The Hanged Man: Part 9: Lughnasadh
Post #86: In which first harvest brings freedom and a new community begins ...
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PART 9 LUGHNASADH
(LU-nuh-suh) August 1; first harvest festival; midpoint between Lithia and Mabon. Sacrifice, harvest, planning the next cycle of growth.
The Emperor
Kingship; healthy male power
ROSE RED
Rose Red sat with her back against her favorite oak tree. A large, clustered ram’s head mushroom grew at the base of the trunk. The tree made her think of Gwelda and her friend, Borobrum. The thought of Gwelda comforted her.
She and Rowan had come…home? That’s what Rowan had said when they found the spring guarded by rowan trees. She wasn’t sure what home meant, or if it meant the same thing to them both.
Rowan Tree (the place name was so obvious they didn’t even discuss it), comprised several hundred acres of mixed forest, river and meadow. As far as Rose Red could tell, it throve and needed nothing from her. She thought Rowan was far more useful than she; at least as a fox he became part of the natural balance.
He was delighted with the place. In his fox shape, he assessed rodent and rabbit population and found the scent of his own kind, as well as beaver, weasel, skunk, wild pig, bear and deer. He dug in rich soil, brushed through thickets, clawed open rotted fallen trees. He found a bee hive and a crow’s nest, occupants fledged and flown but hanging around making sarcastic comments on all that occurred below them. He fit in as naturally as the tree she leaned on.
But what did Artemis expect her to do here?
The rowan trees were fruiting. Rose Red took off a dead or diseased branch here and there, but they flourished without attention. In fact, all the woods did flourish without attention. Artemis had taught her that was the point. Rose Red’s job consisted of simply protecting and allowing the balance already present.
But what was she to do?
She’d been so caught up in her training, the initiation and its aftermath, and Rowan, she’d never thought about what would come after it all. It was ridiculous to have come so far and learned so much, only to find herself suddenly with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
They’d done some work. They mended the three stone walls around the spring. Rose Red wondered who’d built them, and when. The spring bubbled vigorously up from the ground and then dove out of sight again. The walls enclosed a space much larger than the spring, in fact. They talked about roofing the structure and moving the walls in, but in the end decided to respect the original shape of the place.
“There must be some reason the walls were built this way,” Rose Red said. “We’re new here. It doesn’t seem right to start making changes.”
Trees and grass had begun to whisper of fall’s approach. Out in the world, early harvest had begun, but Rose Red felt as though she and Rowan dwelt in a place apart.
She must prepare for winter.
She had an idea about shelter. She’d found a giant old oak at the edge of the wood. Standing under it, she had a fine view of a treeless slope and the river below. It shaded out smaller trees, so the ground remained relatively clear under its canopy. She sat under it every day, leaning against the trunk and being still or climbing into the crown among leaves and acorns.
One day she’d shown it to Rowan. “I want to build a house here, using the tree trunk as part of a wall,” she said. “Do you think it can be done?”
He padded around the trunk, looking at everything, fox like, though he wore his human shape. He stretched out his arms, measuring the oak’s girth.
“I’m certain it can be done,” he said. “It’s a good place. I like to think of you here. But how will you do it?”
Rowan, though he leapt lightly between fox and man shape, had a vulpine nature rather than a human one. He could no more master tools to fell trees, cut them up and build a house than he could fly, even if he wanted to. He didn’t want to. A fox has no need to plan for the next meal or winter shelter.
He’d called out of Rose Red a primitive passion that frightened her. She resented his power to rouse her, to make her feel and want. At the same time, she could never go back to the frozen girl she’d been. Persephone, Baubo and Artemis had been right. The ability to live sensually was power. She longed to explore that power more fully, but remained unwilling to fully explore its lineaments of rage, grief, lust and even joy.
Being with Rowan had also cracked her defensive isolation. As a lover he was immediate, insistent, flesh, fur and scent blotting out everything else, like a storm. As a companion, he was aloof. Sometimes she wouldn’t see him for days, though she knew he remained nearby. He lived in scent, sound and experience of now, fully engaged and self-contained. He had no need to talk.
She envied him his complete freedom from self-consciousness. He didn’t try. He just was.
She felt lonely.
She resented her loneliness most of all. Vasilisa, Jenny, the dwarves, Artemis, Rowan — all had conspired to shatter her self-sufficiency and independence by teaching her what friendship and love were. But had it been self-sufficiency and independence or had it simply been a fearful loneliness all along, only now truly revealed to her?
She sighed. What was the use of these feelings and insights now? She was responsible for a place in the middle of nowhere, the only human being for who knew how many miles.
Winter approached.
How would she manage?
Birds exploded out of the tops of nearby trees. A squirrel burst into a scolding chatter. Down at the river, the family of crows had been snapping up a half-eaten fish left by a weasel. They rose into the air, cawing harshly, and sped into the trees to see what was happening.
A fox streaked out of the long grass on the slope below her as she stood. It melted into the woods, heading toward the disturbance, and she followed, moving swiftly and carefully through the trees, keeping her hand near the knife in its sheath at her belt. Disturbed birds gave alarm calls in the tree tops.
She heard voices from the direction of the spring. The stand of rowan trees stood ahead. She paused among them.
A young woman of about her own age with disheveled dark hair over her shoulders looked around the clearing in disbelief. Behind her stood a man, sturdy and broad of chest, with straight black hair hanging in his eyes. His face wore a look of complete bemusement. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the newly-walled spring. Out of the gurgling shadows another figure appeared, maneuvering some kind of a complicated framework.
Rose Red stepped away from the tree.
“Kunik?” she said.
He turned at the sound of her voice. A broad smile crept across his face as she came toward him and he pushed his hair out of his eyes.
“Rosie!”
He caught her in an enormous hug. He felt warm and solid and smelled of wood smoke and…rain?
“You’re wet!” she said.
“It rained!” he said, as though reporting a miracle. “Maria brought rain to the desert!”
Rose Red disengaged herself.
The dark-haired young woman laughed. “Kunik, she has no idea what you’re talking about. Look around you! We’re not in the desert anymore.” She smiled at Rose Red. “I’m Eurydice. Sorry to drop in on you like this! This is— “
“Maria?” said Rose Red, feeling more and more bewildered. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my dear, it’s me,” answered Maria, running fingers self-consciously through cropped silver-streaked hair.
“Did anyone see what happened to the snake?” asked Eurydice.
***
They went down to the river. All three newcomers were soaked and it felt chilly in the shaded woods. There were fish in the river and everyone was hungry. There was no sign of Rowan. Rose Red wasn’t surprised.
She’d already built a fire ring on a patch of bared earth. Kunik caught several fish out of a pool formed by a beaver dam while Eurydice and Maria dried in the sun. They cooked chunks of fish on skewers over hot coals and shared Rose Red’s stash of fruit and nuts as well as what the others had in their bundles.
By the time the fish was cooked, Rose Red and the others had heard Eurydice’s story of the gateway under Yggdrasil and her journey, guided by the snake, to the Womb of the Desert.
As they ate, Maria and Kunik between them told of their meeting in the desert and subsequent events, Maria giving a brief account of her lost boys for Eurydice.
“…and then Maria cried and her tears strung the loom,” said Kunik. “Nephthys danced and chanted while clouds gathered. We could smell rain in the air. Maria’s tears made a fountain and a well opened and the roots began to drink. Rain fell and leaves uncurled on the trees. Life came back into the bones and then Eurydice was there and Nephthys raised her wings…and then we found ourselves here.” He finished awkwardly. He looked at Maria. “It sounds mad, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds comforting,” said Rose Red.
“What?” he looked amazed.
“Kunik,” she said, between tears and laughter, “Kunik, if you knew what I’ve done — what I’ve seen! I’ve so much to tell you! But first, where are you going?” she included all of them in the question. “What will you do now?”
“We’ve talked about that,” said Maria. “Kunik, and I, I mean.” She smiled at Eurydice. “We’re looking for a home.”
“I don’t know that I’m looking for anything, honestly,” said Eurydice. “I’ve been looking for myself, I think. I do know I’m a doorkeeper. I open the way. That’s what happened under Yggdrasil and at the — what did you call it?” she turned to Kunik.
“The Womb of the Desert,” said Maria.
“Yes. The Womb of the Desert. It’s a portal, you see. We opened it and came through to here.”
“It’s a spring,” said Rose Red.
“It’s a portal, too, said Eurydice. “I saw rowan trees guarding it. A powerful gateway.”
“It needs a keeper,” said Rose Red. Eurydice looked taken aback.
“Now tell us about yourself, Rosie,” said Kunik.
She began with parting from Maria and Mary, leaving out mention of Rowan and Rumpelstiltskin.
“…and I was feeling lonely and wondering how I’d manage alone, especially during winter, and then birds exploded up out of the trees and I went to see what was happening — and there you were,” finished Rose Red.
They looked at one another.
“Are…are you asking us to stay here — with you?” asked Maria.
Before Rose Red could answer, Kunik stood. “Will you show us the land?” he asked.
***
They stood under the oak tree, looking across the grassy slope and river valley.
“We need to do some building,” said Kunik.
“And planting,” said Eurydice.
“I know how to keep chickens,” offered Maria.
“We’re going to need help,” said Kunik. “I don’t know much about building.”
“All the wood we need is here,” said Rose Red. “There’s stone, too. I can help with that part, but I don’t know how to build and we’ve no tools or way to transport heavy material.”
“We need to think about food, too,” said Eurydice. “It’s too late to garden now but we can lay out and plan gardens and animal pens. Kunik can help with that.”
“This winter may be hard,” admitted Rose Red, “but there are still several weeks of good weather. We can harvest nuts and fruit from the land. There’s a market a half a day away. If we can make some shelter and buy or hunt meat, we’ll be fine.”
“Building and food, then,” said Maria. “Are those our priorities?”
Everyone nodded.
“We need someone to help with trees, then, right? Harvesting, cutting up and moving.”
“We must plant a replacement for every tree we take,” said Rose Red, “and plant well, in a good spot where it can thrive…” She trailed away as a thought occurred to her.
She glanced around them at the forest. “Rowan?”
He came out of a thicket in his fox shape, moving with feline grace. She knelt and spoke to him. “I’ve had an idea. Can you find the White Stag? Find him and bring him here. I want to send a message to Artemis.”
“The White Stag!” Maria repeated.
The fox melted away.
“Oh,” said Rose Red, standing again and seeing their amazed faces. “That’s Rowan.” Her face flushed and she avoided everyone’s eyes. “He’s a fox,” she added unnecessarily. “You know the White Stag?” she asked Maria.
“I think so,” said Maria. “I saw it the day we found the Well of Artemis, in fact.”
Eurydice cleared her throat. “My family lived among trees,” she said to Rose Red. “Tell me what your ideas are about a house here. I’d like to do something like that near the spring.”
GINGER
“Happily ever after,” Elizabeth had sneered. “It’s all very well for you! What about the rest of us, locked up here until we’re too old for anyone to want us? We know nothing, we’ve been nowhere and we’ve had no life because of you. Now you go off to live happily ever after and leave us.”
“But I was locked up, too!” Ginger had said. “Mother said I must guard, I must watch over you, I must hold the secret! I promised her!”
“You cared more about a mother who left us than your sisters!” retorted Elizabeth. “All you cared about was controlling us.”
“No. I didn’t want power. I didn’t want control. I hated it!” Ginger began to cry in harsh sobs that hurt her throat. “I had to protect you!”
“Protect us? From what? No one can stop us from dancing! No one cares, anyway. You stole our lives!” Elizabeth slammed out of the room. Sarah, the sister closest to Ginger in age, took Ginger in her arms.
“Hush. She doesn’t remember Mother the way we do. Most of them don’t. Gemma doesn’t remember her at all. They don’t understand.”
“Mother made me promise, Sarah. I had to keep the secret. Father …”
“I know. Mother thought it was the only way, and so did you.”
“All those dead men …”
“We couldn’t help it.”
“They’ll never forgive me.”
“They will. They’re shocked and scared right now, and they’re taking it out on you because you’re the closest thing they have to a mother.”
Ginger sat up, wiping her face with her sleeve.
“I’m shocked and scared too. I know we’re free now, but I can’t truly feel it, you know? I can say the words, but they don’t mean anything. I feel numb. What does ‘happily ever after’ even mean?”
Sarah laughed. “It means Elizabeth reads too many fairy tales, for one thing. I’m numb, too. Maybe we all are. It’s happening so fast, and we’re running in so many different directions, like a mob of disturbed geese, it’s no wonder we feel half crazy.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve no idea. I can’t even get to what I want to do. There was always just what we had to do, and now suddenly there are choices to make and I have no idea how to do it.”
They gazed at one another, at a loss.
“Talk to Radulf,” said Sarah. “He’s a good man, a man of the world. He’s kind and he cares about you. Maybe he can help.”
“Sarah, I don’t want to get married right now.”
“Then don’t. And don’t keep it secret, the way you feel. If we’ve learned anything, it’s how that turns out! Just tell him the truth.”
***
“Radulf, what do you think ‘happily ever after’ means?”
They were riding. Every day they went out together, ranging well beyond the castle walls that had previously bounded Ginger’s life. They roamed over the countryside, exploring, talking, exchanging stories and getting to know one another.
They were easy companions. He was like the brother Ginger had frequently longed for, solid, dependable and, best of all, older. Someone who bore some of the burden instead of becoming part of it. He was a friend. Ginger trusted him more every day.
“That’s odd,” Radulf said. “I’ve been thinking about happily ever after myself lately.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, I told you about Marella, and my family, and my wife.” He glanced at her and she nodded. She knew the full story of Marella’s life and death, as well as the events during the initiation and his subsequent journey back to his old home.
“I realized a few weeks ago what I want now is to find a place to belong. I’m tired of wandering through everyone else’s life. I want to find a life of my own. I don’t know where, or exactly how to find the right place, but that’s what I’m looking for. I heard about you and your family from my friend Dar— “
Ginger nodded again. “The peddler.”
“Right. It intrigued me, as you know, so I came to find out more about that. Maybe I thought I’d find answers here for myself. Maybe I thought the answer to my longing was here, and I’d find it and live happily ever after. You know, be content and peaceful and have exactly what I want, even the things I don’t know I want, and be free of what I don’t want.”
“That sounds like a fairy tale. My sister Elizabeth is addicted to them. She said I was going to live happily ever after. We were fighting at the time.”
“Happily ever after is a satisfying ending to a tale, but what does it mean? In real life, things go on happening. People get sick, and fight, and go on making choices. Things change. I’ve been laughing at myself, because I know by now most of the time I don’t know what I want. I know what I don’t want and I know about some things I think I want, but we can never know all that might be possible, so how can we choose what we want out of an infinite set of possibilities?” Radulf shook his head.
“I’m glad you said that.”
“What?”
“That you don’t always know what you want.”
“Most people don’t. We may think we do, but even when we get exactly what we want we soon begin to want something different. It’s human nature, I think. Reality is always different than dreams.”