Voices of the Stars

by Rowena Whaling

  Nimue the Merchant...

  So now, I am a wealthy Merchant – of indeterminate origin – secretly sent by Vivianne to infiltrate the people of her Mother’s blood, the supposed descendants of the Fisher Kings of the royal line of David, the Hebrew.

  But to go on: after resting for two weeks and recuperating from our arduous Sea voyage, for the next two full Moon’s Dances my guard and I busied ourselves with learning the language and customs of the people in that area, as well as laying in all the needed supplies for the months-long overland journey we would take to reach my Grandmother’s lands. Of course, we had to procure clothing that would not mark us out as foreigners! We were outfitted with sturdy Horses – and beautiful beasts they were. I bought a new wagon in which to transport my belongings. It also was beautiful – but only on the inside, so as not to display too much wealth, for dangerous and robber-filled Woods would we traverse. I travelled with a heavy guard for these reasons.

  The inside of my wagon, sides and floor, were covered with great carpets from Byzantium that I had bought from traveling Merchants. They kept me warm on Nights when the cold winds blew and we could find no safe lodging. Amazingly I had lost very little on the Sea voyage – and none of my gold.

  I must admit here that I do Love luxuries. It is just the way I am. For this I offer no apologies – and mention it only to explain why I was so thankful that my clothing was safe from the passage. You see, my Mother, with the help of Makyr and some of the other women on our Isle, had spun, woven, dyed and stitched the most beautiful underclothing and cloaks for me that I had ever seen. Also, Makyr had made three pair of boots for me; one for very cold weather, which were fur lined, one for warmer weather, and a pair which was for any instance of wet, muddy, or rough terrain. That pair was twice as thick and heavy as the others and simple looking. The other two pair were fit for a Queen. She had made a great red Fox skin muff to wrap my hands or feet in case we were in frozen lands.

  But my best-loved thing was a red Fox-lined cloak with a hood, which was very heavy and of tightly woven wool on the whole outside of it. It had two Roman clasps on it – one was at my neck and one just below my breasts, to keep it closed for warmth when the Winds blew. But the thing I Loved so much about my cloak was that the wool had been very richly dyed with madder. It was a scarlet red; also patterns of vines had been embroidered upon it with threads of deep brown and green. Nothing I had ever seen could compare with my red cloak. And everywhere I was to wear it, it drew attention and many compliments and much comment.

  I think perhaps my physical appearance will not have been described in my Mother’s or Morgan’s histories. Well then, I will do so here. Like Lady Vivianne, I am much taller than the women of the Tribes, but not quite as tall as the Saxon or Northmen’s women. My skin is also lighter and I have green eyes. Men watch me as I go by. And, I have been told many Times that I am beautiful. I do not believe that my beauty can compare with Morgan’s, but it is hard to honestly compare, for I have a different look than that of any of the peoples living in Briton, Saxony, Alba, or the far Northlands of the wild Picti. My teeth are strong and white. My hair is very long, thick, straight, and black. I think that my hair is my best feature. I would not call myself slender, for my breasts, hips, and thighs curve well, but other than these things, I believe myself to be unremarkable. My hands are small, long fingered, and graceful. I do like my hands. Some say the way I move into gesture when I speak or sing is Enchanting. This I put to my own good benefit. They are also all the better to display many rings and wrist works.

  I did say that I Love luxuries.

  So, enough about the way I look – except that no one can guess my Ancestry from my features and this suits my Mother’s plan very well.

  The farther inland we travelled – and as we entered the Time of longer Daylight – the more predictable and warmer was the weather. There were many more balmy Days filled with radiant sunshine and blue skies.

  It seemed that with each passing Day, the Trees – their blossoms of pink and white drifting on the breezes, falling upon our Horses, catching in their manes and tails, and settling on the wagon and the track upon which we rode – became greener and greener and the tiny buds on their branches grew into leaves. Everywhere our Mother the Goddess – She who is the Earth – arrayed herself in beauty. Even in the deep Forests – where the sunlight is filtered through the thick growth of overhead branches – the Mosses on the Stones, the wild Ferns and wildflowers, were richer and more lush than had they been the Day before.

  New life was everywhere. How it lifted our spirits to see the Mother Does and their young Fawns walking through the Woods. Here and there were families of Hare and Foxes. And then there were the Birds – beautiful Birds of every description. Many of them were exotically coloured. They filled the Trees and the Sky above. There was one kind in particular which had become my favourite – although I have never learned what was their name. They had blue and grey feathers, yellow chests, a short bill, and vivid blue collars, wings and tails. Sometimes there were little markings of white on their faces and heads; I suspect these were the males. They seemed to be curious of us, too. I could see the intelligence in their eyes. Their songs and chirping filled the Air all around us and added much to the enjoyment of our travels.

  All this loveliness of the season brought to my mind a song that had been taught to me as a child on the Isle of Apples by a visiting Greek Scholar. I cannot remember his name – as it was so long ago. But I never forgot the words or the haunting melody of his song:

  Persephone, Arise and Cast your seeds

  Dry your Mother’s eyes, for you she grieves

  For all the Winter long, she has lain asleep while you were gone

  Persephone, Arise and Cast your seeds

  The Birds of every kind they wait to sing

  A song to celebrate the birth of Spring

  For every little Worm and Bee with bated breath await to see

  Your Magic wand of Love and warmth’s awakening

  Persephone, Arise and Cast your seeds

  All the good Earth’s sons and daughters wait in need

  For they must clear and till and sow –

  For this they learned and this they know

  We reap all blessings of The Mother through our deeds

  Persephone, Arise and Cast your seeds...

  As we passed by villages and towns, their cottages were different than those on Our Fair Isles. Their roofs were more compactly thatched and had hints of designs on their edges. The wattle and daub exteriors seemed a bit more refined somehow. As many cottages were square as were round. The villages themselves were more symmetrically organized... as compared to the generally haphazard, randomly laid out manner of villages back home. The overall effect was quite pleasing to my eyes. The folk of these villages had a greater variety of sweet smelling herbs planted in their gardens – in front of and around their cottages. Of course, because of less frequent rainfalls it was much less muddy which made for an overall cleaner appearance – as well as affording more comfortable and easier travelling on the roads.

  We stopped as often as we could so that I might ply my ‘trade’ and develop a good reputation as a Merchant, for word spreads far and fast of such things.

  After some long and languid months we finally reached the land of my Grandmother’s people without incident.

  During that Time, I had developed a great fondness for Owen – the one of my guards who had so kindly cared for me in my Sea illness.

  Although we, the company – who had shared such companionable and lighthearted Times together had all formed a bond of friendship that was to last for years – it was with Owen that I had become entangled in a sweet and lusty liaison. Never did I perceive a jealousy or resentment over this coming from the others. For that, I was very thankful. I am sure that each of the other men found many warm and inviting beds to visit along the way.

  It was not a great once-in-a-lifetime Love between Owen and myself – not, a
t least on my part; and I believe not on his either – but an abiding respect and understanding had we. However, beside our tenderness for each other, what there was between us was a very hot, intense sexual attraction. To my great benefit, he was quite simply an exquisite lover.

  Our relationship was to last until our return to the lands of the Britons where I did meet the great Love of my life. Always though, did Owen and I remain friends.

  Chapter 14

  Gwyddion’s Dreams

  Gwyddion

  The Night before I was supposed to escort Gwenyfar to Princess Rowena’s fortress in Dumnonia, I had a great and sorrowful Dream. Brennos was calling out to me to me from his Deathbed. When I told Arthur of my Dream and urgency to reach Brennos, he was distressed on my account. I begged his leave to go – of course it was granted.

  “Gwyddion, there is nothing of a pressing enough nature to keep you here. I will send Bedwyr to escort Gwenyfar in your stead. The Time has come now for you to ride!”

  That morning, as I was about to leave, Arthur gifted me with one of the most beautiful Horses in his stables. She was a golden with a slightly darker mane and tail. She had wondrous eyes, which showed her alertness and intelligence. He gave immediate orders to his stable boys to quickly outfit her with everything I would need for my travels to the Snowy Mountains.

  Now, I did know how to ride a Horse before that Day. It is just that I have always preferred walking or running to wherever I would go, which is something I can still do, even for long distances. I suppose my walking everywhere is just one more of my eccentricities for people to make much about – which people will do – when they have not enough of their own affairs to busy themselves with.

  When I was a child, the man I had called Grandfather had taught all of the other boys of our household a great deal about Horses, as part of their training in War-Craft. Of course, as I was “The Bastard,” I received naught from him but disdain. I was not allowed to join in their Warrior games. However, on numerous occasions, I had hidden out of sight so as to watch these exercises and catch whatever words of knowledge were spoken of them. I did not learn much of the nature of Horses that way – much less how to ride them.

  However, years later I had ridden Horse with Ambrosius and Uther, but then only when the need presented itself.

  The Night I met with Uther, in the great Valley of the Cymru, so long ago – and “Saw” the Bear – when the Voices first had spoken to me of Arthur – I had had to run all the way to the Dumnonian Woods to warn Igraine and Gorlois of Uther’s wicked plan. I ran Day and Night for many Days to reach them. I had to, for I did not own a Horse at that Time and Uther was surely not of a mind to give me one. Of course, I was much younger then...

  On this occasion there was a great need for a speedy arrival. I thanked Arthur for giving me leave to go to Brennos, gave him a blessing of peace and protection, and was on my way within the hour.

  Feverishly I rode – hard as I dared push the Horse, not stopping at all, save for that I must stop for such things as relieving myself, a bite of food, and to sleep a bit each Night. That first Night’s rest came earlier than I had hoped. Exhaustion had undone me. Beneath a Rocky overhang, I huddled within the warmth of my mount’s blanket.

  I Dreamed again...

  When I awoke in the morn, so filled was I with my sorrowful Dream, that I could eat nothing. My head ached.

  On I rode in dreaded anticipation...

  I arrived at Brennos’ Cave before Sundown on the fifth Day. All was quiet. There was no grave – nothing was different than ever it had been.

  So, were my Dreams not prophetic Dreams? Were they only the Dreams men Dream out of fear, need, or desire?

  I rushed into his Cave – my boyhood solace, my foundation and my strength. I hurried to his bed. My Owl Chronos flew to a familiar perch. There was Brennos, lying silently and in Deathlike stillness. Oh, Gods, was I too late? I threw myself to my knees beside him, and said, “Brennos!”

  His eyes popped open as though he had never slept at all.

  “Gwyddion... Hello my boy! You have surprised me. I have always known in the past when you were coming. What brings you here when you are so busy with Arthur? Is everything alright?”

  Startled out of my wits – thinking to have found my dear old friend dead, I said...

  “Brennos, you are not ill! But I Dreamed... I Dreamed that you called me! I have been sick with worry the whole way here...”

  “My boy, you look terrible! Allow me to prepare an Herb simple for you! Why, you look as if you have seen a ghost!”

  “Oh, no – Brennos, I am so happy... you are well!”

  “I assure you, Gwyddion, I am well and fit... and I am so glad to see you as well! Will we talk now or must you rest first?

  “Oh no, I could not sleep now, my relief is overwhelming. And yes, I would have your Herbal drink – if it is not fermented... Thank you.”

  “Good, good... Now tell me of this daunting Dream.”

  “In my terror of the Night, I heard you calling me: ‘Gwyddion... Gwyddion... Come to me soon, for I am unwell...’”

  I paused, for even the memory of it pained me.

  “Was that all, my boy?”

  “No... I mean yes... I mean... There were two Dreams...”

  He sat quietly and thoughtfully, as I related the whole of what I had seen.

  “My first Dream was this: You were calling me... but then, instantly I was at your Cave... The Horse – which I did not yet have in waking Time, but who was the same Horse that Arthur gave to me upon the very next Day – slid to a stop at the mouth of your Cave. Dust and Rocks flew everywhere. I jumped from the Animal and ran to where I saw a woman – but only from her back. She was piling Stones in a great heap upon your grave. Over there...” – I pointed for Brennos – “outside, to the right of your Cave’s opening. There, too, were your two old Ravens, Night and Raven. They were fretting above the very top Stones of the heap.

  “Then I cried aloud... ‘So, I am too late, he has died...’

  “Without turning, the woman, who was piling the Stones, said...

  ‘Are you Gwyddion, The Merlin? I have been expecting you...’

  ‘Yes, I am... But who are you?’

  “She ignored my query... But quoth, ‘The two old Ravens will soon follow Brennos across the veil into the Summerlands. The small one upon my shoulder, Chance, has chosen life... But be comforted, Gwyddion, The Merlin, we are all fated to meet in Death... She awaits us all.’

  “All of this transpired without her ever turning her head to let me see her face; then all vanished into black and I awoke with a start, covered in a sweat!

  “I tried so hard to get up and come to you immediately, but some greater force than my own will made me fall back into a deep sleep in moments!

  “As Arthur had permitted, I left the next morning.

  “After racing to get to you the whole of the next Day, too early that evening I was stricken with such fatigue that I had to rest awhile...

  “I Dreamed again. The second Dream was this: and so strange it was...

  “I was here again and all was as had been before in my first Dream. There she was finishing her piling of Stones upon your grave. But this Time your two old Ravens were high in the Air circling widdershins above your cairn.

  “‘Who are you?’ I said again, ‘What is your name?’

  “She spoke it... It was as the sound of bells. Yet, I could not understand what she had said. Or mayhap it was only that I could not hold it in my remembrance?

  “This Time she stopped, turned around, and looked at me.

  “She had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen, which pierced straight through me. In that instant, Brennos, I was changed – on the inside – how I cannot say – but I was.

  “I appraised the way she looked: long graceful neck, high round breasts, straight square shoulders, luxuriously thick, long black hair. Her lips had a sensual fullness. My eyes drifted downward toward her hips, which
curved out from her slender waist. I looked upward again. Her angular face had a knowing smile upon it, not quite – but almost – mocking me. I began to look downward once more... I could not resist her allure.

  “I knew my behavior to be impudent, but there was no help for it!

  “‘What is this?’ thought I...

  “Even in my Dreams, never have I noticed a woman in this way.

  “I must have been staring at her although I had willed myself not to! She spoke – but at first I just stood there as though stricken dumb. The whole of her beauty had captured the breath from me. ‘You are Gwyddion, The Merlin? I have been expecting you...’

  “‘Yes... Brennos called me two Nights ago.’

  “‘I know,’ said she, ‘he called me two weeks ago. It was too late for Healing but not for comfort.

  “‘He has left his Cave and Ravens to me, but to you also has he left a great gift, the value of which is beyond all earthly measure.

  “‘Come inside Gwyddion, The Merlin... I have prepared a stew for you and there is mead for your drink; or warm honeyed Water if you prefer...’

  “Upon entering your Cave, Brennos, I felt wretchedly woozy, not aligned in normal Time or place. My head was spinning... my vision blurred... and then I saw it! A Dragon! A Dragon! Not quite in the world of form... but real nonetheless... Then my Dream faded...

  “The Dragon, it was right over there Brennos...” I walked over to the spot to show him exactly where – “Really... right here!”

  “This is all very interesting and I believe portends things to come. You have seen the future Gwyddion – the unchangeable future.”

  “Then I have seen your Death.”

  “The woman of your Dreams was right, my boy – Death awaits us all, but not too soon I think – rest easy.”