The Fox (28 page)

Among other rituals, I prepared hazel memory sticks for my mother. She and I recalled her life story, and she chose a remembrance for each stick. There were ten. Among them were the days she spent with my father, three sticks to record the day she met him, the day they married and the day she came to believe he would not return. She told me she believed that in whatever way he died, he went calling our names.

“His love for you and me kept him returning from his travels. He would not have stayed away willingly. Now I will join him,” she said with a far away look in her eyes.

Three more sticks stood for memories of hers and Beathan’s childhood: their mother’s love for them, times she and Beathan enjoyed playing and later hunting together.

“The days of play did not last long. Beathan knew early he was to become our chieftain and started the necessary training before he was ten. It sometimes made him insufferable to live with, but I was proud of him. The day he became chieftain was a very good day for our family. He was a brave and fair leader of our clan. His death was not in vain and he will be remembered long after I am forgotten.”

After I took a deep breath with my eyes closed in Beathan’s memory, I said, “Mother, you will be at his table to remind him of his family. Carry our love to him. In this you will be remembered, also.”

The last four memory sticks were for my birth, her only child, and events around our life together.

“The day you were born, your father gave me this bronze armlet.” She shook it from her bag, her arms too thin to wear it. “It is one of the first pieces Finley made with decoration. Its spirals symbolize the continuing of our bloodline. I want you to have it now, Jahna. It is up to you to carry on your father’s family. I also want you to wrap me in my plaid cape when I die. The day Beathan took the plaid you created and declared it to be the clan plaid was a good day in my life.” She paused to cough. Blood now colored the cloth she used to wipe her mouth. I brought her a cup of warm brewed chamomile to calm her. “Good. That is very good. It is in the Goddess’s light that you are now working to help our clan in healing. And to assist our spirits cross the river to the Otherworld is a path that will take you straight to the Goddess’s side when it is your turn to go. I am proud you are my daughter. Your marriage to Lovern will bring only good to our family, I am assured.”

My mind was buzzing like a hive of bees with the memories we had discussed. Her pride for me was an emotion she had not expressed before, and I was humbled. I grasped her hand and held it to my lips, my tears falling into her palm. My heart knew she would to be in a strong body when she crossed, but my mother would also be gone from my everyday life. The calming words I said to others at this time seemed difficult to believe right now.

At day’s end, on the thirtieth day after I arrived home from Beathan’s tomb, we burned her hazel memory sticks, bundled in one long, red thread. Holding the bundle, she kissed it three times, said goodbye to her past, and slipped them into the fire. Lovern, Harailt, and Sileas reverently watched. A tender smile filled my mother’s eyes with calmness, and she slowly nodded in approval.

The vision that came to me as that fall night’s air filled with peat smoke began with the god Cernunnos. He wore the head of a Red Deer, and pointed to a peak covered in clouds. As a hawk, I flew over the peak, down under the clouds, to see Bel and Morrigna drinking from a single cup. The battle for my soul had been waged and was now over. Both had hands on the cup as they raised it to the knot of tall rowan trees, our sacred trees of healing and life. A White Stag stood under the tree and stared at me, the hawk, and lifted its head in greeting. The splendid white animal tossed its head as an invitation, and I perched on its mighty antlers. Blood, dripping from an arrow lodged in its heart, splashed on the ground under its breast. My wings carried me down to the pool of warm blood. I watched his life slowly leak away, shadowing his eyes. When he nodded to me, no regret radiated from him.

Without warning, brilliant blue butterflies rose in a silent flutter from the forest floor and filled the air around us. Certainty filled my heart. I used my wings to carry me to the air currents and rose above the scene. I looked far below and burned this location into my memory.

In my bed at the hospice, I awoke to silence. The ravens that had been harshly cawing in my ears every moment since my taking were gone from my head. My shoulders were at rest, and my neck’s tension was lifted. The weight of guilt was gone from my body. I knew what I needed to do to be purified and be able to go back to Lovern’s side as his life partner.

Mother was tranquil, as calm as the cough would let her be. She smiled and seemed to sense a change in me while she sipped a small amount of broth.

“Mother. I must go for a few days,” I said. “Lovern and I have a quest. I have found what I need to continue my life, to mend my spirit.”

Her words filled the spaces around her coughing. “Go. I have been sad to see pain in your face. This is the first day I see light in your eyes. My daughter, you must find the way to bring Lovern back into your bed. I still ask a grandchild of you! Sileas will care for me. I will not die before you return. Go.”

I packed bread and dried meat in a cloth, filled a skin with water, went to fetch a pony from Kenric’s stable and walked it to our lodge.

Lovern was at home. I could not go in but stood in the doorway and called out to him. I was pleased as I looked around. He kept the fire area clean; all the cooking dishes were in the right places and the ashes swept from the ring. This showed respect for our dwelling. The blanket that separated our room from the rest of the home lifted and he walked quickly out.

“Jahna. Are you home to stay?” Joy filled his face until he saw me shake my head. “Oh. I was coming to the hospice soon. Is your mother…?”

“Mother is as comfortable as possible this morning. Bring your bow, arrows and short sword. We go to hunt the White Stag. I have seen where it lives. It waits for us by the rowan trees.”

Lovern stepped forward and laid his palm on my cheek. “You have had a dream. The gods are coming to help us. We will recover our lives and live together again. I have prayed for this day.” He ran to our room and returned, his bow strung across his back, balancing the bundle of arrows under his arm as he strapped his belt on and slid the sword through it. His dirk was already in its sheath; he was ready to hunt. He stood in front of me waiting for an explanation of my request, his brows resting under the lines on his forehead caused by his concern. I looked into his face and noted that all the vestiges of the young boy I had seen in my passage dream were gone. His face wore the lean look of a man. I stepped back as he reached for me. I was not ready to allow him to touch me again, still working to overcome the weakness his scent of honey, acorns and, today, leather gave me.

“Jahna, tell me about your dream. The White Stag will bring many blessings to us and our clan if we find it,” said Lovern. “Cernunnos will bring game and Morrigna will be pleased if we capture it for them.”

It was in Lovern’s heart to think of the clan as well as me. I bit my tongue to keep my selfish reply hidden. The White Stag was mine, not a sacrifice for the clan.

“In the form of a hawk, I flew to the Stag. I stood on its antlers and was covered in a blue light. Blue butterflies, Lovern. Butterflies. It means my rebirth as a pure woman. It foretells my return to be with you. I need to be a part of your life again, and this is the path we must follow to achieve this end.”

“I have waited for a sign,” he said. “If the gods say we must capture the White Stag to allow you to come home to me, to lie in my bed again, then we must go, now. There has been too much time apart. We cannot live like this any longer. I will do what is asked of me if it means that I may reclaim you as my partner, to love you and caress you. If it is not to happen, then I will leave this hill fort. I cannot stay without you by my side.”

He jumped into the saddle of the pony and reached out for me.

“First, I must tell you that we do not go to capture the Stag,” I said. “I agree it would be a trophy worth much if we could bring it home, but the gods told me it must be sacrificed. Its life is in trade for mine. No one else may be allowed to wish upon it. No one else may be allowed to see it alive.”

He frowned and thought for a moment while holding the prancing pony’s reins. “If the gods have sent you this message, I will abide. Our gods speak with you as well as me. If it is to be a sacrifice, it shall be. Let us get started.” He grasped my arm and easily pulled me up behind him. I shifted, clutching his narrow waist under his bow and over his belt as we started downhill.

“Go to the mountain trail that is in the morning shadows,” I whispered in his ear and tightly held on. I pressed myself against his straight back, buried my nose in his hair and took deep breaths filled with the scent of him.

“Jahna, I have missed you,” he said turning slightly to me.

“Quiet. We must be as your fox on this journey or the Stag will flee. We will talk after, I pledge.”

His slight groan and flick of the reins betrayed his impatience.

I followed the trail I had seen from the air as a hawk. We went without a stumble around large boulders and across very narrow, washed out parts of an animal path for the rest of the day and into the night. We were guided by the gods but tired as humans. Stopped to rest, we ate dried meat and drank water from the skin. There was neither a fire nor words between us. The rocky ground did not allow an easy night’s sleep.

Confusion clouded my thoughts. I prayed to be on the right trail. I thought about my mother. I remembered my childhood, so many memories dredged up with my mother’s memory sticks and Braden’s death. The ever-present smell and hideous thoughts of the time I was taken slipped between the happier moments, as much as I tried to erase them. Lovern traced his labyrinth. In the light of the moon, I brought my labyrinth into my lap and ran my finger over its lines. My fast breath of unease slowed into measured calmness. In my mind, understanding the scenes were not real, I was able to relive my taking. I was on this path for redemption, to be allowed to purify myself and I had a need to fully remember why. The tension that was always present during these times of recollection was gone. Lovern sat near me and we were here to wash this evil spirit from me with the blood of the Stag.

The night escaped as dawn’s light streaked over the top of the mountain. Luminous pink reflected from the granite boulders on the mountaintop allowed me to recognize this place. We had arrived without my knowing. We were in the clearing of my vision.

“The Stag is here,” I whispered to Lovern, cautioning him not to speak.

Crouching in the grassy edge of the trees, we crept to the copse of rowans, their leaves beginning to turn the gold and red of autumn. The proud buck stood just beyond the perimeter of the trees. His thick neck lifted his fine head to sniff the morning air, and he took a step forward. His muscles rippled just under his snow-white pelt, and his tail flicked at an annoying insect. He stretched his neck up, becoming taller than Lovern, to eat the higher, more tender leaves. The sun continued to climb in the sky and enveloped him in a golden light as we watched.

I counted ten points on each side of his antler crown. Here stood a legendary creature of the forest. His carriage was one of a virile, tested bull. One at this age had given life to many young. His proud bloodline assured, the gods would let us take him. Breathing quietly and seldom, we crawled on our bellies to cross the distance between us. The underbrush provided cover. He seemed not to hear us.

Lovern notched an arrow to his bow. My body trembled, and I fought not to close my eyes as Lovern slowly stood, pulled the string of his bow and took careful aim.

“Give me the permission,” prayed Lovern in a whisper, “and strength enough to kill this mighty animal of nature with one arrow. May it be accepted as my sacrifice.” I prayed for Lovern’s straight aim and crouched, prepared to give chase after the arrow was shot.

The Stag’s ears twitched, and he looked over his shoulder, away from us, into the depths of the trees. He snorted and took in a breath that rattled the nearby leaves. He seemed to be giving us the chance to take his life while not looking into his eyes.

Lovern let lose the arrow.

Hearing the twang of the bowstring, the Stag turned to face us. His intelligent, black eyes bore into my heart with the knowledge of his demise. I begged for his forgiveness just as his ears cocked toward me. As if he heard and understood my need, he stepped into the arrow’s path. His head rose, carried his eyes to the heavens and opened his heart for the iron point of death.

Pierced, he jumped and snorted; his antlers vibrated with the shock. The arrow sank deep into his chest, and he fell to his knees unable to run. We raced to his side just as his noble head settled to the ground. I knelt, touched his forehead and gazed into his eyes as he took his last breath. It sounded like a sigh of relief. Then, as if released from this difficult world, his inner light extinguished. Another trade, another life for mine. A life so my bloodline would continue.

Together, Lovern and I rolled the magnificent animal to its side and Lovern pulled his dirk from his belt to open the Stag’s neck veins. The red blood ran down its white neck and spilled onto the green mat of grass. My cupped hands captured a few drops, and I sipped. I tasted the smell of Finley’s smithy – hot metal. Lovern drank and then we wiped our hands across our faces. Lovern’s cheeks were streaked with the crimson fluid that had been the White Stag’s life. I felt the stickiness on my face and watched it drizzle crimson down my arms in spiral trails. They ran under and copied of the design on the armlet my mother gave me, the spirals of life.

Lovern jumped up, droplets of blood spraying through the air. “Jahna! Look! Behind you — quickly, look!”

Thinking the mate of the Stag may be on her way to take her revenge, my breath caught in my throat as I twisted to look in the direction his blood covered finger pointed.