The Fox

by Arlene Radasky

  “Jahna, tell me about your dream. The White Stag will bring many blessings to us and our clan if we find it,” said Lovern. “Cernunnos will bring game and Morrigna will be pleased if we capture it for them.”

  It was in Lovern’s heart to think of the clan as well as me. I bit my tongue to keep my selfish reply hidden. The White Stag was mine, not a sacrifice for the clan.

  “In the form of a hawk, I flew to the Stag. I stood on its antlers and was covered in a blue light. Blue butterflies, Lovern. Butterflies. It means my rebirth as a pure woman. It foretells my return to be with you. I need to be a part of your life again, and this is the path we must follow to achieve this end.”

  “I have waited for a sign,” he said. “If the gods say we must capture the White Stag to allow you to come home to me, to lie in my bed again, then we must go, now. There has been too much time apart. We cannot live like this any longer. I will do what is asked of me if it means that I may reclaim you as my partner, to love you and caress you. If it is not to happen, then I will leave this hill fort. I cannot stay without you by my side.”

  He jumped into the saddle of the pony and reached out for me.

  “First, I must tell you that we do not go to capture the Stag,” I said. “I agree it would be a trophy worth much if we could bring it home, but the gods told me it must be sacrificed. Its life is in trade for mine. No one else may be allowed to wish upon it. No one else may be allowed to see it alive.”

  He frowned and thought for a moment while holding the prancing pony’s reins. “If the gods have sent you this message, I will abide. Our gods speak with you as well as me. If it is to be a sacrifice, it shall be. Let us get started.” He grasped my arm and easily pulled me up behind him. I shifted, clutching his narrow waist under his bow and over his belt as we started downhill.

  “Go to the mountain trail that is in the morning shadows,” I whispered in his ear and tightly held on. I pressed myself against his straight back, buried my nose in his hair and took deep breaths filled with the scent of him.

  “Jahna, I have missed you,” he said turning slightly to me.

  “Quiet. We must be as your fox on this journey or the Stag will flee. We will talk after, I pledge.”

  His slight groan and flick of the reins betrayed his impatience.

  I followed the trail I had seen from the air as a hawk. We went without a stumble around large boulders and across very narrow, washed out parts of an animal path for the rest of the day and into the night. We were guided by the gods but tired as humans. Stopped to rest, we ate dried meat and drank water from the skin. There was neither a fire nor words between us. The rocky ground did not allow an easy night’s sleep.

  Confusion clouded my thoughts. I prayed to be on the right trail. I thought about my mother. I remembered my childhood, so many memories dredged up with my mother’s memory sticks and Braden’s death. The ever-present smell and hideous thoughts of the time I was taken slipped between the happier moments, as much as I tried to erase them. Lovern traced his labyrinth. In the light of the moon, I brought my labyrinth into my lap and ran my finger over its lines. My fast breath of unease slowed into measured calmness. In my mind, understanding the scenes were not real, I was able to relive my taking. I was on this path for redemption, to be allowed to purify myself and I had a need to fully remember why. The tension that was always present during these times of recollection was gone. Lovern sat near me and we were here to wash this evil spirit from me with the blood of the Stag.

  The night escaped as dawn’s light streaked over the top of the mountain. Luminous pink reflected from the granite boulders on the mountaintop allowed me to recognize this place. We had arrived without my knowing. We were in the clearing of my vision.

  “The Stag is here,” I whispered to Lovern, cautioning him not to speak.

  Crouching in the grassy edge of the trees, we crept to the copse of rowans, their leaves beginning to turn the gold and red of autumn. The proud buck stood just beyond the perimeter of the trees. His thick neck lifted his fine head to sniff the morning air, and he took a step forward. His muscles rippled just under his snow-white pelt, and his tail flicked at an annoying insect. He stretched his neck up, becoming taller than Lovern, to eat the higher, more tender leaves. The sun continued to climb in the sky and enveloped him in a golden light as we watched.

  I counted ten points on each side of his antler crown. Here stood a legendary creature of the forest. His carriage was one of a virile, tested bull. One at this age had given life to many young. His proud bloodline assured, the gods would let us take him. Breathing quietly and seldom, we crawled on our bellies to cross the distance between us. The underbrush provided cover. He seemed not to hear us.

  Lovern notched an arrow to his bow. My body trembled, and I fought not to close my eyes as Lovern slowly stood, pulled the string of his bow and took careful aim.

  “Give me the permission,” prayed Lovern in a whisper, “and strength enough to kill this mighty animal of nature with one arrow. May it be accepted as my sacrifice.” I prayed for Lovern’s straight aim and crouched, prepared to give chase after the arrow was shot.

  The Stag’s ears twitched, and he looked over his shoulder, away from us, into the depths of the trees. He snorted and took in a breath that rattled the nearby leaves. He seemed to be giving us the chance to take his life while not looking into his eyes.

  Lovern let lose the arrow.

  Hearing the twang of the bowstring, the Stag turned to face us. His intelligent, black eyes bore into my heart with the knowledge of his demise. I begged for his forgiveness just as his ears cocked toward me. As if he heard and understood my need, he stepped into the arrow’s path. His head rose, carried his eyes to the heavens and opened his heart for the iron point of death.

  Pierced, he jumped and snorted; his antlers vibrated with the shock. The arrow sank deep into his chest, and he fell to his knees unable to run. We raced to his side just as his noble head settled to the ground. I knelt, touched his forehead and gazed into his eyes as he took his last breath. It sounded like a sigh of relief. Then, as if released from this difficult world, his inner light extinguished. Another trade, another life for mine. A life so my bloodline would continue.

  Together, Lovern and I rolled the magnificent animal to its side and Lovern pulled his dirk from his belt to open the Stag’s neck veins. The red blood ran down its white neck and spilled onto the green mat of grass. My cupped hands captured a few drops, and I sipped. I tasted the smell of Finley’s smithy – hot metal. Lovern drank and then we wiped our hands across our faces. Lovern’s cheeks were streaked with the crimson fluid that had been the White Stag’s life. I felt the stickiness on my face and watched it drizzle crimson down my arms in spiral trails. They ran under and copied of the design on the armlet my mother gave me, the spirals of life.

  Lovern jumped up, droplets of blood spraying through the air. “Jahna! Look! Behind you — quickly, look!”

  Thinking the mate of the Stag may be on her way to take her revenge, my breath caught in my throat as I twisted to look in the direction his blood covered finger pointed.

  Out of the corners of my eyes I captured movement, a rush of blue flickering and floating on the air. Facing the trees, my eyes wide, I watched clouds of small blue butterflies lift to the sky. I accepted the scene from my vision. The blue butterflies and the White Stag were here in this copse of rowan trees to heal the relationship between Lovern and me. I did not question our presence. We were here by the grace and wonderment of the gods.

  A song came to my lips.

  “Anaman dance on air and color to bring life and blessings from the gods;

  purify our spirits,

  bring change and rebirth;

  Anaman alight, blue mysteries, and heal me.

  Anaman Anaman Anaman.”

  “O Morrigna,” sang Lovern in his own prayer song. “Shown in the form of Cernunnos, we welcome you. The King of the Forest rests at our feet. In him, we seek fertility for
ourselves, our forests, and the animals within. Bless us so in your name we may continue to teach others to bless you. Blessed Cernunnos, we will be forever grateful for your blessing and allowing us to sacrifice the White Stag to Morrigna and you.”

  “I will be there until I am free,” I said and pointed to the edge of the small meadow where we spent the night. “I will come to you when I feel my soul release.”

  Lovern nodded. I picked up my cape and walked a small distance away.

  Lovern continued singing just out of reach of my ears. Birds in the forest around me twittered, their songs sweet again.

  Lovern stripped off his clothing. I admired his tall, lean body and the muscles that worked as he shoved the Stag’s body into position. Lovern’s penis, hanging limp between his legs, did not show his true virility. He was my lover and I tingled with memory.

  I kneeled and wrapped myself in my cape, my labyrinth bag in hand. I thought on the reasons we were here. Through the rest of the day, I relived my first meeting Lovern in Beathan’s home.

  Lovern went into the forest and returned with a short log. After he reached in and cut out the Stag’s tongue, he placed the log just under its chin, raising its neck off the ground. He placed the tongue on the grass nearby. He lifted his short sword into the air, bringing it down repeatedly until the Stag’s head separated from its body. He grasped it by its antlers and sat it on its neck, facing his work. Then, he rolled the Stag’s body to its back and cut a deep line down the belly with his dirk. He cut again at the joint of each leg. Grasping a corner of the pelt, he pulled and cut under the skin to separate it from its body.

  I remembered falling in love with him as he taught me how to heal and find my life’s path.

  Midday saw the pelt completely removed and set aside. Kneeling, covered with blood, Lovern carved large pieces of meat off its shoulders and haunches. As if called, a small red fox walked to Lovern’s side; its sharp nose dug into Lovern’s arm to announce its arrival. Startled, Lovern looked down and laughed at the brave copper-colored animal. Its white-tipped red tail slowly swished back and forth. Lovern crawled on his knees, not rising above the small animal more than necessary, and reached for the Stag’s tongue. He laid it just in reach of the fox. The fox sauntered over, sniffed, bit into it and tried to lift it. It was too heavy so the fox snorted, gave in, and dragged his prize back into the forest from whence he came. Lovern watched in silence and bowed his head to the empty air left by the disappearing, sly fox.

  After quenching his thirst from our water skin, Lovern reached into his labyrinth bag and retrieved the red thread we had been handfasted with. It fell in tendrils from his fingers as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. His penis became partially erect. I wondered if he was remembering the night of love that came after that ceremony. He tied the thread around the antlers of the Stag.

  I recalled our marriage and the night of love we shared. My loins moistened and readied for entry.

  Using his sword with both hands, Lovern dug a hole. He finished it just as the sun started on the down side of the day. He disappeared into the forest again.

  My throat closed, and I grew weak with memory of the fear of my taking and the death of Beathan.

  When he returned, he piled the logs he carried into the hole along with twigs and small branches. He pulled and rolled the body, with difficulty, into the hole. The King of the Forest’s head balanced on top of its body. Lovern laid his short sword near the hole and reached into his bag again for his firestones. He lit the tinder and wood under the Stag. Soon, wood and fat fed, red and gold flames jumped into the air and the fire’s smoke rose to the darkening sky. The body of the White Stag, King of the Forest, was consumed by the purifying blaze. His spirit flew to the forests of the gods on the smoke.

  Lovern stood to watch for several breaths, then reached down and picked up the white pelt he had removed earlier. He walked towards me. I could hear his voice. Holding out the white pelt, he prayed, “Morrigna. Bel. Hear my pleas. Forgive my wrong-doings. Give me the power to heal and protect. Give me guidance to bring back into the true line of our nature the love of my life.”

  I grew stronger with the sound of his voice. I watched him declare his love and need to me through his actions and prayers to the gods. I knew the gods gave us this love we shared, and I would continue to honor it into whatever future we held together.

  “Lovern,” I whispered with a dry throat, “help me rise. I am free. I am purified.”

  He came to me. His hands strong under my arms, he lifted me to stand and raised his head to heaven singing thanks. I turned to stand behind him and dropped my dress to the grass. I took a step so my back was against his, my hot skin absorbing his sweat. My head rested under his shoulder, and I entwined our fingers. My legs were growing weak with relief and need of him when I felt his body quiver.

  I released his hands, and we turned to face each other. “Are you chilled?” I asked this as I trembled with my need.

  “No,” he said as he pulled me tightly against his body. His head dipped to kiss me and I felt him, fully erect, pressing his hips into mine. Our bodies reacted to the prolonged absence of each other.

  “I have missed you so,” I wept and reached my arms around him, my face buried against his chest. He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. I saw tears in his, reflected in the waning light.

  “Jahna, as my wife you should not have had to face the trials you did. It is my job to give you protection, and I failed. Before I left, you implored increased protection for me and I failed to do the same for you. Your taking and Beathan’s death should fall on my shoulders, not yours. I ask your forgiveness. I ask the gods’ forgiveness.”

  “We are both purified with this hunt and sacrifice,” I said. “We must now follow the path of our future.”

  We kissed, our tears creating clean lines through our blood-covered faces. Lovern eased me to the ground, the white pelt under us for protection. I cried in pleasure as his mouth and hands found my breasts. I lifted my legs around his slender hips, and he groaned as he entered me. We moved as one, searching for the most important truths in the entire world. The love of a man and woman. The urge to create new life.

  I screamed into the night with my release, and he cried out my name. We clung to each other, loving again and again until the sun rose.

  “The fire is out,” I said as I lifted my head to look over his shoulder. He still lay atop me. “I am hungry. Is there dried meat and water?”

  “Later, I will cook the meat I removed for this purpose. You need to eat well from now on.”

  Looking into his face and seeing his grin I realized he would know, even as I did, that I was with child. His child. Our child. A child of this night.

  “Yes, I will take care of my body and soul for our daughter. She will carry our blood into the future.”

  “I agree, but now we will take care of us. I need you again, Jahna. My body will never tire of yours, even when you are too big to walk!”

  “Mmmm. It is pleasant to have you inside me. But I have enough hunger to eat a pony.”

  “Quiet, woman. I will feed our souls first and then your stomach.”

  Later, we ate meat from the Stag, climbed onto our pony and traced our path home. We stopped only to wash our bodies in the waterfall of the sacred pool. There, we loved each other again.

  My mother was awake when we returned to the hospice. I knelt by her and whispered, “I am with child. A girl child.”

  She laughed, and for a few days we made plans. She spent her last days with smiles on her face and hope in her eyes. At the end, she kissed me and said she would be with me at her granddaughter’s birth. I was to look for a sign. “Teach her to weave the clan colors. They must be carried on.”

  “I will, Mother. She will learn to use your loom as I did.”

  “Jahna, you will be a good mother.” She blessed me with the highest praise a mother can give a daughter. My heart filled with pride and sorrow.

  She died i
n her sleep during the next full moon. Lovern gently cradled me in his arms while we mourned our loss. A large owl, my mother’s sign, made its resting place in the tree outside our door after hunting.

  She watched over me and mine for the rest of our time. She still watches over my blood.

  CHAPTER 16

  JAHNA

  76 AD May

  My mother had blessed me before she died, and the time the baby grew in me was easy. I slept in our bed, our home protected by Lovern and our crystals, comforted by his warm breath on my neck and arm over my shoulder. This was a time of peace and recovery for my body and mind. Passage dreams were not a part of this life, nor were visions, until the night before Crisi’s birth, ten days after the Beltane ceremony.

  Our Beltane festival was good that year. Our animals were healthy, many carried young, and our crops grew fruitful with an early warm spring. Lovern and the clan members, satisfied with the graces and blessings the gods had given us, knew we would have enough food for next winter.

  Sleep had become precious to me and I did not get enough as the size of my belly grew. When I did sleep, it was for short times. The night before my birthing pain started, I settled next to Lovern, trying to get as comfortable as possible on my side. I realized I had to pee and groaned.

  “What is it? Have the pains started?” Lovern was as ready for our daughter to be born as I.

  “No. I must pee. Again. And I will take a small walk. The moon is full, and I want to sit under it, alone, for a time. When the babe is born, I will not have any time alone.”