Shasta Summer

by Teresa Geering

  As the forest opened up to a clearing, a vixen stood guard over her two young cubs while they devoured their breakfast. Protected by their mother they were aware of Shasta but had no fear of her.

  Shasta carefully approached the vixen and it began to stiffen at first with apprehension, but relaxed in acknowledgement that they meant each other no harm. Shasta carried on walking admiring the wild flowers growing here and there. The trees shaded the ground beneath her which remained damp and cool. Occasionally she picked some earth up and let it run through her fingers. Looking up into the branches of the trees, she wished the birds good morning. They seemed to her to respond. A magpie hopped in an ungainly manner past her in his haste to be away. Shasta raised an imaginary cap and saluted him, as was the usual custom for good luck, smiling to herself as she did so. Hopefully she would see his mate as one on its own usually meant sorrow, if you believed the superstition. Two together would be joy. Strangely his mate didn’t seem to be about.

  As she got deeper into the forest, the density of the trees gave an eerie illusion of darkness. There were no birds and there was an unusual silence surrounding her. Shasta stopped and listened. She could hear the sound of someone using an axe. Walking towards the sound she saw a young man about the age of Merlin. Watching quietly she felt rather uncomfortable spying on him. He was stripped to the waist and, from where she stood, she could see the sweat glistening on his body.

  As he lifted the axe to chop the wood from the tree he had felled, she called out

  “Good morning, Sir, ‘tis a beautiful one, and at this time of the morning the forest is so fresh.”

  Startled he turned and let the axe drop down. Seeing Shasta he began to smile and, picking up his smock, he began to use it as a towel to wipe away the sweat.

  Recovering himself he said, “Morning, mistress, you be about very early.”

  Shasta assumed him to be a local field hand. “I love the forest at any time but especially at this time of the morning when everything is so fresh and new,” she said.

  “Aye, it be beautiful. I was about to get a drink in my cottage just over there on the edge of the forest. Will ‘ee join me?”

  Although she was thirsty, Shasta hesitated, uncertain of what to do. Sensing this, the young man told her his name was Seth and, if she preferred, he would bring a drink out to her. Realising that she was probably being a bit silly, she agreed to walk to his cottage which was in easy walking distance. Instinct however told her to be wary of this good-looking young man.

  As they walked towards the cottage, Seth engaged her in conversation.

  “You be that foreign travelling woman everyone talks about. I don’t go to the village much but I hear tell about you by the labourers that work in the fields. They say that you changed the village and made all the flowers grow by magic overnight.”

  “That is partly true,” said Shasta. “Mostly it was the work of the villagers. They had to want change for it to happen. I just helped them along.”

  Shasta had been aware as she approached the cottage that obviously Seth hadn’t bothered much about his small garden. It was mostly overgrown with weeds and neglected. The narrow path to the cottage was broken in places and very uneven. The cottage itself had a run down dirty look to it.

  “Maybe you will help me with my garden, mistress?”

  Shasta was surprised at first by his forwardness. Recovering, she said,“But this is Shasta Village. Whatever you wish for will be, Seth. If you wish to have a beautiful garden, it will happen.”

  Taking a step towards her he said suggestively, “Maybe you will make it happen for me. You helped everyone else.”

  Seth’s voice seemed to have an edge to it and his manner seemed demanding.

  “First perhaps we could have that drink, Seth. I’m beginning to feel very thirsty,” she said softly to ease the situation.

  Instantly Seth became less hostile in his manner. “Of course, mistress. I forgot me manners for a moment. Come inside the cottage.”

  Seth walked ahead of her and lifted the haggaday latch to the door of the cottage. Walking inside, he held the door open for her to follow.

  The first impression she got was of the darkness of the room after the sunlight outside and of a dank, musty smell. The room itself was similar to May's, with the fire the dominant feature, but there the similarity ended. There was no welcoming look to this fire. it was quite bare apart from a few dead ashes. To the left of it was a wooden pallet which sufficed as a bed, with just straw for a mattress.

  A wooden table, roughly constructed from tree trunks, stood under the window, with two chairs around it. Across the centre of the floor lay a threadbare rug and, in the sink, were dishes with dried food caked onto them.

  Seth made no excuses for the condition of the room and took two goblets from the shelf, filling them with ginger beer.

  Inviting Shasta to sit down at the table, he handed her the drink.

  “I hope it be to your liking, mistress,” he said.

  Although it was warm, Shasta agreed it was to her taste.

  Feeling the need to make conversation, she asked if he had lived in the cottage very long.

  “Aye, mistress, I have lived alone here for quite a few years. It needs a woman’s touch, though, and I intend to take me a wife afore so long.”

  “Oh, have you got someone in mind?”

  All of her instincts made Shasta instantly regret the remark.

  Very casually he sat upright in the chair and slid his arms to rest on the table. With a sickly grin on his face, and looking Shasta straight in the eyes, he said with great emphasis, “Oh yes, mistress, I have met just the woman.”

  Shasta chose to ignore the insinuation and, finishing the last of her drink, thanked him for the refreshment. She rose from the table and said it was time she made her way back.

  “Maybe you will visit again soon, mistress?” Seth asked.

  “If I am walking this way again I will certainly call on you, Seth,” she said, knowing very well that she would try and avoid it at all costs.

  They left the cottage and Seth walked as far as the edge of the forest with her, seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts. Picking up his axe he continued with his work as Shasta made her way back through the forest.

  As she walked she began to assimilate her feelings.

  Seth was a very good-looking young man, not many years older than her, she supposed. She couldn’t deny that he had a body that any young maiden would be pleased to look at with pleasure.

  Suddenly a mental image of Merlin invaded her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about Seth when she had her beloved Merlin? Her footsteps became lighter and she began to hum to herself as she made her way back through the forest and into the sunlight again.

  Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she still hadn’t eaten, but she felt light of heart and she couldn’t wait to see Merlin again.

  Chapter 29

  Merlin had also woken early. He was eager to see Shasta before he started work in the fields. He stood outside her caravan in a quandary. He had called to her and, getting no reply, finally looked inside, disappointed to find it empty. There was no sign of her anywhere. He decided to walk down to the small stream at the edge of the forest but she wasn’t there either. He sat there for a while watching the shallow stream as it meandered over flat rocks and glistened in the sun. Many times he had used them as stepping-stones to get to the other side. Sometimes, due to his haste, he had also got wet feet where he had misjudged his step.

  Merlin watched the reflection of the sun on the slow moving water and it made him feel lazy. He lay back on the grass, closed his eyes, and folded his arms behind his head. His thoughts drifted towards Shasta and he relished the happiness that she had brought him. He had never been so happy. This was the first woman he had ever loved and he imagined he heard Shasta calling his name. It seemed very real and he opened his eyes. He was blinded at first by the brightness of the sun and then he saw her running towards him
. As he stood up she rapidly closed the distance between them.

  Merlin drank in her beauty and gathered her to him, pulling her close. He kissed her with a passion that surprised both of them and left them breathless.

  Pulling apart he said, “Mistress, I searched for you and was concerned when I couldn’t find you.”

  “Oh, my beloved, I woke early and decided to take a walk in the forest, it was so beautiful and peaceful.”

  “If I had known I would have walked with you to keep you company,” said Merlin.

  “Oh, I had company,” she said. “When I reached the edge of the forest, I met a woodcutter called Seth. We exchanged a few pleasantries and he offered me a drink in his cottage, which I accepted.”

  For the first time Merlin felt jealousy. He knew Seth very well from evenings spent in the local tavern. Seth was the local lushington, or drunkard, who regularly got into fights with other men for paying too much attention to their wives. Due to his good looks and strong physique he was frequently found in their beds in a drunken stupor by their men folk. On occasions he even took a local doxey or woman of low repute. It was also common knowledge that he was looking for a wife to take to his bed.

  He was not at all popular among the men of the village and, on the whole, the women just used him out of pure lust.

  Merlin didn't know whether to share this with Shasta but he didn’t want to give her too much cause for worry. Eventually he said, “Be mindful of Seth, Mistress. I have known him a long time and he is not all he seems.”

  “Why, Merlin, do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?” Shasta asked.

  “I love you more than my own life, Shasta. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt in any way, but I do not deny that I am jealous of him spending time with you.”

  “Beloved Merlin, you have nothing to fear. You will always be my only love.”

  Taking his hand in hers, Shasta pulled him close and kissed him tenderly. Then, putting her arm through his, they walked back towards her caravan.

  Realising how hungry she was, Shasta asked Merlin to join her for breakfast.

  Accepting that he would probably be late joining the other labourers in the fields, he felt that breakfasting with Shasta would be worth it.

  As they reached the caravan they could see May in the garden pottering among her flowers, as usual. Shasta called out to her. Turning, she waved to them both and made her way towards the gate.

  “Good morning and how are you both this fine morning?”

  “Very well thank you, May. We are just about to have breakfast. Will you join us?”

  At first May declined, thinking she would leave the young ones alone, but both Shasta and Merlin persuaded her to join them.

  They decided to sit outside the caravan to eat as it was such a beautiful morning. Over breakfast Shasta told May about meeting Seth in the forest. For an instant May's face clouded over. This didn’t go unnoticed.

  “That one be trouble mistress,” said May, reverting to the old dialect. Shasta noticed that this happened with all of the villagers from time to time, but mostly when they were excited or angry, regardless of their position in the community.

  “He causes more trouble in the village during one night in the tavern than all the men on a Saturday night drinking spree,” said May with much emphasis on the word ‘he’. “You would be well advised to stay away from him,” She continued.

  Shasta had never heard a harsh word come from May until now and it disturbed her greatly. A feeling of foreboding came over her and, having finished their breakfast, she collected the dishes to take them inside the caravan for something to do. May stood up and, making her excuses, returned to her garden.

  Merlin, already late for his work, said goodbye to Shasta and hoped that they would share Nuncheon together at midday. She promised that she would prepare some food, or bait as the field workers called it, and agreed to meet him.

  Chapter 30

  Shasta picked up her black cooking pot and sprinkled a few fresh herbs into it as the mood took her, including plenty of sage as it helped her think more clearly. She then picked up her three-legged stool and, leaving her caravan, made her way to the edge of the forest, needing to be alone with her thoughts.

  Finding a secluded spot under a large oak tree, she set her pot and stool down close to the trunk of the tree. She collected some nearby bits of kindling wood, made a small fire with practised ease and stood the cooking pot on top. Sitting on her stool, she began to meditate by staring into the pot and inhaling the pungent odour of the herbs as they began to spit and sizzle. Breathing deeply she felt the familiar light-headedness and her thoughts began to drift. She went back in time and relived everything that had happened since she had come to the village.

  Her thoughts took her back to Beth and the ritual they had performed deep in the forest for Weodmonath. Although she had seen this tradition performed in another village, she felt convinced that she had performed it herself on another occasion. The village fayre had been very lively and the villagers had made it the success it was.

  Her thoughts then turned to May. Their friendship, although relatively new, had become even stronger of late and she felt as if they had always known each other. Their love for Merlin was mutual. May loved him as a son, while Shasta was in love with him body and soul, and when the spring came they would be wed.

  As this thought passed through her mind she reached down and picked some wild mushrooms growing within arms reach and threw them into the pot. Perhaps the combined aromas would clear her head. Her psychic ability seemed to have deserted her of late just when she needed it more than ever, either that or a faery godmother, she thought with amusement.

  As she uttered these words an apparition appeared before her. Shasta accepted this with no surprise. It wasn’t the first time she had seen apparitions during meditation, the difference this time being that the face she was looking upon was perfectly beautiful.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “My name is Abelia and I am the Faery Queen.”

  “The name is familiar to me but I can’t think why,” said Shasta.

  “I promise you that you will remember everything in time, Shasta, when the time is right.”

  As Shasta was about to question her further, the apparition slowly disappeared into a mist that had risen from the pot. Then everything was as it was before.

  Shasta was now more confused than ever. Why couldn’t she recall the name? It was obviously very important and connected to her reason for being here in the village. As she sat looking into the pot, the scene changed again. This time she was looking at herself. Her features were the same but her clothes were all wrong. Her hair was in a plait as she usually wore it, but she was wearing a brightly coloured dress that she didn’t recognise and which only came to her knees. She also looked much younger. How very strange, she thought.

  Next she saw May, but she looked older than she was now. Although she was dressed very similarly to her current fashion, the kitchen table she sat at looked nothing like the one in her cottage. It was of a much lighter, shiny wood and the legs had unusual carvings on them. The four chairs also had carvings which matched the table. Lying in a large wicker chair near the table was a black cat completely surrounded by cushions, and resting between its front paws was a rag doll with long blonde plaits dressed in dungarees.

  “Primrose!” exclaimed Shasta.

  Seeing her doll had triggered her memory... Oh how much she loved Primrose. It had been given to her by her mothers’ sister when she had been born and it had been everywhere with her.

  Slowly it all came back to her. She now knew that she had come back here to save Merlin’s life.

  Shasta needed to talk to May. Picking up her cooking pot, which had cooled during the apparitions, she ran back to her caravan. Leaving the cooking pot outside by the steps, she hurried up the path to May's garden. Sensing that she was in the back garden she hurried through the gate calling her name as she went.

&n
bsp; May had been lounging in her swing seat, but hearing the urgency in Shasta’s’ voice rose and met her.

  “Mistress Shasta, what ails thee?”

  “May, dearest Aunt May, I now know why I came to the village,” she said breathlessly.

  “Sit down here, mistress, and I will get us a drink.”

  Summoning up two goblets of ale, May handed one to Shasta and sat beside her.

  Shasta took a long drink to quench her thirst and began to tell May about the apparitions she had seen. May didn’t interrupt until the story was finished.

  Breathless from excitement, Shasta began to try to explain to May. Although she was here in the village of Shasta now, she had actually been born two hundred years in the future, returning to this life to right a wrong.

  May, who accepted most things on face value, looked confused.

  Shasta, seeing this, started again.

  “In two hundred years from now in this village, I will begin another life as a young girl called Summer. My parents will be Iris and George Backer and my mothers’ sister will be called May. When I am eight and a half years old, my mother will arrange for me to stay with my Aunt May.