The Fox

by Arlene Radasky

  I groaned and doubled up in pain. Rhona came over and placed a drop on my lips.

  “It is almost time, Rhona. I am cold. Place the pelt over me, please. Now I have one more thing I must do. Let me rest and I will call you when it is time.”

  It is not my soul that is ill; it is my body. My soul is pure. I will cross soon and be with him.

  Lovern has told me he had seen Crisi in the future. I wanted that sight. I wanted to see her grown. Tears slipped from under my eyelids as I concentrated on creating my passage dream. I prayed I could make it come.

  The peat smoke grew heavy in my lungs, and I coughed.

  There was light. The sun streamed down around me. I looked up and on a small hill stood a beautiful young woman, her long black hair free and blowing around her. She stood next to a strong young man. His hair was also black, but bound and worn to the back. They looked at each other with love and tenderness.

  Oh, gods. In her arms, there was a babe. Black hair and green eyes. It was all I could feel in my heart, the quest to tell Aine. I deepened my concentration and called her. There. There she was. She could now see what was in my eyes and heart. She seemed to be pleased.

  We both looked upon Crisi and her family. Now the future will know of us, will remember us. We will not have died alone.

  Crisi lifted the baby into the air, and his feet swung free. Yes, there was the sign. The sign of our family, Lovern’s toes. We will be remembered. Lovern’s sacrifice was not in vain.

  Gods hear me! I will die when I choose to die.

  And as I die, my thoughts will be of Fox who taught me to live, to talk to the gods, and to love. We failed to change the future, and now I beg the goddess Morrigna to allow my daughter a safe journey. I have only time for one more passage to tell our story.

  Then, and only then, will I die.

  And now my story is told. I have laid it on the winds of time, to be remembered and retold. It is like the sacred oak tree, its life evidenced in its splendorous existence in the spring and summer, and yet it looks like death through the fall and winter’s storms, though it but in patience sleeps. My story, my life with Lovern, will lie waiting to be retold, reborn.

  I have pain and am tired. My last passage dream is done. I am ready. Lovern and I walked a path designed by the gods. We honored them as we lived and died, and now I go to live among them.

  Rhona pours the bitter liquid into my mouth. I cough but try to swallow as much as possible.

  The pain is heavy. I choke. I cannot breathe.

  “Be at peace, Jahna.” Rhona’s voice is far away. “Go and be without pain. They are waiting to help you cross, Jahna. Go and be free.”

  It does not matter any more. I hear a voice from my depths. A voice I cannot disobey. A voice I recognize.

  “Jahna, little mouse. It is time to come with me.”

  “Beathan, I have missed you so! Where is my mother? I know Lovern will be here.”

  She answered behind me. “Yes, little one. Your father is here, too. We are all waiting for you. Come. Come be with us, now.”

  Those left behind are sad.

  I am happy and well.

  The river’s water is fast and deep, but I cross.

  CHAPTER 26

  AINE

  JUNE, 2005

  As soon as Marc got to my apartment, we were inseparable. He held me through several teary nights. After the well-attended memorial, Meg told me she planned to take George’s ashes to the Orkney Islands. He loved working at the Skara Brae site and wanted his ashes spread on the island.

  He believed the henge builders and labyrinth designers came from the civilization that rose on those islands.

  “Right now his ashes are in a mahogany box on the mantle of his home, next to Sophie,” she said, her voice catching. “They wanted to be together so I’ll take them both.”

  Even with him gone from my sight and touch, I knew he was watching over me, right there with my mom, dad, and Donny.

  The night before Marc left for Wales, we sat wrapped in each other’s arms on my small bed. A heavy, blue mood hung over me.

  “Next time, I’m getting a hotel room,” Marc mumbled into my hair.

  Neither of us made it through the night in this tiny, cramped bed. We started the night making love, but after, one of us - usually me - ended up trying to sleep in my chair.

  “I’ve loved seeing you again,” said Marc. “It seems like months. I’ve done a lot of thinking while we were apart. I love you. I want us to start a family. What do you want?”

  He held me close, and his chin rested on the top of my head. My cheek lay against his chest, listening to his heart beat, my heart racing. I couldn’t see his face. I took a deep breath and was filled with his scent of wood smoke and loam, and then my breathing matched his. I felt safe enveloped in his arms, cushioned from the world.

  But, a niggling feeling deep in my mind warned me to be careful. My psyche was still trying to work my way out from under Brad’s thumb. It didn’t matter that he was dead, or that I loved Marc. I thought about starting a family with Marc. Little boys with Marc’s eyes, running around. I loved that idea. But….

  “Marc.” Reluctantly, I started pulling away from his warm, safe embrace. I still hadn’t told him about the possible sale of the farm, or that I hadn’t started the process to list the fort. I was afraid he would start giving me advice. “Please understand. I love you, too. I want you back. But if you come, you have to let me do my own work. This is my last chance. I’m afraid if I don’t do well here, I won’t be able to have my own projects anywhere. I won’t be able to get any grants.”

  “I’m going to be busy for about a week, I have a report to finish. That’ll give you some time to work with me not there and I promise, when I do come, you can tell me what to do and that is all I will do. Okay?”

  We made love again and then he called a taxi.

  My small room was deathly quiet while I packed to return to Scotland. The shrill ring of my phone startled me out of my reverie. It was Meg. She asked me to come over to the house before I left.

  “There are a few things George asked me to do. We could get some of them done before you leave.”

  “Sure. I have tickets for tonight’s train. I’ll be there about two hours before I go, if that’s a good time for you.”

  “That’s perfect. I’m still here tidying up before the realtors come through. Take a taxi and I’ll pay for the trip here and the trip to the station, later. See you about fourish.”

  Later, in George’s study, Meg brought in a pot of fragrant tea and a plate of biscuits. The house was in disarray. Taped boxes were stacked in the hall and open ones scattered around this room. She’d been busy.

  “Meg, you look tired. Aren’t you sleeping well?”

  “Oh, I’ve plenty of time for that. I’ve just a few things left to do. All the clothes are going to charity, and a few specific things to university. He took care of most of his personal things before he went up to see you. His labyrinths are going tomorrow. All but this one.”

  She walked to the now empty bookcase and picked up the bronze Chartre labyrinth. It was one I had taken to him. I’d left it there when he died and thought I’d lost it.

  “St. John’s sent this back and it’s to be yours. George left a few written instructions and one was to make sure this got to you. He said you would be the one who would use it well and keep its spirit alive.” She held it out to me and I gently took it from her. It was warm, as if George had been holding it in his hands.

  “I didn’t expect anything from him, Meg. I’ll always treasure it.” Tears started down my cheeks.

  “One more thing, Aine. You know he loved you like a daughter. The one he and Sophie could never have.” I wondered what heartache she was feeling right now. She loved him, too. I nodded and dug into my backpack for some tissues.

  “Here, dear.” She handed me a tissue box from the floor next to her chair. “I carry this with me all over the house. I’ve gone through
two of them today.”

  I took a few and dabbed at my eyes.

  “He had some money. Not a great deal, but enough to share with others. His solicitor will contact you, but I wanted to tell you first. He left some to university, and to me. But he also left some to you, dear. I can’t tell you exactly how much, you’ll be getting a letter, but it is a nice amount.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t need anything else. This labyrinth is enough.”

  “Well, I heard you were looking for money for that site of yours – that hill fort? He would be very happy if you used it for that. He mentioned how important it was to you when he came back.”

  I gulped. Money for my site. George helping me even after his death. Angels watched over me.

  “I’ll use it well. He’d be proud of me, Meg.”

  “Aine, dear, he was already proud of you.”

  Tim picked me up at the station. “All is well and secure at the site. That chap, Stephen Treadwell, asked for you yesterday. I told him you’d be in tomorrow.”

  “Oh bloody hell. I wonder what he wants. Mr. Treadwell told me he’d call me if he got an offer on his land. I hope this isn’t that news. Well, I suppose we’ll find out.”

  I really wanted to go see the hill. It felt as if I wanted to go home.

  “Who is on site tonight?”

  “Matt and the new chap, Larry.”

  “Well, I have extra clothes and my toothbrush in my bag. I wonder if they’d mind if I bunked with them. If I remember correctly, we have an extra sleeping bag up there, right?”

  “Yeah, and a pad, too. For whoever sleeps on the ground.”

  Two cots, three people. Yes, one of us will be on the ground. I hoped one of them was a gentleman and would give in without me having to ask.

  A soft glow from the full moon reflected off the mountain and covered the fort in milky light. I was home. I said hi to Matt and Larry and dropped off my bag. I grabbed a torch and a cup of coffee and walked to Jahna’s lodge. I closed my eyes and saw her smile as she stirred a rich rabbit stew, cooking over the peat fire. My thoughts confirmed what my heart felt. This was right. I was supposed to be here. I walked back to the tent, picked up the sleeping bag and pad, grabbed a hat and my labyrinth from my bag, and said goodnight. I wanted to sleep with Jahna tonight.

  I settled near the perimeter of her home closest to the remains of the gate. My view encompassed the fields where Mr. Treadwell’s sheep grazed and the bog where his Highland cattle wandered. Oak trees in the distance were silhouetted by the moonlight, throwing shadows across the fields. My finger traced the worn path on the labyrinth and I let my imagination wander. The clan was all around me, talking and laughing. Dogs barked and Jahna called to her goats. I loved it there. I stayed in that thought as long as I could, but the sounds and sight wavered and then were gone. I loved archaeology. It allowed me to live in times past.

  It was about 4 AM when I woke up and stretched. The ground was hard, and I was chilled. Everything around me was dark and quiet. My eyes wandered over the outlying fields and bog and stopped on a ball of light.

  “What the…?”

  The light bobbed just above the ground near the trench where Mr. Treadwell had found the bronze horse harness fittings. I looked carefully. It seemed almost like a torch that was in need of batteries. The moon should cast a shadow of the person carrying it, but there was no shadow. I watched it for several minutes. It seemed to move in a small circle, never going far from the first area where I’d noticed it.

  I had to go see what this thing was. I debated with myself as to whether I needed Mr. Treadwell’s permission. If yes, I’d have to go to his home, wake him up and tromp through his fields in the middle of the night. Or…. There was a short cut down the path, around the foot of the hill and over a couple of fences. I could be there in about twenty minutes. I chose the short way, put the labyrinth in my pocket, and prayed there were no cattle roaming the bog.

  Fences and small hills sometimes hid the dim circle of light as I walked, but when back in sight, it still bobbed, as if waiting for me.

  I came to the last barrier, a rock wall surrounding the bog, climbed it, and stood watching, afraid and nervous about what I might see. There was no reason for this light to be bouncing in Mr. Treadwell’s bog. Was I going completely bonkers? I squatted in place and decided to wait. A sneeze exploded to my left and I jumped, almost falling off the wall. The fox sat there, just out of my reach. It was the same fox I’d seen in the trees the other day, I was sure. There was no mistaking him; he was big. He sat watching the light bounce. He was glorious, even in the moonlight. His bronze fur glistened and his white-tipped, bushy tail wagged, slowly. Suddenly, he stiffened, ears forward and his eyes trained on the spot mine had left a moment ago. I turned back and gasped as I sat down hard, breathless, shocked at the vision in front of me.

  Oh my God, he’d appeared out of the ground! He couldn’t have walked here, I’d have heard him or seen him. My eyes hadn’t left that spot except for a minute to look at the fox. He couldn’t be there. But there he stood.

  A man of about Marc’s height stood straight and proud in front of me, at the edge of a cut trench. A faint aura of golden light shimmered around his body. He wore long pants, a tunic top tied with a cord, and a plaid cape, fastened at his neck. His loose red hair hung below his shoulders. One arm hung to his side, behind the cape. The fox stepped across the trench and sat next to that hand as if waiting to be petted. The other hand rested on his upper chest. His eyes looked into mine. I knew they were blue; the same blue Marc’s eyes were.

  He stared at me for a minute and then dropped the hand that rested on his chest. I saw the medicine bag. Healers and druids wore them to ward off evil spirits. He turned slightly to the left and moonlight highlighted its design. It was a labyrinth!

  “Oh, gods above,” I whispered. I suddenly thought I should show him my labyrinth and slipped it out of my pocket.

  He smiled, and his hand dropped, palm up. He slowly waved it over the bog around him. Our eyes connected and he nodded as if he knew me. My heart stopped beating.

  A cloud slid over the moon. I blinked, and the man and the fox had disappeared. They were both gone.

  I sat on the damp ground, trying to figure out what I’d seen. As hard as I tried not to admit it, I finally concluded that either I was dreaming and sleepwalking, or Mr. Treadwell’s ghost was roaming the fields in the moonlight. I pinched myself. “Ouch!” I was awake and left with one strong thought. There was something here I needed to find. To do that, I needed to speak to Mr. Treadwell.

  “Good morning! Mr. Treadwell!” I was sure he rose with the sun hours ago. I didn’t hesitate to knock hard on his door and call out. “Mr. Treadwell, it’s me, Aine MacRae.”

  “I’m in the barn. Stop the yelling or ye’ll wake the dead! Or my son, whichever first. I don’t know where he learned to sleep so much.”

  I stepped into the frame of the barn door and peered inside. The sun shined brightly outside but didn’t penetrate the dark interior. Bits of dust floated around the doorframe, reflecting sunlight like miniature flying fairies. “Hello, Mr. Treadwell. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  A striped yellow cat walked out of the darkness, rubbed against my legs, and purred. She looked well fed. Lots of mice in there, I guessed.

  “Come on in, lassie.”

  I stepped inside, and my eyes grew accustomed to the shafts of light slipping in through the spaces in the barn walls. He stood over a workbench, so I headed his way. The cat followed me in, meowing.

  “She’s about to have kittens and begs all the time. Just pay her no mind. She’ll go on a hunt in a bit. You’re up early on this fine day. What can I do for ye?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Treadwell. I hope you and your son are well. Stephen called and wanted to talk to me earlier in the week, but I need to talk to you first. I just returned from London last night.”

  His back was to me but I could see a motor in pieces on the table in front of him.
He intently twisted a screwdriver, the strain showing in his stance.

  “Ach! This blasted thing! I would’ve a new one if I were sure I would be on the land for a few more years.”

  My heart jumped into my throat. I hoped he’d not made a deal to sell yet. I hadn’t told him yet about wanting to get the hilltop registered and protected. Registering it as a landmark might not restrict the sale of the rest of the land so I didn’t want to upset him or his son needlessly. “Mr. Treadwell. I am here about your bog.”

  “My bog. What the bloody hell…. What do ye want with my bog? Oh hell. I give up. I’ll have to take this into town.” He turned to me. “Aye? What does my bog have that brings ye here?”

  “Well, Mr. Treadwell. Remember the horse fittings you found? I think there may be more to find there, and I’d like the chance to bring a crew down and do some digging.”

  “Lassie. You want to dig holes in my bog? My cattle have a hard enough time as it is. Why would I want to be letting you dig more holes?”

  “Mr. Treadwell. The bronze fittings are beautiful. And as I told you, it was not uncommon for the druids to throw other sacrifices into the water. I think there may be more in the bog. That it was once a lake that was sacred to the local ancient clans. I would like to be the one to find whatever else is there. Before it’s gone or covered over.” I heard a commotion in the corner. The yellow cat came out with a mouse in her mouth and laid it at my feet.

  “Ah, she’s laying a sacrifice at your feet, lassie. She only does that for those she likes. She will na even come near my son.”

  “Oh. Well. I’m honored.” I reached down, petted the cat, and gently shifted my foot out from under the warm mouse body. She picked up the mouse and slowly walked to a dark corner. I expected to hear crunches soon. My stomach rebelled. Only coffee for breakfast seemed like a smart move right now.