But, 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.
This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good...
Shakespeare
Macbeth
* * * *
The only sound which could be heard then was the rushing
river about the Triad.
Jeanne and Shannon both were stunned to silence, whilst
Emlyn attempted to pull herself together after the
revelation she'd just made to her friends.
At last, Jeanne gave Shannon a pleading, meaningful look;
Shannon looked chagrined and down, not speaking for a change.
Jeanne put a tentative gentle hand upon Em's shoulder.
'Our dear girl, come here to me...'
Em did, and held onto Jeanne as though she would become
swept away otherwise, and finally gave way to all the crazed
emotions she'd bottled up for so long...
Shannon couldn't bear seeing someone distraught, (even when
it was she, herself, who had caused the distress), and hugged
Emlyn from the other side, and put her head against Em's.
'I'm such a goose, Em...you know that I can't keep me big
mout' shut! Oh, please...just beat me black and blue and
paint me all over scarlet! I swear I'll stay that way all
through May Day, and deserve worse!'
Em couldn't help but laugh at this, and sat up straight,
blowing her nose once more. 'You promise?' She asked Shannon,
which got them all laughing.
Whilst Em washed her face in the river and rebraided her
hair, the others watched her carefully. 'Better...?' Jeanne
inquired, patting her arm. Em nodded.
'Alright. This is rather serious, my dear Cambria!' Jeanne
began, 'Please, I realize it is painful for you, and no doubt
confusing...but, we just might be able to help. How, did you
ah, discover all...this?'
Emlyn took herself to task then, and haltingly recounted her
'dream' of Llew, and of Gwydion's visit to Diego. She could
not yet bring herself to speak of Jack's calamitous
conundrum.
'"Llew", you say...' Jeanne frowned, thinking hard. 'It is
clearly a re-enactment of the Mabigoni: Gwydion tricks his
half-sister, Arianrhod, into giving him a child, after she
refuses to do so and share the kingdom with him. Welsh
heritage was handed down through the matriarchal lineage
then; and brothers would foster their sister's children,
uncles would claim their nephews, as heirs.'
Em still stared down at the river's passing, 'Yes...I had
thought of that myself. Gwydion had stolen A Little Something
that Arianrhod had 'dropped', after she had failed King
Math's virginity test...he kept it in a chest, and watched
over it, and made magics upon it, and eventually the boy,
Llew, was somehow made from all that.'
'And, ever the fay are seeking the strength of mortal blood
to mix with theirs, to revitalize their clan and people,'
Shannon added.
'Yes, but it's certainly no excuse for being so underhanded
and tricky about it! That Gwydion!' Jeanne fumed on her
friend's behalf, 'You'd think he would learn something new
after several centuries!'
'I never wish to see him again!' Emlyn was adamant, all
traces of tears now gone. 'And, I've...not even been able to
bear to think of it at all...nor to admit that, it could all
be true...? I can't bear to think that it may be! What if it
is so? I cannot leave a child with Gwydion! What if...' Em
swallowed, '...what if it is true? What can I do about it?
How do I find Llew? How can I bring him back?' She shook her
head slowly, 'What powers do I have, against the Lord of the
Sidhe?'
'Gwydion wouldn't vaporize the child's mother!' Shannon
stated, outraged. ('Would he?' she whispered to Jeanne, who
hushed her).
'He certainly made Arianrhod's life hellish...' Emlyn
mused. 'Although...she did nothing but refuse him, and refuse
to see, or name, or accept Llew then. I wonder...oh, it
simply makes my head ache to think of it all!' Em flopped
back down, shielding her eyes with her hand.
'This is certainly turning into a very different sort of May
Day celebration...let us think!' Jeanne held a warning finger
up. 'For one thing, we must be on guard; you, Emlyn,
especially! It is well done that you told us all. Now mayhap
we can take the defensive.' She nodded, ' And no one is to
let you out of sight til May First is well past. We need not
give details, but I will pass the word on amongst Allyn and
the Bards, and soon all will know to keep watch upon you, Em.
You'll be safe enough with us, we'll make sure and certain of
it!'
. . . .
May Eve dawned clear and bright, as usual, in Northern
California where the palm tree meets the pine...
Emlyn soon found herself in the 'wee glen' along the
riverbanks her friends had shown to her the day before; which
now was sporting a freshly debarked May Pole with ribbands,
and the Goddess's faithful gathered about to pay homage to
the many blessings of Mother Earth and sing in the new season
of growth and fertility.
Surprisingly, Em had found Jethro and Allyn at Mrs. Murphy's
door that morning, attired in green and bowing, ready to
escort her to the ceremonial ground.
'Jeanne sends her greetings, and her trusty guard!' Jethro
and Allyn stood at mock 'atten-tion!' and saluted Emlyn,
earning a grin from her. They then each offered an arm, as
they strode off together. 'She and Shannon were at the site
early, making wreaths and crowns and such...'
Emlyn was smiling at their casual attitude and japes, but she
actually was most grateful that her friends had taken her
plight seriously, and also, it seemed, were being cautious
without unduely exposing Emlyn's troubles in detail.
It was well into afternoon by the time all had gathered
together, young and old, nymphs, maids, crones, lads and
granddads, as well as an odd assortment of creatures: the
ubiquitous dogs ran and frisked, barking, but those townsfolk
who celebrated had brought their rams and ewes, or cock and
hens, or even the odd billy and nanny goat. Ah. Well, the
goddess and her consort were to be busy with their fertility
blessings today, it seemed.
Em soon located her Triad sisters seated beneath a large oak,
putting finishing touches on May Crowns and bestowing same
upon small girls who squealed delightedly and brought them
wildflower bouquets in return.
'And what do the lads get then?' She inquired, sitting
beside them, and inspecting the various flower wreaths.
Jeanne nodded across to the other side of the May Pole where
men all dressed in various shades of emerald, jade and sage,
played jack-o-the-green, and wove ivy and evergreen crowns
with the odd jasmine blossom here and there, for the lads.
'Ah! Very good. But something still seems to be missing...'
Em teased, but she sincerely wondered all the same...
Shannon grinned. 'The Bonfire is hiding in plain sight!' She
took up a flower crown of gardenias and jasmine twined with
ivy and ribbands and set it atop Emlyn's riot of scarlet
braids and curls, securing it. 'We're having it in town, on
the green, next to The Bear. It's something we have done
before on occasions when we have the ceilidh there, after...'
Shannon studied her, adjusting the crown of bellefleurs,
'...we'll all proceed there after ceremony here.'
Jeanne was watching her, she noted. 'Alright, Em?'
Emlyn nodded. 'Fine. Very well, in fact.' She gazed at the
most ordinary country fair scene about her; kids, dogs,
chickens, bleating sheep, music and laughter, and felt secure
and safe enough, far from sly designs of Otherwordly folk.
'But thank you for the 'escort'!'
'We're on the job!' Shannon saluted her.
The day waxed warm indeed as Em and the girls strode about
the grounds, meeting folk and chatting, listening to impromtu
musical rounds, stopping to eat fruit tarts dripping juices
and leaving their fingers red, and generally exchanging good
will and good wishes to all...at last, though, as the sun
began to head into the west...
'Ah, Jeanne! 'Tis near time,' Shannon nodded across Jeanne's
shoulder, and all looked toward the May Pole to see a
procession of little girls tossing flowers as they emerged
skipping, from the wood, singing, 'Buds in May, Buds in May!'
followed by lads who sowed grain and flower seeds all about
them, chanting 'Heigh! Ho! Grain Will Grow!'. When they
reached the May Pole, a Jack o'the Green got them started
round it, in and out and over and through, and as the
musicians gathered and sang 'The Lusty Month Of May', so the
Pole was decorated and held fast by industrious wee hands.
'Aye! Indeed, 'tis time, now sure...' and Jeanne, Shannon and
Emlyn headed to the Pole, where the kids and folk stood in a
circle about it, whilst more folk were gathering with them;
the music then stopped, and drummers came to the fore,
beginning a rhythm of 'bumm, bumm, bum-bum-ba-dum,' and all
came together, then, making two lines from the wood to the May
Pole, creating an aisle.
Emlyn suddenly discerned a great racket coming from amongst
the trees, and a horn was sounded, as the drummers stopped
drumming. Soon, the great stretching antlers of a stag
appeared in the shadows of the tree limbs, and a tall well-
built man beneath the stag's head-dress stepped into the
clearing, tossing his head, while the horn blew thrice. He
leaped and stomped and wheeled about, as little girls ran and
and squealed, then crept back.
The drummers commenced a roll, and then again the same
cadence sounded, as the Great Stag stood still, gazing into
the wood.
A rustling was heard, and the sound of a flute calling,
like a bird to it's mate, and once more the drummers were
hushed.
Upon a white mare, the May Queen appeared in all her
flower-crowned glory, carrying a large bouquet of wildflowers
of all colors. Two jacks came forth and held her horse,
whilst she was helped from the mare's back, a vision in
gossamer cream colored muslin in accent to her long black
hair which fell to her waist, braided, be-ribboned and be-
flowered as a faery, and as she approached the King Stag, she
held out a gardenia to him.
out,
'All Hail the Queen of May! All Hail the King Stag! Long may
they reign!'
At this, a piper stepped forth and began to play, as the
May Queen and Stag King walked down the aisle and the folk
blessed them with flowers tossed their way, and when they
reached the May Pole, they stood on either side of it, and
stretched out their arms and held hands around it.
Jeanne then stepped forth and in the ruddy light of growing
sunset, she spoke:
'Tonight, the God emerges from the forest. He is known by
many names --
he is Pan, Herne, Cernunnos, the Green Man. He is the God of
the Glen and Dale.
Tonight is the night he will chase and capture the maiden.
She is the Queen of the May, Aphrodite, Venus, Cerridwen.
She is the Goddess of fields and flowers, she is Mother
Earth herself.'
Jeanne walked around the couple about the Pole, and lighted a
sage wand and wafted smoke about them, then took salt from a
dish and sprinkled it about their feet. She then took a
pitcher, and poured wine in a circle around them, and, at
last, accepted a burning torch from Allyn, and held this high
as she circled them once more:
'Beltane is here! It is a time when the earth is fertile
and full.
Long ago, our ancestors planted their fields at Beltane.
The fields that lay fallow for months are now warm and
waiting.
The soil that was dormant for the winter now begs us to
plant our seeds.
The earth is awakening and ripe, and this is a season of
love and passion.
It is a season of new beginnings...by earth, air, fire and
water, so we are blessed by Her and Her Beloved Consort. So
mote it be.'
The drummers commenced a roll again, and ceased:
'Let the Hunt Begin!' Jeanne called, as all began to cheer,
and the women called in tremelos, and the men whooped and
yodeled and sang and, in Shannon's words, began with 'the
Rejoicin'...
The Stag King was helped to remove his head dress, and he
bent to kiss the May Queen, to the cheers and whoops of all,
and he took the burning brand from Jeanne and held it high,
as he held his Queen's hand and led the folk into the town
and the Bonfire on the Green.
. . . .
Emlyn and her triad sisters followed, finding quite a
gathering of townsfolk there on the green already, seated
about wooden tables and benches scattered about the lawn,
some standing about the great wood pile some little distance
away from the Bear's Den.
She watched as the King lighted the bonfire and all the crowd
cheered, as Allyn and the Bards, including now Jethro, had
meanwhile taken up a space upon the outdoor deck surrounding
'The Bear', (as locals referred to their watering hole), and
began to play a mean rendition of 'Lord of the Dance'...
Shannon naturally popped up and away into the revels, and
Emlyn and Jeanne soon found themselves surrounded by gents
begging a dance. Emlyn insisted that Jeanne 'be off with
yourself!', and assured her she would stay right where she
was at the table, in full sight of her and the Band o' Bards.
Jeanne looked doubtful, until Uncle Sean appeared with
ciders, and took a seat beside Emlyn.
'Go on wi' ye, lass!' Sean shooed Jeanne off into the
dancing. 'Ah. And a toast to summer, then, lassie, eh?' Sean
clinked mugs with Em, and they sat and sipped companionably,
watching the whirling dancers and the players, while the
stars came out shyly above them, betwixt the oak branches
studded about the green...
Emlyn was feeling more calm and relaxed now; this small
country gathering seemed rather a far cry from the eldritch
atmosphere and eerie half-light of Faery...
With her friends all about her, and hidden in the high
hills surrounding her now, she felt fairly safe from any
interruptions in her bucolic, homely ambience. Indeed, when
they'd finished their mugs, and Sean requested a dance, she
felt up for it now, and took his arm in a sprightly swing
'round the floor...
...As the bonfire burned lower, more fuel was added, just
enough to keep it going a while longer, as some had already
headed homeward. There was less of a riot of bodies, although
still a goodly crowd; the children had been taken home along
with most of the livestock, and it was now the adult's turn
at play.
Shannon and Jeanne had returned to Em's table, as the Bards
were taking a break whilst local musicians took up a casual
jam together in their stead. Jethro and Allyn joined them
with ciders all 'round, and they watched as Mrs. Murphy and
Uncle Sean glided about in a slow waltz to the tune of
'Wildwood Flower'...
'Alright, Em?' Jethro asked her, as he spilled a bag of
roasted peanuts upon the table for all to munch. Emlyn took
up a nut and nodded.
'I'm good! And you look fine up there with the Bards,
Jethro! You have been learning some new tunes, I see!'
Jethro grinned, 'A few!' he popped in a nut and crunched,
'It's a good crowd! I'm glad I came. I had thought at first
that there wouldn't be many folk up here! But, they must have
come for miles around...'
'You're staying with Allyn, then?' Em knew he wouldn't be
driving all the long road back tonight.
Jethro winked at her. 'We'll see! May Eve tonight, Em!' And
he squeezed her shoulder as he finished off his cider and
grabbed both Shannon's hand and another girl's, and began to
swing them both about. Em knew she didn't have to worry about
Jethro being lonely tonight. Jeanne and Allyn took advantage
of the band's recess, to have a close waltz together
themselves...
As the evening progressed, she even felt relaxed enough to
join in a dance or two with some of the local lads, though
she knew them not, they seemed to be here with friends who
appeared to be acquainted with folk there she did know.
Some had moved inside as the moon rose high in the midnight
sky, but as long as the bonfire burned, Emlyn enjoyed being
out on the deck and under the stars. She moved off to the
side and leaned upon the railing, watching the fire and
enjoying the music, charting the moon's passage...
'A dance, milady?' Inquired a young voice, and Em turned to
see a jack-o-the-green bowing low before her. He appeared
quite young and innocent, thought she, his blond head
catching the moonlight, so she smiled as she took his hand
and they stepped into a country tune known as 'Are You
Missing Me?'
He seemed to be quite light on his feet as they swung round
about, in and through the others on the floor; and when the
tune ended, and he offered a cider, Em nodded her assent.
He told her his name was Gerald, and he lived 'nearby.'
Emlyn merely gave hers as 'Em.'
'But I've not seen you around town,' he drank deeply. 'I
certainly would have noticed.'
But, Emlyn was far from being affected by flattery from a man
any more. 'I'm visiting friends.'
'Aye...I've noticed you wi' Jeanne and the Bards...have you
a man, then?'
Cheeky lad, thought Em, hiding a smile. He's rather brash
for a young pup. 'I do not. And, I don't fancy one, either.'
The Lad sat back, wiping the cider foam from his mouth. 'Ah.
I like a challenge!' He smiled at her, then turned away. 'I'm
happy simply to bask in your company, milady...'
He stood then, holding out his hand, 'Shall we walk?'
. . . .
Em had demurred, but when he insisted that they merely stroll
round the bonfire once, for luck, she saw that Jethro was
standing by the fireside, his arms about a brunette lass, she
felt she should be safe enough if she stayed in the
firelight.
As they strolled slowly round, Gerald would toss sweet-
scented herbs into the fire, 'for luck,' he said. 'An old
Welsh custom here.'
Em was on the alert. 'Ah. Gerald-of-Wales, is it?'
But the lad only laughed lightly. 'Aye, 'tis so. And by
your red hair, you're a Scot, sure, or Irish,' he declared.
But Emlyn just smiled and said nought.
'Ah now. A woman of mystery...'
But Em spoke up, 'Not many blondes of Welsh descent, are
there?'
'Ah, no,' answered Gerald, tossing his herbs, as he stood
and inhaled the scent, 'German on my dad's side. But the
Welsh do chart descent through the matriarchal line...'
Again, Emlyn stiffened, not liking where this conversation
was leading. 'We should return to the dance, I think...'
But Gerald had stopped, and turned her to him, 'You look so
lovely with the moonlight in your hair...'
Emlyn shook her head, staring at the ground. But when she
raised her eyes, it was not blond Gerald there with her,
hand-in-hand, but a tall dark figure shrouded in a hooded
cloak.
'We go,' he said, and as he raised his cloak, Em saw within
it's shadow, all the stars in the wide sky wheeling about the
heavens...
. . . .
Emlyn opened her eyes...to find herself by the riverside. She
was lying upon a green wool cloak spread upon the grass,
while a tall dark man stood facing the water, occasionally
lobbing small stones.
Em had a sinking feeling she knew who he was.
'"And who are you, my pretty fair maid? Who are you, me
honey?"' the man sang the opening line from 'As I Roved Out',
and as he slowly turned, his blond hair changed to black,
until, facing her, stood Gwydion ap Don, lord of the Twyleth
Teg.
AKA--Her nemesis.
Emlyn was not afraid. She was enraged.
She turned her face from him and said nothing, trying to keep
herself from shaking in her anger. Gwydion lowered himself
and sat down beside her. 'Hate us a little, do you now?' he
whispered, strangely echoing Daryl, when he'd abducted her
from the gypsy camp.
Gwydion looked down as well, merely sighing. 'Emlyn...if only
you would hear me out...'
'And what bloody other choice do I have?!' She spat the
words at him.
Gwydion held up both hands, 'I'm not holding you here. I
wish, only to parlay.'
Emlyn sat like a stone, betraying no emotion, and silent as
a statue.
'Very well. If you won't speak, then I shall.' He sighed
again, and leaned back next to Emlyn, against a tree trunk.
For a time they sat there, listening to the river and the
quiet of the wood, which was not silent, but reflected scarce
movements of birds or other rustling creatures, small and
large. Emlyn saw the shadows of women and men passing from
tree to tree as well, and could discern the music and
celebration away on the not so distant green. She supposed
she could up and run, but knew not how far she would get.
May as well let this play out how it will...
At last, Gwydion stirred, and in a low voice, asked, 'Do you
know why the Sidhe do take earth humans back to their hills
with them, to mate?'
Emlyn did not break her silence, but she did turn to look
at Gwydion at last, allowing him to view her cold disdain.
His features lost their steely hardness and melted to nearly
a shadow of hurt.
'You do not know how it pains me to see you thus; thinking
me less than a worm now, and how you would love to grind me
'neath your heel...oh, yes, I see all that, and more, in your
eyes. I did not wish to come to you thus, disguised and in
trickery. But I knew you would not see me otherwise.'
'That is one thing you have the right of.' Em whispered,
looking away.
'Emlyn.' Gwydion looked down, pulling a grass stem and
nervously peeling away the leaves. He sighed once more, 'I
was nearly at my wit's end, hoping against hope to be able to
find an earthly woman of my lineage, with whom I might be
compatible. You have no idea, for how long I had searched for
such a one...'
Emlyn frowned, wondering at that. 'How could that possibly
be? You, who can fashion a child from air, it would seem?!'
'Not so.' Gwydion shook his head, tossing the bare grass
stem, 'I needed your essence to imbibe, and imbue the
aethers. I needed, you. And we needs must mate together, in
fire, in passion, in heat...in love.' He slid down and put
his arms behind his head, not looking at her. 'There is more
than meets the eye, to what makes a childe. Especially a
faery childe...'
Em sniffed a 'humph', at that, but did not argue.
'I am the last of my line, Emlyn. I am also...the last of
your line as well. Tis not merely a tale out of old legends;
Emlyn. Your heritage is from the kings of Wales, and of the
Old Blood, even if your ancestor, Madoc, was born on the
wrong side of the bedsheet, he still had the blood of our
true kindred. Mine, and yours. Fay and the half-Fay.'
Emlyn was only half-listening to this line of blather and
blarney. Perhaps if she let him talk, he would run out of hot
air at some point...but, simply being near the man galled
her.
'And so you tricked me, 'Gerald of Wales'! Always with
deceit and trickery!' Em snorted, 'Why, did you not just talk
with me, as you are now, when it's too late? Why did you not
simply ASK me, giving me some germ of respect?'
Silence fell about them then. Even the tiny sounds of the
night seemed to die. Finally, he spoke:
'You might have said, 'No.''
Emlyn stifled a mad urge to laugh aloud. She bit her lip
instead, shaking her head slowly.
Gwydion gave a short sigh, but stilled himself, and
remained as he was, watching the sky.
'I couldn't take that chance. There was too much at stake.
And, Emlyn, you were my last, and only hope.' He was quiet
for a space, then, 'The earth is dying. And, with the earth,
so go my folk. We are tied together, the planet and my kind;
not like your people, who are of the stars and to the stars
they return. No; although of the Celestial Kingdom, like the
elementals and devas, my folk are of the earth itself, we
fashion and are fashioned by, the rivers and trees and all
the flowers of spring and green lushness that is now
threatened dire.
'I love you dearly my lady; more than any I can recall and
my memory runs time out of mind. But even more, I love this
earth mother upon whose breast we now lie; and I would give
all for Her...even if it meant losing the only one I could
love.'
can never forgive you, Gwydion. You are as dead to me.' Emlyn
looked at him casually, then continued, 'But if it is true,
that you have somehow made a childe out of the essence of us
both, a real, true childe, of bones and blood?'
Gwydion looked over at her, blinked slowly and nodded.
'Then the childe should not suffer for the parent's
follies.'
'Agreed!' Gwydion rolled over onto his elbow and propped his
head, watching her intently. 'You have seen him...Llew...he
and I came to you, as roving players...he's a fine lad, Em.
He has your coloring; hair a darker auburn, though, but he
has your lovely eyes like the blue of midnight...'
'Stop!' Em put a hand up, 'I'll not hear your empty
flattery. It sickens me.'
Gwydion looked down and began to pull up grasses again. 'I
cannot blame you...women of modern times differ much from the
maids I once knew...'
'--Oh, yes! I have heard of 'all the girls' you have
spirited off to your...lair!'
At that, his eyes rolled round to the sky and back, 'Emlyn.
What is between us, has nothing to do with the frolics of
young puppies...and, you were virgin not, when you came with
me, of your own free will, remember? I did ask your consent.'
He fell onto his back once more, 'I care not for other
lovers. None of that matters, neither your past or mine.'
(That's what you think, thought Em.)
'All that matters, is that the Sidhe still survive upon the
earth, and that the Goddess and Her Consort are alive, and
magic is still afoot!' He rested a hand upon his forehead.
'But, who knows for how much longer...? Time and tide bring
changes. The Sidhe are long-lived, but our numbers dwindle,
and a hale and hearty species we never have been, dwelling
between here and there, as we do. I only gave aid to a dying
planet, and a dying race...pledged to Her above all, heart and soul.'
Emlyn said nothing, thinking Gwydion had no heart and she
very much doubted the soul part as well...but her anger had
ebbed to a dull ache and all she wanted now was her bed back
at Mrs. Murphy's--her bed, to herself, alone. And peace and
dreamless sleep...
'"I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar
the way..."... Was the last thing she heard...Gwydion's voice
low in her ear, his herb and cider-scented breath soft
against her skin, as his fingers lightly traced along her
cheek--
--and she then found herself back at the bonfire, standing
alone, as she had wished. She blinked.
'How's the evening going for you, Em?' Jethro and his lady
smiled at her, 'I think we're winding things down, now, ' he
indicated the Bear, and Em noted the Bards packing up their
instruments. 'Jeanne was asking after you...'
Em managed a smile, and wandered back onto the deck in a
daze. She found Jeanne and the others, and when Mrs. Murphy
and Sean offered to walk back to the house with her, she
gladly accepted and wished all a good night and blessed be...
In a quiet daze, Em meandered back to the house, and, dazed
still, she undressed for bed, and slipped beneath the sheets.
But she leaned up, and raised the curtain aside, to gaze out
at the moon, going down now, to bed with the rest.
Emlyn was too benumbed to think anymore.
But, 'I'll come to thee by the moonlight...',
echoed in her mind, as she lay her weary bones down at last
and allowed the night to quiet her erratic heartbeat and to
take her mind far and away from the mad dream she had just
experienced, fearing it was altogether something Otherthan...
. . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment