The Hatchling—1996
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XIII—The Rhymer
"Do we have any more baskets?" Holly called to Arnica, who was tending the plants growing in their small greenhouse.
"Did you check the potting shed? What about the closet in the temple room?" Arnica answered, the snipping of scissors making rhythm as he pruned the rose geranium.
"I guess that's it. We should have enough baskets for everyone. This will be a large gathering, won't it? It's been quite a few years since a Council was called." Holly was stacking all sizes and shapes of woven baskets just outside the cabin.
"Hasn't it been wonderful spending time with Wren and Robin?" asked Arnica. "They are so connected with the earth. I hadn't realized how much I've missed them since they moved to their property in Highland. Let's see, it's been almost a handful of years since we last heard the music of their laughter!"
"That reminds me," interjected Holly, "I want to have the seastones here for the 'harvest.' Each person could choose a couple of the stones we brought back from ocean. Wasn't that a fun journey with them? Watching Robin dance in the wet sand as Wren played her lute was such a wondrous event!"
"Oh yes, do set the stones out for our guests. What a wonderful idea!" Arnica set aside his pruning scissors and walked over to Holly and the baskets. "Just look at this. What a Harvest celebration this will be. I only hope that this Sabbat will see the return of our hatchling and baby Dagon."
They fell silent. Despite their gardens being more lush than ever, despite the victories won by the Earthkin which preserved one more tract of trees in Merrywood, there was a shadow in their hearts. Automatically their minds formed images of Jewel and Lotus. Jewel had been having a rough go of it, struggling to accept the wisdom of the Mother while agonizing over the absence of her baby. Arnica and Holly had been carefully working with the image of Dark Star—oh, how they missed their unicolt—seeing the hatchling come dancing back through the portal of the stone circle with Dagon safely upon her back. These past weeks had been very difficult for all of them.
Their reverie was suddenly set aside with the sound of bells. Holly almost ran into the baskets, he was in such a hurry to get to the front path. "It's the Rhymer!" he shouted, the joy in his voice matched by the fleetness of his feet.
Arnica's old bones moved pretty quick, even for the hermit. "Rhymer," he said as he came around the corner. "It's been far too many years," and he embraced the tall figure draped in a deep, green cloak.
"Ah, many years but you know how little I enjoy travelling." The Rhymer's voice was like music dancing through the air. He and Arnica were of the same generation, Elders of the Renaissance tribes and they had been ritually bonded together long ago. "Take me to the Circle and tell me the details."
"There's not much to say," Arnica mused. We were doing our Midsummer Ritual, opening our Circle to the magick of the devas and, as Jewel was invoking the Goddess, a portal to the eldritch opened and Dark Star—the hatchling unicorn you've been hearing of—leapt right though with the baby Dagon upon her back."
"And the Goddess manifested through Jewel and said we must have patience," Holly finished. Holly and Arnica were such a pair that they could not only finish each other's sentences but often knew each other's thoughts.
"Let me set down my harp and books, then take me to the Circle." They walked the Rhymer into their cabin, deep in conversation, before taking him to the site of last Midsummer's amazing event.
The sun had not yet set but the nights were surely coming earlier than they did at the last Sabbat. They were gathering in the grassy area near Holly and Arnica's greenhouse. Lammas was a celebration of the Harvest, usually conducted with a procession through the gardens as herbs were cut and the first grains harvested. This year their hearts were hoping to bring back an even greater 'harvest.'
Jewel's russet-colored hair was tied back and, despite the smiling, brave face she presented to all of them, her eyes showed the traces of many days of weeping. She turned to Arnica and said, "I want to thank you for asking us to make the grain man. It helped us more than you could imagine."
"There is much magick in this bread," Arnica said cryptically, "and it was only fitting that you should make the offering for tonight's ritual."
"You should have seen the love and tears which went into this loaf," added Lotus. "Look. I took these weeks and watched this staff emerge." Lotus held a beautiful wooden staff with leaves and flowers carved from near the base up to the head of the staff, which emerged as a sculpture of the Goddess, Herself. "She will lead us, no matter what loss life may bring."
"Lotus, you are truly growing wise." Arnica put his arm around the younger man.
"Oh, Lotus, that's beautiful!" Wren's voice shimmered in the air like music. "Why, I have a line in my new song that describes a staff so much like this…
'See the sacred staff which guides the way
To bring us forth to hear our Mother say
These are my herbs, my flowers, my love
And these my stars and mine the Moon above…'"
Robin had started dancing to the lines of poetry, taking Gino by the hand, encouraging the boy to express his creativity through movement. They were dancing around Crystal as Amethyst stood by, laughing at the joy.
"Blessed Be!" A new voice broke into the merriment. "I see I made it here in time." A stately woman came through the gate. "I was beginning to wonder." Flying Raven was Keeper of the Archives for the Renaissance Tribes and lived far across the mountains and plains in the Mothervalley. Walking directly to Jewel, she embraced the woman and said, "I'm known as Flying Raven and you must be Jewel. My children are long grown but I understand well the depths of a mother's love," and their arms held one another for many minutes as they shared the mystery.
"Where is Amber," asked Robin, "I haven't seen her since we were maidens."
"She's in the cabin helping the Rhymer with his robes," answered Crystal. Her hair looked flaxen in the evening sun. She had kept it very short since last Hallows, having pledged to wear it cropped for a year and a day as part of her work to help her departed Grandmother prepare for a new birth.
"Arnica, I'm ready." A voice that calmed and quieted the group in an instant spoke the appearance of Rhymer.
"I'm carrying the Rhymer's harp."
"And I have the basket of seastones." Holly began walking among them. "Please select one. We picked these with Wren and Robin just the other day, choosing only those which spoke to us. These will be laid back at the stone circle with your other gifts."
A bell silenced them. Arnica raised his boline. "Let Lammas Eve begin."
Wren set her lute near the north stone. She had sung her new song as the procession left the gardens, their baskets filled with flowers and herbs and fruits and grains, guiding them with her voice beneath the trees. Wren's skills as a Bard were growing and her music set the patterns for the Rhymer.
Amber smudged the site with sage hand-picked by her sisters of the Loon Tribe, then Holly and Arnica cast the Circle. Gino lit the candles at the four elemental stones. This was the first time he had performed an active role with guests, and he moved carefully. How proud Pearl would be to see him in the robe she had embroidered!
The Circle prepared, the patterns in place, they set their offerings around the perimeter of the circle. The seastones were laid about as were bunches of flowers and herbs and the best fruits of the harvest. Jewel moved to the center. They stood around her, holding hands in a Circle. Only the Rhymer moved between the circle of stones and the circle of loving friends, the brilliant purple of his harpstrap a bright swath against the green of his robe. The Rhymer's voice began singing to the notes of the harpstrings. Jewel's arms reached up to the sky, her voice intoning, "I am the beauty of the green earth, the white Moon among the stars…"
None would remember the Rhymer's song yet every soul would carry that melody deep within as a Mystery. Their eyes all created a focus upon Jewel as she set aside her mother's ego and gave herself over to the Goddess. The last words of the Charges slipped into the dusk, and they stood silently as the Rhymer's harp created visions. By now the Elderbard's voice was singing a tongue which spoke only to the eldritch and they felt, as one, a shift in time or gravity or something which they felt right in their stomachs as if their Circle has suddenly moved into a different dimension.
The green-cloaked Elder, whose harp was now slung across his back touched Lotus upon the shoulder. The young man bent down and picked up the grain man loaf which waited at Jewel's feet and handed it to the Rhymer.
"Sing."
It was more than a command. As he took the loaf, the Rhymer handed his harp to Wren. Wren's eyes alone indicated her amazement. No one else had ever been allowed to touch the Rhymer's harp, but this was not the time to think. Wren slid the harpstrap around her shoulder and her finger touched the first string. A note danced forth and from that moment no one quite remembered just how the magick progressed.
The Rhymer walked the Circle behind them but they were oblivious. Wren's fingers moved of their own. She knew her lute, but had rarely played a harp yet the words and music emerged as if from the Rhymer's soul. Images of their dreams, visions of their hopes were like a tapestry of light. Only vaguely did they sense that the Rhymer was no longer there but now their visions were touched by the voices of the devas. Plant spirits were laughing and singing and they could hear the life forces of Nature as if the gate between worlds had not only opened but embraced them.
"I am here." The words shook them back, a strength behind them which broke through their collective reverie. "I am here," the Rhymer's voice commanding them to turn, seeing that the portal which opened to the Realm of the Faerie was again open. In one arm slept the baby Dagon and the other arm was loosely draped around the neck of Dark Star.
Jewel cried out and she and Lotus rushed forth to claim their baby, just in time, for the Rhymer fell to his knees exhausted, the harvest a success.
XIV—The Gates of Death
"I miss his quiet stories."
"I miss listening to his harp," Holly responded to Arnica's comment.
The Rhymer's visit for Lammas remained a vivid memory. His journey into the Realm of the Faerie had taken a physical toll upon him, but Jewel and Lotus were grateful that their baby Dagon had been brought safely back to their arms. Holly and Arnica were glad to have Dark Star back, although they knew well that their Unicorn hatchling was bound to be off in all magickal directions at any time. The Rhymer had stayed two more fortnights at the cabin, resting and regaining his strength from the arduous task before starting out on his long trek home.
Every few days Jewel and Lotus would come out to sit with him until, as his body regained its tone, he would walk with them in the gardens. Soon they were learning the Bardic Mysteries from the Rhymer and they would wander back to the stone circle every two or three days where they would sit upon the soft ground to listen to the Rhymer teach them through the music of his harp. When the dusk was just right, music seemed to emerge from the trees that sounded much like Wren's lute. What an event was Lammas, with Wren and Robin here from the Highlands and the Rhymer all the way from Loriën.
Dagon would quietly crawl about but often would sit and watch the Bard's slender fingers pluck such music as had never before been heard. Although not much more than fourteen months old, one was certain that somehow, Dagon understood what the Rhymer was teaching. Despite his gurgling speech, Dagon's eyes shone with a curious type of wisdom ever since his weeks spent in the Realm of the Faerie. If there was any way to describe it, Dagon listened differently and seemed aware of all aspects of his surroundings. When the Rhymer held Dagon, kissing the baby goodbye, the others noticed a strange exchange between the two, for they communicated with their eyes.
"He's not been gone that long," mused Arnica. "Can you lift that basket of grapes by yourself?"
"But I miss him…Of course I can," Holly said, struggling with a huge basket holding more than two bushels of fresh, concord grapes. "Maybe you should lend a hand, after all. I wouldn't want my pride splattered on the floor beneath these beauties!"
Arnica chuckled. They could both be stubborn at times but they adored each other and offered thanks every morning that the Universe saw fit to let them share their work. Holy had been running the fruit steamer since sunrise (although sunrise was so much later than at Midsummer!), creating jars of pure grape juice.
Arnica was working at the table in their small kitchen, figuring the tithing crops they would need to take in to Merrydale. "Do you have enough herbs?" In addition to the jars of juice, every thirteenth was set aside with herbs for ritual drink for the coming year. The last jar of the season was to be created specifically for Hallows, steeped with herbs which would open the Gates of Death.
"I believe so. The back arbor has been all harvested and the front holds about two more baskets when these are done…Let's see, I've got three, four dozen jars…" and Holly's voice drifted off in counting.
"Three pounds of ginseng, one of goldenseal…" Arnica continued working on the harvest tithe.
"If I put in two measures of herbs into each thirteenth jar…"
"And our apples did not bear well this year so one less…"
"Four, five, and there must be more than six measures in the bowl…"
"Eight, nine, the tithing can go in tomorrow as planned." Arnica began laughing. "You know? It's almost like music in the room with the counterpoint of our counting!"
"Yes," Holly laughed also, "but you're the only person who doesn't distract me when we're both counting out loud! I know what you're counting and keep track of it and yet keep track of my numbers as well. It's just like being in ritual with you when our minds follow their mandalas."
"How is the steamer doing?" Arnica asked, "Do you have time to help me prepare the herbs to open the Gates?
"Oh, yes. Can I light the candle now?" Before he'd even lit the fire beneath the steamer, Holly had set up the small kitchen altar. Sitting over the still-empty jar designated to hold the Hallows drink was a wonderful, crocheted doll. "Pearl's jar-dolly would be happy with some incense as well." The 'body' of the jar was the jar, with the torso sitting upon the lid. The head was hand-stitched to represent the Goddess Who guards the portal to the Underworld and sent to them from Cloverville so that Pearl could participate long-distance in the Autumn rite.
"Yes love, it's time." Arnica opened the pages of his herbal grimoire, in which he kept the recipes as they marked the turning of the Wheel of the Year. "What I need from the gardens are six aconite blooms and thirteen holly berries. The rest of the herbs are in the cupboard." And off they went to collect the herbs and finish up the day's canning.
"It certainly seems, well, loud, doesn't it?" Arnica mused out loud.
"I like it. It's exciting," piped Gino in his young voice, "but I like staying at your home too. It was just a year ago I met you in Merrydale and I've certainly had some amazing adventures since then!"
"No one even noticed Dark Star when she was tethered to the hitching post at the apothecary's," Holly commented.
"Did too," Gino parried, "I saw the preacher stroking Dark Star's head. And she licked his face and he laughed, right out loud!"
"Pastor Dolorum? I haven't seen him since we blessed the charm for his mother. You know, I used to think all Politicos were bad, but these are curious times, aren't they, Arnica?"
"I must say, it's not nearly so stressful an election campaign as I had expected. I had expected some pretty intense fighting ever since the trees at Fern Hollow were cut down," Arnica answered. As he walked, he adjusted the cloth bags of herbs and provisions which were borne upon Dark Star's back. She whinnied lightly and slowed, an opportunity to munch some late season mulberry leaves which stretched over the road's edge.
"I was pretty shocked to learn that Pastor Dolorum told his congregation to join the march. Who would have thought Iris would have become such an activist? Gino, were you there?" Holly turned to the freckled boy.
"Oh, it was something, all right! There were only a few dozen people at the village square and the postmarm sounded a little discouraged. She had just begun her talk when we heard some noise around the corner and then, there he was! Pastor Dolorum brought almost fifty people, some of them the most upright Users, and they were even carrying their Books of Doom. Dolorum, he called out, 'Iris, we're here to join you. My mother used to take me to Fern Hollow for picnics when I was a lad and these fine people believe that the trees of Merrywood are part of God's work. We're going to join you in your fight.' Well, you could have knocked the postmarm over with a flower!"
"I know that the balance in Parliament may change this election. Too many people are unhappy with the way the Politicos have tried to bring in more mills and cut down trees." Arnica had spent many restless afternoons walking down the road to look at the raw damage at Fern Holly, coming home to quietly offer prayer in the stone circle. "Dolorum's unexpected involvement made people very aware of how painful it is for Merrywood. I don't think the Politicos stand much of a chance in the election, but we've still many weeks to go."
"How did things go in the tithing office?" asked Holly.
"The tithing agent was less harried this year. He took our figures and tithe without question but Mr. Pounds quietly said to me that he's thinking of voting with the Conservers this year. I know he was a bit unhappy last year with the Politicos but I didn't expect this, since the Politico candidates have softened their rhetoric."
"My mother said they don't want to upset the applecart," Gino chimed in. "And can we have apples tonight at the ritual feast?" And they all laughed as they walked along the country road. Dark Star seemed unusually quiet as the two men and boy chattered busily along the lane.
"Where's Gino?" asked Holly, coming through the door with his arms full.
"He's in the front room, already sleeping next to Dark Star." Arnica continued with the washing up. There were many goblets and plates and ritual things from their Autumnal Rite. "They're both curled up in front of the fire. Interesting timing, isn't it? This being Autumn Eve and it's the first night so cool we've had to light the fire."
"Dark Star has been quieter ever since her weeks with the Faerie, hasn't she?" Holly said, setting down the candle lanterns on the pantry shelf.
"Yes, but she goes out running more, also, which tires her out. Her young muscles are growing and wanting hard exercise. She's still quite young but my, can her legs go. What did you think of the ears of corn that Amethyst had braided? Weren't they beautiful?" Arnica was drying their best chalice.
"When she knelt before Amber—wasn't that great that Amber made it down from the River Mountains? She's staying in Merrydale until Hallows before heading back…when Amber was the Goddess and Amethyst knelt, offering the corn, it was so beautiful!" Holly's voice climbed in excitement.
"Careful, you'll wake Gino," Arnica hushed.
"I don't think anything could wake him tonight!" Holly said, but more quietly.
"Well, love, the harvest has been blessed and prayers offered for the election. I wonder what this winter will bring. Amber said the mountain birds portend a hard winter this year."
"We're certainly ready. The gardens are harvested, plants cut back and the soil turned. The grapes aren't done yet and already our cannery cupboard is full. We've got foods for us and our guests. I feel so blessed."
"And I feel tired." Arnica tipped the pan and let the water spiral itself down the drain. "Put out the lantern, sweet, and let's take ourselves to bed. Tomorrow is the new season and my bones feel old."
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