by Karen Dales
The boy closed his mouth and swallowed audibly. He had never before seen such a beautiful woman, but then again, he had very little to compare against.
In the gloaming firelight, her raven black hair hung long and straight, down over her full rounded breasts outlined in the cornflower blue tunic, to hang over a slim midriff. What captured the boy were her large, intense dark eyes in a face as pale as milk. The brown of the irises were so dark as to almost make it impossible to make out where the pupils started and she did not avert her eyes. There was something oddly familiar there and it was he who finally looked away, suddenly embarrassed at her scrutiny. He ignored Notus confused expression.
“By the Gods, I don’t believe it,” she said as she approached, intent on examining him.
Uncomfortable at the attention, the boy took a step back only to have the rough stone wall press against his back. This time he did look to Notus, his eyes crying out his panic, and this time the monk came to his defence.
“Eira,” stated Notus as he slid smoothly between the two, “this is the young man I told you who saved Tarian and her baby.”
As if snapped out of a dream, the woman shook her head, blinked, and then did something that nearly made the boy melt – she smiled.
“So, you are the one.” Her brown eyes danced in the firelight as her smile brightened. “You are most welcome in my home.”
Not knowing what to say in response, the boy glanced to Notus.
The monk, who stood a half head shorter than the dark haired beauty, touched her lightly on the elbow. “Thank you. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”
“We follow the old laws of hospitality. Of course you are welcome.” She turned from Notus and took a couple of steps to the hearth where the cauldron was hanging, sending wafts of something cooking through the air. “Would the two of you like something to eat or drink, perhaps?”
“Thank you. No.” replied Notus with a warm smile. “We have already supped.”
“So it’s down to business, then?” The graceful arch of her dark eyebrow lifted.
“If you do not mind, my dear, we do not want to keep you up too late.”
Eira nodded and then held out her hand to the boy. “Come here to the table.”
Confused and uncertain as what to do, the boy looked to Notus for guidance. At the monk’s nod, the boy hesitantly stepped away from the wall of the house but did not take the offered hand. He was very aware of her sad smile before she nodded. It was then that he noticed the strands of multicoloured wool that were laid out on the round wooden table.
Noticing the concerned look on his face, Eira picked up the longest one, a piece of yarn the colour of dark oak. “I’m going to take your measure for the clothes Father Notus wants made for you, and by the looks of it, you are in sore need of them.”
The boy quickly glanced down at his doe hide tunic and kilt. A rush of warmth ran to his face at the sight of their stained and shabby appearance.
“If you don’t mind, Eira, my dear, I’d like to check on Tarian while you measure the lad.” Notus walked over to the draped off section of the home.
“No, please. Go right ahead,” replied the woman, her attention momentarily diverted from the young man standing tall before her. “I gave Tarian a sleeping draught earlier so I doubt you’ll disturb her. I know she would have been happy to see you, but I felt it best for her to get as much rest as possible.”
“Thank you, my child,” Notus said with a smile and a nod of his head before disappearing behind the fabric and before the boy could protest at being left effectively alone with Eira.
Eira’s brown eyes turned back onto the boy and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Shall we begin?”
Trapped and unknowing what to do, the boy just stood there making every effort not to look into her deep dark eyes and started at her touch.
“This won’t hurt one bit.” She brought her strings to work, first taking his height from neck to foot, then from clavicle to waist. Her proximity lifted her scent to his nostrils. He could smell the essence of flowers mingled with the sweetness of milk and sweat. Her touch on his skin burned and it took every ounce of resolve not to flinch or move away from the process, but for some reason he did not want to disappoint her.
“Have you ever been measured for clothes before?” she asked, bringing the yellow coloured string to measure him from the nape of his neck to his wrist. She was pressed close to him, standing face to face, or nearly as possible since he was well over a head taller than she. Her breath smelled of beef, wild garlic and herbs, but underlying it all was the spellbinding scent of her blood coursing through her veins.
He shook his head.
She took her hands away and stood back, making a knot in the string before laying it back on the table and picked up the orange length of yarn.
“You don’t say much, do you?”
He gasped as she knelt before him and wrapped her lily-white arms around his waist. Her body’s heat radiated into his and he began to feel himself stir.
“Steady.” She held him firm and quickly took his measure.
Still kneeling she drew her arms back, made a knot and glanced up. “I guess you don’t,” she said, a twinge of sadness marking her voice. Looking back up, their eyes locked and he saw her brow lift again as she half smiled. “Now don’t move. I need to measure your legs.”
Snow white brows drew together then rose in alarm as Eira used the same orange thread to first measure the length from his hip joint to his foot. He nearly fled the house when she held him in place and measured him from crotch to foot. Mortified at what she must be able to see, he turned his face from gazing down at her and noticed his Chooser standing by the multicoloured curtain, a big goofy grin slicing his face in two, obviously enjoying the torment placed upon his Chosen.
Eira stood and placed a hot hand on his arm. “One last measurement and we are done,” she smiled. “Though I do have to admit it’s been quite some time since I’ve received such a complement from one who has come to me for my arts.”
Slowly her words dawned on the boy and he felt another heat rush to his face as he looked away. Her laughter tinkled through the air. He stepped away, embarrassed but was again halted, as her grip on his hand became firm before falling away.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said slyly. “I have to measure you for boots.”
She turned away and brought over a worn piece of hide and knelt before him. She patted his slender hip in a manner to comfort and reassure him and asked him to place one bare foot and then the other on the hide as she used a piece of charcoal to draw a black outline around each foot onto the hide. The measuring completed, she stood gracefully and tilted her head with a half grin on her face.
Notus pulled back the kaleidoscopic tapestry that separated living and sleeping quarters. “I have never met such a fine healer as you, Eira.” Tension flowed as he suddenly felt the intruder upon an intimate interlude and he raised a questioning brown brow.
The boy took the opportunity to step safely away from the woman who stirred up unknown emotions, refusing to take his eyes off his Chooser. He did not have any desire to see what reaction Eira may have to Notus’ entrance and not knowing whether to be grateful for the interruption or furious at having been placed in the situation, red eyes bored into brown.
“Well, um –” Notus broke off eye contact chagrined and turned to face the lady of the abode.
Saving everybody from the unusual awkwardness, Eira moved away from the table as she laid the boot measurements on it, wiped her hands and smiled.
The door to the home burst open, allowing a gust of wind to sweep across the carefully swept floor and into the fireplace, enticing the flames into an ecstatic dance that flamed the room in vibrant light. The unexpected intrusion turned all three’s shocked and surprised attention to the figure consuming the opening.
The lumbering figure in the doorway stepped into the light. “I KNEW it!” he slurred, pointing accusingly at Eira, and then bringin
g a hateful eye upon the white youth standing by the hearth. A sneer lifted to reveal yellow rotted teeth, which accentuated the slashing scar across his face.
“Huw, get out!” Eira met the man’s venom. “Get out NOW!” The house seemed to reverberate with dark and foreboding energy.
The whole scene seemed to play in slow motion. He could not believe whom he was seeing. Memories from the night of Auntie’s murder and the man across the blaze flared into his mind, evoking the old fears to flee, but there was nowhere to run.
Ungainly, Huw stepped further into the home, sneering at Eira, his face twisted and ugly with hatred. “When Garem came running into the Hall, frightened that he saw Gwyn ap Nudd at the forest's edge I just knew that you had something to do with this, woman.”
“You’re a buffoon, Huw.” Eira stepped forward to intercept her cousin from his attempt to get to her guests, but was stopped by a young girl darting out from behind the tapestry to clutch at her mother, crying up for comfort. With a whisk of her arms Eira reached down and settled the child on her hip, hugging and patting the girl in an attempt to sooth and calm, all the while glaring at Huw.
Red eyes flickered from intruder to mother, fear trickled into a transformative fire, igniting a long past memory. Here was the man that not only killed Auntie, but he was the boy who had wielded the wooden sword in the glen. Notus had brought him into his worst nightmare, one he could not wake from.
His eyes sparked with anger banked by the all the injustices he had suffered – the loneliness, the hunger, the desolation – caused by this man’s, and his ilk’s, hatred.
Time became protracted. The sound of a baby’s wail became a siren song.
Flickers of light from the hearth no longer danced, but rather stood stationary as if expectant to the next moment.
Yesssss…NOW!
The boy agreed, uncaring of the fact that the voices came again while awake and in the presence of Notus. Before the flames could shift position for a better view of the scene unfolding before it, the boy held Huw against the stone wall, white hand pinning him under the chin so as toes dangled and scratched the earth.
“Murderer,” hissed the boy as he angled the man’s head to the side, exposing a rapidly pulsing artery. The smell of terror and sweat mingled with, but did not over power, the intoxicating effervescence of the blood beneath the unwashed skin. Ignoring the incessant pulling of his side to dislodge his childhood tormentor and the strange elongating shouts, the boy slowly brought his mouth to his immobile feast.
Fulfill the covenant! The voice cried out victoriously.
“GWYN!”
The sound of the name pushed into his mind and snapped reality back, and the boy jerked away, his revenge incomplete.
Noooooooooooooooo!
Before him stood Huw, hacking and holding his bruised neck, a pitiful excuse for a living creature. The fear had evaporated. The anger subdued. All that remained was disgust that such a creature could be allowed to exist. Turning away from the nauseating sight, he found Eira staring in shock, and worse, Notus was fuming. Before anyone could say a word, the boy turned and departed the warm hostile house to the cool inviting forest.
Quick to cover up and clear the disaster the night was turning out to be, Notus went over to the injured man and laid a hand on his hunched over back. “Are you all right, my son?”
“Of course not!” cried Huw, his rough voice bringing upon another bought of coughing. Brushing off Notus’ concern, Huw managed to stand up, his face full of fury at having been humiliated in front of the woman he always wanted and the priest.
“That creature is DEAD!” he exploded in venom. The wails of the children ignored. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to get a hunting party together and we’ll scourge the whole area of its kind!”
Notus blanched and quickly blocked the doorway before Huw could leave. He had to do something, and fast, before the situation became even more unsalvageable. Despite his own fury at his Chosen, he had to protect the boy. Making contact with bloodshot heavyset brown eyes, Notus locked their eyes together and spoke to the man’s heart and soul, pressing his own energies along the rivers of blood into the man’s mind. “You will do no such thing.”
All thought and will escaped Huw as he was forced to do the priests bidding. Some part of him cried out in defiance, but that too succumbed to the power of the Priest’s will until all he could do is stare slack-jawed and round eyed at the Father.
Noticing his complete capture of Huw’s attention, Notus pressed his advantage. “You will leave here, Huw, and remember nothing of tonight’s transgressions. It will only be a blackened out memory of a night filled with too much drinking. Go back to your bed. Forget everything after you left the hall.”
Notus cleared the door as a yawn split the man’s head. Huw stumbled from Eira’s home without looking back.
When the intruder was out of sight, Notus slowly and carefully swung the door closed and went to sit at the table, exhausted from all that had transpired. He watched as Eira settled her daughter back into the bed they shared and then went over to the crib where two huddled masses mewled for comfort. Placing a long fingered hand upon the two babies, she shushed them back into silence and stood up. Notus could see the toll of the conflict in her drawn face as she came to sit opposite to the Priest.
“I’m so sorry, Eira,” apologized Notus as he ran his hand over his face to land his chin on his palm supported by the table. “If I had ever thought to bring such discord into your home I would never have come.”
Eira reached out to touch her friend’s hand lying limply on the table. “It wasn’t your fault Paul. It was ours. No…I don’t mean yours. I mean mine and Huw’s.” A sad smile lifted her lips.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Notus pulled his hand back and straightened up. “If I hadn’t asked you for the clothes and if I hadn’t brought the boy…”
“No, Paul,” said Eira firmly, “we can play all the what-if’s we wish, but in the end the Goddess brings about the truth no matter how much we wish it to be buried in the past.”
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
Uncomfortable with the idea of breaking a decade’s old secret, Eira stood and began to pace. “I’ve seen him before, Paul. A long time ago when I—we—were still innocent—Huw, Rhys, Glenys and I. Rhys and Glenys have long since passed into the Summerlands, but Huw and I remain with our horrible secret.”
Something from a conversation he had with the boy early on in their partnership rushed forward into the present. “He mentioned something about being found when he was a child. He barely came out alive. Was that you?” Notus could not believe that Eira could be capable of such violence.
Long straight dark hair swished back and forth in confusion and she looked into Notus’ eyes, her own sad and imploring. “Huw was the one who wouldn’t let him go when he was discovered and ran. Huw was the one who hit him. Huw was the one who used his waster to hit the side of his head. But it was all of us who left him there to die – a secret to take to our grave.” Tears ran down her soft, flawless cheeks.
“But how could you know the boy is one and the same?”
She sighed and sat down opposite to Notus. “Because, there is no one like him, Paul. No one. I recognized him the instant he came over my threshold. I’m just glad to see he survived.”
“No matter that, my daughter, he shouldn’t have –”
Eira cut Notus off with a slash of her hand. “You’re right. The laws of hospitality were broken. But Huw had no right to do as he did either. In any case,” she brought her hand back down to the table and stared at them, “I do not begrudge him his reaction.”
Silence filled the void between them until Notus stood up. “Are you still willing to make the clothes for the boy?” he asked hesitantly.
“Oh, yes,” Eira looked up, nodded and smiled. “It is the least I can do for all that I have brought upon him.”
“Thank you.” A weight relieved itself from Notus’
shoulders. “When will they be completed?”
“At the first harvest festival after the first harvest full moon. I believe it’s what you call the autumn equinox.”
“That soon?”
Eira nodded her head.
“What do you wish in payment? You know I do not own possessions or carry money.” Notus opened his hands palm up.
“I know,” stood Eira as she moved to stand beside her friend and took his cool hands in hers. “Just two things.”
“Just two?” Notus smiled inquisitively.
“Just two,” smiled his friend. “Tell me how you met him and anything else you can and, if he’s anything like what the people here are saying about him, meat to last the winter.”
Notus nodded in agreement and then grew confused. “What are they saying about the boy?”
Eira’s eye’s shown with excitement. “That he’s the Horned Hunter, Gwyn ap Nudd, returned to us at the time we need Him most.”
Taken aback at the bluntness of her belief, Notus realized that it was Eira who shouted the God’s name, and it was that name that broke the boy away from feeding on Huw. Taking a deep breath, Notus licked his lips and realized a new burden upon his shoulders. Without another word he left Eira’s home and entered into the dark of midnight, wondering what he would find when he got back to the cave.
Chapter XIII
The warm rainfall had plastered long ivory hair to his face, neck, bare shoulders and back as the young man walked, heedless of where he was going. He stalked the woods far enough away from the cave and the hamlet so as to hopefully not be noticed by anyone.
Fuelled by anger still smouldering after nearly two turnings of the moon, he ignored the sounds and sights around him – ones that normally he would have been in awe of with his newfound abilities. Tonight, as with all the previous ones before it since being brought to Eira’s, the resentment exposed him raw to the elements.
It was easy to be angry with the monk who had changed and subsumed his life, but it was being confronted with his past and the blatant evidence of why he had always been hidden by Auntie, that did not allow him to forgive the man who now called him son.
