she felt. Rather large, unpredictable ones.
Not finding Jack to be of much help...he listened to her, and was considerate, but didn't think there was anything they could do about Flubber even if 'they' were 'back' now...and being separated from the rest of her Triad for the present, Emlyn floundered back at Nob Hill House, restless, and feeling isolated in her quandry.
Jack had said that Yeats had now left, for good, seemingly. He'd been given no further information.
Em supposed Jack had his own problems to deal with.
However, she would not have minded chatting with Yeats about a few things. The reserved gentleman was not usually forthcoming but, when the time was right, he was a good listener, and usually knew the whys and wherefores behind Em's Head puzzles. Emlyn would miss his counsel.
She had at least, gotten Shannon and Jeanne to agree to meet up with her during Samhain. Although Em was anxious to return to the hills and the Faery Pools, they had deemed it too cold to stay outdoors all night, and too far away for easy access by all.
Em had invited them instead to the Leek House for celebration, and with her at Nob Hill House, they would stay afterwards.
Emlyn rather wished to confirm all this with Uncle Daryl, and she found herself hoping for his return...and not just for his consent, but she missed having someone she could really speak with about things that mattered to her.
The realization of this made her feel rather uncomfortable for some days.
. . . .
'Ohhh, owww...!' ...Speaking of uncomfortable, Emlyn now sat in the kitchen applying alcohol to her tattered ankle, having just been inflicted with a bike bite whilst navigating City hills en route home from the library. Yes, only a Pankhurst girl would believe that she could take her bicycle about on the Streets of San Francisco, without undue problem...
It had been a nice jaunt until an unforeseen quick stop resulted in regret...her ankle ripped and bruised. No doubt swelling by morning...
'And just in time for Samhain, too!' She reminded herself, exasperated.
'That's not for weeks yet...'
--Daryl! Of course...Oh, he would have to show up now!
'Let us see...' kneeling before Emlyn, he turned her ankle sideways.
'OW!! You are not helping!' she let him know.
He regarded her steadily. 'Oh, but I am. I just ascertained that it isn't broken...'
'I KNEW that!'
Em bit her lip. Instead of biting him.
'Do be careful, Daryl!'
He sighed shortly. 'I shall. Now, please?' He looked up at her. She nodded. 'Hot water, first thing...' He rose and put kettle on. 'Whatever posessed you to bring your bike here?'
'It's handy! Much more so than horses, you must agree. And cheap.' Em rotated her ankle. Getting stiff...
Daryl poured the hot water into a pan and, kneeling, set it before Emlyn. He took a fresh cloth and soaked it in the hot water, adding alcohol.
'Not too hot!' Em beseeched.
Daryl looked up at her through long-suffering lids.
'I know from ankles and ankle bites. Alright?' Slightly shaking his head, he wrung out the cloth and gently wrapped it about Em's ankle.
'...Ah!--Aaahhhh....' she relaxed into it. 'That feels good.'
'It's alright now, put your whole foot in the dish...' he guided her in for a water landing. Removed the cloth and resoaked it, adding more alcohol.
Daryl looked up at her, his grey-green gaze enquiring
still: What did she need of him? She blushed and looked away.
'Big girls don't cry!' Daryl said helpfully, sitting back cross-legged on the kitchen rug. 'Just let that soak awhile and don't fuss.'
Em sighed and sat back, relaxing somewhat. She mustn't alienate Uncle Daryl now. She needed to act The Good Girl.
'I'm glad you're here, Diego.'
He looked slightly taken aback, with a half-grin, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. 'Indeed? Do you require such nursing often?' He leaned forward, removed the cloth; gentle avuncular Daryl...
'Not at all! This is a first; here in the City, at least!' Em could state with some pride, considering these hills...and the traffic! It took some adjustment for a small town girl.
Daryl was drying her ankle. 'You...have lovely arches...' he rambled, then set her foot down.
(Other-than-brotherly Daryl; now 'arch', himself?) 'Purely an artistic observation.' He busied himself with bandages, cutting gauze.
'I've just returned from the Equinox Festival,' Em informed him, hoping to change the subject away from ankles, as he wound the bandage about her. 'The amphitheatre was a great success. Jack should be proud.' Em thought she should perhaps ease into things.
'Jack. Yes...' Daryl tied her bandage. 'How is Jack?'
He looked up at Emlyn, serious now, his eyes gone a deeper green.
Em stared into their depths...he had a triple ringed iris she saw...silver-grey to sage-green to amber about the pupil, how odd, like a starburst...
'I...ah, Jack...' Em sighed and looked away.
Daryl stood. 'You'll be fine.' He attemped a half-smile. 'Ah, perhaps, I should go now, I have business at the shop...' Em had noticed the Cup missing; presumably it was ensconced back in the Cabinet of Curiousities.
'No! Daryl, don't go!' Em hopped up, forgetting her ankle, in her haste to detain him. 'Ah!' she reached out, grasping his arm to steady herself.
Daryl sighed, gripping Em by both arms, 'Emlyn, please do sit!' He maneuvered her back to her seat.
'I am not a terrier!' Em sat. 'Ah...' She lifted her ankle up upon the other stool.
'Fine. I shall stay. For a moment.' Daryl eyed her darkly. Em returned his stare. They seemed to both feel an intense exasperation with one another, while, at the same time, they also seemed to share a certain enjoyment of their 'duels' as well.
Emlyn wanted to talk. She had questions and she knew Daryl had, if not answers, at least some clues. She didn't wish to frighten him off. He could always pop out as quickly as he had just popped in. There did, however, seem to be a certain...undercurrent to this evening's chance meeting that Emlyn did not have time or inclination to pursue just yet. Business first.
Daryl was pouring the rest of the hot water into the teapot. 'Willow bark tea. You will drink it, for inflammation.' He took out cups, 'I could do with some, myself.'
'Diego, are you alright?' Em was on the alert.
He turned, half-smiling. 'I'm fine.' He looked quickly away. Hm. Probably wasn't, Em thought. You aren't the only mind-reader here, she broadcasted.
Daryl half-turned to her, raising an eyebrow. 'I'm here aren't I? That's what matters...' Em realized he may have heard her 'calling' him.
Emlyn noted then the dark circles about his eyes and haggard look. He hadn't been sleeping or feeding, obviously. 'Daryl, don't...don't go away, just to run off. I mean...you can't run away, really. And, I want to help!' She regarded him soberly.
Em was recalling when last she'd seen him here: exhausted after thrashing about with nightmares; hair disheveled... and bare of tanned, hard-muscled and scarred torso...she'd taken note of those scars and worried about from whence they had come...she was remembering him then, head hanging, tired and harried by night terrors, his bedclothes flung about, and his dark satin sheets...
'Oh, how do you like my feather bed?
And how do you like my sheets?'
Unbidden, the words to 'Mattie Groves' came to her head.
And Daryl had simply disappeared, thereafter...
Daryl wouldn't look at her, just turned and poured their tea. 'Here, lean on my arm, and we'll go into the parlor, for now.'
Off they hobbled then, and Daryl deposited Em upon the sofa, legs up-- 'Keep your ankle raised and don't let it swell!' --whilst he set their teas upon the table before them and took the armchair opposite.
Emlyn sipped the tea and tested her ankle's rotation.
'I saw Morgana and Flubber.'
Daryl choked. 'You, WHAT!!??'
'Just as I said: I saw them at the Harvest Fair! At Jethro's! Morgana put a spell on Jack, some sort of...freezing spell,' Em looked off into the distance, reliving it. 'It was awful. Somehow, I managed to free him...'
Daryl sat forward, himself frozen, looking as if he'd just heard the worst news that couldn't be possible. 'No. No.' He shook his head slowly.
'Yes, Daryl! It was she! In a red dress! And Flubber in that awful green plaid like a toad with bad taste!' Em finished her tea, making a face.
Daryl just sat frowning before him. Finally he leaned his head back against the chair seat, closing his eyes. At last he said, 'Tell me. Everything.'
'Well,' Em sighed, 'I think it's no small thing that those two suddenly turn up as soon as Mr. Yeats has left, seemingly, for good!'
'He...what?' Dary half-lifted his head from the chair and half-opened his eyes. He frowned at her. 'Gone? How do you mean?'
'It's so. Jack said he had 'dissolved the Order' whatever that was, and had taken leave of them all, for parts unknown!' Em sighed. 'And then, Flubber and Morgana show up at the festival! And, then, Morgana, she...'
Em trailed off...not even wanting to recall the power the woman had. Power over Jack.
. . . .
Jack and Al had taken Boreson and the cart to Pankhurst, and back to the hardware store. Jack had decided, whether Daryl knew it or not, that they were now going to remain in Pankhurst, and allow Daryl to take care of the estate back east. Now that they were free agents, with the Order finished and Yeats absconded who-knew-where, he was beginning to feel more free himself. He was going to make himself a home here in Northern California, whether Emlyn joined him or not.
Also, the success of the amphitheatre had inspired him into envisioning changes about their property which had been long put off.
By mid-afternoon, they'd most of their errands finished and were about ready to head back home...
'I just need to check in at the bank and post office, Al. Shall we meet back here, say in half an hour?'
It was agreed and, whistling, Jack took off down Main Street. As he neared the corner, he thought he heard singing...
'O well I like your feather bed
And well I like your sheets
But better I like your lady gay
Who lies in my arms asleep...'
Jack recognized 'Mattie Groves', and turned the corner just in time to see the flash of a red skirt enter into the post office. Emlyn? he wondered...
As Jack entered through the front doors, however, he found himself the only customer there. No back door, where could she have gone? He heard feminine laughter outside and noticed a fashionably veiled black hat atop a neat red chignon pass by the window outside...
Once more, he dashed out and ran round the corner, only to find: nada. No one about but farmers-come-to-town, housewives and businessmen; the usual assortment of Pankhursters.
You're imagining things, he told himself... Unless...he wondered if it had been Morgana. Had she and Flubber followed him here from the festival? And what could this portend?
Best get on with business, Jack, and quit chasing chimeras. He decided he would tell Aleister, however, and to stay on the alert. Who knows what new tricks were up Flubber's slippery sleeves...
. . . .
Daryl was holding his head in one hand, and held up the other.
'Say no more...I can see it all now...' he sighed.'Perhaps I will have a brandy...' he stood and uncorked the decanter, pouring a small dram.
He walked to the window and adjusted aside the curtain.
'Getting toward sundown already...the days are fleeing more quickly now, and night is gaining on us...
"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls."'
He paused and took a drink.
Daryl waxing philosophic again. 'Is that yours, Diego?'
He smiled and turned to Em. 'No. It's a quote from a 20th Century iconoclast, a court jester, wiser than the rulers who did try to silence him; by the name of George Carlin...' He stood beside the mantle and leaned an arm over it, staring out the windows, quiet now.
Em shifted a pillow under her wounded limb. 'I told Jack about it all, and he did warn Aleister, but...I'm not sure he believed me. He didn't recall much after he awoke from the spell.
'He said there was nothing we can do. I suppose it's so... But it is somewhat worrying all the same.'
'Morgana. Yes.' Daryl drank off his glass. He sat again, and sighed. 'I may have to remain in town awhile now. This...situation, rather bears watching.'
'Oh, Diego! That would be fine!' Em enthused, before she could mitigate her glee. 'I have so much to speak with you about! I'm glad we shall have some time to catch up somewhat.'
He glanced up, blanking his features. 'I shan't be here ALL the time! In fact, I am heading off to the shop soon, and I believe I'll have dinner at Yvonna's after...' he narrowed his gaze upon Em.
'YOU shall remain here and stay off that ankle! Or there'll be no dancing for you at Samhain!'
Daryl stood, 'I...also have duties south of the border, still. But, I shall stay here, as much as I can.' He frowned down at her. 'For now.'
He headed for the back door. 'I'll just make sure Manuel is about. You're not to stay here alone!'
Emlyn wasn't fooled. Daryl and Yvonna, so...
perhaps not tonight...but still--
Uncle Daryl was back home.
. . . .
Daryl sat sprawled on the second floor of the Shoppe; eyeing the Cup before him.
It was teasing him with it's promise of buried secrets...of which, he, Emlyn and Yeats had access to.
--Once.
Now what? Yeats gone. John and Morgana here. It was all wrong. Especially now...with this..!
Daryl leaned an arm on the table, his long fingers rubbing his chin in thought. How the firelight leapt about the Cup's polished surface; it seemed more alive than most people he knew...
He could probably engage Emlyn in further experimentation, but who would make up the third?
--Bloody Yeats!
Always poking his nose in when least wanted, and now, when Daryl actually needed the man!...He groaned and ran a hand over his forehead...just when they were so close!
Off he runs! After, what...30 years of status quo?
Well, with Morgana sniffing around, he had to remain in town awhile. John didn't bother him so much, but she...Daryl would sooner trust a starving shark scenting fresh blood.
Which would bring her to Emlyn, he knew. And Jack, as well, from what Em had told him of events at the festival...and the Orpheus play, as well. She had a long memory then, Morgana...and a long arm...
Emlyn's trusting innocence would be as much protection as a cocktail umbrella in a hurricane, against that Medusa.... 'A Freezing Spell' Em had said. Used on Jack.
Hm. What was her game...?
He wasn't going to leave anything to chance, especially where Jack was concerned, and it sounded as though Morgana had set her pointy hat for him. Yess...maybe just to draw me out, Daryl mused. Fine, I'll offer myself up, if I could be sure of stopping her with that.
Going to have to try...
He'd see what he could do about keeping Jack and Aleister at the Massachusetts house for awhile, until he could reach a successful conclusion to the miserable matter of Morgana.
Maybe they had returned, after the equinox festival, yes...and with Yeats gone...damn! They may be sitting ducks there in Pankhurst now. Perhaps he should get everyone back east and out of harm's way as soon as possible.
A quick supper with Yvonna though...that should be alright. He had planned to stay the night there, after...and, he most definitely did so desire, still. He'd found himself somewhat discomfited from finding his ward...wounded and bearing news of Morgana.
To see Em, the sagacious suffragette, hobbling about brave and bloody and all on her own, knowing Morgana loose and up to who knew what devilment, Daryl was beset by a torrent of mixed emotions like a bagful of badgers...
...He seemed to be feeling an avuncular protectiveness
toward Em, coupled with anger at Morgana's treading roughshod on his territory and making free with his nephew, --the witch!
At the same time, he was flushed from memories of the warmth of Emlyn's muscular little leg and delicate ankle...the kid really did have amazingly aristocratic feet...Daryl sighed. Dam her.
Hence, the need to get the hell out of his house and run to Yvonna where it was warm, and amazing, and aristocratic, even; his dear White Russian--oh, how she teased him about his 'crazy socialist peasant ways'--it excited her, his revolutionary side...all that, yes, and, it was safe. They were both adult. And his lovely royalist was not some young ward of his; practically his nephew's fiancee', AND living in the same house as he. Oy.
This, would not be easy. Perhaps he could stay with Yvonna, at least just this one night...that would probably be best. Tomorrow, he'd have time to sort all this new intelligence.
Ah, no; Daryl was not going back to Emlyn tonight, she of the delicate ankles who was so excited to 'share'...
Oy, indeed.
. . . .
