Chapter 28 - Halloween Awaits the Midnight Hour

Chapter 28 - Halloween Awaits the Midnight Hour

I forbid you Maidens all          
That wear gold in your hair        
  To travel to Cartehaugh            
For young Tam Lin is there


None that go by Cartehaugh
But they leave him a pledge
Either their mantles of green
Or else their maidenhead


Janet tied her kirtle green
A bit above her knee
And she's gone to Cartehaugh
As fast as go can she


But tonight is Hallowe'en
 and the faery folk do ride
Those that would their true love win
 at Miles Cross they must bide

--Tam Lin

                          . . . . .


..:It is not uncommon to hear about someone who has spent an hour dancing inside a Faerie mushroom ring discovering that a year has passed outside; or about a captive held for a week inside a Faerie mound discovering that seven years has passed when he is released; or a hero living with a Faerie maiden on a Faerie island for six months discovering that four hundred years have passed on Earth. And there is no single standard for time conversion; time in Faerieland is as mercurial as the Faeries themselves:..

                           * * * *

Emlyn sat alone in the alcove after Jeanne and Bridget had been called away. She didn't mind having a small space in which to gather her thoughts for a time. As she watched the band play and the dancers circling the floor, she recalled having sat here with Jack, back on that Midwinter's Night when the Timequake had taken her from him during the ball...and another one due soon, Daryl had warned. She wondered what Jack was up to now...



She noted a shadow approach from around the pillar. Daryl stood before her. 'May I join you?




                    

'Please.' Em smiled up at him as he took the seat beside her. She noticed then, Yvonna gaily tripping about the floor with a tall fair gentleman dressed as a hussar.
   'Yvonna is enjoying herself,' she noted.



Daryl smiled. 'Yvonna always makes certain of that. I believe she will be thus occupied for a little while...' he sighed and leaned back against the wall, crossing his knees.  'I'm glad of the chance to rest a bit.' He took out his fob watch and frowned at it. 'Midnight is but an hour away.'




'Are you still expecting--'



'Hush! Let us not speak of it...for now. Let us just say that, for Cinderella, midnight doth have it's import. Time is of the essence.' He gazed at Em searchingly.
  'Myth and legend, again. Why is it, do you suppose, Emlyn, that people are so captivated by such tales? Especially those of the disposessed hero who seeks to reclaim his, or her, rightful place and position, as a lost prince or princess, usually, hm?'




'I'm not sure...the Fall, perhaps? This 'genetic memory' you spoke of, if it's real, would be the same for us all then.' Em pondered. 'We remember, maybe, or our genes do, a former exhalted state, and we feel somehow, lost, away from it.'





Daryl regarded her. 'Indeed, Em. Just so. But do you know what the Fall was, really?'
   She shook her head. 'Perhaps not. I know different versions of what we're told it was, but what it truly signified, I don't really know.'





'For your consideration, then: physical entrapment upon a third-dimensional world, basically, is all that it is. And I do mean 'entrapment', as in; we were tricked into it, and it is a hard trap to attempt escape from. In my time, it is referred to as 'The Matrix' from a popular, ah, tale of the 21st century.'
Daryl took two ciders from a servitor with a passing tray, handing one to Em.




'But, it's all only 'a tale, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing' as everyone prefers to think of it. The Cathars and the Gnostics knew differently however: Gnosis: 'to know'-- knowledge, Em! That is the true power, the only power that can save us from the trap. The truth shall set you free.'




'And what IS truth, O Druid, wise?' Em took a sip of cider, hiding a small smile.




'I'll tell you!' Daryl let her jibe slide off his steel-plated ducksback, no stopping him... '"Know Thyself".'





'That's it?' Em raised a brow, sure there was more. There always was, with Uncle Daryl.





Daryl sighed. 'I can't tell you, Em. No one can. THAT is what you must believe, above all else: to discover your own truth and to know it, in your bones.' He nodded. 'Not to let another tell you what is so. Especially priests or the government...' he frowned as he gazed about, as if expecting an errant bishop or city councilman skulking like a poltroon....




'C'mon Daryl,' she nudged him, most un-Emlynlike, and grinned.
'How about a wee hint?'





He looked at her, eyebrows skyward. 'Alright. If you insist: keep on your toes, Em. Beware temptation. That, was our failing and our Fall from grace. Ah, the so-called 'Garden of Earthly Delights'! Don't believe it!' He gazed into his cider.
  'Such temptations are how we lost our 'wings'...'




'...Apple cider?' Em's lips still wore the ghost of a smile.





Daryl nodded, looking absurdly grave as his longish hair fell into his eyes. 'That. And...' He looked up and gazed at Yvonna as she laughed, spinning in the handsome gent's arms, as they turned about the room. '...and, other things.'
  He looked at Em then. 'I think you know what I mean. You've experienced some of the other world. Would you trade time spent there, with the sundry supposed 'charms' of this?' Em shook her head, quiet now.
  'I thought not. Because you know the difference. And, you are AWARE of a world beyond this...this, this modern world's cheap imitation of life! Life underground, no air no water; not from any natural state. A cruel mockery.' Daryl glanced again at his watch. 'But, most, are not thus aware...'




'Genetics, again, Daryl?' Em mused, trying to recall all her pieces of mind-puzzles.




'Yes, in part. Not specific genetics, Em; it's wrong to concentrate on that aspect. Your questions about your family in particular, that is why I've spoken of it much.
  'But, everyone, we all, upon this planet, are the disposessed. We ALL are the lost princes and princesses, we all seek the missing Keys to the Kingdom. Most give up and buy the accepted view of Science and Logic: The World Is Only As You See It. But, unless one believes differently, that is all one will ever see: more of the same dull, flat, mundane world...our thoughts help create our reality, our belief system. Saying one will only believe it when one sees it, only guarantees the continued failure of ever seeing, or believing.
  'Or, one could throw themselves upon the mercy of priests or 'salvation' by proxy. Amazing, that; I've always thought!' He shook his head as if in wonder.




'This is the only difference in genetics between those like ourselves, and the rest; except for some, like the Buddha, who could see beyond...Fulcanelli, Flamel...we are aided by our genetics, to know and discover as truth, the knowledge available to all. We have that built-in compass; the ability to see what is real, and what isn't. Many do not. That is why, with great knowledge, comes great responsibility; to help others, our brothers and sisters still lost, wandering, suffering, in the seemingly endless cycle of birth and rebirth.'





'Why is it so, Diego? For what purpose are we kept here?'




'One might ask, for whose purpose, Em...' Daryl leaned forward now, arms upon knees. 'You know of other realms. In some of these other realms, are beings one might say, who, although they abhor our reality, knowing it for the trap that it is,  they feed upon it. Upon us. We are food to them. Alas, Em, that is all this planet is: a huge farm.'




Emlyn didn't quite know what to make of this. 'Indeed?'




May as well just come right out with it, Daryl thought. He looked at Em sideways.
  'Yes. They feed upon our emotions, strong emotions.
They are especially enamoured of wars.' He frowned. 'Wars they love. Such intense emotions! Pain, despair, violence. And those puppets among us, engendering the wars for the puppet-masters, believe they're necessary. Even right. And these people have children! Who will in their turn, be sent off to war...
 'Convince people that the material world is the only reality and they will become maddened with fear and greed, believing that non-existence is the only 'reality' outside of scrabbling in the rat-race for more rat-room: for more bodies, making more garbage, and less air, less water. Who cares? Not the puppet-masters. They're far above all that. Who cares for the conditions of the cattle to be slaughtered for meat?'




Well, that would explain why there are always  so many...never-ending wars, Emlyn thought wearily.




'Yes. They sip up our fears, greed, anxieties, passions, pain, like the vampires that they are. That's why we are here. And they are there. They know it is a trap; third-dimensional reality. One is stuck. One is vulnerable. And, one is eager, perforce, to end that less-than-desirable state! And so folk look to others, outside themselves for comfort and escape from pain! Which leads to only more of the same...
 'And, so goes the merry-go-round... It isn't an easy thing, to stand on one's own, and to seek beyond the comfort zone for hard-won truths. Few even try.
 'Beware addiction to counterfeit pleasures, Em. Pleasure and true satisfaction are different things. You have experienced true ecstacy, Emlyn. Do not trade that knowledge for a shiny fairy trinket, glittering today, gone to dust tomorrow.'



And between today and tomorrow, would be Tonight, thought Em, her mind racing with Daryl's disclosures. Somehow, though, her thoughts kept returning to Jack.




Suddenly, Daryl leaned toward her and reached out, taking her moonstone necklace in hand. It was the only piece of jewelry she wore tonight.
..
   He looked into her eyes then. 'Jack isn't coming. Is he?'





Emlyn returned his stare, although it wasn't easy looking into that stern grey gaze.
  'No...I don't believe that he is...'




Dary turned his nose up then, letting the moonstone drop back round her neck. 'I see.'




Emlyn felt quite flustered. 'He, Jack, sent a letter to the house, ah, asking me if I'd be coming there, well, to Jethro's tonight. I suppose they were having a barn dance...' she trailed off. She felt rather as though she was caught making flimsy excuses.



'Yes?' Was Daryl's prompt. When Em stayed silent, he sighed.
'Well, nothing for it now!' He frowned then. 'So, that's where Jack is tonight...and this is the same place you saw Morgana?
--Where this barn dance is?' His eyes drilled into Em's, as if hard staring would elicit the truth from her.




'It, is...yes.' Em's turn to sigh. 'I saw Morgana and Flubber, ah, John there. When she put that spell upon him...he was...immobilized.' Emlyn was now catching some of Daryl's anxiety.
  Jack...! This was surely his fault...she tried to warn him and he seemed to ignore it all! Frankly, she'd thought that maybe he was looking forward to seeing Morgana! Em had to admit that had put her off a bit. But, for whatever reason, she had accepted his assurance that there was nothing they could do about it...




Daryl had slumped forward again, hands clasped together, elbows on knees. He glared at the party ongoing all about them.
  'A Binding Spell. Well. Nothing we can do about it, NOW.' He looked at her and frowned once more. Then slowly shook his head.




They both looked up to find Connor standing at his side, violin in hand. 'Tis soon midnight. Would you honor us with some music, Diego?'






Daryl smiled sideways. 'Of course. Em, if you will excuse me.' He shot her a warning glance neath furrowed brows. 'You will take care!' he whispered harshly, rising. Then, taking the proferred violin, he and Connor strode off toward the bandstand.





The crowd was gathered about, talking, munching apple tarts and nutmeats, sipping ciders, laughing and generally making merry as Connor took a seat at the grand and Allyn's band tuned up behind. Daryl plucked afew strings, running the bow across, acessing the sound...




Emlyn rose and moved a little toward them, lingering on the outside of the group clustered about the dance floor. She chewed her lip in thought and tapped her nails against her cider cup, her mind rummaging about the piles of information Daryl had just dumped there, and trying to sort it all into some semblance of order; for later cross-referencing.
  She noted Yvonna, with her fair hussar at her side, standing now before Daryl, smiling. She did appreciate his music, at least.





Daryl leaned over and whispered into Connor's ear, who nodded, then gave the band the key. The lights dimmed somewhat, and Em noted Bridget had capped and doused some candles about. People began to quiet down and then, nodding, Daryl counted off.
   The flute player in the Bards began to pipe a haunting intro...




Daryl put bow to strings and then soft, yet insistent music wafted from his flying fingers as he ripped into Mendelssohn's 'Midsummer Night's Dream'...






All about, one could nearly hear a collective sigh of pleasure as Daryl and the piper soared upon the sound. It was clearly a favorite of the Druids and guests gathered here tonight. Connor was grinning hugely as he accompanied on piano, and, although the tune was more suited for an orchestra, here in this intimate venue, the music was strangely stirring.





Emlyn found herself nearly holding her breath, watching Daryl. She recalled that evening she first heard him play, back in Sonora, when he strolled into the gypsy camp and took the audience hostage with his awesome, infernal genius.

Tonight was no different. His fingers flew like lightning over the instrument...he seemed a man on fire, posessed. He was a force of nature, and somehow, something apart from the rest here. People intuited this about him, Em felt, and although all were sociable enough, folk did not feel altogether comfortable in his presence for long, she noticed.
  However, by the second movement, couples began to dance rather a waltz about the room to the incidental music. Others soon joined them and the spell eased somewhat as though the guests sought to reassure themselves that all was, in sooth, just another ordinary Hallow's Eve gathering...




Suddenly, Emlyn began to feel as though someone was watching her. And, just then, during a soft interlude, as if on cue, the clock began to strike the hour of twelve...
  She turned her head slowly, and, around the corner by the alcove, she saw him.

Her hand moved to clasp her moonstone, Gwydion's eyes noticed, and his lips did slowly smile then. Em swallowed, feeling nearly as though caught in a binding spell herself...she was only moon-struck, however.
 




Only because she knew him, intimately, she felt, was she even able to recognize him; for he seemed utterly Other than when they had met in the hills upon Beltane. Indeed, he vied with Daryl in OtherWorldliness and outshone him by half again.



Here, or perhaps Now, Tonight, at The Stroke of Midnight;
Gwydion stood like unto his namesake, the Magician Trickster-Hero and Son of Don, shining with a light all his own, and yet, as Em noted his shape against the candleabra, he appeared to cast no shadow...





Stunned still, Emlyn couldn't make a move. Gwydion, however, seemed to glide over beside her.
  'Noswaith dda,' he spoke soft and low into her ear, as he took her hand and placed within it two red roses.




...She'd not pulled a double rose
A rose but only two
When up there came young Tam Lin
Says "Lady, pull no more"




...The ballad of Tam Lin came to Em then...
Emlyn glanced down at ripe red roses. 'Diloch yn fawr, Gwydion...' she managed, then gazed up at him at last. It was her undoing...




He was regarding her with his deep green-grey gaze, alike and yet so different from Daryl's...where Daryl's eyes were usually veiled, Gwydion's spoke volumes. Volumes which would be banned from a library's shelf...





He spoke then, 'Back in Wales, on Nos Galan Gaeof, a maiden would take two roses and twine them thus...' he circled one thornless stem about the other, wrapping Emlyn's hands about them, '...and, naming one for herself and one for her sweetheart, would she then say:

"Twine, twine and intertwine,
Let this love be wholly mine.
If our hearts be kind and true,
Deeper grow our roses hue."




Emlyn looked upon her roses which, indeed, were turning a darker burgundy red.
 'Oh!' She blushed in accidental imitation.




Nos Galan Gaeof was indeed a night of mystery and magic. Well, Em, she told herself, you are here with Gwydion ap Don, perhaps. This is no barn dance, my girl...yet, despite all the careful cautions of Uncle Daryl issued just minutes before, Em felt herself being swept away with one fell swoop of Gwydion's fey cloak.




He took said cloak in hand and gestured, indicating the dance. 'May I have the honor, Lady?'




And so she was swept up as within the dark cloak of Oberon, into the masquerade and the music. As they swirled and glided around the dance floor, she regarded him and his languid look which seemed to drown her in deep pools of green and grey and russet brown...triple-irised, again, she noted...like Daryl's.




As they neared the bandstand and twirled about, Emlyn beheld Daryl's dark gaze bearing down upon her, frowning and, if possible, a sort of reddish, smoky miasma which seemed to be emanating from him...
  Surely that couldn't be good.




'What else does one do, in Wales, upon Nos Galan Gaeof?' Emlyn turned back to Gwydion and sought a safe, neutral conversation.




He smiled, playing along. 'Well, there is the November Eve bonfire, of course, called Coel Coeth. That, all Kelts enjoy throughout the Isles.
Prognostications are made. And, ever since King Cadwallo decorated his soldiers with leeks for their valor in a battle by a leek-garden, they have been held in high esteem in Wales.' He smiled at Em.
 'A girl will stick a knife among leeks at Hallowe'en, and walks backward out of the garden...she returns later to find that her future husband has picked up the knife and thrown it into the center of the leek-bed.'




'Indeed?' Em thought that unlikely somehow. She guessed you had to be there. 'Roses and leeks...well, I suppose a leek by any other name would taste as sweet.'




Gwydion laughed, as he spun her about. He held her close then, and smiled, his merry gaze drinking her in.
  'Ah..."the lunatic, the lover and the poet,"' He quoted from the play which inspired this music of the Hollow Hills and spared a glance toward the musicians. 'One of my favorites, this. How about you?'




'Oh, absolutely! The music does carry one away, somehow!' Emlyn was ready...




'And, "If music be the food of love, play on!"' Gwydion's gaze deepened, and Em felt herself falling, floating away upon it...
All else about them fell away and the others about them faded to mere vapors; Gwydion spun Emlyn off to the side, put his cheek beside hers and pulled her to him, 'I see you found my moonstone.' He looked at her once more, 'I left it for you, you know. For, come break of day, we must away...'
  They turned again and he held her close, whispering low: 'I have missed you long and long, my Lady,' his voice was low and purred in her ear, '...the nights have been cold, without you beside me..."O weary night! O, long and tedious night!"'
He smiled again, and whispered, '"...The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time..."'




Em closed her eyes, nearly swooning in his arms... When she
again opened them, she saw the dance had ended and all stood applauding the musicians who bowed upon the stand...all but Daryl...
  Who, she saw then, was making his way through the crush of folk towards them, looking like thunder.




'Gwydion, let us go! Now!' She took his hand in hers and led him toward the back door, Daryl hot on their heels.
 The Fey Lord smiled at his victory and his eyes danced with lights as he wrapped his cloak about them both:
 '"Come my Queen, take hands with me. Now thou and I are new in amity!"' And, quoting Oberon, he fled with his Tatania from the ballroom and the heavy press of mortal flesh about them, and off into the night they sped; into the garden's maze of foliage and hedge.




'Oh, where can we go?' Em cast about her, looking for a way to escape.
  'The situation is well in hand, Lady, but hold me close and fear not. Do you go willingly with me, my Queen?' He wrapped his arms about her and spoke low into her ear, kissing her neck and folding his dark cape around them like night itself.




She looked at him and saw nothing but stars reflected in his eyes. She heard then the back door slam and could see Daryl searching about for them. 'Yes, yes! Let us away, quickly!'




And smiling a secret smile to himself, Gwydion held Emlyn close and sighed...as he exhaled; a soft, warm whirlwind commenced at their toes and traveled in waving spirals around them...

Emlyn closed her eyes, holding onto him for dear life, and felt something akin to diving in a warm pool. She chanced opening her eyes, to view a kind of glittering fog swirling, circling them both. She felt nothing beneath her feet, then; and as she looked up, she saw only the stars...pulsing, and bright, as they seemed to be traveling closer to them...





'Where do we travel?' Em's voice sounded strange to her ears, like speaking underwater, she imagined.




'We go to my keep: 'Caer Gwydion', my Queen.' His voice sounded odd also, as if down a well or echoing from within a deep cave.





'And where is that?' Em's voice warbled as though vibrating, and she noticed the stars looked thicker now, vaporous, diaphanous...




'Why, the "Castle of Gwydion", son of Don, is all the Milky Way, of course...'


                            . . . .



Daryl came tearing round the hedge, following their voices for a time, but found nothing. He could see their trace signatures there, glowing red still. On a hunch, he looked upward; thinking he saw Emlyn, alone, rising...only to behold but in a second, just trails of clouds, traveling fast and ever higher, against the wind...

                           

                             

                      

Watch AND LISTEN! TAM LIN by Fairport Convention

          http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jy3ihk205ew