Gypsy's Quest

by Nikki Broadwell

  “The two who came last year were fairly young, not handsome, but strong and vigorous. Their offspring would certainly be healthy and add to the resilience of our community.”

  “Were there children born from last year’s festival?”

  “Oh yes. We had several births nine moons later. Ostara is a special time when all the normal rules are thrown out. Husbands and wives stray from their marriages, wandering off into the forest with others. Whatever happens here is due to Freyja.”

  “Freyja is the goddess of fertility,” Dagmaer added, noticing my perplexed expression. “And of course this festival marks the end of winter, the beginning of spring and new life. I will offer myself this year but many others will do so as well. I hope I’m picked.” Dagmaer laughed coquettishly. “I hope you won’t be shocked by what you see!”

  Dagmaer was at least a decade younger than Tara and myself and at times she got on my nerves. But she was pretty and young, with long blonde curls, and I could easily see the chieftains picking her. “How does this selection process happen?”

  “On the night of the bonfire all the women who have volunteered come together in the square. The chieftains move through the crowd placing a hand on the shoulders of the women they choose. After that we all go down to the beach for the bonfire and the feasting and dancing. What happens later is up to the chieftains. Gertrude, will you read the cards for me? I’d like to know if I’m going to be picked.”

  I pulled my deck out of my pocket asking her to think about her question as I handed them to her. “Shuffle and then divide them into three piles.”

  After Dagmaer followed my instructions I picked up the piles from left to right, and began laying them out. By now Gisla had arrived and she and Tara had come close to watch.

  “Card in the center represents the present,” I told her turning over the page of cups. “This card indicates your romantic nature, Dagmaer, your exuberance for life. And it can also predict pregnancy.”

  “Really?” Dagmaer clapped her hands. “Maybe I’ll be picked!”

  When I turned over the second card, the three of swords, Dagmaer gasped at the heart pierced with swords. “What does this mean?”

  “It’s the past. You must have had a great sorrow in your life.” I looked up at her, noticing the sadness that crossed behind her eyes. “I was about to be married…I…”

  “You don’t have to tell me. Just understand its message that pain leads to growth.”

  Let’s take a look at the future card.” I turned over the page of wands, smiling. “Ah ha. This card goes with the page of cups. He’s a catalyist for change, and, dare I say it, conception.”

  Dagmaer’s hand went to her mouth before she giggled. “Oh my.”

  “Next card will reveal your unconscious impulse.” I turned over the lovers, watching Dagmaer’s face turn scarlet. “This card…”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I admit I want to be married. I’ve been dreaming about the chieften every night for weeks.”

  “Well, let’s see what the possible results might be,” I said, turning over the sun card. “I would say your wish will very likely come to fruition. This card is very positive and represents the birth of a child, a stable family, and a time to celebrate. This is the most positive reading I’ve ever seen, Dagmaer.”

  “Do you really think…? Oh my goodness, I hope it’s correct.” Dagmaer danced around the room, her blond curls bouncing.

  “Can you read mine?” Gisla asked timidly.

  “I think it’s time to get back to business,” Tara interjected, giving me a pointed look. “So Gertrude, what will you wear to the festival?”

  “I don’t know if I’m going.”

  “You must come. Solti is back and she’ll watch the baby. It is such fun!” Dagmaer

  twisted a lock of her blonde hair around her finger, her blue eyes round with delight after her reading. “We can fashion you a special dress, can’t we, Tara?”

  “Of course. I have lots of wool material Auda gave me in exhange for several dresses I made for her.” Tara stopped for a moment her fingers on her chin. “I will have to introduce you. She also has a child out of wedlock.”

  I wondered if this put me in a category filled with promiscuous women and whores. “Where does she live?”

  “Hmm? Oh, in Hegard on the western slope of the mountain. It created quite a scandal when her child was born but everyone has grown used to it now.” She eyed me critically. “With your coloring I think the white wool would be best.”

  The next thing I knew they were measuring and draping material over me, laughing and giggling. “With your full figure I think it should be belted and the front should show some bosom,” Tara said, adjusting the drape. “This is not the night for prudishness.”

  If they only knew, I thought to myself, submitting to their adjustments. Gisla held my baby, her mousy hair falling across her face while the other two women fussed over me. She had been very quiet since Dagmaer’s reading and I feared I had hurt her feelings. When Rifak wriggled, demanding to be fed she held him out, her gaze mournful.

  “I would love to have a baby,” she confided, her gaze going to Dagmaer. “I hope I’m picked but I know I won’t be.”

  “Don’t say that. Why wouldn’t they pick you?”As the other two women talked about dress length, hair ribbons and belts, I sat down on a chair to feed Rifak, wondering why Gisla hadn’t conceived. According to Tara she was married and even though it was far from perfect it seemed she would have had a baby by now. “Next time we get together I promise I’ll do a reading for you.”

  “I’ll arrange your hair,” Tara interrupted, pulling at my braid. “I have a special way of fixing it that will suit you.”

  “Don’t get too ahead of yourselves, I still have to speak with Solti. Maybe she wants to go to the festival.”

  Dagmaer shook her head. “I ran into her yesterday and she said she hoped to spend time with the baby. She said she hasn’t met him yet.”

  “That’s right. She’s been away for his entire short life.” Rifak was too distracted to eat much, craning his neck to get a look at the women. I finally gave up and placed him on the floor where he attempted to crawl, moving backward instead of forward. “When I leave here I’ll go by her house. I feel badly that I haven’t sought her out before this.”

  “She’s only been back for two days, Gertrude. Her daughter, Lif, in Hegard, has been monopolizing Solti’s time. Lif recently gave birth to her fourth.” Dagmaer rolled her eyes. “The woman just keeps on breeding.”

  “Dagmaer! That isn’t a very nice thing to say!” Gisla looked horrified.

  “But you know it’s true. I’ve spoken to her husband and even he admits it’s becoming too much.”

  Tara narrowed her eyes. “Is he the man I saw you with at the Inn?”

  Dagmaer’s cheeks reddened. “Thormar needs me. He has no one to talk to about this.”

  “If Thormar could keep it in his breeches she wouldn’t be having so many, now would she? I hardly feel sorry for the man.”

  I smiled, turning away. These women who at first seemed so staid were opening up around me. Perhaps it was the Tarot and what it revealed, or maybe it was this upcoming festival of fertility that had loosened their tongues.

  At home I decided to do a Tarot layout for myself, but when I asked about Kafir and what was to come, the cards refused to answer, their meanings enigmatic and confusing. It felt like they were no longer connected to me, even though they worked when I did readings for others. I puzzled over this for a while before wrapping them up and putting them away.

  ***

  The weather was still chilly but there was a hint of spring in the air, evidenced by the changing light, the slight shift of wind. The sun shone more, moving from behind clouds for an hour or so before disappearing. My walks into town were making me stronger and my waist was returning, as well as my happiness. Every so often I would think of Tamar and wish he lived here in town, but then the desire would leave
me. There was no real future for us. It was only the need of the moment that had brought us together.

  Ostara was only a few days away the morning I walked to Tara’s house to try on my festival dress. It was nearly finished and I liked what she’d done. It was tunic style, with a cowl neck that folded down to reveal a bit of cleavage. The sleeves were long and wide, the skirt full with a wide leather belt to go around my waist. The white was perfect with my dark hair; Tara had made me promise to come by the day of the festival so she could arrange my hair. By now I had spoken to Solti and despite my protests that I wouldn’t be out that long, she insisted on spending the entire night at my house.

  “Will you be joining the women in the square?” Tara asked, her mouth full of pins. She bent down to secure the bottom of the dress, folding it under to shorten the hem.

  “Of course not, Tara! I’m way too old.”

  “You’re not too old, Gertrude. With your unusual looks you’d be picked for sure.”

  I laughed. “I don’t want another child, even if I could have one at my age. I can’t imagine anything worse. How about you?”

  Tara looked into the distance for a moment before she answered. “I’m hoping Kafir will be there, so no, I’m not planning to join Dagmaer and Gisla.”

  My heart did a little somersault. At this point I could barely remember his face.

  “I wonder if either of them will be picked,” Tara continued, bringing me back to the present.

  “From Dagmaer’s reading I would say yes. But Gisla’s married, isn’t she?”

  Tara nodded. “Her husband is a brute. I know she would like to leave him but our rules do not allow it.”

  Maybe that was why she had no child. “Does he agree to her participation?”

  “I highly doubt it, but because of tradition he cannot complain or keep her from it.”

  “I feel bad that I haven’t read the cards for her. She seemed so sad that day.”

  “I stopped you because I was afraid of what might be revealed. Gisla is very fragile.”

  “I tried to do a reading for myself but the cards aren’t speaking to me.”

  Tara looked up, her head cocked to the right. “Hmm. Are you familiar with the runes?”

  “I’ve heard of them, but…”

  “I happen to have a set given to me by my great-grandmother. I’ve never used them.” She laughed. “I guess I’m too practical for such things.”

  Tara went to a wooden chest against the wall. I heard the squeek of the hinge as she opened it, rustling noises before she found what she was looking for.

  “I’ll tell you what I know after you take a look. Just feel them and see if they speak to you.”

  “For someone who doesn’t believe you seem…”

  “I know, I know…it isn’t that I don’t believe, it’s that…”

  “You don’t want to know?”

  She nodded, a rueful grin on her face as she handed me a small red velvet bag. I reached in, feeling the smooth wooden tiles, working them through my fingers before bringing them out. When I emptied the bag on the table I gasped in delight. “They’re beautiful!” They were dark and shiny from being handled, each symbol etched into the wood and painted an even darker color. I picked one up. “What does this mean?” I held out a tile with what looked like a slightly askew ‘t’.

  “Hmm. This is n-a-u-t-h-i-z—pronounced now-these. It means delay or it can refer to determination to overcome obstacles, also emotional deprivation.” She looked up at me with a little frown. “Does this one speak to you?”

  “I guess so since I picked it up. But it doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s funny since I don’t know much about the runes, but this is one of the few I understand. It can also mean self-determination or facing your fears. Not so bad.”

  “Well, the only part that resonates is emotional deprivation.” I felt the heat come into my cheeks as Kafir’s face loomed up in my mind.

  Tara stared at me with a puzzled look. “It can refer to the future, but what kind of emotional deprivation are we talking about?”

  “Oh, Tara. I guess I’m lonely for a man in my life. Having a baby brings it up, I suppose.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the festival. Many women find their future mates on this night. So tell me if you feel connected with the runes.”

  “My father was German but I’m more in tune with the Tarot cards, or at least I used to be.” I sighed, wondering if or when my connection would return. “I don’t know how to use runes and besides, they belong to your family. Maybe you’ll have a baby to pass them onto.”

  “I doubt that at my age. But I won’t force them on you.”

  While Tara worked on my dress I picked up Rifak to feed him. He was getting teeth and it hurt when he nursed. Soon I would have to consider weaning him. My mind drifted here and there, settling on Rifak’s father and the sequence of events that brought me here. His pale face loomed into my mind for a moment, dark eyes narrowed in anger. A chill went through me, making me pull my shawl closer.

  “Try it now.”

  Tara’s voice brought me up and out of the past, her inquiring gaze puzzled.

  “Sorry. I was lost in a memory.” I tried to laugh but it caught in my throat.

  “You had a very strange look on your face. You must have been thinking some very unpleasant thoughts.”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing to do with here and now.” I pulled the dress over my head, pleased at how it hung in graceful folds nearly to my ankles. “It’s beautiful. How can I pay you for all your work?”

  “No need. It improves my skills to practice and this will bring more customers to my door. Shall we go to the festival together? That way I can arrange your hair. You might bring the Tarot along. I’m sure there are several women who would like to know their fates for the upcoming year.”

  “Tara, we never did yours. Don’t you want to know the future?”

  Tara frowned, shaking her head. “As I said, I’m too practical. I would rather see it unfold than expect it.”

  When I left her house I thought about Kafir and what Tara’s cards might reveal. With my own feelings so entangled, her perspective was probably best.

  The Otherworld-2010

  “I have news,” MacCuill said, running his hand over his thick beard.

  “Did they find her?”

  The druid shook his head, his eyes settling on the baby on the ground. “Airmid is getting big,” he exclaimed, going down on his knees to play with her. Airmid chortled, grabbing hold of his beard in her grubby hand.

  “No no, Airy,” Maeve told her, carefully unfastening the fat fingers. Airmid let out a high-pitched screech of joy when Maeve lifted her above her head, swinging her into the air.

  “What’s going on out here?” Harold asked, emerging from the doorway.

  “I was about to tell Maeve about Gertrude. As you know, Arianrhod has the ability to shapeshift. As an owl she can go far beyond the boundaries of our world.”

  “And?” Maeve asked impatiently, putting the wriggling baby girl back on the ground.

  “Gertrude is no longer in this timeline.”

  “What does that mean?” Harold asked, moving toward Airmid. He picked her up, tickling her under the chin before placing a loud raspberry on her belly. Airmid screamed in delight, taking everyone’s attention.

  “She’s traveled either backwards or forward in time,” MacCuill answered, after the baby had quieted. “We could have followed her energy signature for a month after the wave, but now it’s long gone.”

  Eron appeared from inside the house, his gaze going from one to the other. “So what’s this news?”

  After Maeve relayed what MacCuill said, her grandfather frowned. “Someone told me that Adair left here in a big hurry right after the wave. I hope she wasn’t tracking Gertrude.”

  “Who said that?”

  “One of the goddesses, I think. Who else would have noticed? At the time I was deep in mourning for Catrio
na. It hardly registered.”

  Maeve thought about her grandmother who had been killed by her twin brother, Brandubh. The only good thing was that Maeve’s uncle, the priest, had died at the same moment, a fate that had been sealed years before. Tears sprang into her eyes at the painful memory and she turned away, wandering over to where Airmid had managed to entangle herself in a bush.

  Chapter Six

  Far Isle-2451

  On the afternoon of festival night Solti arrived at my house carrying several cloth bags. We talked for a while about Rifak and how to manage feeding him.

  “He’s certainly old enough to have solid food,” she told me with a disapproving frown.

  I felt suddenly guilty, lacking as a mother. I had only continued breastfeeding out of convenience and because I enjoyed the closeness. “What can he have at this age?” I asked, thinking about pabulum and bottles of baby food I would have purchased in the States.

  “He can have bread dipped in goat’s milk and some cooked fruit, as well as potato and most certainly porridge of all kinds.”

  “If you want to give him any of that, I approve.”

  “Well,” she said softening, “it will certainly give you more freedom. I’ll be able to take care of him more often,” she added, picking Rifak up from where he was playing with his toes on the floor. “Tonight we’ll get started on the bread and goat’s milk. Enjoy yourself and don’t worry about us.” Rifak gurgled his pleasure as the older woman tickled him under the chin.

  “He certainly seems to like you.”

  Solti smiled. “That’s because he knows how I feel about him, don’t you, sweet one?” she said, kissing the top of his head. I heard something that sounded like a real laugh come out of my baby’s mouth.

  “Now go, Gertrude, and don’t forget to have some of that special mead; stay as long as you like, we’ll be fine.”

  I watched her put Rifak down and turn her back to build up the fire. Rifak had completely forgotten me in his fascination with Solti; now was the time to leave. “Okay then. If you need me you know where to find me,” I called, heading out the door.