--Ancient Celtic Prayer to the Guardian of the Forest
The Thistle and the Bee, Clan MacInnes Society, Inc. Newsletter, July 2001
They stopped back at Gran’s house to pick up their overnight bags and lock up. Sylvia was silent as her mother drove them back to their home in suburban Philadelphia. Her mother didn’t seem to notice, but chatted to Sylvia about upcoming projects. She complained happily about all of the things she needed to do before she went back to work, wondering out loud as to what she would wear to work the next day.
When they arrived home, her mother went off to organize and Sylvia went back to her room. Not a speck of dust or dirt was apparent on the pristine silvery gray carpeting throughout the house. Cool gray and blue walls complemented the glass and chrome tables in the living room, modern dining room and sterile kitchen. All the glass and chrome made Sylvia feel as though she lived in a slick, high-rise office building instead of a house. Sylvia liked old things. She escaped to her room where she plopped on the bed, kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes. Her bed was carved oak and had been her grandmother’s when she was a child. She loved to touch the oak and run her fingers over the carved designs in the headboard of acorns and oak leaves. It felt solid and comforting.
Sylvia sighed, thinking of the last few days. The fact that her Grandmother’s death felt surreal was nothing compared to the fact that she left the house to her. She and Gran had had several conversations about how she had felt more at home at Gran’s house than with her mother, but she never imagined that Gran would leave the house solely to her. She fervently wished Gran had talked to her about it before she became so ill instead of it being a surprise. She could imagine Gran smiling and her eyes crinkling up with laughter at her confused state. Thinking too much of Gran made her well up with tears. Yet, she still didn’t feel ready to cry. She got off the bed and looked around the room to think of what she needed to pack. Feeling a bit stupid it finally dawned on her that her car was packed to the gills with the trappings of her life from her last couple of years at school. She and her roommate Gwen had shared an apartment this last year and they had sold most of the furniture to the incoming students, but her household goods, stereo, computer and clothes were stuffed in the car and in the garage. She could drive down and unload the car and pick up the rest another day.
Relieved, she padded barefoot out to the kitchen where her mother was at the kitchen table making lists and taking notes. Her day planner was open and several files were stacked on the table.
When Sylvia entered the kitchen, her mother glanced up. “Hi Syl,” she said. “Are you getting hungry?”
“Sort of,” Sylvia replied.
“Me too,” her mother said. “Should we send out for a pizza? La Roma’s have some great new pizzas—Chicken Caesar and Greek Delight,” she said and added, “They deliver too.”
“Hmm,” said Sylvia, “Both sound good. What’s on the Greek Delight?”
“Black olives, feta cheese, red onion, marinated artichokes,” her mother told her. “I can’t remember everything, but it’s very good.”
“Perfect,” Sylvia replied. She looked up the number in the phone book, dialed and placed the order.
“Thirty minutes,” she told her Mom when she hung up the phone.
“Good,” her Mother replied. “I can finish this up before it arrives.”
Sylvia went back to her room and went through the closet and drawers to see if she wanted anything specifically for Grans. It had been so long since she had spent a significant time at home that her room felt slightly alien. Still beloved, but not completely hers as it had been in the past. It was a strange feeling. Like the ‘man without a country’ she mused, or at least until things were settled with Gran’s home. She packed a small duffel bag with some summery clothes and a few of her favorite books until the doorbell rang.
By the time she went back to the kitchen, her mother had the pizza paid for and on the table and was pouring two glasses of chilled white zinfandel. As they ate, she told Sylvia that she would try to get an appointment with the attorneys in the next few days to take care of the paperwork.
“Gran’s house could use a good spring cleaning,” she told her. “I didn’t get a chance commuting back and forth. The hospice workers were wonderful, but they only took care of the basics,” she said.
She refilled their wine glasses and continued. “If you could take the remainder of the clothes to charity—a shelter or something, it would be helpful,” she told Sylvia.
Sylvia nodded. “Sure,” she replied.
Her mother drained her second glass of wine before she asked Sylvia, “Do you think you’ll be looking for a job in the next couple of weeks?” Her mother tried to sound casual, but anxiety tinged her voice.
“I guess so,” Sylvia said honestly. “I really hadn’t given it much thought, yet,” she admitted.
Her mother sighed a deep sigh before she continued. “I worry about you,” she told Sylvia, “You live in such a dream world, Syl.”
“Give me a chance, okay?” Sylvia answered trying not to sound like a petulant teenager.
“All right,” her mother said, sounding resigned.
They cleaned up silently to avoid argument. Sylvia went into the family room to surf through channels until she grew sleepy. Her mother did not join her. She said goodnight about an hour later as she walked past the kitchen table, her mother’s head bent over paperwork in the light. She murmured a ‘good night’ to Sylvia as she walked past.
The next morning her alarm buzzed at her impatiently. Sylvia hit the snooze button three times before she groggily reached up to turn it off. She stumbled, yawning out to the kitchen where her mother was putting finishing touches on a lunch she was taking to work. Sylvia helped herself to a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.
“Morning, Syl,” her mother greeted her. “I was just going to come in to say good bye. I wanted to get an early start this morning.”
Her mother continued, “I’ll transfer some funds this morning into your account so that you can buy groceries and left you a little cash on the table,” she told her.
Surprised, Sylvia replied, “Thanks,” and endeavored to look more awake than she felt.
Her mother gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and headed for the car. “Be careful driving,” she told Sylvia. “And call me when you get to Gran’s,” were her last words to Sylvia. Sylvia nodded and took her coffee to the living room window to wave goodbye.
Sylvia was anxious to get to Gran’s house as soon as possible. She quickly showered and dressed in jeans, t-shirt and sandals and put her duffel bag into her packed car.
Halfway to Gran’s, Sylvia turned from the main highway to travel two lane roads to the bay. She wasn’t in a hurry and enjoyed driving through the green tunnels created by overhanging trees. The sunlight dappled through the leaves creating a golden green thruway. She blasted some of her favorite Celtic music and cruised.
When she arrived at Gran’s, no her house, she stretched after the drive and looked at the bay. It was a perfect day—sunny, warm and bright. The water sparkled. The cool weather had been replaced with intense warmth that wasn’t too hot with the breeze blowing in. The bay was empty except for one sailboat lazily wending its way from the bay to the river. Sylvia knew that most of the boaters were weekenders in the area.
Sylvia pulled her bag and some boxes and opened the kitchen door. Emptiness assailed her and she took a deep, steadying breath and entered. Everything seemed dull and empty without Gran’s presence. Starting upstairs, Sylvia went around and opened up all of the windows and doors to let sunlight and fresh air in.
When she entered the study at the front of the house, a faint aromatic woodsy smell greeted her at the doorway. Looking for the source, she noticed the mask was lush with growth. She picked it up and propped it against some books so that it stared out into the study as she opened the windows. She noticed a strange flickering of light on the curtains and when she turned around, she nea
rly fainted. A weird green light bored through the eye-like openings of the mask. Sylvia gulped, staring fixedly while warm hazel eyes replaced the light and full deep lips moved to speak. It was like the green angel she saw a few days ago, but this time, it was just the face in the mask. Suddenly, Sylvia started to shake. She backed up to the desk and put a hand out to steady herself.
“My God!” she exclaimed in a stage whisper.
The hazel eyes twinkled and a voice like liquid mahogany chuckled, “Some think so…” From somewhere inside the mask, the deep voice emanated and it vibrated through her body. Sylvia could do nothing but stare and gape at the mask, not sharing in his or its amusement.
The face turned serious again and it said, “Hello again, Sylvia,” the voice said in a rich, warm tone.
At first she could not speak. Her mouth gaped open, trying to form the words, but nothing came out. Finally in a faint voice she stammered, “Who… what?” she had difficulty getting any words to form.
“I am the Green Man,” the deep voice continued. “I have returned.”
Chapter 4
Let there be peace in the sky
And in the atmosphere,
Peace in the plant world and in the forests;
Let the cosmic powers be peaceful;
Let there be fulfilling peace everywhere
-Atharvaveda
The eyes closed and the eyes and mouth disappeared and returned to the leafy, mask structure as quickly as it had come. Sylvia continued to stare at the mask unsure whether she was awake or dreaming. She felt frozen to the spot, clutching the edge of the desk in one hand, hands seemingly glued in place. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mask. Wild thoughts of weird science fiction films and alien invaders flitted through her thoughts. She thought she was going crazy. She thought she imagined this. She thought she was going crazy. Finally, she shook her head to clear her mind and walked tentatively towards the mask. No eyes stared back at her. No voice spoke. It looked exactly as it was before. What was happening? Was she going crazy? She shakily and bravely reached out a hand to touch it gingerly. It took a couple of attempts before she picked it up, and carefully propped it up against the books again, and backed to the desk. Reaching backward, she pulled the desk chair out and sat down without taking her eyes off the mask. The phone jangled near her elbow and she nearly jumped out of her skin. It rang a couple of times before she could get her hands to stop shaking and answer it.
Marian was on the other end. “Hello, Sylvia,” she said in a cheery voice.
“H-h-hi,” Sylvia replied a little shakily.
“Are you all right?” Marian asked, concern in her voice.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, yes,” Sylvia told her. “I’m fine. I just walked in a minute ago.”
“Do you need help with anything?” Marian queried.
Sylvia answered, “No, I think I’m okay. I need to unpack a bit and figure out where I’m going to put things.”
“Why don’t you plan on coming over for dinner?” Marian asked her.
“All right,” Sylvia agreed. “What time?”
“Would 5 o’clock be too early?” Marian asked.
“No, that would be great,” Sylvia told her. “I’ll see you later.”
She hung up and could not decide if she had imagined the episode with the mask or not. Skirting the edge of the study, she avoided the mask and walked out to the car. She made several trips, unpacking boxes and stacking them in the kitchen. She put her computer boxes near the door to the study, but did not go in. The voice kept echoing in her head. The face kept appearing in her mind’s eye. She put her stereo in the living room, set it up and put on a lively Celtic CD letting it blare through the house clearing some of her anxiety. When the car was unloaded, she decided to take a break and do some basic grocery shopping. She glanced through Gran’s pantry and noticed that it was as skeletal as the refrigerator.
At the grocery store she picked up milk, yogurt, peanut butter, cereal, bread, eggs, pasta, sauce, some chicken breasts and a lot of low fat frozen meals. Starving, she added cookies, pretzels, ice cream, olives, cream cheese, bagels and some lunchmeats. Sylvia glanced at her full cart while waiting in the long checkout line flipping through magazines and scanning the entertainment rags. In her mind Sylvia could hear her mother’s voice admonishing about not going to the grocery store hungry. Oh, well, next time, she thought as she opened a bag of chocolate chip cookies in the car and started to eat a few on the way home. She rationalized the snack because she hadn’t eaten any lunch. Glancing at the time, she realized she would have to unpack the groceries quickly, shower and change to make it to Marian’s by 5pm. She took a detour to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine for Marian and a bottle of wine and some beer for her own refrigerator.
The phone was ringing when she got out of the car and she rushed to unlock the door to answer it, vowing to purchase an answering machine as soon as possible. She had forgotten to charge her cell phone and it was plugged into the wall in the study. She sighed when she answered it. It was her mother.
“Hi, Syl,” her mother said. “You made it ok? I wasn’t able to get you on your cell. How are things? What have you been up to?”
“Fine, fine,” Sylvia answered a little out of breath, “I just walked in the house from the grocery store, Mom. Sorry, my cell wasn’t charged and I left it here inadvertently. I can’t talk long, I’m headed to Marian’s for dinner,” she announced.
“Oh, good,” her mother said. “Please give her my best.”
“I will,” Sylvia said.
“Did you pick up something to take?” her mother inquired.
“Yes, Mom, of course” Sylvia said hoping she kept the defensive tone out of her voice successfully, “I picked up a bottle of wine to take over.”
“Oh, good girl,” her mother replied.
Sylvia made a face at the phone before replying, “Mom, I need to go so that I can unpack the groceries and change.”
“Okay, okay,” her Mother said. “Take care. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know when we can meet with the attorney. He was in court today.”
“Okay,” Sylvia replied. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Sylvia unpacked the groceries leaving a bottle of red wine in the front seat. Nervously she glanced into the study, but still hesitated to go in. Briefly she considered putting the mask outside, but she still didn’t want to touch it. Turning from the study she went upstairs to shake out a shirt so that it didn’t look too wrinkled and went to shower and change.
She arrived at Marian’s, wine in hand promptly at 5pm. The doorknocker, she realized, looked just like the mask that had spoken to her earlier. She tentatively put out a hand to grab the knocker. She knocked once lightly and then more loudly two more times, continuing to study the knocker thinking of the mask that had come alive earlier that day.
Marian opened the door. “I see you’ve found my Green Man,” Marian said. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
All Sylvia could do was nod silently in agreement afraid if she opened up her mouth it would gape like a codfish as it had earlier that day. She followed Marian into the house. If you put eyes into her mask of leaves, it would be an exact copy of the face on Marian’s door. Marian had called it a ‘Green Man’ the same as the mask identified itself in that rich baritone that still rang in her memory. She followed Marian silently through the house into the kitchen. Marian thanked her for the bottle of wine, opened it and proffered a glass to Sylvia. Sylvia accepted and they sat down on the love seat in the kitchen.
Marian asked, “You look as though you have something on your mind.”
When Sylvia didn’t answer immediately, Marian prodded, “Sylvia?”
“The face,” Sylvia gave a nod in the direction of the front door, finally able to speak, “on your front door…what did you call it?” she asked.
“A Green Man,” Marian replied. “Have you seen one before?”
“I have one,” Sylvia said faintly. “Well, sort o
f,” she said. She told Marian about the interesting mask made of leaves, but left out the part that it came to life and spoke to her.
“I would like to see that,” Marian said with genuine interest, “Um, I’m sort of a collector of green men. When Hugh and I were in England, we saw several in the churches and local sculpture. They’re all over Europe, here too in the States, I think.”
“You’re welcome to come and see it,” Sylvia told her.
“It’s not like a planned topiary or anything, but it’s unique. This is very…” she hesitated as she searched for a description. Sylvia shrugged. She took another sip of wine before asking, “What is the Green Man?”
Marian laughed a little before answering. “He’s a lot of things to a lot of people,” she said. “He’s a very old, mysterious and very powerful figure…pre-Christian. He represents a ‘Father Earth’ figure, representing renewal and rebirth. Here in the States you see him in a lot of garden sculpture and in architecture. But, throughout Europe you’ll see him mostly in churches connected or on pub signs named after his visage. He’s connected with King Arthur, Robin Hood and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He is in many forms in many cultures. He is Al-Khadir in the Muslim faith or ‘the green one.’ He’s the guide to Moses which is quite an interesting thought. Apparently ‘the green one’ accompanied Moses up on the mount to collect the ten commandments. There are other stories about him as well as an all wise and “all knowing” guide. A guide, at least, for those who are perplexed,” she chuckled. “I could use a guide like that many times! But, I’m not as familiar with the religion or culture. I pretty sure what I’ve told you is correct, but I’m not an expert on Al-Khadir. Other’s feel the Green Man is more pagan,” Marian paused before she added, “That’s a description in a nutshell,” she finished with another chuckle.
Sylvia and Marian sat in thoughtful silence. The buzzer went off on the stove and Marian went to fix their plates.
“Can I help you with anything?” Sylvia asked.
The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1) Page 3
