Percival's Angel

by Anne Eliot Crompton

  “For what?”

  “Those Humans you talked with.” We’re yelling. From a distance, our words can be heard and distinguished from the river’s words. I poke Percy in the back till he turns around to me. I raise my hands and finger-talk, extra slow.

  They made you unhappy.

  Percy shouts, “Unhappy! They opened my eyes! Now at last I see the sun!” He flings a wild hand out toward the sunset. Close to him, I feel his aura that I cannot see. It boils like North River.

  I draw calm Spirit around me, a mist that Percy’s heat cannot scorch. This I learned from the Lady.

  Percy turns sideways, one leg dangling, and shouts in my ear. Instant talk floods out of him. He cares not that somewhere, someone may hear him. Already, we Fey are less real to him than the fantasies the knights taught him. His eager words reel and stumble and trip each other up.

  I flash fingers at him. Finger-talk, Friend!

  He tries; but his slow fingers shake and tangle, and he returns to wild yelling.

  He yells about those three dead knights. He jabbers what they told him of their world. (I could have told him some of this, myself. Merlin could have sung it to him. A good thing we did not! With Percy, this knowledge acts like a…sickness.)

  “Together, Lili! They ride together, alive or dead!”

  I finger-talk. They ride dead?

  “Listen! The High King sends them here, there, to guard the Kingdom. They ride. Fight. Together. Anything they win they keep, so they get…rich. They get more and more.”

  More and more what?

  “At home in Arthur’s Dun they have a den, a…house, each one his own. And a…wife. Woman. Each one, all his own. And…servants, to do whatever he orders. Each one his own. But listen, this is the important part.

  “They owe…they owe…allegiance to the High King. Arthur. What he says, they do. Whatever.”

  Like the servants. You’re saying they’re his servants.

  “They’ll die for him.”

  They already have.

  “What do you think of that, Lili?”

  Not much at all.

  “Did you ever dream of such glory?”

  Glory?

  “Gods, Lili! Holy Archangel Michael! Knights don’t live to hunt and eat and get a bit of pleasure!” Violently, Percy points down at the water below, now shadowed. “Goddamn fishes live like that! Knights live for their King, his Kingdom, their Honor! Fame! Riches! Each one his own!”

  Fame? Very dangerous. Hidden is better. Fishes know that.

  “You don’t see! I thought you, at least, would see!”

  See what?

  Percy chokes.

  I look up from the water to his face.

  Tears spill from Percy’s wide, gray eyes. Big, transparent tears like heavy raindrops wander down his cheeks into his funny yellow beard.

  I stare, amazed and shocked. Attacked as by high wind, my Spirit cloak shivers around me.

  “I know the others can’t see it. They’d laugh. They’d say, ‘Where’s the glory in this…allegiance, hah? Where’s the glory in dying for the King?’”

  And where in the world is it?

  “They’d say, ‘Why live for somebody else? I’m plenty to live for, me myself.’”

  Indeed!

  “But I’m not, Lili! I’m not enough to live for! To eat and drink and play and sleep!”

  Every instinct tells me, Get up! Run. You can’t deal with this.

  I shout, “And to look at the sky.”

  “What? Look at the sky? The sky doesn’t look back at me! I need for the sky to look back at me, Lili! I never knew that till now. That’s what I need. That’s why I’ve never been…happy, like all of you. Goddamn, goddamn!”

  Percy sobs. Softly. But the sobs shake his big, lovely form.

  Instinct says, Run!

  I hitch close up to Percy and draw my arm about his shoulder. His sobs shake me too.

  Before I climbed up here I felt watched. No living creature watched me, nothing I could hear, see, or smell. Nothing that would move, roll a stone, whisper a leaf.

  I feel watched now. Change watches me. The Future moves in close and watches, more invisible than Spirit. The Future stretches strange hands to grab me.

  I shout into Percy’s ear, “Friend, it’s all right. You can do it.”

  “Huh?” Percy stifles a sob to listen.

  “You can be a knight.”

  “Me?”

  “Why not? You are Human. Put on a stone shirt, and you’re a knight.”

  “Holy Michael! It’s not that easy.”

  “And why not?”

  “They told me about that too. There’s all sorts of…trials and…learnings…the King has to decide to knight you. Make you a knight. You don’t just decide that yourself.”

  Very likely. Humans make everything hard and complicated.

  “How can the King knight a man he never saw?”

  Percy’s tears quit flowing. (I breathe easier.) He dries face with fists.

  “You must go out there, Friend. Meet this King. When he knows you, he will knight you.”

  “Go out there…Where? Where do I find the King?”

  A pretty little shrug. But my mind whirls. “You ask as you go. ‘Where rests King Arthur?’ All Humans will know that. Point the way. If you mind living like a fish, if you want to live for the King, you must go find him.”

  Percy shouts thoughtfully, “A gigantic Adventure…Such as Sir Friendly described…Find the King, and I’ll deserve knighthood!”

  Finger talk. I would think so.

  “First thing, how do I get out of the forest at all? Old Sir Edik has always told us we can never leave. He got us in. But we can never get out.”

  No more you can. But I can.

  “Aye, well. You can go in and out at will, steal from the villagers…How’s that help me any at all?”

  I take you with me. Right now I see how.

  And this is somehow true. Right now the plan rises in my mind like Apple Island out of lake-mist.

  I yell, “Percy! I’ll go with you!”

  “You?” Percy shines at me like the sun itself. “Goddamn!” Then, “…But I don’t know. From what those knights said, you might be more trouble than worth.”

  “You can use a bit of magic, Percy.”

  “Goddamn truth!”

  “You won’t make a start without me. Can’t get beyond West Edge by yourself. And out there, I can sneak around, spy, vanish. You can’t do that so well.”

  “Holy Hubert, we’ll go together! Goddamn!”

  I laugh in Percy’s suddenly bright face. I’m not sure what this knight-word “goddamn” means, but I think I will hear a lot of it from now on.

  Behind us, the Future rubs gleeful hands together.

  In his excitement Percy has not asked me why I want to go. So much the better.

  ***

  With the Lady of the Lake, I walk among flowering apple trees.

  We glide from tree to trunk, from shadow to shade, through ringing, insistent birdsong. I draw my “invisible” cloak about me. The Lady’s green gown melts into green shadow. No one looking up from the lake would notice color, or motion. No one closer would hear our words; for we use finger-talk, and gentle murmurs which even we can hardly hear over the birdsong. Invisible, inaudible, we move among the blooms of Apple Island like two drifting spirits.

  Nimway says, “This is a quest you speak of. A long, dangerous adventure in search of treasure, such as Merlin sings.”

  I sign, Percy quests for Knighthood. I quest for a Human Heart.

  And why?

  For Power, Lady! Merlin says the Human Heart is the World’s Greatest Power.

  “Look at me, Lili. Have you seen greater Power?”

  Mid-step,
I pause; look carefully. Nimway casts on me her sharp, dark glance that sees through matter to mind and spirit. In dappled shade her huge white aura shimmers softly.

  I shake my head. I have never seen more Power in a living being.

  “But I have no Human Heart. Nor have I ever gone questing.”

  I must do this.

  We move on.

  Nimway murmurs, “If I consent, your Percy will be the first Human ever to leave this forest.”

  I remind her, “Merlin.”

  “Merlin is half-Fey.”

  “Percy grew up here, Lady.”

  “Unwilling!”

  “He has given his word, he will keep the Forest secret forever.”

  Nimway grins briefly. “His word!”

  “His word is sacred. Alanna taught him that. And then those knights, they told him the same. Percy will keep his word.”

  Nimway says, “Strangely, I agree.”

  Relief! The Lady will not stand in our way!

  She says, “I know Alanna.”

  “Yes.”

  “Her son will keep his word. I also know something from Merlin and Niviene about the Kingdom out there. Lili, will you listen to counsel?”

  Very gladly.

  Drifting, gliding slowly uphill, the Lady advises me.

  “Pretend you live in a Merlin ballad. If the song ends, so do you. In this ballad, you are a spy in unknown country. No one may guess who or what you are.”

  I understand.

  “Firstly, then, never open your mouth.”

  ???

  “Eat carefully. Smile and laugh close-mouthed. Humans notice filed teeth.”

  !!!

  “Second. You cannot be invisible out there. You cannot take cover, for there is none. But you can be unnoticed.”

  “Next to Percy?”

  Together we laugh, openmouthed, silent.

  “Easiest next to Percy! For all eyes will be on him. Thirdly, then, remain chaste.”

  ???

  “You are virgin, now.”

  How can she be so sure? Ah. My aura tells her. Dark eyes unfocused, she gazes past me into Spirit. She says, “Stay virgin. Sex steals Power. The strongest mages are chaste.”

  Chaste? Once more I pause, mid-step.

  What of the Goddess? What of Her sacrifice?

  “Time enough ahead.”

  But Nimway is far from chaste! She lives with Merlin. She poles across the lake to every Flowering Moon dance. Mischievous at her age, she still waylays handsome Human men on twilit forest fringes, seduces and kills them.

  But you, Lady?

  She smiles, close-mouthed. “I choose not to use that method. Merlin tells me that if I did, I would be twice as strong.”

  Then why?…

  Hold yourself chaste. Fourthly…We walk on. “Humans are proud.”

  “Like Percy.”

  “Heed their manners, their courtesies. Do nothing at all until you see how others do. Sit when they sit, bow when they bow, call them Sir. You speak the language?”

  “Some. Percy and Merlin have taught me. Percy will show me the courtesies too.”

  “Percy, hah! You must teach Percy.”

  We pause at the edge of a sunny glade. Across this golden space rises the great Counsel Oak, King Tree of Apple Island. He casts a shadow like night.

  Nimway says, “We will ask Oak-counsel.”

  Have I not just received counsel?

  But wait.

  Her chin points downwind.

  Undergrowth rustles.

  Whiteness pushes gently out of a thicket.

  I am reminded of the white horse Percy’s first knight rode; but this whiteness is small, and careful.

  Head and shoulders lift into sunlight; leafy ears flick. This is a small fallow doe.

  Spirit-white, she steps out halfway into golden light. Wobbling nose smells us. Golden eyes blink at us. She looks away, waits a moment more, leaves her thicket altogether, and minces across the open space, twitching her tail at every step. Counsel Oak’s deep shadow swallows her up.

  Nimway finger-speaks. Our guide leads the way.

  But we wait a moment ourselves, looking, listening, testing air, before we dart across the space swift as swallows, into oak-night.

  Here it is too dim for finger-talk. Birdsong above is lost in a constant, windy rustle of high leaves. The scent of magic drowns all scent of bark, bud, moss, or mouse.

  Close to the trunk and its great black lightning-cave, Nimway asks me, “You truly will go on this quest?”

  “I will.”

  “Had I known you would leave us, I would have taught you more, and faster.”

  I think myself well taught! I see the invisible. My spells work.

  “I wish you had learned to make fire…Niviene tells me that Power is most valuable, out there.”

  True, I have not yet learned that. Not for lack of trying!

  “I cannot teach you quickly what needs years to learn. But, I have a gift for you.”

  Nimway lays fingertips to the thong about her neck. From under her gown she draws up a dangling charm. Lightly held in fingertips it looks like not much, gray, metallic. The scent of Power flows from it.

  Desire like lust floods me.

  Nimway says, “Merlin gave me this ring.” She holds it with fingertips apart, so I can see it clearly in the dim light.

  “Victory is her name. This is her song.” Softly, she chants.

  “Sword for fight,

  Feathers for flight.

  Hound on trail,

  Wind in sail.

  Sing her those lines if you feel her Power ebb. Thus you strengthen her, and she will strengthen you, in every way.”

  My hand reaches by itself, drawn to Victory.

  The Lady steps back away. “Yet another virtue she has. Point her at another, and she will strengthen him.”

  The ring calls to me. My hand stretches after her. The Lady steps back away, up against Counsel Oak’s rough trunk.

  “She is made to fit a Human finger, and would slide off yours. Keep her around your neck…Lili. Out there, you may meet my son. My Lugh.”

  Ah, yes. The long-lost one. Give me the ring!

  “Merlin and Niviene tell me he is well. They say he is famous in the Kingdom. Merlin sings me ballads about him.

  “But you, Lili; you may see what they do not. When Victory brings you back here safe, come and tell me about my Lugh.”

  “Lady, I will try.” I reach again for the ring.

  “Wait.” Holding the ring away, the Lady takes my reaching hand and lays it against Counsel Oak’s bark.

  “Feel.”

  Despite my urgent greed for the ring, I feel the oak’s Power warm my palm.

  “Listen.”

  The constant gentle breeze that plays in Counsel Oak’s shade rustles his leaves.

  “Listen.”

  Almost waggling my ears like the white doe, I listen.

  The leaves whisper.

  Dread stands close behind me in Oak-darkness. Dread reaches a long finger, taps my shoulder.

  Nimway’s dark gaze pierces mine.

  “You hear, Lili?”

  “I hear.”

  “Enough to turn back most Fey!”

  “Not this Fey.”

  “You must have Human blood in you!”

  “Who can ever know that?” I know not my own mother, never mind my ancestors! “Lady, give me the ring!”

  Nimway lifts the thong and its ring from her neck. Carefully, she lets it down over my head. She even pulls my braid through and over the thong, and pats it down in place; and her fingertips set Victory dangling safe, between my breasts.

  ***

  “Alanna!”

  For a
while, a voice had been speaking through a darkness where rushes flared, infants wept, slaves rushed about, yarn tumbled and tangled.

  “Alanna!”

  Once more the voice spoke, loudly, firmly. Behind closed eyelids Alanna came awake.

  Don’t want to wake.

  Filtered sunshine waited behind closed eyelids. Something else waited, too, just behind the torn curtain of sleep. Something like…sorrow.

  Sorrow? Once I knew sorrow all too well.

  “Alanna!”

  She opened her eyes.

  What was this rough wicker wall before her? What was this curving, messily thatched roof, not much taller than herself? Birdsong from outside replaced the cry of dream-children. Instead of frightened feet scurrying on stone floors, now she heard and recognized the voice that called her.

  “Sir Edik?”

  Alanna sat up.

  There in the doorway he stood, holding back the deerskin curtain he had hung for her. Sunlight silvered his gray curls and beard. Where she or Ivie, or dear Percy, God knew! had to stoop a little, he stood erect.

  How easily he has fit into this enchantment! He has almost turned Fey himself since we came here to…to…Holy Mary! Now I remember.

  Sorrow stepped through the unraveling rags of sleep and glared at Alanna.

  Desperately, she wanted to sink back, pull darkness around her, and run stumbling down the long, stone stairway of her past. Away down there at the bottom, after many a turn and startle, after a thousand pains and griefs—away down there spread a sunlit garden where a small girl lay in lavender and squinted happily through leafy, flowery light.

  But that small girl had been born—and would be very severely trained—to be a lady.

  Alanna said softly, “Sir Edik, come in.”

  Like Sorrow, he entered.

  Alanna sat up straight and lifted her thick gray braid back over her shoulder, all she could do to tidy herself. Sir Edik sank down cross-legged beside her pallet. His shrewd, brown eyes sought hers kindly. “You are recovered, Alanna?”

  “Recovered? I will never recover.” Fully awake, she looked ahead to endless, heart-squeezing misery.

  Sir Edik spoke quietly. “My dear, you know it is the way of nature that Percy should leave you. In the way of the Fey he would have left you years ago. By now, you would hardly know which handsome young fellow he was—except that he stands out like a rose in a turnip field.”