by E. G. Foley
With that, the head vanished, and at once, the darkness cleared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Norns
Jake immediately hurried over to check on Red. In the few seconds it took him to reach the Gryphon, the little meadow returned to its previous perfection: golden sunshine; brilliant flowers; emerald moss. The swans looked a little worse for wear, honking unhappily as they returned to their pool to smooth their rumpled feathers, snow-white once again.
To Jake’s relief, Red was more or less unscathed. The scratch on his shoulder healed in seconds, and the great beast shook himself like a dog. It helped to settle him down after his fight.
“Good show, Red. You were grand.” Jake reached into his pocket and gave him one of Dani’s pilfered dog biscuits usually reserved for Teddy. It wasn’t much, but it was the thought that counted; the Gryphon gulped down the treat with gratitude.
Jake patted his pet’s scarlet-feathered head, then turned around and was astonished anew to see a girl on a tree swing slowly being lowered from the cloud-swathed branches of Yggdrasil.
He leaned to whisper in Archie’s ear, “That can’t be one of the Norns?”
“Who else would it be?” Archie whispered back.
“But she’s only our age!”
Archie shrugged. “She looks it, but if the Vikings knew the Norns, that means she’s ancient. You heard what Snorri said. Past, present, future. This one must guard the future, since she’s still a kid.”
Sure enough, the girl-witch sitting prettily on her tree swing had not come alone. A wooden platform now began descending from the mists high above them.
They could hear the creaking of pulleys and, oddly enough, the rattling of fine china and glassware as the platform approached the ground.
When the platform came near enough for them to get a better look, Jake noted that it was suspended by thick, hairy vines at each of the four corners. It had a little railing around it to prevent anybody falling off, and as it came to earth, settling on the grass before them with a loud noise, he was delighted to find that the two older Norns had come prepared to offer the weary travelers hospitality.
They had a pretty table and chairs set up for an elaborate tea party, right there on the platform in the heart of the beautiful meadow.
The girl-witch hopped off her swing and skipped over to the table, where a sweet old lady with white hair was sewing in a rocking chair, and a smiling middle aged woman who looked like the perfect mother beckoned to them. “Anyone hungry?”
Jake frowned. Witches. They knew just how to tempt you.
The table was arrayed with little sandwiches and cakes and tea and chocolate, and his stomach was already grumbling.
But he stopped himself. That smiling mother-witch looked familiar. He was fairly sure she was the one behind the giant head.
He sent his cousin an uncertain glance. “What do you think?” he whispered confidentially. “They don’t look so bad to me. Is this how they were in Macbeth?”
“Not at all,” Archie whispered back. “Shakespeare showed them as warty old hags who danced around a cauldron. Mad as hatters, very nasty.”
“No giant heads?” Jake frowned. “Maybe they’re a different set of Wyrd Sisters.”
“Or maybe the Bard used poetic license—”
“We can appear to you gentlemen as we did to your silly Bard, if you prefer,” the mother-witch called in amusement. “But since you are friends of the Yew Tree, we thought this would be nicer for you.”
“How did she hear us?” Jake breathed, baffled.
“I don’t know, but we’d better not be rude. That might not be…healthy.”
“Right,” Jake said. With that, they ventured over to the table.
Jake was glad to let Archie take the lead in this matter. His aristocratic cousin had much more experience than he did in the art of how to conduct oneself in polite company. “This is very kind of you, ladies.” Archie offered the Norns a gentlemanly bow; Jake quickly followed suit.
The mother-witch beamed with approval. “Join us.” She beckoned them over. “Would you like some tea and sandwiches?”
“No,” the boys said in unison while Snorri gave an enthusiastic “Yes!”
“Never eat magic food,” Archie whispered angrily to him.
“Oh! Er, sorry, I mean no,” Snorri said in disappointment. “Thank you, ma’am, Norns.”
As the boys approached the platform, Jake remained on his guard. This was all much better than lightning bolts and a giant floating head, but even in their nice aspect, all three of the witches still had a devious look in their eyes.
“Oh, look at the little Lightriders!” the granny Norn cooed. “Aren’t you adorable? Come here you two little cherubs and let me pinch your cheeks!”
Jake halted, bristling. “She cannot be talking to me.”
“I think she’s talking to both of us,” Archie whispered.
Criminy, they were on a mission, a quest! Heroes on an adventure did not, as a rule, have grannies doting on them.
Both boys pretended not to hear.
“You can at least sit down, can’t you? Unless you’re always rude?” the pretty young girl-witch challenged Jake.
“He is,” Archie jested.
Jake scowled at him, but the boys cautiously sat down at the table.
Snorri lowered his bulk onto the ground nearby. Red sat on his haunches between the boys’ chairs, eyeing up the food.
“Beautiful gryphon you’ve got there. I haven’t seen one of them in ages. Wherever did you get him?” the mother asked as she poured some tea for granny.
“I inherited him,” Jake replied. “So, um, if you don’t mind, could you please tell us how to get up the tree to Jugenheim? We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
“Why is that?” the granny asked, stirring her tea.
Jake got distracted watching the girl slather strawberry jam all over a piece of freshly baked bread.
It was torture, all this lovely food.
Archie elbowed him.
“Huh? Oh. Right, we just don’t want to get caught in the forest after dark.”
“Very sensible of you. The trolls are restless this time of year. Hungry, too, just waking up after their winter’s hibernation.”
“Trolls?” Archie’s eyes widened. He turned to Jake. “Did she say trolls?”
Jake tried to look calm about it and cleared his throat. “Ahem. So what’s the trick to how we climb this tree of yours?”
They all three laughed.
“What a silly fool!” the girl burst out merrily.
“Skuld, don’t be rude,” the mother chided the girl. “The truth is, you can’t climb it, and it’s certainly not our tree. Nobody owns Yggdrasil. The water, darling,” she reminded her daughter, or youngest sister, or whatever they were to each other.
“Yes, Verdandi.” The girl rose and went to fill a watering can that sat beside the stone pool where the spring water was loosely captured.
When her watering can was full, Skuld went and poured it on the roots here and there, which caused a remarkable reaction in the tree.
Yggdrasil gurgled greedily and almost seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like a person’s chest when taking a deep breath. The roots moved a bit like giant toes wriggling in contentment.
Skuld went and got more water, pouring it on another part. “There you are. That should keep you for a while.” Then she noticed the boys watching her curiously. “One of us always has to water the tree,” she explained, “and one of us always has to be sewing, too. We trade off. It’s easier that way.”
“But enough about us and our boring lives,” the mother witch said, pooh-poohing her. “So! You’re with the Order. How exciting! Do tell us any news of our friend, the Old Yew. How is he?”
“He?” Jake turned to Archie in startled confusion. “What does she mean, he?”
His cousin ignored him. “Oh, he’s fine, ma’am. There was a bit of the shoestring root rot fungus going around
last autumn—”
“Oh, no!”
“But the Old Yew and his children came through it just fine,” he assured her.
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Wait,” Jake said. “The Yew Tree from the Order of the Yew Tree is a person? That has children?”
“He’s a tree spirit, obviously. The oldest in England. What did you think he was?” Archie replied.
“They say he takes up several acres nowadays, down there on the grounds at Merlin Hall. Oh, I haven’t been there in years,” the granny Norn remarked with a chuckle, busily pulling the needle and thread through on her embroidery hoop.
Jake saw she was working on a section of an incredibly intricate tapestry that showed Yggdrasil.
“I should think so,” the mother-witch agreed. “He must be going on what, nine-thousand years now, wouldn’t you say, Granny Wyrd?”
The elderly Norn nodded with a happy sigh. “Oh, such times! He was such an adorable little sapling in those days. Barely a twig!”
“Give him our best when you see him. And do please tell him that Cousin Yggdrasil sends his regards.”
“Certainly,” Archie replied with another polite nod.
“The Yew Tree is a person?” Jake repeated, still astonished. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that?”
Even Red seemed amused at his confusion.
“You must excuse my cousin,” Archie said to the Norns. “He was missing for eleven years, and we only just got him back. I’m afraid there’s lots he still doesn’t know. Yes, Jake. The Old Yew is obviously a tree-person. Who do you think was the judge at Uncle Waldrick’s trial? That’s why they call it the Yew Court.”
“A tree was the judge that sent my uncle to prison? You’ve got to be joking.”
“Oh, trees are much more complex than most of you humans give them credit for,” the mother-witch, Verdandi, replied. “At least the Vikings understood their glory.”
Archie pushed his spectacles up higher on his nose. “I believe that’s why every Viking chief built his great hall around a massive oak tree, if I’m not mistaken?”
“You are correct.” Verdandi seemed pleased. “Either they built their halls around a real tree, or they constructed an artificial one indoors as a way of honoring the oak groves.”
“King Olaf’s great hall has a live tree!” Snorri chimed in.
Verdandi nodded with a look of appreciation. “The giants still know how to honor the old ways. You humans, though—”
“Mother! Don’t get her started,” the girl-witch warned with a roll of her eyes. “All that happened long before their time.”
“I suppose,” the mother Norn said begrudgingly.
“Verdandi’s still peeved that the monks persuaded the Vikings to abandon pagan worship.”
“Ahem, well, I see.” Though Jake was still slightly baffled, he shook off his confusion and got down to business. “So, perhaps now, if you don’t mind, you might tell us how to get to Jugenheim, if one can’t climb Yggdrasil?”
“Of course. Forgive our chattiness, boys.” Granny Norn smiled indulgently. “We don’t get many visitors up here.”
It didn’t really seem like you wanted any, what with the lightning bolts and all, Jake thought, but he kept this opinion to himself.
“Very well, on to business, then. Enough of the pleasantries.” Verdandi stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. “To take your friend back to Jugenheim, you will have to make an offering to Yggdrasil. You’ll throw it in the Well.” She pointed to the stone pool where the swans floated tranquilly once more. “If Yggdrasil is satisfied, then you may pass. If not, you can’t. It’s that simple.”
Jake and Archie exchanged a worried look. They hadn’t brought anything in their gear but the essentials.
While both boys immediately began pondering what they could spare from their supplies, Snorri asked the obvious question. “What sort of offering does the Tree like?”
“Gold?” Jake asked. He had plenty of that, thanks to the goldmine in Wales that his parents had left him.
Only a few weeks into his aristocratic new life, Jake had not yet had a chance to go and see it, but he hoped to soon. Red had originally discovered it back in the Middle Ages, for, as Aunt Ramona had explained, that’s what gryphons did.
They could find veins of gold in the earth, which was why they had been hunted nearly to extinction. Jake was also excited to meet the crew of dwarves who worked in his goldmine. He had never seen a dwarf, but he was told they were honest, hard workers, with excellent singing voices.
In any case, gold coins were heavy to carry, so he hadn’t brought much with him on their journey.
Archie, meanwhile, was worried that the Norns might want him to give up one of his beloved gadgets as an offering, and certainly not his tiny, new-fangled camera. “Yes, what sorts of things?” he echoed Snorri’s question. “Personal effects?”
“No, no. Yggdrasil doesn’t care about those things. What matters to him is how much the offering matters to you. Take Odin, for example,” the mother Norn explained, glancing toward the water. “When Odin came here as a young warrior-god wanting to drink from our Well of Wisdom, even he had to make a sacrifice.”
“Really? What did Odin give?” Archie asked.
“His eye,” she said.
Their mouths fell open.
“I’m going to need both of mine,” Jake blurted out.
“You can give whatever you like, it’s up to you. But it has to be in equal measure to whatever you want in return.” Verdandi shrugged. “Odin wanted enough wisdom to become a worthy king of the gods. To him, his eye was a fair trade. Though it was rather bloody when he stood here and gouged it out with his dagger. Not a pleasant thing to witness, I can tell you.”
Jake shuddered. “We just want to get to Jugenheim.”
“Quite so,” she answered with a smile. “An eyeball seems excessive.” She paused. “You know, we have noticed over the years that our dear Yggdrasil does have certain preferences.”
“Like what?” Jake asked.
“Secrets, dreams, hopes. Ambitions. Things like…oh, your unspoken heartaches. Or your worst fear.”
They stared at her.
“Or a kiss!” the girl-witch suggested with a flirtatious little smile at Jake.
He blanched.
While Verdandi scolded her for being forward, wise old Granny Wyrd leaned closer. “Listen to me, young heroes. What Yggdrasil likes most of all for an offering is your greatest sorrow. Either your worst mistake, for example, or the worst thing that has ever happened to you.”
They absorbed this dire revelation in wonder.
“W-why is that?” Archie stammered.
“Because those are the things that usually teach people the most about life, if they’re willing to learn from them. Don’t forget, your offering will be added to the Well of Wisdom, from which we draw the water for the tree. Nothing adds to wisdom like suffering. That’s why your biggest mistakes, if you learn from them, are some of the most precious things you possess. Yggdrasil would appreciate that.”
“How…?” Jake asked, mystified, but he should have known the answer was, of course, by magic.
Granny Wyrd handed them each a tiny silk sack tied with ribbons. “You must whisper your chosen secret into one of my little notions bags.”
As he accepted one of the tiny pastel-colored bags, Jake recalled that ‘notions’ did not just mean ideas. It was also the term that ladies used for their sewing equipment, like buttons and bits of lace and things.
He knew this because he had made the mistake of knocking over Great-Great Aunt Ramona’s notions basket once and having to clean up everything he had spilled.
Archie accepted one of the dainty little notions bag from Granny Wyrd, too. His was yellow. Jake’s was light blue, and Snorri’s was green.
“So you just…talk into it?” Jake murmured uneasily.
Granny Wyrd nodded. “No one else need hear. It’s between you and Yggrasil. Whisper you
r secret into the bag, then tie the ribbons tightly, and throw it in the well.” She nodded toward the water where the swans floated.
The boys looked at each other uncertainly.
So far, Jake thought, this adventure was not at all going the way he had imagined. Sitting here having tea with some ladies was not exactly the stuff of warriors and heroes, but, oh-bloody-well.
He got up from the table and walked away to be alone so he could reflect on which of his sorrows to use. There were certainly plenty to choose from.
While Jake, Archie, and Snorri pondered it, Red had no trouble deciding on what his offering should be, so he, too, would be allowed to pass. He reached around with his beak and plucked a crimson feather from one of his wings, then dropped it on the table in front of the mother-witch.
His feathers were very precious; each one contained powerful magic.
Verdandi took it and admired it for a moment while the boys were still thinking. “Thank you, Gryphon.” She put his feather in a notions bag, too.
The mood in the meadow had changed as they contemplated the worst, saddest, most fearful moments of their lives.
Jake finally decided which one to sacrifice. It was no eyeball, but hopefully, it would satisfy the mysterious Tree. He turned away from the others, lifted the silk bag up to his mouth, and whispered his secret into it.
He quickly tied the ribbons to keep it shut, then brought it back uncertainly toward the table.
“Now, go and throw it in the pool,” Granny Wyrd instructed.
Jake nodded and headed for it. The girl-witch, Skuld, fell into step beside him. Archie and Snorri weren’t far behind as they, too, finished the same process.
When he came to the edge of the tranquil stone pool, he listened for a moment to the babbling music of the stream feeding into it on one side and flowing out the other in a little waterfall.
Then Jake glanced at Skuld. “What’s going to happen when I throw it in?”
“You’ll see.”
“Should I be worried?”
She just smiled. “Don’t hit the swans. Go on, unless you lack the courage?”
That was all she needed to say. He frowned in answer to her impertinent challenge, then hoping for the best, tossed the dainty fabric sack into the Well of Wisdom.
