The Fox

by Arlene Radasky

  Sileas and I kept track of the children as well as we could. Some of our pots contained poisons. “Aonghus, take your children home. I will come after Lovern has done his work and tell you of the results,” I said.

  Aonghus controlled his children. He left with them and his wife trailing after him like a father goose with his goslings.

  Lovern placed his hands on the boy’s body to determine the injuries as I sat down next to him and held his small, trembling, dirt-encrusted hand and sang a lullaby. Torrian calmed his crying to a whimper. His tears slowed in the paths cut through the grime on his cheeks, and he answered Lovern’s questions.

  “The branch broke,” Torrian whimpered. “I was trying to catch the bluest bird ever! That branch held me before. OUCH!” Lovern touched the swelling bruise on his leg.

  “Is my father right? Is this the gods’ punishment?” Torrian whimpered.

  “Do you hurt anywhere other than your leg?” asked Lovern.

  “I bumped my head and landed on my wrist but my leg hurts the most,” the young adventurer replied.

  I watched Lovern’s face, deep in concentration as he inspected the boy’s other injuries. He ran his large, gentle hands over Torrian’s blond covered head, and down to Torrian’s hand where he looked over his wrist.

  Lovern’s face softened when he spoke with the boy. “The gods do many things to teach us right from wrong. It is good that you are interested in the nature around you and want to know more. But the gods say you must obey first your chieftain, then your father and mother before you think of yourself. You should do your chores before exploring.”

  Torrian nodded in agreement.

  “When you get better,” Lovern continued, “with your father’s permission, I will take you into the forest and teach you more about nature. After your work is done.”

  Suddenly, all my doubt left my heart. In my eyes, the hand of my own child replaced Torrian’s small hand in mine. I would give birth. I did not know when but I knew I would have a baby. Silently, I thanked the goddess.

  The boy nodded, his whimpering eased, and his tears stopped.

  I was worried about the boy. His left foot hung out of its normal position. A red, angry blood-swelling raised one half the distance below his knee and above his ankle. Regret for a young life to be lived as a cripple washed through me. The result for this injury was at the least a very bad limp or maybe no use of his leg. I have seen some die.

  “You have broken your leg,” Lovern said. With a stern look on his face, he continued, “This will take three full moon cycles to heal, and you will be restricted in your movements during that time. The bone inside your leg, the thing that makes it stiff so you can walk, has broken. Like this,” Lovern said. Lovern reached down by the fire, picked up a small piece of kindling, and snapped it.

  The sharp sound made both Torrian and I flinch.

  “But look, how the pieces go together.” Lovern pressed the broken ends of the stick together. “This piece of wood is dead, but your leg is alive, and the bone will grow strong again. We have to put the pieces back together, like the stick, and keep them there for three moon cycles to give your leg a chance to mend straight. If you do not follow my instructions, and go off chasing a bird again, you may not walk with this leg or you will badly limp,” lectured Lovern.

  “Can you help him walk again?” Sileas’ face was pursed in doubt when she asked this question. She voiced my silent concern.

  Memories of the damp smell of the cave and the sound of lightning came into my head. The night he told me about his journey, he also told me he studied with Kinsey, the healer who could make people walk again.

  “Lovern can do this,” I said with confidence.

  “Harailt, please find four strong, straight caorann branches, the length of his leg.” Lovern said, in his teaching voice. “Sileas, we need four long strips of cloth to use as binders. Jahna, boil some barley, thick, and mix it with honey. Add some of the dried meacan dubh. We will lay the bone-set mixture on the broken bone.”

  We rushed to complete our assigned tasks while Lovern comforted the boy, told him stories of the gods’ battles with giants, and dripped the juice of the red meilbheag onto his lips. The poppy juice was bitter and the boy made a face. After he swallowed, I knew Torrian would sleep and not remember the pain.

  Harailt came in with the rowan branches, still removing leaves and berries from the gray bark as he entered. He laid them within Lovern’s reach. Sileas appeared with cloth ties. I brought the still warm poultice of barley, honey, and comfrey.

  “Harailt,” said Lovern, “settle his head in your lap and hold his shoulders.” He then asked Torrian, ““Are you a still a little boy or are you now a young man?”

  Torrian’s shoulders straightened, his brows knit in defiance and in a proud voice replied, “I am a man. I have my own goat to care for.”

  “Ah, I thought so. A little boy would be afraid of this injury, but I can see in your face, you are not. This will be painful, but you will sleep. When you awaken, you will lie here in this bed for seven sunrises. We will bring you food, drink, and care for you in all ways. Only then are you allowed up with an aid for walking until your leg heals. If you do not heed this bargain with the gods, your leg will not heal straight. Do you understand me?” asked Lovern.

  Lovern spoke in his straightforward way. He instilled confidence in those he treated. He always spoke the truth, and the people of our clan trusted him.

  “Yes,” whispered Torrian.

  Torrian’s face, set in a determined grimace, seemed to get younger as Harailt settled his head and shoulders into his lap.

  “Open your mouth.” I inserted an oak stick soaked in vetch between his teeth. “Now bite.” The taste would distract him from what was about to happen.

  Lovern grasped Torrian’s foot and ankle firmly, and pulled until the leg straightened. Torrian screamed and fainted, as we expected. I folded the poultice around his bruised leg while Lovern and Harailt positioned the branches and, as fast as Sileas could hand the cloth to them, tied them into place.

  Sileas went to the fire to prepare the boiled lus for Torrian when he woke up. The wort would calm him and stop the bleeding in the leg.

  “He must have mistletoe tied in red thread under his head when he sleeps. The gods will look on this with favor, and his blood may not poison. Feed him ground, boiled apple, and be sure he has a few drops of the poppy juice in his water,” said Lovern. Sileas nodded and went to find the red thread and dried apple.

  A large shadow darkened our doorway. I turned and saw Beathan, our chieftain. He had not come into this dwelling since Harailt and Sileas gave it to the clan in honor of Cerdic to be used as a hospice a year before.

  “Tell me what you are doing.” Beathan’s deep voice shook the still air in the small room. “Why did I hear a scream as I came into this yard? Is the boy still alive?” His eyes found mine with his last question.

  He gave Lovern and me the stern looks of a disapproving father. He was taking our measure.

  I think he felt the loss of the farm, but I knew the sheep that moved to the neighboring farm in Harailt’s trade were giving more wool than before. The clan did not lose but gained in this deal. He would not admit it. He was my uncle and I respected him as a father, but I was always ready to defend our work if he questioned it. His silence was worse as it hid his thoughts.

  “Good afternoon, Uncle. It is good that you have come to see what we do here,” I said, smiling as I walked over to the towering man. I took his huge paw that dwarfed my hand and proudly guided him to where Torrian lay sleeping.

  “Lovern has given this boy a chance to heal and walk again. Torrian has broken his leg. Before this hospice, Torrian would have been in his bed, at home, alone, and in a fever with little treatment. He probably would have died. Or, if he lived, he would not have the use of his leg.

  “Because of what Lovern accomplished today and the treatment he will get in the coming days from Harailt and Sileas, thi
s boy will live to be a free farmer or warrior for the next chieftain of our clan. He will outlive you, bråthair-måthar, healthy and strong.”

  Uncle Beathan grabbed me in a bear hug and lifted me off the floor.

  “Ah, I see you still have the tongue of a brat,” Beathan said. “I am glad you have not grown out of that. You must cause Lovern many gut-aches with your insolence.” He turned to Lovern. “Well, do you still want to marry this meanbh-chuileag? These midges can make a man very angry. Or have you changed your mind and found a pleasant quiet mouse to warm your bed?”

  “Put me down, Uncle,” I whispered, though Beathan’s laugh probably woke up Torrian. “You are crushing my ribs, and what do you mean a quiet mouse to warm his bed? Do you expect him to follow your example of not marrying and trying on all the single women of the clan? I will not allow it.”

  “Not allow it?” asked Beathan, seriously. “Not allow it? Who are you to not allow it? Are you married? How can you not allow it if you are not married?”

  Still in Beathan’s grip I heard Sileas and Harailt begin to laugh and saw a grin break out on Lovern’s face. Why was he grinning? Did he think it was a good idea to have all the unwed women of our clan to warm his bed?

  Lovern stopped laughing and answered. “Ah, Great Chieftain. You are mo chraid. But, I would never be able to call you more than friend if I did not marry her. I wish to call you uncle. I have never had an uncle, and to have one as great as you would be a good thing.”

  “Unh,” Beathan grunted as he lowered me to the floor, my feet regaining my body’s balance as he let go.

  Lovern came to me, leaned over, his face close to mine, and embraced my cheeks in his hands. My eyes looked up into his as he said, “There are no others, a ghaoil. My beloved, I want to marry you because you complete my soul. You healed my broken heart. I traveled far and outran many dangers to find you. I know that without you I would not be able to do the gods’ work, my work. I wish to make our union permanent and marry you.”

  My heart swelled with love at his words. Standing next to him, I smelled acorns. I laid my arms on his chest, my hands on his shoulders, and said, “Bel and Morrigna sent me a vision today. I will have a child. I will marry you to complete us. I will marry you because I love you. Without you, I could not have finished my labyrinth.” My cheeks were wet with tears. His thumbs wiped them away with tenderness.

  I pulled him to me and when our lips touched, I felt a release of the tension of the day. In its place was an excitement for this night in bed as well as the years, no matter how few, ahead of us. I did not want this kiss to end. When we broke apart, we turned, arm in arm to Beathan.

  “Uncle,” I said. “I feel this is an auspicious time. We must marry now. We should not wait any longer. There is an ancient oak nearby.” I turned to Lovern, “May we be married under the oak?” His hands squeezed mine.

  “Yes,” said Lovern, his eyes sparkling. “I agree. It should be now.”

  “Lovern,” I said, “go to the tree, and wait. I will get Mother. Then, Beathan can marry us.” He nodded as I turned and ran out of the hospice.

  “Is it twelve moons already?” said Mother.

  “Mother, let us start down the hill. You can talk to me as we walk. They are waiting for us, and we do not dare keep Beathan waiting too long.”

  “Bah. He thinks he is so important, but I knew him when our mother chased him all over the hilltop for teasing our hens. He was made to do his chores and mine when Mother caught him. Sometimes I would tease the hens and blame him so I could go off and be with my friends for a day.” Mother chuckled. “He would get his revenge, though. I often found small animals or insects in my dress. He never admitted it, but he would wear a big grin when I found them and screamed.”

  We were through the gate and halfway down the hill, me impatient but gently tugging on her arm, her taking one deliberate step at a time, and she continued, “Twelve moons. That is how long it took your father and me to decide to marry. He was gone on one of his trading journeys for two moons. When he returned, he told me he had decided to marry me. I laughed. There was no decision to make in my mind. We were to be together. He was a part of my life and I a part of his. When he told me, I remember, he swung me up in his arms and kissed me. Then we walked to your bed. You were three months old. He picked you up and cradled you. So gentle for such big arms,” she said with a far away look. “He looked into your eyes, the reflection of his, and promised to take care of you for all your life.”

  She stopped walking and coughed. “We did not know how short a time we would have together. But the time we had together was good. He was a good father and husband. I missed him for a long time. Enough of the past.” She waved me on as if telling me to walk faster. “Let us go celebrate the future!”

  We approached the tree where Beathan, Lovern, and Harailt stood waiting. Torrian would sleep a while longer so Sileas was there, also. I waved, but before we walked closer, Mother pinched my ear and brought me close to her mouth.

  “I have doubts about your marriage to him, Jahna. You are not with child. I can tell. Is it best to be married to this man? Should you look for a man who can give you a child?” she whispered loudly. “You have been sleeping with him. I hear you. But there is no baby.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I answered, “Mother. Today, a sign was given to me. This is what the goddess wills. If it is to be, you will live to hold a grandchild.”

  “I hope to live to hold many, Jahna. I want many grandchildren. It is the right of a mother to want grandchildren.”

  The oak was near our sacred spring. We used the water under the oak to wash our feet and hands in purification rituals. Lovern and I used it when mixing our cures. It was a favorable place. It was a blessed place to be married. It temporarily eased my mind of the shadows of doubts about our life together.

  We gathered into a circle, Beathan in the center. The trampled grass’s fragrance wafted through the air. Flowers nestled in small clumps around the tree trunk and above us the birds sang. The sky darkened. A cloud of ravens flew over without a sound and landed in a willow. A shiver rippled down my back. We were being watched. Morrigna was there. My hand quivered in Lovern’s strong hand. His grip tightened; he smiled, reassuring.

  Beathan spoke, “That you wish to be married does not surprise me. Do not think the longing looks you gave one another at my dinner table escaped me. I knew you were eating to gather strength to tumble through the night,” he said gruffly but with a twinkle in his eye. “It is about time. I was beginning to wonder if I would have to make a demand for this to happen! When you first came, Lovern, I was unsure, wary of you. But you kept your promises.”

  Beathan turned his head to look at me. Did I see a bit of moisture reflect the sunlight on his eyelashes?

  “Jahna. My sister’s daughter. You grew to be like my own and pestered me as you would have your own father. But, I am proud of you. You are a fine woman and healer. I thought I was losing a skilled weaver, but you now weave a path for our souls to follow.”

  He now faced both Lovern and I, his hands palm up in front of us. “You teach us in the ways of our gods. Our clan is better because of your partnership. I have seen your work today and say this is good for our clan.”

  At this, his arms, the tattoos of our clan around his wrists, rose over his head, spread in declaration. “I call the attention of all the gods and goddesses. I allow this marriage in my name. I join Lovern and Jahna. They will live under my protection as long as they keep the clan laws. I declare this and will proclaim it to the clan. May the gods and goddesses bless this union with many good years and healthy children!”

  Surprised, we stood in silence. This was the longest speech I ever heard Beathan give.

  “Well, Sileas,” asked Beathan. “Why did you carry out the red thread? Have you forgotten its purpose?”

  “Oh. No, O Chieftain, no,” she stammered. Flushed, she lifted and tied Lovern’s and my clasped hands with red thread, wrapped th
ree times around. Lovern kissed me deeply. I could do nothing but smile, my heart laughing. And so we married.

  A lusty, rejoicing whoop split the sky, caused me to duck and the ravens to rise in somersaults and caw in escape. Beathan’s yell and bear hug enveloped us all.

  My mother kissed me and then Beathan on his bearded cheek. “You have done well with your life,” she spoke into his ear. “I often wondered what would happen to you when we were children.” His belly shook in laughter.

  Lovern tried to hug everyone in return but our tied hands restricted his movements.

  “See, Priest?” Beathan said. “She has already a hand on your freedom!”

  “I do not see it as a restriction, my friend,” Lovern said with a smile at me. “I see it as a promise to each other. A promise we made many years ago.”

  I knew he referred to my first passage dream with him as a boy. Beathan’s forehead wrinkled. He did not know about the dreams. He did not know Lovern and I touched our minds long ago.

  With a shrug of his mighty shoulders, Beathan said, “Now we go to eat. Invite all as we go. It will be a big celebration at my home tonight. I killed a hog yesterday. Let all bring food and drink and we will sing and tell tales all night.”

  “I have two hares to give to the pot for the dinner,” said Sileas. “Harailt can pick them up on his way. I must stay with Torrian tonight.”

  Harailt gave her a kiss and her arm curled around his waist as they walked back to the hospice. A flash of memory came to my mind. Harailt and Cerdic walking away from Beathan’s after he ordered Harailt and I to be hand-fasted. Harailt’s head hung, and he shuffled away. He loved another. He loved Sileas. All came to pass as it should.

  We sat as honored guests at Beathan’s table. Many came and more still as Beathan announced our marriage. He gave Lovern the honor to carve the roasted meat. Lovern transferred the knife into our bound hands and we both carved. Cheers of congratulations rang out. The night was long and filled with mead, peat smoke, poems of bravery, love songs, and music. We danced, kissed in the shadows, and laughed, our hands held with the red thread of our promise. The celebration lasted long past the moon’s rise. Lovern and I stumbled home long after mother.